furniture-eating dog.
We were about to leave when Cressida exchanged greetings with a lady who had just entered the store, the owner of one of the cafés in Little Tatterford. They chatted for a while, so I wandered off to look at the antiques. When I finally walked back to Cressida, I heard the lady saying, “I didn’t know your cleaner had such an interest in weeds.”
“What do you mean?”
“The other week, I saw her out on Gostywk Road, picking armfuls of the hemlock that was growing wild on the side of the road. I thought she must be studying botany at the university.”
“No, she isn’t, not as far as I know,” Cressida said, shooting me a significant look.
As soon as we were out of the store, Cressida turned to me. “What do you think of that? Quick, get in the car.”
By the time I was in the car, Cressida had already called the detectives. “Constable Andrews has gone to fetch Detective Henderson,” she said to me. After a moment, she spoke again. “Hello, Detective. It’s Cressida Upthorpe. Sibyl and I are in Pharmidale, and we just happened to meet Janine Templeton who owns the Top Hill Café in Little Tatterford. She told us that she saw my cleaner, Susan Woods, gathering hemlock the other week, where it grows wild on Gostywk Road.”
Cressida listened, and then said, “Okay, goodbye.”
“What did he say?”
She shrugged. “He just said, ‘Thank you; we’ll be in touch.’”
I bit my lip. “That doesn’t sound good, but I suppose the police always say that when handed evidence. Surely those two detectives would have to consider it seriously. Are you excited, Cressida? This means you’re no longer the main suspect.” I looked at Cressida, but she was hunched over the steering wheel.
“No, Sibyl, it can’t be Susan. I just remembered something.”
My heart sank. “What?”
“Lord Farringdon selected her for the cleaning position. He’s a good judge of character.”
I raised my eyebrows, but managed to keep my opinions to myself.
"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace."
(Milan Kundera)
Chapter Eleven .
I arrived at the Dog Training group filled with trepidation. Sandy walked well on the leash, and I had taught her to sit every time I stopped, but I had no idea how she would react around so many other dogs. She was always excited to meet other dogs on our walks – excited meaning that she did vertical leaps in the air trying to reach the dogs to lick them to death.
I had arrived early for two reasons, the first being that I wanted to register and find the right class, and secondly, I wanted to find Blake and tell him what Janine Templeton said about the boarding house’s cleaner gathering hemlock from the side of the road.
I was accompanied by Mr. Buttons, who agreed with me that it was most certainly incriminating evidence. “I’m so nervous about this, Mr. Buttons. What if Sandy misbehaves?”
Mr. Buttons shook his head. “Sibyl, please don’t say that again. People take their dogs to training so that they will be taught to behave. There must be other dogs like Sandy here.”
I wasn’t so sure, but Mr. Buttons took the initiative. He grasped Sandy’s leash, and we made our way to what looked like an office, in a tent.
Unfortunately, there was a Staffordshire Terrier standing in the way and as we approached him, Sandy threw herself on top of him in delight. The owner at first smiled, and the dog wanted to play for the first few seconds, but then decided he didn’t want a much heavier dog cleaning out the inside of his ears.
Mr. Buttons pulled Sandy away. The Staffordshire Terrier shook his head, and globules of slobber flew out of his ear. I apologized profusely. The owner and the dog hurried away.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” I groaned.
“Nonsense,
We were about to leave when Cressida exchanged greetings with a lady who had just entered the store, the owner of one of the cafés in Little Tatterford. They chatted for a while, so I wandered off to look at the antiques. When I finally walked back to Cressida, I heard the lady saying, “I didn’t know your cleaner had such an interest in weeds.”
“What do you mean?”
“The other week, I saw her out on Gostywk Road, picking armfuls of the hemlock that was growing wild on the side of the road. I thought she must be studying botany at the university.”
“No, she isn’t, not as far as I know,” Cressida said, shooting me a significant look.
As soon as we were out of the store, Cressida turned to me. “What do you think of that? Quick, get in the car.”
By the time I was in the car, Cressida had already called the detectives. “Constable Andrews has gone to fetch Detective Henderson,” she said to me. After a moment, she spoke again. “Hello, Detective. It’s Cressida Upthorpe. Sibyl and I are in Pharmidale, and we just happened to meet Janine Templeton who owns the Top Hill Café in Little Tatterford. She told us that she saw my cleaner, Susan Woods, gathering hemlock the other week, where it grows wild on Gostywk Road.”
Cressida listened, and then said, “Okay, goodbye.”
“What did he say?”
She shrugged. “He just said, ‘Thank you; we’ll be in touch.’”
I bit my lip. “That doesn’t sound good, but I suppose the police always say that when handed evidence. Surely those two detectives would have to consider it seriously. Are you excited, Cressida? This means you’re no longer the main suspect.” I looked at Cressida, but she was hunched over the steering wheel.
“No, Sibyl, it can’t be Susan. I just remembered something.”
My heart sank. “What?”
“Lord Farringdon selected her for the cleaning position. He’s a good judge of character.”
I raised my eyebrows, but managed to keep my opinions to myself.
"Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace."
(Milan Kundera)
Chapter Eleven .
I arrived at the Dog Training group filled with trepidation. Sandy walked well on the leash, and I had taught her to sit every time I stopped, but I had no idea how she would react around so many other dogs. She was always excited to meet other dogs on our walks – excited meaning that she did vertical leaps in the air trying to reach the dogs to lick them to death.
I had arrived early for two reasons, the first being that I wanted to register and find the right class, and secondly, I wanted to find Blake and tell him what Janine Templeton said about the boarding house’s cleaner gathering hemlock from the side of the road.
I was accompanied by Mr. Buttons, who agreed with me that it was most certainly incriminating evidence. “I’m so nervous about this, Mr. Buttons. What if Sandy misbehaves?”
Mr. Buttons shook his head. “Sibyl, please don’t say that again. People take their dogs to training so that they will be taught to behave. There must be other dogs like Sandy here.”
I wasn’t so sure, but Mr. Buttons took the initiative. He grasped Sandy’s leash, and we made our way to what looked like an office, in a tent.
Unfortunately, there was a Staffordshire Terrier standing in the way and as we approached him, Sandy threw herself on top of him in delight. The owner at first smiled, and the dog wanted to play for the first few seconds, but then decided he didn’t want a much heavier dog cleaning out the inside of his ears.
Mr. Buttons pulled Sandy away. The Staffordshire Terrier shook his head, and globules of slobber flew out of his ear. I apologized profusely. The owner and the dog hurried away.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” I groaned.
“Nonsense,
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