The Room of the Dead by M.R.C. Kasasian

Author:M.R.C. Kasasian [Kasasian, M. R. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788546386
Publisher: Head of Zeus

51

THE PERFECT MURDER OF MISS PRIM

I knew something was wrong the moment I entered the lobby and saw Brigsy’s face and his hand on the desk flicking like I was being dismissed, but I was damned if I was going to be turfed out of my own station.

Brigsy was twitching his head now and mouthing something that looked like Pru or pram, but I realised too late I should have allowed myself to be ejected.

‘Good afternoon, Inspector.’

I wheeled about and there she sat on the back bench, all in mauve with pale mauve hair, even the gas mask box on the seat beside her encased in a mauve cotton sleeve. If there was one sound I was coming to associate with war so far, it wasn’t the drone of Hurricanes flying out to sea from Hadling Heath or the pumping explosions of ack-ack from across the bay or the whining false alarms of the sirens – it was the click-click-clicking of long fat sharp steel needles pumping out endless hairy yards of plain, rib and purl.

‘Miss Prim.’ I hadn’t meant to snarl but I did and I didn’t regret it. ‘What do you want?’

I was not normally so rude to little old ladies but Miss Prim regarded herself as a sleuth, amateur only in the sense that she was unpaid, for in every other way her powers were superior to those of the professional force. If Miss Prim were to be believed, she had given us the solution to the Suffolk Vampire enquiries within hours of the very first death and all the other murders could have been prevented if only we had listened to her. She had also ‘helped’ with dozens of crimes, almost all imaginary, since then. It was Miss Prim who tracked down the man who stole Eden Eden’s marmalade cat. The fact that Mr Eden never had a cat in no way tarnished the glitter of her success.

‘Oh, Inspector.’ Miss Prim’s lips fibrillated with amusement beneath her can-opener nose and I just knew she was going to tell me it wasn’t what she wanted; it was what I wanted. ‘It isn’t what I want; it’s what you want,’ she told me.

Elderly lady in fatal accident in police station foyer. I felt certain Brigsy would back my story of how she fell backwards and cracked her head, and with Tubby to perform the post mortem and a hasty cremation, even I would be unable to prove anything against myself.

‘And what might that be?’ I sighed.

‘Wouldn’t we be more comfortable in your office?’ She treated me to a little teeth-worn-to-the-gums smile.

I was on the horns of a dilemma here. My office was a sanctuary from the vulgar herd but on the other hand I could polish her off in there without any witnesses.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘My office is very uncomfortable.’

‘I thought as much,’ Miss Prim beamed stumpily. ‘But you would never have admitted to such discomfort were it not for my trick question. That goes some way to explaining your general rundown and drab appearance.

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