Dover Strikes Again by Joyce Porter

Author:Joyce Porter [Porter, Joyce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780881502114
Published: 2017-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

Plagued by the niggling suspicion that he’d been outwitted somewhere along the line., Dover was in no mood to put up with any nonsense from Colin Hooper. That harassed-looking young man had barely got the front door open before he found that one of his unexpected callers was halfway down the hall.

‘Here,' he protested as he recognized MacGregor, ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to want to see us until tomorrow?’

‘Supposed wrong then, didn’t you?’ Dover called back over his shoulder.

Colin Hooper hurried after him. ‘But it’s not more than an hour since the sergeant here called round and said . . .’

Dover had already found the lounge. ‘He must have made a mistake. It wouldn’t be the first, believe me.’

MacGregor shut the front door with a slam and strode down the hall, breathing heavily. By the time he entered the lounge, Dover had already taken possession of the greater part of the settee in front of the fire and was placidly ignoring Mr Hooper’s feeble objections.

Mr Hooper turned sulky. ‘Oh, make yourself at home then!’ he muttered crossly and flung a reproachful glance at MacGregor.

Dover didn’t need any invitation. He was at home, spiritually speaking at any rate. The pink roses on the wallpaper could have come from his own living-room. And so – mutatis mutandis – could the floral pattern of the curtains, the cretonne loose covers and the traditional Axminster carpet. None of your artistic trash here, thank God! Why, if Dover had put his mind to it (which he had no intention of doing) he could probably have given you the brand name of every article of furniture in the room. And if nation-wide advertising isn’t a proof of fine quality, what is?

‘You’ll need a bit more coal on that fire,’ said Dover, opening his overcoat and removing his bowler hat.

‘It’s been banked up for the night,' moaned Mr Hooper. ‘We were just going to bed.’

‘At this time?’ Dover, secure in the knowledge that he could eat two of young Hooper for breakfast and not even notice, squinted at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘ ’Strewth, it’s only . . .’ He squinted again but the shiny old gold dial, the elaborate black numerals and the delicate filigree of the hands combined to defeat him. \ . . early,' he said.

Mr Hooper wrung his hands rather pathetically. ‘We’ve had a pretty rough time of it lately,' he explained, ‘what with Millie’s father – er – dying like he did and everything. Millie’s absolutely worn out. As a matter of fact she’s already gone up to bed.’

‘Well, you’ll just have to fetch her down again, won’t you?’ Dover managed to convey by his tone that he was falling over backwards in an effort to be reasonable. ‘If you nip upstairs now you’ll catch her before she’s had time to drop off.’

Colin Hooper could hardly believe his ears. ‘Fetch her down?’ he stammered. ‘In her condition? She’s six months pregnant, you know, and . . . Oh, hell!’ He broke off with a groan as a whistling kettle in the kitchen began to let off steam.

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