Death in Dulwich (The London Murder Mysteries Book 1) by Alice Castle

Author:Alice Castle [Castle, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Crooked Cat Books
Published: 2017-09-05T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Just as well she had resolved to get down to some proper archive work at last, Beth thought the next morning, as she sat on the floor surrounded by piles of documents. Some of the stuff that had come out of the box she’d used for Jenkins’ belongings had looked quite interesting, but she’d promised herself she’d clear some of the central floor space first, just to make it easier to get around her lair. She was deep in an old ledger, which seemed to show nothing more exciting than who had supplied Wyatt’s with provisions after 1921, when there was a knock at the door.

Even if she hadn’t been immersed in her reading, Beth would probably have jumped a mile. It was the first time anyone had come to the door… apart from Inspector York, of course. For some reason, he didn’t count as a threat. She leapt up, brushed a bit of dust from her jeans – her outfits had become steadily more casual as she’d realised how little scrutiny she was under – and she hurried to the door.

To her astonishment, there on the threshold of the archive office was the deceptively cuddly figure of Mrs Jenkins, looking a little like Mrs Tiggywinkle in a capacious-looking mohair coat. The only thing missing was the cheery twinkle in her eye. She was carrying several of those supermarket bags for life – from Waitrose, of course – and was looking grimly determined.

Beth fell back to allow the older woman to pass. ‘Mrs Jenkins, it’s good to see you again so soon. What can I do for you?’ she asked, but faltered when she found herself addressing Mrs Jenkins’ back as the woman barged in without waiting for an invitation.

She threw off her coat, covering up Beth’s own jacket which had been slung on the back of her chair, and got to work. She clearly knew exactly what she was looking for. She started to move cartons around, trying to reach, Beth realised, Jenkins’ old desk – now her own workstation.

‘Um, Mrs Jenkins, if I could just give you a hand. I brought all the stuff from your husband’s desk round to your house, don’t you remember? You’ve got everything already.’

Mrs Jenkins wasn’t listening at all. By now she had reached the desk, and started flinging open the top drawer, taking out several pens, a packet of tampons and some paracetamol that Beth had stashed there, and dumping the lot unceremoniously on the floor.

‘Actually, that stuff is mine?’ Beth’s voice was rising as she tried to get through to her extremely determined visitor. Mrs Jenkins took not the least bit of notice of her and stuck her hand right to the back of the drawer, rooting around, before moving inexorably onto the next.

‘Could you just tell me what you are looking for?’ Beth asked helplessly, as a couple of her notepads and some sheets of A4 joined the mound on the floor. Honestly, the place was in enough of a shambles as it was, without Mrs Jenkins trashing it even more.

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