Poppy Redfern and the Midnight Murders by Tessa Arlen

Author:Tessa Arlen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

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MRS. PRITCHARD SET down a frothing pint of bitter in front of Captain Bill Peterson and a glass of sherry for me. And then she set up three more pints on the oak bar top.

Griff lifted his pint to me in silent salute and took a long swallow.

“Best beer in the world,” Hank Dexter said as he lowered his tankard and smacked his lips. “And I love it that you serve it in . . . what’s this called again?” He waved his tankard.

“A pewter tankard, ducky, that’s the right way to serve a pint.” Mrs. Pritchard clearly enjoyed the company of handsome young Americans in her pub. She winked and laughed her loud, happy, publican’s laugh, her cheeks as rosy as the sweater she was wearing.

Bill Peterson drained the rest of his pint in two swallows and wiped his mouth with the back of his immense hand. “That’s it for me,” he said as he set his empty tankard down on the bar. “I have a date in Wickham with a stunning young woman who I must not keep waiting.” He spun some coins down on the counter. “That’s for the first round. Poppy, are you on patrol this evening?”

“No, it’s my night off. I get two a week now we have recruited another ARP warden.”

“Recruited another ARP warden?” Griff put his beer down on the counter. “That sounds very official.”

“It isn’t really. Mr. Fothergill enlisted Sid’s help so I can have a day off occasionally.”

“Sid Ritchie,” Griff explained to Hank Dexter as Peterson left the pub, “is an interesting sort of guy—a real English eccentric. He’s the one who wouldn’t come over to join us for a pint.” And he explained about Sid’s passion for the Royal Air Force and his devotion to Biggles. I had to admit when you hear Sid described by someone who has never spent a minute in his company, he sounded even more idiotic than he was in real life. “Bananas” was the term Griff used.

“And now I am taking Miss Redfern to a movie, and we must leave now, or we’ll miss . . . what are we seeing again?”

“Mrs. Miniver—with Greer Garson.”

“And who else?” It was a leading question and I laughed.

“Walter Pidgeon.”

“See, Dexter, the Brits call their leading men after birds—the entire country is obsessed with birds.” He was so delighted with his joke that I didn’t like to tell him that Walter Pidgeon was a Canadian actor.

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