The Crimes of Clearwell Castle: A 1920s Mystery (Lord Edgington Investigates... Book 7) by Benedict Brown

Author:Benedict Brown [Brown, Benedict]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heathdene Books
Published: 2022-09-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

There was a diminutive chap in a white apron, standing behind the counter, looking worried.

“Mr Yarworth, I presume?” my grandfather chimed.

The short, pale-featured chap opened his mouth to answer, just as an incredibly tall woman with arms like rolled-up carpets thundered over to him.

“That’s right. Who’s asking?”

Grandfather removed his top hat and offered an exceedingly respectful bow. “My name is Lord Edgington.” He didn’t even say, perhaps you’ve heard of me. “I’ve come here today as…” He perused the cuts of meat before selecting the most expensive. “I would like fifteen pounds of your best sirloin steak, please, madam.”

She was overcome with emotion and turned into quite the blushing violet. “Fifteen pounds, M’Lord. Oh that’s wonderful. We’ve five here and I’ll get Mick to nip over to Milkwall in the car. M’ sister runs the shop there, and they normally stock more than us.”

Her mute husband stood staring at their dapper customers and didn’t move, so Kate Yarworth decided to kick him up the derriere. “What are ya waiting for, ya silly man? Milkwall isn’t going to come to you.”

Finally shocked into action, her husband pulled his apron from around his neck, dashed around the counter and out of the shop. I considered asking whether I had heard the name correctly and there really was a town called Milkwall, but she spoke before I could.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, M’Lord. It won’t be long.”

“There’s no hurry whatsoever, madam. We have all the time in the world, except for one small matter.”

“Oh, yes?” She was still blushing like a… like a… what the devil blushes except for people? Do turtles blush? What about albatrosses? Anyway, she was blushing and had clearly fallen for his act.

“Perhaps you haven’t heard, but my grandson and I have acquired some considerable experience in the field of criminal investigation.”

“So Florence was murdered then?” It all got too much for the distressed butcher and she burst into tears. “My poor Flor was killed right here in Clearwell. What has become of the world?”

My grandfather attempted to comfort her with a ripple of his moustaches and a few well-chosen words. “What indeed, madam? What indeed?”

It was like watching a Victorian farce. I was not in the mood for such theatricality so turned the conversation to a more useful point. “We were told that you were good friends with the deceased. Is that correct?”

“She was like my sister!” Her words came out in one unbroken exclamation, but I believe that is what she said.

“Can you tell us a little about her?” Unlike his bullyragging assistant, Lord Edgington’s manner seemed to soothe that distressed woman and she went fishing in her pocket for a somewhat bloodstained handkerchief. For a moment, I thought we’d found evidence of her part in the crime, but then I remembered she was a butcher.

She sniffed a little before replying. “I’ll do my best.” A touch more sniffing, a wiped eye, and she was ready to paint a picture of our second victim. “There was no one like Flor.

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