Read Online Murder in Midwinter by Lesley Cookman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lesley Cookman
Tags: Mystery
Ads: Link
Steeple Martin, they all sat down in Aunt Maria’s front room.
‘This was where she lived with your grandmother, was it?’ asked Libby. ‘But your father didn’t?’
‘As far as I can work out from the letter,’ said Bella, taking it out of her handbag and riffling through the pages, ‘he lived here while my grandmother was abroad, but I think he went to live with her in London when she returned. When he left home, Dorinda returned here, and they lived together for the rest of their lives.’
‘Dorinda was your grandmother, right?’ asked Fran.
‘Yes. What I don’t know is who else was here when Dorinda was abroad. Maria and my father were too young to be left alone. She says –’ Bella found the relevant passage ‘– in the care of someone in the troupe. But I don’t know whether they were in this cottage or somewhere else.’
‘That doesn’t really matter, does it?’ said Fran. ‘It’s Dorinda and Maria you want to know about.’
‘Well, yes. I mean, Maria’s told me most of it. I just want to know if they were happy, or if there’s anything – something – in the past I ought to know.’
‘Just like Goodall and Smythe, in fact,’ said Libby, patting her lap and accepting Balzac into it.
‘Yes,’ said Fran, ‘but I’m still not sure why Inspector Connell should have suggested you ask me about it.’
‘No,’ said Bella slowly, ‘I don’t really, either.’
Libby snorted. ‘Honestly, you two. Fran, I thought you’d be able to see that. He thinks the body in the theatre might have something to do with Bella’s family.’
‘But how could it?’ Bella looked horrified. ‘There’s been no one left of my family – except me, and no one knew about me – for years.’
‘And Auntie Maria,’ said Libby.
‘She wouldn’t have murdered anyone,’ said Bella.
‘How do you know?’ said Fran. ‘You didn’t even know she existed until last week.’
‘Oh.’ Bella looked into the fire, and Balzac jumped from Libby’s lap on to hers. ‘So that’s it,’ she said, absentmindedly stroking his head.
Fran and Libby looked at each other.
‘Well, we think we know why Inspector Connell wanted you to see me,’ said Fran, ‘but why did you want to see me?’
‘Well, as I said yesterday, Dorinda and Maria lived here, and she says in her letter there are some things from the theatre somewhere that she would like kept. They could be here.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Fran.
Bella’s colour deepened. ‘I – I – I just wanted to know –’ She stopped.
‘Anything Fran could tell you.’ Libby nodded. ‘I understand, even if she doesn’t.’ She stood up. ‘Come on, let’s go and see if we can find any of this memorabilia.’
‘Programmes and costumes, she says,’ said Bella, following Libby up the stairs.
‘Wow,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder how the costumes have stood up.’
‘Crumbling probably,’ said Fran, bringing up the rear, with Balzac padding alongside, plumy black tail waving curiously.
They searched both bedrooms without finding anything more exciting than some costume jewellery, and a few pieces of what Libby said was probably the real stuff. Two old fur coats hung in one of the wardrobes, but nothing that suggested the theatre.
‘There’s very little here at all,’ said Fran, looking round her with arms akimbo. ‘It’s as if she cleared everything out.’
‘Yes?’ Libby sat on the edge of a bed. ‘Is that what it feels like?’
Fran nodded, looking round. ‘Empty. And yet she and her mother lived here for what – eighty years?’
‘All her life, except I still don’t think she can have lived here while her mother was abroad,’ said Bella. ‘She must have lived with one of the families in the troupe.’
‘Still, she was here for most of the time. Hasn’t she left any sort of – I don’t know – imprint?’ said Libby.
‘Oh, yes, there’s a feeling of something, but almost disinfected. There’s more downstairs than there is
‘This was where she lived with your grandmother, was it?’ asked Libby. ‘But your father didn’t?’
‘As far as I can work out from the letter,’ said Bella, taking it out of her handbag and riffling through the pages, ‘he lived here while my grandmother was abroad, but I think he went to live with her in London when she returned. When he left home, Dorinda returned here, and they lived together for the rest of their lives.’
‘Dorinda was your grandmother, right?’ asked Fran.
‘Yes. What I don’t know is who else was here when Dorinda was abroad. Maria and my father were too young to be left alone. She says –’ Bella found the relevant passage ‘– in the care of someone in the troupe. But I don’t know whether they were in this cottage or somewhere else.’
‘That doesn’t really matter, does it?’ said Fran. ‘It’s Dorinda and Maria you want to know about.’
‘Well, yes. I mean, Maria’s told me most of it. I just want to know if they were happy, or if there’s anything – something – in the past I ought to know.’
‘Just like Goodall and Smythe, in fact,’ said Libby, patting her lap and accepting Balzac into it.
‘Yes,’ said Fran, ‘but I’m still not sure why Inspector Connell should have suggested you ask me about it.’
‘No,’ said Bella slowly, ‘I don’t really, either.’
Libby snorted. ‘Honestly, you two. Fran, I thought you’d be able to see that. He thinks the body in the theatre might have something to do with Bella’s family.’
‘But how could it?’ Bella looked horrified. ‘There’s been no one left of my family – except me, and no one knew about me – for years.’
‘And Auntie Maria,’ said Libby.
‘She wouldn’t have murdered anyone,’ said Bella.
‘How do you know?’ said Fran. ‘You didn’t even know she existed until last week.’
‘Oh.’ Bella looked into the fire, and Balzac jumped from Libby’s lap on to hers. ‘So that’s it,’ she said, absentmindedly stroking his head.
Fran and Libby looked at each other.
‘Well, we think we know why Inspector Connell wanted you to see me,’ said Fran, ‘but why did you want to see me?’
‘Well, as I said yesterday, Dorinda and Maria lived here, and she says in her letter there are some things from the theatre somewhere that she would like kept. They could be here.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Fran.
Bella’s colour deepened. ‘I – I – I just wanted to know –’ She stopped.
‘Anything Fran could tell you.’ Libby nodded. ‘I understand, even if she doesn’t.’ She stood up. ‘Come on, let’s go and see if we can find any of this memorabilia.’
‘Programmes and costumes, she says,’ said Bella, following Libby up the stairs.
‘Wow,’ said Libby. ‘I wonder how the costumes have stood up.’
‘Crumbling probably,’ said Fran, bringing up the rear, with Balzac padding alongside, plumy black tail waving curiously.
They searched both bedrooms without finding anything more exciting than some costume jewellery, and a few pieces of what Libby said was probably the real stuff. Two old fur coats hung in one of the wardrobes, but nothing that suggested the theatre.
‘There’s very little here at all,’ said Fran, looking round her with arms akimbo. ‘It’s as if she cleared everything out.’
‘Yes?’ Libby sat on the edge of a bed. ‘Is that what it feels like?’
Fran nodded, looking round. ‘Empty. And yet she and her mother lived here for what – eighty years?’
‘All her life, except I still don’t think she can have lived here while her mother was abroad,’ said Bella. ‘She must have lived with one of the families in the troupe.’
‘Still, she was here for most of the time. Hasn’t she left any sort of – I don’t know – imprint?’ said Libby.
‘Oh, yes, there’s a feeling of something, but almost disinfected. There’s more downstairs than there is
Similar Books
