Read Online Folly by Stella Cameron - Free Book Online Page B

that was on top and the scrumptious
Heidi
for sure.’ And probably the rest. She usually did.
    Mary, wrapped in a shawl apparently crocheted from odds and ends of mismatched wool, didn’t turn around, so Alex went to the other side of the woman’s spindled rocking chair and looked quizzically at her.
    Once the kitchen door closed behind Harriet, the elder of the sisters said, ‘You know cats don’t agree with me.’ Mary’s hair was pure white, thick, and pulled up into a bun at the back of her head. She favored various decorative combs and wore a tortoiseshell one inlaid with ivory today. It stuck up in the manner of a Spanish dancer’s, minus the
mantilla
, which might disconcert some.
    â€˜Well,’ Mary said, ‘you do know that, don’t you?’
    â€˜Um – no,’ she answered succinctly.
    â€˜Of course you do. I’ve told you before.’
    The kitchen door opened a few inches and Harriet called through: ‘Are you hearing about Mary’s newly acquired allergy to cats? Don’t believe a word of it.’
    Alex narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. ‘Honestly, Mary, I don’t recall anything about a cat allergy, but so what? Stay away from them.’ There wasn’t a person in the village who would forget how upset Mary had been over the loss of a beloved old cat but Alex wasn’t going there.
    Mary shook her head and pointed.
    A skinny, scraggly tabby sat tucked into a corner by the fireplace, watching them with disconcerting suspicion. An electric fire burned in the grate and the animal clearly sought out the warmth.
    â€˜Oh, dear,’ Alex said. ‘It doesn’t look very well. It’s so thin.’
    â€˜Then it should go to someone who’ll get pleasure from fattening it up. Could you take it to that nice Tony Harrison for us?’
    â€˜Oliver isn’t going anywhere,’ Harriet said, marching across the room with a laden tray in her hands. She put it on a drop-leaf table polished to a glassy shine. ‘He’s doing beautifully. He particularly likes whitebait. I got some at the fishmonger’s and popped it under the grill – made it all crispy, curly, and he ate every bite.’
    â€˜Fish isn’t good for cats,’ Mary said, her eyes closed. Her softly lined, deceptively sweet-old-lady face had a touch of rouge and powder, and she looked the perfect grandmotherly type. What a laugh.
    â€˜Of course it’s good for them,’ Harriet said.
    â€˜No, it isn’t. They get eczema from it and their fur falls out.’
    Alex’s glance settled on the pink and yellow squares in some tender-looking slices of Battenberg cake, a sponge checkerboard held together with raspberry jam and all wrapped in a thin skin of marzipan. It was her favorite and she realized she was hungry. ‘This looks good,’ she said. ‘I’ll pour the tea.’
    â€˜
You
don’t look good,’ Harriet said, deliberately not giving Mary any attention. ‘This nasty death is too much for you. It would be too much for anyone. What’s going on about that? Is that policeman still being hard on you?’
    Alex had a reason for coming, other than seeking out a haven, but before she launched into her own questions she supposed she’d have to give the Burkes some of the information she’d rather they got from her than the village gossips who were bound to find out eventually.
    â€˜She’s forgotten I had Rupert for eighteen years,’ Mary said, still eyeing the tabby. ‘I’m an expert.’ Rupert had been Mary’s cat.
    â€˜And you haven’t got over not having him any more,’ Harriet said sharply. ‘Five years and you’re still grieving. Well, Oliver showed up in our garden and now you’re going to live with him. Like it or lump it. He’s mine. I found him shivering in the snow. And you weren’t allergic to Rupert so stop being so