The Casebook of Inspector Proby: A fast-paced murder-mystery box set by John Gano

Author:John Gano [Gano, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

‘Are you sure you won’t have dinner with me?’

Barbara shook her head with a smile. It was the third time Terence Bracy, Mrs Bracy’s personable nephew, had dropped into her office to solicit a date.

‘Or even lunch?’ His blue eyes held a light and friendly plea. ‘In a very public place of your own choice.’

‘No, thank you. But it’s nice of you to ask.’

‘Oh, well.’ He turned away to hide his disappointment. ‘How is Aunt Betty?’

‘Much the same as usual.’

He laughed. ‘Meaning a real pain?’

She smiled back. ‘It’s difficult for her. We all understand that. It’s why we choose to do these jobs.’

‘Quite so.’ He leaned over her desk. ‘I’ll go and pay my respects. Incidentally, I noticed the Dispensary door was open. Shouldn’t it be locked?’

‘Yes,’ she said, rising quickly. ‘It should. I’ll go and see to it now.’

‘Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye.’ She watched him walk away down the corridor before hurrying over to lock the Dispensary door.

It was nearly dusk, and the trees across the narrow lawn were beginning to lose their definition, retreating into the shadows and assuming their night-time roles as strange spiky presences, looming through the mist which curled up from the estuary beyond.

‘It’s beautiful.’

Barbara turned sharply to find Hannah standing beside her, staring out through the window. ‘Yes,’ she replied softly. ‘This is so much my favourite time of year.’

‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?’

‘Sorry?’

Hannah giggled. ‘Come on,’ she said, taking Barbara’s hand. ‘I’ve got a present for you. For being so nice to me.’

Between Dr Gresham’s office and Barbara’s was a small room originally intended for a typist. But one corner contained the boxed-in junction of all the heating pipes, and a fault in the insulation kept the room so uncomfortably hot that it had long since been abandoned by the perspiring typist and colonized as a store for equipment and half a dozen surplus armchairs.

‘In here.’ Hannah almost pulled Barbara through the door in her eagerness. ‘Look!’

Balanced on the seat of an over-stuffed chair was a broad glass bowl filled with silk flowers. Ripe pink roses fought with glossy white lilies for space, amid a tangle of green fronds and speckled gypsophila. The whole array teemed with vigorous life and brilliant colour.

Barbara stared at her, unable to speak.

‘Well?’ Hannah’s eyes were sparkling. ‘Do you like them?’ Barbara nodded. ‘Give me a kiss, then!’

Hannah opened her arms and Barbara meekly pulled the little nurse towards her, luxuriating in the warmth of the embrace. Abruptly she moved away. ‘Thank you,’ she said thickly. ‘They’re very nice.’

‘You like me, don’t you?’ The little nurse had closed the door and was now watching the taller woman with a raw look of calculation. Barbara preserved her expression of detached calm, and then ruined the impression by swallowing noisily. ‘I don’t mind,’ said Hannah, softly. Suddenly excited, she moved closer. ‘Honestly I don’t. Here.’ She guided Barbara’s trembling hand to the top button of her blue blouse. ‘Come on,’ she said, and laid her own hand against Barbara’s stomach. ‘Come on.

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