Tied Up in Tinsel by Ngaio Marsh

Author:Ngaio Marsh [Marsh, Ngaio]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
Published: 2010-01-22T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

House Work

Colonel Forrester lay in a little heap face down under the window. He looked small and accidental. His wife, in her red dressing gown, knelt beside him, and as Troy and Alleyn entered the room, was in the act of raising him to a sitting position. Alleyn helped her.

Troy said, "He takes something, doesn't he?" "Tablets. Bedside table. And water."

He was leaning back in his wife's arms now, his eyes wide open and terrified and his head moving very slightly in time with his breathing. Her thin plait of hair dangled over him.

"It's not here," Troy said.

"Must be. Pill things. Capsules. He put them there. Be quick."

Alleyn said: "Try his dressing gown pocket, if you can reach it. Wait. I will." It was empty.

"I saw them. I reminded him. You haven't looked. Fred! Fred, you're all right, old man. I'm here."

"Truly," said Troy. "They're not anywhere here. How about brandy?"

"Yes. His flask's in the middle drawer. Dressing table."

It was there. Troy unscrewed the top and gave it to her. Alleyn began casting about the room.

"That'll be better. Won't it, Fred? Better?"

Troy brought a glass of water but was ignored. Mrs. Forrester held the mouth of the flask between her husband's lips. "Take it, Fred," she said. "Just a sip. Take it. You must. That's right. Another."

Alleyn said: "Here we are!"

He was beside them with a capsule in his palm. He held it out to Mrs. Forrester. Then he took the flask from her and put it beside a glass phial on the dressing table.

"Fred, look. Your pill. Come on, old boy."

The delay seemed interminable. Into the silence came a tiny rhythmic sound: "Ah—ah—ah," of the Colonel's breathing. Presently Mrs. Forrester said: "That's better. Isn't it? That's better, old boy."

He was better. The look of extreme anxiety passed. He made plaintive little noises and at last murmured something. "What? What is it?" "Moult," whispered the Colonel.

Mrs. Forrester made an inarticulate exclamation. She brushed her husband's thin hair back and kissed his forehead. "Turn," said the Colonel, "wasn't it?" "Yes."

"All right soon."

"Of course you will be."

"Up."

"Not yet, Fred." "Yes. Get up."

He began very feebly to scrabble with his feet on the carpet. Mrs. Forrester, with a look of helplessness of which Troy would have thought her totally incapable, turned to Alleyn.

"Yes, of course," he said, answering it. "He shouldn't he flat, should he?"

She shook her head.

Alleyn leant over the Colonel. "Will you let me put you to bed, sir?" he asked.

"Very kind. Shouldn't bother."

Troy heaped up the pillows on the bed and opened it back.

When she looked about her she found Alleyn with the Colonel in his arms.

"Here we go," said Alleyn and gently deposited his burden. The Colonel looked up at him. "Collapse," he said, "of Old Party" and the wraith of his mischievous look visited his face. "You old fool," said his wife.

Alleyn chuckled. "You'll do," he said. "You'll do splendidly." "Oh yes. I expect so."

Mrs. Forrester chafed his hands between her two elderly ones. Alleyn picked up the phial delicately between finger and thumb and held it up to the light.

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