Lovers, Make Moan by Gladys Mitchell

Author:Gladys Mitchell [Mitchell, Gladys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

10

Further Suggestions

What, a play toward! I’ll be an auditor.

Jonathan changed the subject.

“You mean,” he said to his aunt, “you do mean you can stay on for a day or two and see us through?”

“And leave poor Laura the responsibility for Rosamund and Edmund,” said Deborah. “How thankful I am, though,” she added. “I hate the thought of coping with more police questioning. They must suspect something is wrong with Donald’s death, or they would never have asked to have the inquest adjourned. Obviously that wasn’t on the agenda.”

“I think the police will be busy finding out where the extra dagger came from. I doubt whether they will trouble you very much. Their main targets, so far as the cast of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is concerned, will be Mr. Yorke and the Lynns. Nobody else seems to have had access to the properties until they were laid out in the wings ready for the actors and, from what I have gathered, it would have been almost impossible for one dagger to have been exchanged for another without somebody witnessing the substitution,” said Dame Beatrice.

“While the death was regarded as accidental I don’t suppose people charged their memories about anything they may have noticed,” said Jonathan, “but, once the reporters get busy about the adjournment, maybe somebody will remember something which was not in the least questionable at the time, but may bear considerable significance now.”

“The local papers are bound to go to town in a big way,” said Deborah. “I bet they haven’t had a story like this for years. I almost wish I were a reporter. How I could spread myself on the romantic setting, the perfect summer night, the delightful comedy complete with fairy lore—and then the sudden change, bizarre and terrifying, to tragedy and dire confusion.”

“There wasn’t dire confusion,” said Jonathan. “Dr. Jeanne-Marie and Marcus Lynn between them saw to that.”

“Well, anyway, the reporters will make hay. I dread them much more than I dread the police.”

“If I were you,” said Dame Beatrice, “I would go out for the day and leave me to cope.”

“Won’t they think that fishy?”

“Why should they? So far as you two are concerned the death was the result of a completely unforeseen accident.”

“No,” said Jonathan, “we’ll stay. If we try to dodge them today, they will only come back tomorrow. Well are they called newshounds. Once on the trail they never give up, and the more I think about it the more it seems to me that they could be following a very hot scent indeed.”

The reporters, however, were not the menace which Deborah had expected. Before the inquest they had photographed the outside of the house and such parts of the grounds as interested them, so when they did turn up it was to reinforce what had become their theme-song. This can be summarised in the words of a banner headline in the Graphic Newsletter, which screamed from the front page, Where did the lethal weapon come from?

Other papers were

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