The Inspector de Silva Mysteries by Harriet Steel

Author:Harriet Steel [Steel, Harriet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-30T22:00:00+00:00

**

The recently ended monsoon rains had given new luxuriance to the Residence’s gardens and, as the Morris proceeded up the drive, de Silva admired the greenness of the lawns and the profusion of the flower borders. A servant showed him straight to the study where Clutterbuck stood behind his desk, caught in the act of loosening his tie. De Silva couldn’t help noticing that the latter was a strong shade of yellow, very different from Clutterbuck’s usual choices of burgundy, brown or muted green. His manner was also more than usually affable, especially in view of the heat. De Silva was well aware that it normally made him somewhat cantankerous. He must have had good news, or perhaps a win on the horses. It was rare for there to be nothing that he wanted to haul one up on, however mildly.

‘Damned hot,’ Clutterbuck observed, unnecessarily. He gestured to the elderly Labrador flopped on the polished floor near an open window. ‘Poor old Darcy feels it too. Now, anything in particular you’d like to discuss?’

‘Only small matters, sir. In general, everything in town has been quiet.’

‘Excellent. Let’s make ourselves comfortable first.’

He walked over to the bay window and sat down in one of the leather armchairs, indicating that de Silva should take the other one. Picking up the dish on the low table in between, he held it out. ‘You must try some of these cheese straws. Mrs Clutterbuck’s cook makes very tasty ones and sometimes I like a snack while I’m at work.’

If Clutterbuck’s ever-expanding girth was anything to go by, de Silva suspected that he liked a snack most of the time.

Ensconced in his chair, de Silva accepted a cheese straw and took a bite. ‘You’re right, sir,’ he said when he had eaten it and wiped his lips. ‘Very tasty, but also crumbly.’

‘Ah, never mind a few crumbs, de Silva. Darcy will clear those up before long. So, fire away then.’

De Silva went through the police matters that had come up since their last discussion, then business over, listened patiently while Clutterbuck regaled him with tales of his latest fishing trip to Horton Plains. Fishing was a pursuit that troubled de Silva’s Buddhist principles less than some of the other recreations in which Clutterbuck liked to indulge. After all, fishermen usually ate what they caught, and the Buddha had not entirely prohibited the eating of flesh. It was harder to forgive the taking of the life of an elephant or a leopard. He had never heard of either of their sad carcasses being destined for the table.

Idly, he admired how the rays of sunshine passing through the stained-glass crests that decorated the bay window cast patches of red, blue, and yellow onto the table and the floor. Darcy grunted and stretched then lumbered to his feet, only to waddle to a cooler area of the room and flop down again. He looked as lethargic as de Silva felt, what with the heat and the drone of Clutterbuck’s voice.

With a superhuman effort, he pulled his attention back to the monologue.

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