Read Online The Spring Cleaning Murders by Dorothy Cannell - Free Book Online

morning.
     

Chapter 4
     
If the woodwork is varnished, wipe with a cloth dipped in milk-warm water. If it is unvarnished, wipe first and oil well.
     
    Jonas wasn’t exactly chuffed when I had suggested he come with me to the Miller sisters’ house on the morning of the Hearthside Guild meeting. He grumbled that he didn’t even know the women and didn’t we have trees enough of our own that needed tending. But I persisted, asking if he didn’t want to add a few more jewels to his heavenly crown. Words I instantly regretted when he looked thoughtful and agreed he was at that time of life when he needed to be a sight more conscientious about loving his neighbor.
    The Millers didn’t live bang next door to Merlin’s Court, but it wasn’t far to their house, only a couple of turnings past Hawthorne Lane, where Clarice Whitcombe lived. I could easily have walked had not Jonas been with me. We took the old convertible, which for once behaved itself and got us to Tall Chimneys without dragging its wheels.
    I had visited the house only once before, when an elderly eccentric known as the Lady in Black had been in residence. At that time the garden had been unkempt and a tangle of creeper had overhung the door, from which most of the varnish was gone. Now the bushes were clipped, the lawn was mowed, and tulips and daffodils added a splash of color to the flower beds. But as I lifted the heavy iron knocker, I shifted closer to Jonas. It was silly, but Tall Chimneys somehow reminded me of someone newly turned out in smart new clothes and flashing a freshly painted smile while still the same creepy person underneath.
    When the knocker landed with more of a thud than I had intended, what sounded like a hundred and one dogs started barking. The Miller sisters had built kennels at the back of the house, where there was at least an acre of lawn and woodland. Those kennels had, according to Mrs. Malloy, cost the earth.
    “What sort of dogs?” Jonas did not sound enthusiastic.
    “Norfolk terriers,” I reminded him. He had refused to come out and meet Madrid Miller on her Sunday-afternoon visit; otherwise he would have known pretty much all there was to know about the breed. Over several cups of tea Madrid had taken Freddy and me step-by-step through the physical and personality traits that made for a good Norfolk. Interspersed with this scintillating lecture were anecdotes about the late much-lamented Jessica, who liked to wear pink bows on her hair during the week and lilac ones on Sundays and had a passion for liver a la something or other, which she insisted on having spoon-fed to her sitting up at the table wearing an embroidered bib.
    “I never did take to doggy women,” sniped Jonas, his head sunk into the neck of his coat.
    “That’s because you’re a cat man.” It was taking someone an awfully long time to answer the door, despite that thunderous knock. “I’m sure the Millers are very nice women,” I said firmly. “And I doubt they lured you over here under the pretext of having you look at that tree in the hopes that you’d marry one of them.”
    “Don’t be so sure.” Jonas perked up a little. “I be a prime catch at my age, with one foot in the grave and my life savings tucked under the mattress.”
    “You don’t have anything under the mattress except those schoolboy whodunits you’re afraid someone will catch you reading.” I smiled at him and he gave one of his rusty chuckles before sobering.
    “Aye and that’s where I should’ve put that mirror afore Mrs. Large went plowing through my room in her seven-league boots.”
    “I’ll get it fixed for you,” I promised. “Now, Jonas,” I began, “all you’re to do is look at the tree and advise them on what needs doing. Leave the pruning to someone else. I’m sure the sisters can afford to hire a man to do it.”
    “You’d best knock again, Ellie girl,” he offered. “I don’t suppose God himself could hear n’owt first time around over