The Tickler's Jam Murders by Peter Tickler

The Tickler's Jam Murders by Peter Tickler

Author:Peter Tickler [Tickler, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peter Tickler
Published: 2024-02-24T00:00:00+00:00


The Third Day

Despite being dog tired, Kite had slept intermittently. He had risen and passed water three times, and since that third occasion he had been unable to settle. When he had finally given up trying to sleep, he had pulled on his jacket and trousers and opened the door, and that was when he had caught the smell of food being cooked. He padded quickly, but silently down to the kitchen. If Rose was there on her own, it gave him an opportunity to talk to her without being overheard or interrupted.

She was bent over the stove, and didn’t even turn when he said ‘good morning’. Merely waved at the teapot on the hot plate. ‘Only just made it.’

Kite helped himself, added milk and sugar and sat down on the far side of the table facing her. She was still stirring the pot vigorously.

‘You seem to have a lot of responsibilities in this house.’

She turned and looked at him. ‘I did have a girl to help. Kay. Nice and willing. From the village. Came in every day.’ She frowned. ‘Then she caught the influenza. She was dead within a week. Poor little Kay. She didn’t have the strength for it.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Anyway, after that Sir Wilfred decided I could manage on my own, with Mary and Frank helping out. The last thing he wanted was Elizabeth getting ill. Worried about his grandchild, you see.’

She turned back to the saucepan and redoubled her stirring. Kite paused, preparing himself. What he had to say next wasn’t going to be easy. He took a deep breath. ‘Tell me about your brother,’ he said.

Rose didn’t respond. Indeed Kite might have assumed she hadn’t heard his question if she hadn’t stopped stirring whatever food it was in the giant saucepan. She didn’t just stop moving, she froze. Even the strands of hair which had escaped from under her white cap seemed to go rigid.

Kite raised his voice. ‘Rose, I saw Paul’s gravestone.’

She turned very slowly. Her face was pale and her mouth pursed. She pushed back one of the loose strands of hair.

Kite gestured towards the chair in which she always sat, at the end of the long kitchen table. ‘Sit down if you prefer.’

She sat down, carefully resting her hands on her lap. Kite waited, but she showed no sign of speaking. He knew from experience that pressing someone too hard could be counter-productive, but he gave her a nudge nevertheless.

‘I followed some tracks in the snow and they led me to the grave. When I saw his name, I decided that the footprints must be yours. And then I noticed too that it was the first anniversary of his death.’

‘What do you want to know?’ she said eventually.

‘How did he die?’

‘What does it matter to you?’

‘Please…’

‘It was at the factory. He climbed up a ladder and fell into a vat of hot jam.’

Kite jumped, so much so that hot tea spilt down onto his trousers. He swore, then apologised, but Rose showed no sign of noticing.



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