Hasty Retreat by Kate Gallison

Author:Kate Gallison [Gallison, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1998-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

The first person they saw in the library was Annabelle Smartt, sitting by the door filing her nails, right there in public. Granny would have fainted at the sight.

"Where's Sedgewick?" Mother Grey demanded.

Annabelle uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way, then inclined her head toward the hallway that led to the refectory. "He's talking to the woman with the hair."

"Good," said Mother Grey. Deedee snatched up Annabelle's half-empty coffee mug, and the two clergywomen paraded across the library and into the front hall.

The heavy door to the refectory was open, propped against the wall; Sedgewick had Berry Newmont with her mane of yellow curls backed up against it. He was not quite touching her, but his arm was up against the door in such a way as to block retreat as he assaulted her with some political tirade. She held her coffee mug between them like a shield.

"Not the flat tax again," Mother Grey muttered.

"On three," said Deedee. "We crowd in the door and spill her coffee on him. One—two—"

No gang of airport pickpockets could have done it better. Sedgewick's scream of distress told them that Berry Newmont's coffee was still hot, not like Annabelle's, which Deedee managed to pour on his head under the guise of helping him as he stooped over to pick up Newmont's cup.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "Please let me—"

"It's all right," he said, fending her off. "I'll just go wash off and change." He rushed out and through the library.

Casting a glance at the women that clearly said she thought them a pair of dangerous lunatics, Berry Newmont retreated to the refectory, probably for more coffee. Brother Mortimer came out of the kitchen with his mop and followed Sedgewick all the way across the library and up the stairs, cleaning up the drips.

Hard on his heels came Mother Grey and Deedee, avoiding the wet spots. My word, thought Mother Grey. What if he takes off his clothes in the men's room? They needed a male confederate. Perhaps Mortimer—

But, no, their plan had worked perfectly. As Mortimer came down the steps they went up, and when they reached the top, Sedgewick's pale robe-clad back was disappearing through the door to the men's. He had taken his clothes off.

In the room called St. Barnabas, the bed had been freshly made, doubtless by Ouida, and the bags were neatly stacked next to the door. One case was unzipped, the one from which Sedgewick had retrieved his robe. A sad heap of sticky clothing lay in the middle of the floor.

"Wonder who he thinks will pick these up?" Deedee muttered. She took up the pants, a pair of khakis bearing a label on the back pocket that said "Duck Head" with a little embroidered mallard, and fumbled around in the pockets. What she sought was in the left side front.

"Bingo," she said.

They smoothed out the brown-stained composition book page and there was Basil's neat handwriting, perfectly legible if a little runny.

The arthritis is worse and worse,

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