A Dangerous Deceit by Marjorie Eccles

Author:Marjorie Eccles [Eccles, Marjorie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780727883223
Google: cFDBmwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0727883224
Barnesnoble: 0727883224
Goodreads: 17859397
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Binkie Scroope and his wife were alone in the drawing room of their large, first-floor mansion flat in Belgravia. All the furniture in the flat was modern: the last word in blond wood, glass-topped tables, unframed mirrors. It was decorated in tones of oatmeal, cafe au lait and dove grey, a neutral de rigueur colour-scheme of the moment, beloved of Opal and her friends. Binkie had not cared enough to raise any objections when it had been chosen – at least it wasn’t all dead white, which it might have been – but by now he thought it exceedingly dull. Its blandness was getting on his nerves. He didn’t know which was worse – this, or the faded glories of Maxstead.

A letter from his mother had come for him by the afternoon post. He read it through again, then put it back in its envelope, and put the envelope in his pocket, without making any comment. The best way to deal with Maxstead was not to think about it at all.

His lazy eyes surveyed Opal – pretty and spoilt, quite good-natured on the whole, until it came to Maxstead and money. She was lying back in her chair, wearing black satin lounging pyjamas lavishly embroidered at the hems and cuffs, her bandaged leg up on a cushioned footstool, turning over the pages of Vogue while simultaneously playing jazz band dance music on the wireless, smoking a cigarette through an amber holder and dipping into the hideously expensive box of Charbonnel et Walker chocolates he had bought her. It was rare, if not unheard of, for them to be spending an evening in, but Opal had tripped over her carelessly dangling evening stole as they returned home in the grey light of morning after a night out and had sprained her ankle and been ordered to rest it.

She was bored beyond tears. It was only three days since it had happened, but incarceration within the four walls of the flat was testing the limits of her endurance and fraying the edges of her temper. Prolonged association with her toddlers was not the unalloyed pleasure it was supposed to be, and she had already had sharp words with Nanny over their behaviour. No one had called to see her since lunch. Worse, it was windy outside, causing a lot of static on the wireless and making it difficult to listen to Harry Roy. The flowers sent by her friends were beginning to wilt in the central heating.

She said fretfully, ‘For goodness’ sake take those lilies out, Binkie, darling, they’re going off. I can’t think why Edmé Porter brought them – she knows I’ve always detested the smell of lilies. Isn’t it time for cocktails?’

Binkie left the room, without taking the flowers. He was away some time. She was looking impatiently at the clock when he eventually returned, carrying by its tall stem a single shallow cocktail glass with a twist of lemon and a maraschino cherry. He had changed into his evening clothes, his white silk scarf was slung around his neck, his coat folded over his free arm.

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