Common or Garden Crime by Pim Sheila

Author:Pim, Sheila [Pim, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Gardening
Goodreads: 4944391
Publisher: Rue Morgue Press
Published: 1945-01-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII

An Outside Opinion

Having settled the affairs of Annalee Hall, Lucy had no more pressing chores to attend to and was free for the long talk with her nephew that she had been looking forward to all morning. She went up and removed a large tray of breakfast things from the foot of his bed, sat down herself, and had a good look at him.

“And how are you, my dear boy?” she demanded. “Oh dear, you always look older than I expect you to.” Lucy could never get used to the idea of Ivor as a man; her mental picture of him was still that of a sprawling schoolboy. Nowadays he looked controlled, responsible, grown up. He had improved, but it caused her a pang.

“I’ll shave presently,” said Ivor, “and that’ll take years off me. You look blooming, Aunt Lucy. And now I can see you’re going to tell me all the news.”

“Of course I am,” said Lucy. “Only I don’t know where to begin. Oh, first of all, will you be here till Saturday week? We’re having the Flower Show.”

“I’ve got a fortnight. Looks as if I can’t escape.”

“You may well say ‘escape.’ When I say we’re having the Flower Show, I mean we literally are having it. Here. Don’t blame me. Your father brought it on us himself.” She told him all about Linnaeus’s reaction to the factious behavior of Mr. McGoldrick.

“Time someone showed old McGoldrick where he got off,” commented Ivor. “Never mind, Aunt Lucy, I’ll see you through. Tell me, how’s everybody round? How are the Nichol-Jervises?”

“That’s another piece of news. Wendy’s engaged.”

“Is—that—so?” said Ivor. “Since when?”

“It’s only just happened. It’s to Lord Barna. You know. That was him here last night.”

“What! That twirp?”

“You needn’t call him names. He’s a very nice boy and I’m sure they’ll be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?” said Ivor. “We hope!” He saw Lucy about to rebuke him for vulgarity and intercepted quickly,

“What were you all up to last night? Was it a party?”

“Not exactly,” replied Lucy, looking solemn. “You see, Lady Madeleine Osmund—you know, Mr. Osmund’s wife—I wrote all about her. Well, she died in a very tragic way only last Sunday.”

“What happened to her?”

“It’s rather a mystery. I’ll tell you all about it presently. But, on top of that, the cook left. So however it all turns out, I had to see that those two poor men had a decent meal.”

“And I’m sure they did,” said Ivor. “And who was the gent out in the hall?”

“Oh,” said Lucy, remembering, “did you see him? I didn’t. I haven’t a notion who he was. He came round asking for Mr. Osmund.”

“They seemed to be having a bit of a difference,” said Ivor. “When I came to the hall door they were swearing at each other so I couldn’t make anybody hear.”

“So that was why you came in by the garden. Yes, it was rather queer about that man. Come to think of it, they never explained him, but I daresay they would have if you hadn’t turned up.

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