Read Online The Grub-and-Stakers Spin a Yarn by Charlotte MacLeod - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte MacLeod
Ads: Link
them?”
“Hoots, Cousin Matilda!” Sergeant MacVicar had at last found something to amuse him on what had thus far been a day sadly lacking in light moments. “E’en in Lammergen, surely folks have heard of Lex Laramie?”
“Well, of course, but—you mean that’s him? This young squirt right here? Sorry, Osbert, but I’ve always pictured Lex Laramie as being seven feet tall, wearing wolf-hide chaps and riding a black stallion twenty-six hands high. And here you are, not one darn bit more leathery and hard-bitten than my nephew Harold, who’s still taking bassoon lessons at the conservatory in Scottsbeck. I’ll bet you don’t even roll your own.”
“No, ma’am, I’ve never smoked at all. I tried once and it made me sick. I have been known to belly up to the bar for a shot of red-eye, though,” Osbert offered lest Mother Matilda’s illusions be completely shattered.
His only reward was a snort of disbelief. “I’ll bet you have! A shot of lime rickey would be more like it. Well, my stars, if that doesn’t beat all! Anyway, I expect being a writer means you can take off whatever time you want. It’s not as though you had any real work to do.”
“That’s what you think,” snarled Dittany. “Writing’s about the hardest work there is. Try it yourself sometime if you don’t believe me.”
“Me?” Mother Matilda had the grace to blush for her misapprehension. “I wouldn’t know where to begin, just as I don’t know where to begin with this awful business. All right, Osbert, I apologize. I suppose you’re also a famous detective in disguise. You wouldn’t happen by any chance to be Sherlock Holmes, too?”
Chapter 6
A CTUALLY IT WAS RATHER gallant of Mother Matilda to essay even this mild quip in so dire a situation; but Sergeant MacVicar did not consider the force he commanded a laughing matter under any circumstances. “When I introduced Osbert and Dittany Monk as my deputies, Cousin Matilda,” he said rather coldly, “I spoke naught but the truth. Together, these two young folk have succeeded in clearing up three of the most baffling mysteries that e’er sullied the annals of law enforcement. Osbert Monk needs no fancy label, he is a host in himself. Whether he will be handicapped by the fact that his partner in criminology, as in life, will not be able to penetrate yon mincemeat factory, I much doubt. And I confess that I’d have been gravely apprehensive had she gone.”
After Ditson Henbit’s death, Sergeant MacVicar had got to thinking of Dittany as a wee, fatherless bairn. He was still finding the habit hard to break notwithstanding her present status as wife and incipient mother. He, was giving her one of those benign looks of his, Dittany noted, and trying to think up something to say that wouldn’t make her want to stamp her feet and flounce off in a huff.
“Howsomever,” he concluded after a moment’s cogitation, “I doubt not that Dittany will be assisting the investigation in her own inscrutable ways.”
“Right now,” said Mrs. MacVicar in no uncertain tone, “I think Dittany could use a bit of assistance herself. Take her home, Osbert, and make her put her feet up for a while. Can I offer you a fresh cup of tea, Cousin Matilda, or do you have to be getting back to the factory?”
“I’d better go back and call a directors’ meeting, thank you, Cousin Margaret. Osbert, what you’d better do is present yourself tomorrow morning as an applicant for Director of In-House Security. We’ve never had such a position before, but Charles decided we needed one after poor old Fred got debagged. He’d actually made preliminary arrangements to hire somebody, so the staff won’t consider it odd when you show up. In that position you’ll have carte blanche to roam all over the place and question anybody you choose. Don’t you think that’s the best plan, Cousin Donald? You’ll give Osbert a reference, won’t you?”
Sergeant MacVicar stood up and bowed her
“Hoots, Cousin Matilda!” Sergeant MacVicar had at last found something to amuse him on what had thus far been a day sadly lacking in light moments. “E’en in Lammergen, surely folks have heard of Lex Laramie?”
“Well, of course, but—you mean that’s him? This young squirt right here? Sorry, Osbert, but I’ve always pictured Lex Laramie as being seven feet tall, wearing wolf-hide chaps and riding a black stallion twenty-six hands high. And here you are, not one darn bit more leathery and hard-bitten than my nephew Harold, who’s still taking bassoon lessons at the conservatory in Scottsbeck. I’ll bet you don’t even roll your own.”
“No, ma’am, I’ve never smoked at all. I tried once and it made me sick. I have been known to belly up to the bar for a shot of red-eye, though,” Osbert offered lest Mother Matilda’s illusions be completely shattered.
His only reward was a snort of disbelief. “I’ll bet you have! A shot of lime rickey would be more like it. Well, my stars, if that doesn’t beat all! Anyway, I expect being a writer means you can take off whatever time you want. It’s not as though you had any real work to do.”
“That’s what you think,” snarled Dittany. “Writing’s about the hardest work there is. Try it yourself sometime if you don’t believe me.”
“Me?” Mother Matilda had the grace to blush for her misapprehension. “I wouldn’t know where to begin, just as I don’t know where to begin with this awful business. All right, Osbert, I apologize. I suppose you’re also a famous detective in disguise. You wouldn’t happen by any chance to be Sherlock Holmes, too?”
Chapter 6
A CTUALLY IT WAS RATHER gallant of Mother Matilda to essay even this mild quip in so dire a situation; but Sergeant MacVicar did not consider the force he commanded a laughing matter under any circumstances. “When I introduced Osbert and Dittany Monk as my deputies, Cousin Matilda,” he said rather coldly, “I spoke naught but the truth. Together, these two young folk have succeeded in clearing up three of the most baffling mysteries that e’er sullied the annals of law enforcement. Osbert Monk needs no fancy label, he is a host in himself. Whether he will be handicapped by the fact that his partner in criminology, as in life, will not be able to penetrate yon mincemeat factory, I much doubt. And I confess that I’d have been gravely apprehensive had she gone.”
After Ditson Henbit’s death, Sergeant MacVicar had got to thinking of Dittany as a wee, fatherless bairn. He was still finding the habit hard to break notwithstanding her present status as wife and incipient mother. He, was giving her one of those benign looks of his, Dittany noted, and trying to think up something to say that wouldn’t make her want to stamp her feet and flounce off in a huff.
“Howsomever,” he concluded after a moment’s cogitation, “I doubt not that Dittany will be assisting the investigation in her own inscrutable ways.”
“Right now,” said Mrs. MacVicar in no uncertain tone, “I think Dittany could use a bit of assistance herself. Take her home, Osbert, and make her put her feet up for a while. Can I offer you a fresh cup of tea, Cousin Matilda, or do you have to be getting back to the factory?”
“I’d better go back and call a directors’ meeting, thank you, Cousin Margaret. Osbert, what you’d better do is present yourself tomorrow morning as an applicant for Director of In-House Security. We’ve never had such a position before, but Charles decided we needed one after poor old Fred got debagged. He’d actually made preliminary arrangements to hire somebody, so the staff won’t consider it odd when you show up. In that position you’ll have carte blanche to roam all over the place and question anybody you choose. Don’t you think that’s the best plan, Cousin Donald? You’ll give Osbert a reference, won’t you?”
Sergeant MacVicar stood up and bowed her
Similar Books
