Desolation Row: an Austin Starr Mystery by Kay Kendall

Author:Kay Kendall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2013-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Austin was relieved to hear the clack of heels in the hallway.

Mrs. Duncan bustled into the kitchen and placed a package on the counter. She turned to the three tea drinkers. “May I join you, or is this a private party?”

Austin sprang to her feet. “I’m so glad to see you, Mrs. Duncan. Mr. Ferguson’s been telling us—my friend Larissa and me—about his experiences during the war. I’m afraid he’s a bit upset.” She prayed the woman had skills she lacked, those to pull the old man out of his tailspin into sorrow.

Mrs. Duncan settled her comfortable bulk onto a chair, untied a scarf from her head, and smoothed her curly gray hair. “He always cheers up when he has one of my biscuits.” She smiled at him, and Mr. Ferguson looked back at her, blinked, and started a monotonous hum.

She levered herself to her feet. “Indeed, this situation demands a good biscuit. I’ll be right back.”

Mr. Ferguson leapt out of his chair. When it scraped across the floor with a squeal, Austin and Larissa both jumped.

“Demands it. Demands it,” he yelled. “The floor demands it. The floor is bloody. The stains won’t come out.”

He grabbed his mop and ran from the room. Soon slapping sounds once again echoed through the hallways.

His sudden speed and agility were confounding, but before Austin could say anything to Larissa, Mrs. Duncan returned, carrying her cookie tin. She set it on the table, dusted off her hands, and sank back onto her chair. Mr. Ferguson’s absence didn’t appear to surprise her.

“You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he’s only sixty years old.” She shook her head sadly. “Last week’s murder shook his fragile hold on sanity. The doctor told his wife that it revived wartime memories and made them real again.”

Talk about sanity. Austin was still reeling from the discovery that the old janitor wasn’t all that old after all. “When he talked about serving in World War Two, he spoke as if it were happening right now.”

“He told us about his son’s death in Korea too,” Larissa said.

“And he mentioned the London Blitz like it was last week,” Austin added, “yet he denied knowing anything about the murder that really happened here last week.”

“That dear man has been terribly disoriented since then,” Mrs. Duncan said. “When the police interviewed him, all he could talk about was losing his friends in the Italian campaign. His mind’s never really clear. He has good days and bad days, but his bad ones were never this awful before.”

“He’s only sixty?” Larissa said. “He looks ancient. I hope he has other children besides the lost son.”

“That was their only child. His wife is a difficult woman to…well, to know. She often drops by, and we share recipes. Their lives have been grim since their son died, and that was fifteen years ago.” Mrs. Duncan poured more tea. She got milk from the refrigerator and added some to her cup.

While she stirred her tea, she resumed her story.

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