Read Online A Donation of Murder by Felicity Young - Free Book Online Page B

She patted the bed, inviting Dody to sit. ‘But enough of all that. What of you, do you always come home this late of a night?’
    Dody perched on the edge of the bed. Florence had been away from home for several months and she was missing her companionship sorely. It was a pleasure to have someone to talk to at the end of a trying day.
    Margaret sniffed the air. ‘What’s that smell, is it smoke?’
    I’m glad that’s all she can smell on me . Dody hated to think what other unsavoury odours might be lurking amongst her multiple layers of clothing; she’d not had the chance to bathe since leaving the mortuary.
    â€˜Yes, it is smoke,’ she replied. ‘I was called to a building that had been deliberately set alight, to examine some bodies found there.’
    â€˜I don’t know how you do it.’ Margaret wrinkled her pretty nose. ‘Dealing with dead bodies all day. This didn’t have anything to do with the siege in Brushfield Street, did it, Doctor?’ At Dody’s frown, Margaret added, ‘It’s been all over the evening news.’ She pointed to the newspaper lying at the end of her bed.
    Dody reached for it and scanned the front-page article. She found nothing she didn’t already know except for the news of the escape of a fourth man, described as a fifteen-year-old apprentice thief, a boy who had grown up on the streets. It was distressing that one so young had been able to murder his colleagues with such cold-blooded expertise. And what if Pike had been injured, or God forbid, killed in the skirmish? It did not bear thinking about.
    Her tired mind wandered. She wondered if he would be joining her in her bed tonight. It was already past midnight and it would be more practical for him to return to his lodgings above the Clarence public house in Whitehall, a stone’s throw from Scotland Yard. She was almost as eager to hear the details of the siege as she was to hold him in her arms. He had a key and let himself in these days, often managing to come and go without the servants’ knowledge — all except Annie, who didn’t miss a trick. Just as well Annie had learned to hold her tongue. Not long ago her tittle-tattle had almost caused Dody and Pike to lose their jobs — and her own too.
    â€˜Your maid was very kind. As well as bringing the newspaper, she brought me up some whisky to help me sleep. May I offer you a glass?’ Margaret pointed to a tray set up on Florence’s dressing table on which Annie had thoughtfully placed two glasses.
    Dody hesitated. She really should be off to bed.
    â€˜I suspect that your day has been just as trying as mine.’ Margaret’s warm tones were tempting. ‘Just a little tot, eh?’
    Dody gave in, walked over to the dressing table and poured them both a glass before returning to her position at the end of the bed.
    â€˜If you don’t mind my asking, Doctor —’
    â€˜Dody.’
    â€˜Dody. Whose bedroom am I borrowing? I hope no one has been inconvenienced because of me. I could not help but notice some very fine gowns hanging up around the place.’
    Dody smiled. ‘My sister’s. I do apologise for the mess. Florence is quite the clotheshorse and never seems to have sufficient cupboard space. Even my wardrobe is half crammed with her things.’
    â€˜But where will she sleep tonight?’
    â€˜Oh, don’t worry about Florence, she is in Scotland, learning to fly a Tiger Moth.’
    Margaret drained her glass and patted her chest, enjoying the burn. ‘How thrilling!’
    â€˜Yes,’ Dody agreed. ‘Yes, it is, I suppose, if you like that kind of thing.’ She smiled, recollecting what Florence had said about flying machines causing havoc with one’s hair. ‘We, the family that is, were hoping she’d be home for Christmas — one can hardly learn to fly at this time of year in Scotland — but alas, she has