Murder in the Telephone Exchange by June Wright

Author:June Wright [Wright, June]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781891241963
Publisher: Verse Chorus Press

CHAPTER VII

John read through the untidy sheets up to this point when he came to see me one day. They do allow visitors occasionally in this dreadful place. I asked him for assistance in describing that fateful Saturday when the charity dance was held at the Exchange. I was a little undecided how to begin. His advice was the same as when he started me off on this manuscript. It was quite simple. As a record of my part in the affairs of the Exchange during that week, it must contain certain details of what I had thought was my ordinary life.

“But I can’t tell people that I had bacon and eggs for breakfast,” I objected. “It’s too mundane.”

He laughed, and suggested that perhaps that could be quite well omitted without misleading anyone, but to continue with the first items connecting with the terrible event that was to occur later.

“I’d better say at what time I awoke,” I remarked, sighing despondently, “though that seems rather futile, too.”

I arrived home that morning feeling very weary and grubby, with just enough time to snatch a shower and change into a cool dirndl before breakfast. I took one depressing look in the mirror, and then strolled along to my mother’s room.

“Are you up, Charlotte?” I called, tapping her door gently with my fingertips.

“Come in,” she answered. I pushed it open. “Darling, you do look dreadful!”

“Don’t rub it in,” I replied irritably. “I’ve been up all night, you know. Are you coming down to breakfast?”

“Why don’t you go straight to bed,” she coaxed. “I’ll bring you up a tray.”

I shook my head so violently that I was compelled to retie the narrow white ribbon I wore to keep my hair from my face.

“I’d fall asleep before I ate anything. What will you do with yourself to-day?”

“I’ve got an engagement for this afternoon,” she replied placidly. “I’m going to watch a basketball match.”

“What!” I yelled, unable to believe my ears.

“A basketball match, dear,” Charlotte repeated distinctly. “That nice boy who used to have freckles is taking me.”

“You mean Sergeant Matheson? I’ll have you know that you’re cutting me out. He asked me first.”

“So he said,” agreed my mother, “but he told me that you didn’t seem keen to go. The poor boy was quite disappointed. I felt so sorry for him that I said I’d never seen a basketball match, and if he didn’t mind, would he take me?”

“When did all this take place?” I asked.

“He rang you up last night. Mrs. Bates told him you were on all-night shift, so he asked to speak to me. By the way, Maggie, Mrs. Bates was giving me such peculiar looks when I was on the ’phone.

“She was probably worrying about the Sergeant’s intentions,” I explained. “She hates men.”

“How odd of her! I must get your father to meet her. I’m ready. Shall we go down?”

We strolled down arm in arm. In the lower hail I paused and said half-laughingly, half-earnestly: “There’s more in this than meets the eye.

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