The Strings of Murder by Oscar de Muriel

Author:Oscar de Muriel [Muriel, Oscar de]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780718179830
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2015-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

19

‘D’ye really believe Joe Fiddler could’ve done it?’ Nine-Nails spluttered as we returned to Moray Place.

‘Not strongly,’ I said, ‘but I find it best to suspect everybody.’

‘Even with the lad’s pirate leg? And ye say I’m mad!’

As soon as I stepped out of the carriage I wrapped up in my overcoat, for it was already dark and the temperature was dropping. We were well into November and the days were speedily getting shorter.

Before we made our way to the entrance George stormed out through the backdoor, his cheeks red with rage.

‘Master! C’min! See what that mad hag’s done with the house!’

I covered my face in utter frustration and we walked into, well, some place that looked nothing like the house we’d left in the morning.

The mountain of boxes was gone from the main hall; the rug had been washed to reveal that, underneath its former layer of dust, it bore a Persian pattern; the furnishings and the wood panelling on the walls had been polished, and the chandelier lighted it all up with an entire new set of candles.

Joan, in fact, looked as if she’d absorbed all the scruffiness of the place; her apron stained and greasy, her hem torn in a few spots, her hair a mess and her reddened face peppered with beads of sweat. Still, she was grinning with pride when she saw us come in.

‘D’you like it, master?’

‘To say the least!’ I said, trying to contain my true and utter delight. ‘Did you do all this on your own?’

‘Nae! She brought an army o’ tatty brats to help her,’ George yelled.

‘You didn’t expect me to clean years and years of filth all by myself, did you? Oh, and I also spent some money on new pots. I wasn’t gonna cook my master’s dinner in one of those old spittoons you had here!’

‘Dinner!’ McGray cried, stepping into the breakfast room, where a steaming beef stew was waiting for us. My mouth watered as soon as I smelled it – after a whole day riding in the frosty streets, the hot, meaty stew was precisely what we needed.

McGray attacked the food with utter pleasure (I guessed he had not eaten a decent homemade meal for years). Minutes later he was smacking his lips and letting out a delighted belch.

‘Frey, I’m not gonna miss ye when the case is done; I’m gonna miss yer maid.’

George grunted and McGray patted his back with affection. ‘Come on, George, don’t be jealous! If anything, this woman’s givin’ ye more free time.’

Nine-Nails burped again, his belch half mixed into his following words: ‘Come on, lassie, we’ve got a good deal to discuss.’

We left Joan and George to clear the table. As they did so, the pair argued in angry hisses, among which I could made out ‘ye fat cow’ and ‘you ancient wreckage’.

I joined McGray by the big fireplace in his messy library. He was already leaning over his small table, where Caroli’s open score still lay. Tucker was sleeping peacefully next to him.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.