EQMM 2008-02 by Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine

Author:Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine [Magazine, Ellery Queen’s Mystery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Fiction: THE CREAM TREATMENT by Jeffry Scott

The pseudonymous Jeffry Scott, who’s been writing for EQMM since 1972, always provides us with something a little unexpected, and never more so than in this new story. The former newspaper reporter and editor, who traveled the world for many years in pursuit of news stories, settles us comfortably in the English countryside for this tale on the cozy side.

Mary Paraly coaxed, “Go on, Father, tell him about that bad business at Cherry Garth. ‘Twas so long ago it doesn’t matter him knowing.”

Mrs. Paraly often addresses Jim as “Father,” though he is her husband. It started when their children were little and she couldn’t get out of the trick of it, is her excuse. For twenty years or more Mr. Paraly was Police Constable Paraly, imposing the weight and majesty of the law on several Wessex villages while taking that, and indeed himself, very seriously. I suspect that Mary started the “Father” thing as a gentle reminder that Jim had a human role out of uniform.

Jim and Mary are just about my oldest friends, in both senses of the term, but there’s another reason for regular visits. You cannot write crime fiction—well, I can’t—without straw for the bricks of imagination. Coppers are full of plots and twists they think of as anecdotes. Plus random stuff, often trivial to them yet priceless for you-had-to-be-there reasons. Inside information that an outsider has no chance of dreaming up.

Frustratingly, ex-PC Paraly was a potential gold mine, but the shaft was sealed. Police officers sign up to the Official Secrets Act and it is supposed to be open-ended. Moreover, Jim prides himself on not being a gossip. Pumping, whining, or badgering alike had been wasted breath—until now.

So when they had one of those short, unspoken exchanges long-married couples tend to go in for, and he conceded, “Well, mebbe I could tell the tale,” my little heart went pit-a-pat … especially after Mary confided, “What Betty Barney did was murder, so listen hard.”

More loudly, Jim being tetchy about people mumbling—not that he’s getting deaf, what an idea—she began, “This was when the Barneys had Cherry Garth Farm. Where all those bungalows are, t’other side of the river? That was a fine farm, though you’d never guess it now.

“I dare say it broke Tom Barney’s heart to make a mint of money for losing the place. House knocked down, some of the best grass in the county built over.” She grinned maliciously. “I’m not entirely joking, my dear. There’d be Friesians there yet; I love the sight of a black-and-white herd and so did Tom. Much good that did him—not to say Betty wore the trousers but she told him when he had decided anything, and explained what that might be. Assertive, they call it now, but we spelt that bossy when I was a girl.”

Jim pursed his lips. “Now, now, Betty wasn’t so bad. Not until that girlie properly soured the milk for her, drove her a bit barmy.”

“Nice as pie,” his wife agreed.

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