Blackflies Are Murder by Lou Allin

Author:Lou Allin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2002-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Miriam pasted on a stamp, licked and sealed the envelope and placed it on a small pile of mail. She rubbed her thumb and index finger together and shot a mischievous grin across the room. “With six sales this month, you can afford to give me a raise.”

A mental close-up over the balance sheet made Belle grimace. A bonus was a kiss, a raise a commitment. “Listen, Madame What-Have-You-Done-For-Me-Lately, we had to share the commissions on three. And even if this is the peak season, you know our ups and downs. A strike at INCO or Falconbridge is always around the corner.” She selected the cream-filled morsels from a box of Timbits. Who said something couldn’t come from nothing? The enterprising doughnut chain fried the scrap holes into moneymakers. Maybe Zack should get into recycling. All those tires dumped in the bush to avoid disposal fees could be sliced up and woven into blasting site mats. She munched for a moment, then got up and went to the window, sighing mournfully.

“Where did I put the address of that food bank?” Miriam plucked the last chocolate rounds from the box, then watched Belle pace. “For heaven’s sake, what’s wrong with you? Settle down. You’re making me nervous.”

“Well, to run with the food metaphor, I love a full plate, but not full of worries. Anni, Zack, now more problems. Remember Mr. Sullivan? He was invaded by a pack of dogs.”

“Wild dogs?”

“Of course not. They belonged to the Rogers next door. Anyway, with no cooperation from them, he took a couple to the pound. That’s when he received a warning.”

“Sounds intriguing. What kind of warning? Dead seagull tacked to the door?”

“Oh, a friendly note and eine kleine poisonous mushroom in the innocent Canadian night.” She hummed a snatch of Mozart.

“Do we have a Lucretia Borgia here? Poisoning’s a feminine art. Women have always been the experts in what’s edible and what’s not.” Miriam narrowed lizard eyes in juicy contemplation. “I can see her now. Smooth as chocolate chiffon pie. And speaking of . . .” she poked into the box. “There’s only cinnamon left, and we hate those. Next time ask for our favourites. You’re assertive enough about refusing raises.”

Belle refused to continue sparring. “I have a suspicion Mabel Joy Rogers is the culprit, but he burned the note. A fake name anyway. Just another annoyance to the police. I’ve got to drop a few very strong hints, without just walking in cold. She’s not smart, but she’s shrewd. Much more dangerous.”

“Do they have a place in town? Offer her a free appraisal. Say there’s a buyer interested. It’s a foolproof temptation, especially for a big house.” Miriam winked. “Good time to look around, too. Check out her rings for flip tops.”

“The pellet with the poison’s in the chalice from the palace.” Or was it? Danny Kaye had her head whirling. While Miriam got Mabel Joy on the line, Belle pictured her neighbour. “Chiffon” to the last atom, all fluff and no substance. In their few chance meetings, she had taken an instant dislike to the pretentious puppet.

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