Inspector Felix 10 Death Among the Kisses by R. A. Bentley

Author:R. A. Bentley [Bentley, R. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Never a beauty, Delia Falkner was, compared with her generously constructed sisters, somewhat gaunt and angular and beginning, Felix decided, the long slide into old age. If the piano-top photos were anything to go by, she of all of them most closely featured her mother. ‘I understand you’re the cook of the household,’ he said. ‘Is that from choice or necessity?’

‘Bit of each really,’ shrugged Delia. ‘I’m happier doing that than farm work; though I also look after the fowls.’

‘That must keep you busy?’

‘Yes, but I like to be busy.’

‘So, let me see. You are the eldest by two years. Does that buy you any privileges? Do the others defer to you at all?’

‘Heavens no!’ said Delia. ‘Well . . .’ She paused to consider. ‘I suppose they do take notice if I don’t agree with them, but they certainly don’t defer to me as you put it. There was only ever one boss in this house, and that was Mother.’

‘Do you miss her?’

Delia nodded dolefully. ‘Yes, I do. She did care about us, you know, and meant well.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes, I do miss her.’

‘More, perhaps, than your siblings?’ said Felix, handing her a handkerchief.

‘Thank you, Mr Felix.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We’re all different, aren’t we? I just can’t imagine life without her. Not yet anyway.’

‘Your sister Rosie thinks you’ll be better off for it.’

‘I know she does. They all do, I think.’

‘But not you?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. I suppose I do. I keep reminding myself that she mightn’t have lasted much longer anyway. But it was such a cruel way to die, and she was our mum!’

‘Any idea who might have done this terrible thing?’

‘No, I haven’t. I don’t even want to think about it. I cannot believe, it was any of my sisters. And not Alf Brown either. I’ve known him since we were children together and he’s such a kindly man. It can’t be him.’ She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. ‘I’m not being very brave, am I?’

‘I’m not expecting you to be brave, Miss Falkner. I wonder –perhaps you’re not the person to ask – but had your mother always been a difficult person, or did something happen to make her so? You were fourteen when your father died, so you must remember him quite well. Did he and your mother get on?’

Delia shook her head miserably. ‘They were chalk and cheese, always fighting, and he drank. I don’t remember her being much different. She was all right as long as she got her own way.’

‘Did you love your father?’

‘Why, yes. Of course.’

Felix nodded. ‘It occurs to me to wonder, Miss Falkner, whether you or any of your sisters gave chocolates as Christmas presents. Can you remember?’

‘I didn’t myself,’ said Delia. ‘I made little boxes and filled them with homemade shortbread and gingerbread men for the children. I don’t think the others did either. We haven’t much money, you know.’ She paused. ‘That is to say, we weren’t allowed much — for ourselves.

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