The Wrong Sort to Die : An utterly compelling historical mystery (Dr Margaret Demeray Book 1) by Paula Harmon

Author:Paula Harmon [Harmon, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: dp books
Published: 2025-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Three

The rest of the morning passed in a fog. With the utmost politeness Margaret shook hands with Fox as he left, and promised to be in touch if anything new occurred to her or she heard from Gil. The young constable seemed affronted that she hadn’t said the same to him, which surprised her until Ed explained during the final throes of book-sorting that Fox was from some branch which the Metropolitan Police thought rather effete.

‘And he says Mr Fox doesn’t let an ordinary bobby do his job.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Doesn’t like them arresting loafers for vagrancy. Makes them take the dossers somewhere they’ll get fussed over.’ Ed scratched his chin. ‘Sort of thing you or Dad would do, I suppose.’

‘Quite. And don’t call people offensive names without knowing their situation.’

‘Mr Fox doesn’t look like a do-gooder. He’s handsome.’

‘Yes he is. I mean, no, he doesn’t. Anyway, the important thing is being a decent human—’

Ed wasn’t listening. ‘I’ve a good mind to leave school and join the force as soon as I’m old enough, Aunt Maggot. Dad couldn’t complain about that.’

‘I think he might,’ said Margaret.

‘I’m sick of being treated like a kid. That chap’s only a bit older than me and he has a proper job with respect and everything, and I’m in school stuck with mouldy old Classics. What’s the point of Latin and Greek?’

‘A question asked ever since Shakespeare, if not before,’ said Margaret. ‘But stick it out till you get to university, Ed. You can’t imagine how much fun you’ll have there.’

‘There’ll be a war before I’m eighteen, you watch.’

Margaret, bending a fingernail on a particularly well-wedged treatise on physiognomy in criminology which was jammed together with an essay entitled Composite Portraits, stared. ‘What makes you say that, Ed?’

‘Things the masters say. We have to stand strong!’

‘In the face of what?’

Her nephew shrugged. ‘Anyone threatening the Empire, of course. Everyone says it. It’s why we signed a treaty with Russia.’

‘Is it? Wasn’t that just our two empires ganging up on someone else’s empire by interfering in a third?’

‘Women haven’t been educated to understand.’ Ed bestowed a kind smile upon her. ‘Perhaps when you get the vote you’ll realise that international affairs are a great deal more complex than organising a dinner party.’

‘If I ever have a dinner party I’ll get you to organise it and work out the seating, and perhaps I’ll put you in Phoebe’s school to say that to the girls.’

‘Yes please.’ Ed grinned. ‘Girls. That would be smashing!’

‘They’d smash you.’

‘Garn, let ’em try. What a way to die!’

In the face of his laughter Margaret’s mood lifted, and she chuckled as she wrapped the last unwanted volume in brown paper.

Everything had got out of proportion.

Two men, possibly three, had died from diseases caused by poverty, infection, poor housing, bad luck, or a combination of those things. Something they’d ingested or inhaled had made that worse. All she had to do was find out what and where, so that whoever was allowing it could be prosecuted.

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