The Trouble With Harriet by Cannell Dorothy

Author:Cannell, Dorothy [Cannell, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: British Cozy Mystery, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Fiction
ISBN: 9780670886296
Publisher: Viking
Published: 1999-06-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

From photos I had seen of her as a child, Aunt Lulu had been a very pretty little girl, and at fifty-something she still looked like Shirley Temple. Which isn’t to say that on a good day she didn’t show her age. When in the company of her husband, Maurice, not even her dimples or wide eyes could perk up her bewildered expression. But today, in the drawing room at Merlin’s Court, she had another man in tow, and she couldn’t have been bubblier as she tap-danced her way around the coffee table. “Ellie, dear, wasn’t it just lovely of nice Mr. Price to give me a lift here from the station? We were on the same train, although not in the same carriage.” This said in the virtuous, piping voice of one who knew how to comport herself even when away from Mummy’s eagle eye. “He heard me asking the ticket collector about the availability of taxis. I really couldn’t walk all the way to Merlin’s Court on these short legs. You know how I always tell my life history to everyone, Ellie, when Maurice isn’t there to say, ‘That’s enough, Lulu!’ But Mr. Price was so sweet. He very kindly said he would be delighted to take me in his car.”

“That was thoughtful,” I told the portly man in the pinstriped suit and round spectacles who, through no fault of his own, closely resembled the portentous Maurice.

“No trouble at all.” Even the voice was similar.

“Well, just a little.” Aunt Lulu giggled. Mr. Price couldn’t remember which car was his because it was a rented one, and he had to try lots of doors before finding one that opened. Luckily, that was one thing he did remember—leaving it unlocked. He had been worried about it all the time he’d been gone. And when he tried the key they had given him, it didn’t fit, and he had to use a tiny little screwdriver from one of those repair kits, the sort that you sometimes get in a Christmas cracker. I remember the year Freddy got one like it. He wanted the plastic ring that squirted water in people’s eyes, but Maurice wouldn’t swap with him.

“I shouldn’t have dealt with one of those economy-car places.” Mr. Price removed his specs and polished them with a handkerchief produced from his breast pocket. “As my dear wife often reminds me, we get what we pay for in this world.”

“You have a wife?” Aunt Lulu stopped tap-dancing.

“She’s an invalid; has been for many years.”

“Oh, how sad,” I said.

“Martha is the reason I went back up to London last night.” Mr. Price refolded his handkerchief and poked it back into his pocket. “I often have to cut short a business meeting to return home when she has one of her spells.”

“What business are you in?” It seemed a good time to be nosy.

“Toothbrushes.”

“What fun!” Aunt Lulu perched on the arm of a chair and spread her gathered skirts just a little above her plump knees.

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