A Red Herring Without Mustard by Alan Bradley

Author:Alan Bradley
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2009-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

“You’re in my light,” Daffy said.

I had intentionally planted myself between her book and the window.

It was not going to be easy to ask my sister for assistance. I took a deep breath.

“I need some help.”

“Poor Flavia!”

“Please, Daff,” I said, despising myself for begging. “It’s about that man whose body I found at the fountain.”

Daffy threw down her book in exasperation. “Why drag me into your sordid little games? You know perfectly well how much they upset me.”

Upset her? Daff? Games?

“I thought you loved crime!” I said, pointing to her book. It was a collection of G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown mysteries.

“I do,” she said, “but not in real life. The antics you get up to turn my stomach.”

This was news to me. I’d file it away for later use.

“And Father’s almost as bad,” she added. “Do you know what he said at breakfast yesterday, before you came down? ‘Flavia’s found another body.’ Almost as if he was proud of you.”

Father said that? I could hardly believe it.

The revelations were coming thick and fast! I should have thought of talking to Daffy sooner.

“It’s true,” I said. “I did. But I’ll spare you the details.”

“Thank you,” Daffy said quietly, and I thought she might actually have meant it.

“Poseidon,” I said, taking advantage of the partial thaw. “What do you know about Poseidon?”

This was throwing down the gauntlet. Daffy knew everything about everything, and I knew she couldn’t resist showing off her uncanny power of recall.

“Poseidon? He was a cad,” she said. “A bully and a cad. He was also a womanizer.”

“How can a god be a cad?”

Daffy ignored my question. “He was what we would call nowadays the patron saint of sailors, and with jolly good reason.”

“Which means?”

“That he was no better than he ought to be. Now run along.”

Ordinarily I might have taken umbrage at being dismissed so high-handedly (I love that word, “umbrage” – it’s in David Copperfield, where David’s aunt, Betsey Trotwood, takes umbrage at his being born), but I didn’t – instead, I felt rather an odd sense of gratitude towards my sister.

“Thanks, Daff!” I said. “I knew I could count on you.”

This was shoveling it on, but I was honestly pleased. And so, I think, was Daffy. As she picked up her book, I saw that the corners of her mouth were turned up by about the thickness of one of its pages.

♦

I was half expecting to find Porcelain in my room, but of course she was gone. I had almost forgotten that she’d accused me of attempted murder.

I’d begin with her.

PORCELAIN (I wrote in my notebook) – Can’t possibly be her grandmother’s attacker since she was in London at the time. Or was she? I have only her word for it. But why did she feel compelled to wash out her clothing?

BROOKIE HAREWOOD – Was likely killed by the same person who attacked Fenella. Or was he? Did Brookie attack Fenella? He was on the scene at the time.

VANETTA HAREWOOD – Why would she kill her own son? She paid him to keep away from her.

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