Read Online After the Exhibition: A Jack Haldean 1920s Mystery (A Jack Haldean Mystery) by Dolores Gordon-Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dolores Gordon-Smith
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You’ve probably got quite enough to do as it is without looking for work. Forget it.’
Jack linked his hands together behind his head and stretched out in his chair with a smile. ‘Forget it? That’s even harder than doing something about it.’ Besides that, he added to himself, it’d be nice to see a bit more of Betty Wingate.
‘Then you’ll do it?’ asked Bill. ‘Thanks, Jack. You’re a pal.’
Betty looked at them both blankly. ‘I’m sorry, but did I miss something? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. What is it Mr Haldean’s going to do?’
‘Investigate your mysterious vanishing lady,’ said Jack, reaching out for a cigarette. He lit it and blew out a long mouthful of smoke. ‘Run round, ask questions and generally make an absolute nuisance of myself to all concerned.’
‘But why?’ demanded Betty. ‘I mean, I could do that. I have done that.’
‘Ah, yes, but I’m a pocket genius,’ said Jack with a smile. ‘If only I was wearing a false beard and whiskers, I could tear it off and you would see the celebrated features of the modern Sherlock Holmes. Conundrums confounded, secrets solved, deceptions detected – that’s a blinking good bit of alliteration off the top of my head, even though I say so myself – crooks caught and murders … Damn! I can’t think of a word that starts with M and means solved, but you get the drift. All this done while-you-wait. Distance no object. No job too small and families waited upon daily.’
Bill smothered a laugh but Betty looked at Jack blankly. ‘Excuse me? I don’t think I understood any of that.’
Bill intervened. ‘What Haldean is trying to tell you, Miss Wingate, is that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he’s not certifiably loopy but is actually very good at solving mysteries.’
Betty looked at Jack in disbelief. ‘You’re a private detective?’ She paused uncertainly. ‘I can’t …’ She swallowed, then met his gaze squarely. ‘I can’t afford to pay anyone to investigate.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘I don’t do this as a business.’ He looked at her and grinned. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but tell me, Miss Wingate, after your adventure, did you suffer from spots?’
‘Spots?’ She looked understandably affronted. ‘What d’you mean, spots? Are you serious?’
‘I’m very serious. Spots as in little pimples, you know? I’m sorry if it’s a rather personal question.’
‘It’s certainly that.’ Betty shrugged. ‘That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever been asked. Does seeing a murder usually bring on spots?’
‘So did you? Have spots, I mean?’
Betty bridled with irritation. ‘Yes, I did, if you must know, although I—’
‘Were they round your mouth?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact they were.’
Jack turned to Bill. ‘Chloroform, Bill. You must’ve thought the same when you heard Miss Wingate’s story and she talked about the hospital smell.’
‘I still don’t see what you’re getting at—’ began Betty, when Jack interrupted.
‘You were chloroformed. That’s what knocked you unconscious. One of the after-effects of chloroform applied to the skin is a rash of tiny blisters.’
‘Gosh,’ said Betty, impressed despite herself. ‘So that’s what it was!’ She looked at Jack with growing respect. ‘It sounds as if you might be good at this, after all.’
Bill laughed. ‘He’s not bad. I told you as much.’
‘So you’re going to look into what I saw, then?’ demanded Betty.
‘Absolutely I am. Were you going back to Whimbrell Heath today?’
Betty nodded. ‘I don’t want to be away longer than I can help.’
‘Then why don’t we run down together? My car’s garaged round the corner and it should be a pleasant trip.’ He caught the expression on Bill’s face and added, ‘Can you come too, Bill? Not officially, you understand, but just for the ride.’
Bill smiled and put his hands wide. ‘As I said before,
Jack linked his hands together behind his head and stretched out in his chair with a smile. ‘Forget it? That’s even harder than doing something about it.’ Besides that, he added to himself, it’d be nice to see a bit more of Betty Wingate.
‘Then you’ll do it?’ asked Bill. ‘Thanks, Jack. You’re a pal.’
Betty looked at them both blankly. ‘I’m sorry, but did I miss something? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. What is it Mr Haldean’s going to do?’
‘Investigate your mysterious vanishing lady,’ said Jack, reaching out for a cigarette. He lit it and blew out a long mouthful of smoke. ‘Run round, ask questions and generally make an absolute nuisance of myself to all concerned.’
‘But why?’ demanded Betty. ‘I mean, I could do that. I have done that.’
‘Ah, yes, but I’m a pocket genius,’ said Jack with a smile. ‘If only I was wearing a false beard and whiskers, I could tear it off and you would see the celebrated features of the modern Sherlock Holmes. Conundrums confounded, secrets solved, deceptions detected – that’s a blinking good bit of alliteration off the top of my head, even though I say so myself – crooks caught and murders … Damn! I can’t think of a word that starts with M and means solved, but you get the drift. All this done while-you-wait. Distance no object. No job too small and families waited upon daily.’
Bill smothered a laugh but Betty looked at Jack blankly. ‘Excuse me? I don’t think I understood any of that.’
Bill intervened. ‘What Haldean is trying to tell you, Miss Wingate, is that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he’s not certifiably loopy but is actually very good at solving mysteries.’
Betty looked at Jack in disbelief. ‘You’re a private detective?’ She paused uncertainly. ‘I can’t …’ She swallowed, then met his gaze squarely. ‘I can’t afford to pay anyone to investigate.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘I don’t do this as a business.’ He looked at her and grinned. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but tell me, Miss Wingate, after your adventure, did you suffer from spots?’
‘Spots?’ She looked understandably affronted. ‘What d’you mean, spots? Are you serious?’
‘I’m very serious. Spots as in little pimples, you know? I’m sorry if it’s a rather personal question.’
‘It’s certainly that.’ Betty shrugged. ‘That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever been asked. Does seeing a murder usually bring on spots?’
‘So did you? Have spots, I mean?’
Betty bridled with irritation. ‘Yes, I did, if you must know, although I—’
‘Were they round your mouth?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact they were.’
Jack turned to Bill. ‘Chloroform, Bill. You must’ve thought the same when you heard Miss Wingate’s story and she talked about the hospital smell.’
‘I still don’t see what you’re getting at—’ began Betty, when Jack interrupted.
‘You were chloroformed. That’s what knocked you unconscious. One of the after-effects of chloroform applied to the skin is a rash of tiny blisters.’
‘Gosh,’ said Betty, impressed despite herself. ‘So that’s what it was!’ She looked at Jack with growing respect. ‘It sounds as if you might be good at this, after all.’
Bill laughed. ‘He’s not bad. I told you as much.’
‘So you’re going to look into what I saw, then?’ demanded Betty.
‘Absolutely I am. Were you going back to Whimbrell Heath today?’
Betty nodded. ‘I don’t want to be away longer than I can help.’
‘Then why don’t we run down together? My car’s garaged round the corner and it should be a pleasant trip.’ He caught the expression on Bill’s face and added, ‘Can you come too, Bill? Not officially, you understand, but just for the ride.’
Bill smiled and put his hands wide. ‘As I said before,
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