The Merry Month of Murder (The Fyttleton Mysteries Book 2) by Nicola Slade

Author:Nicola Slade [Slade, Nicola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: darkstroke / Crooked Cat
Published: 2020-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Everyone gasped and I bent to examine Miss Diplock’s injury.

‘I’m quite sure it wasn’t a shot,’ I said gently probing the spot. ‘There’s a bruise forming already on the shin, just above the ankle, but the skin is only broken in one place and the bleeding has already stopped. It’s not a bullet wound.’

‘It was probably this,’ Addy had been ferreting around and was holding up a cricket ball. ‘This was not far away and those boys have all run off. I should think one of them hit a six and caught you by mistake so they’ve escaped before we could catch them. I bet it hurt!’

The injured victim shuddered when Addy held the ball out for her inspection and I hastily intervened.

‘Do you think you can walk, Miss Diplock? Addy and I can help you home so you can rest.’

She mumbled crossly but allowed me to help her stand. I glanced at our lady lodgers. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘Miss Diplock lives down at the end of Paradise Row; it’s not far and Addy and I can manage.’

Lydia Trellis looked curiously at the injured woman but turned back towards the White Horse. ‘I’m hungry,’ she announced as she headed to the hotel.

‘I was always hungry at that stage,’ smiled Mrs Camperdown. ‘We took rather a long time looking at the shops, especially in Bracewell’s hat department. If you’re sure we can’t help?’ She nodded when I assured her that we could manage.

Miss Diplock lived in a pretty Georgian house at the junction of Paradise Row, one of the rabbit warren of very old streets surrounding the Priory, and the former cattle market. This had flourished in the Middle Ages until the area rose in gentility, when the market was moved to the outskirts of town. I knew from Henry’s cousin Bertha that the Diplock family home had been substantial and surrounded by many acres but that successive owners had made bad investments so that when Miss Diplock’s father had gambled on the Stock Exchange and lost almost everything, the estate had to be sold a couple of years ago to pay off his debts.

Luckily for Miss Diplock her present home and small but regular income had come directly to her from her mother’s family so she was not left without support when her brother died last year.

‘Goodness!’ Addy exclaimed as an elderly maid opened the door to us. ‘You can hardly move for all the furniture.’

I pinched her arm and she subsided in a sulk, but I sympathised. The small drawing room and the hall were so full of large mahogany sideboards, tables, chairs, bookcases and whatnots that navigating a passage towards an equally large chaise-longue was quite a hazard.

I explained to the maid about the accident and she produced a decanter of sherry and a glass, pouring it for her mistress, though not, I noticed, offering anything to me. After a second glass ‘for your nerves, ma’am’ Miss Diplock seemed calmer and the servant disappeared, muttering about lunch being spoiled.

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