The Gooseberry Fool by James McClure

Author:James McClure [McClure, James]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781569479438
Amazon: 1569479437
Publisher: Soho Crime
Published: 1974-01-01T22:00:00+00:00

9

CHRISTMAS DAY HAD more than dawned when Kramer awoke with a taste in his mouth like reindeer dung. Which would teach him to sleep on his back. As for his pillowcase, all he had in it was pillow, but it felt full of surprises—like yule logs, rocks, and old spark plugs. Hell, what a hangover. Maybe Mrs. Delmain would have an aspirin or something.

He rolled off his divan and took his clothes from their hanger behind the door, sniffing suspiciously at his shirt. It ponged, so it was definitely time for a new one; he took one out of its wrapper and put it on.

Then he tidied the room. All it had in it was the bed, the hanger, a cardboard box of personal papers, and an empty wardrobe, so it did not take long. His towel and shaving things he left in the communal bathroom, having spread it around among the other lodgers that he had a skin ailment. This concentration solely on essentials caused Mrs. Delmain considerable distress, and time and again he had had to turf out desks and other rubbish she felt he ought to have a use for. But at heart she was a good woman, and might help a sick man.

It was interesting how moods could change. Despite the headache, his own had much improved, and he quite looked forward to spending the day at the typewriter compiling an accident report that would have Colonel Muller bawling Colonel Du Plessis up the wall. As for detail, he was going to have every blade of grass on Wallace’s lawn numbered. But seriously, the report would be an evident and deplorable waste of a senior officer’s time: that was the point to be made.

Kramer went along the passage, shaved in his customary fifteen strokes, and met Mrs. Delmain on the landing.

“Happy Christmas, Lieutenant! Smell the turkey?”

“Very nice.”

“Then you’ll be in for once? Please say yes.”

“There’s this murder,” he said, watching her face turning respectful in the hope of a snippet of inside information. “Done with a cotton reel, but don’t say.”

“Oh, you can always trust me, Lieutenant, you know that!”

“It’s too sordid, Mrs. Delmain. Sorry.”

Far from being disappointed, this single piece of misinformation would keep her happy for hours over her cooking. And her sewing, come to that. She beamed gratefully at him.

“I wish you’d join us at the table this once. After all, you’re never here for the meals you pay for—and it is a special occasion.”

“I could eat an aspirin if you’ve got one.”

“Headache? Well I’m sure I can manage something better than that. Just you go to your room and I’ll bring it up.”

He waited, half expecting to have the tablet served with stuffing, but was handed instead a cut-crystal glass filled with egg yolk and Worcestershire sauce.

“You’re one of the best, Mrs. Delmain,” he said gratefully. “I should have told you, they used the needle as well as the reel.”

“Dear, dearie me!”

“I’m better already.”

“Oh, I’ve got this message for you; my hubby took it a minute ago.

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