A Most Unusual Demise by Katherine Black

Author:Katherine Black [Black, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

‘Must you exist so loudly?’ Fletcher asked, sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands over a mug of black coffee. He’d considered wearing his sunglasses to breakfast but felt that might be a step too far. Seated in the sunny room, he deeply regretted leaving them in his bedroom.

May was sitting very still in the chair across from him, struggling to keep her head balanced on her shoulders. Eyeing the empty bottle of vodka from the previous evening, she asked, ‘Did I dream it or was Barb doing Russian squat dancing last night?’

‘You didn’t dream it,’ he said, rubbing his thighs and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He squinted, trying to piece together their evening after returning to the house. ‘I seem to remember an attempt at the jump splits as well?’

‘No,’ she opened her eyes wide at the memory, ‘I came to my senses, thank God. I’d still be in A&E.’

‘Did we ever eat dinner?’

‘We ordered pizzas. I think.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ Fletcher covered his face with both hands, willing his stomach to settle. A pepperoni-flavoured burp almost pushed him over the edge.

They’d returned from their lunch with the young journalist full of enthusiasm for the investigation. The table was still scattered with pages covered in indecipherable notes and old newspaper articles, printed off in the wee hours. Fletcher picked up the nearest sheet of paper. ‘Possible Killers’ was scrawled at the top with a long list of names below it. He noticed that Father David and Tarquin, Jean Drysdale’s beagle, were in the running.

‘This won’t do,’ he said. ‘We need fresh air and a hearty breakfast.’ The bile threatened again, but he willed it back down. ‘Let’s go to The Rambler. Perhaps being among civilised people will civilise us. Vires acquirit eundo, we gather strength as we go.’

He pushed back his chair with decision. After a couple of attempts, he stood beside the table, gripping the edge and grimacing at the pain in his legs. ‘Let’s go immediately. If I sit down, I may not get up again.’

They bundled up and ambled across the heath, arm in arm. The cold air was revitalising so that by the time they arrived at the restaurant, they were almost human and decidedly peckish.

The Rambler was a recent addition to Blackheath Village. It was part of a chain of upscale grills and brasseries, decorated in art deco style with gilt frames on the walls and gilt prices on the menu. It made a change from the homely pubs and cafés and had become popular with the locals.

They followed the waiter to a small table at the back with a long, blue velvet banquette that stretched around three sides. They sat in the corner, each of them sinking into the plush cushions with pleasure, and were asked if they would like to order drinks while they read the menu.

‘Hair of the dog?’ May said.

Fletcher raised an eyebrow. ‘Bloody Mary?’

‘Two, please,’ she said to the waiter.

Fletcher was facing into the restaurant.

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