2 Murder Most Fowl Read Online Free PDF Page B

this without looking away from the card.
    I remembered that this card also represented the future. So, we had injustice, challenges, and another murder in the future – not the best mix. “I'm sure it's nothing, Mr. Buttons,” I said with fake enthusiasm. “Tarot cards can be interpreted differently. It's hardly proof that something bad is going to happen.”
    When I said this, he looked up at me and smiled. I could tell he was still worried, but I think it made him feel a little better. “You're right, Sibyl, of course. But it doesn’t exactly put my mind at ease. In case something does happen, though, who do you think it would be? The person doing it, mind you, not the victim.” He swallowed nervously again as he said it.
    “Well, it's clearly related to the philosophy club in some way,” I said, thinking aloud. “Though I think it's too early to say, honestly. We just don't have enough clues or evidence. It could have been anyone, even somebody we've never met.” I noticed Mr. Buttons didn't seem to be put at ease by my statement. “However, I don't think we're in any danger. Alice had a reason to try to hurt me, but what have we done to upset anybody else? Well, to the point of trying to murder us, I mean. I hardly think somebody's going to want to murder us because Sandy’s barking at night, or something.”
    As if on cure, my big, golden Labrador, Sandy, came over and slobbered on the coffee table. Mr. Buttons snatched his cards to safety. Sandy ate more than I realized was possible. I fed her a normal, healthy amount of premium dog food and avoided too many treats, but she always found a way to eat something she shouldn't. Typical Labrador, I guess.
    I put Sandy out the back door into the garden room, and returned to find Mr. Buttons with a fistful of disinfecting wipes and a bottle of disinfectant, scrubbing my coffee table. He looked up when I re-entered the room. “You're right again, Sibyl, but it isn't us I'm worried about. I've been around two murders now, which is far too many for any normal man to bear.” Mr. Buttons’ voice trembled. “I just want it to stop.”
    Before I could reply, I was rudely interrupted by a loud, screeching voice. “You're an idiot!”
    Mr. Buttons looked around wildly for the source of the insult. I sighed, stood up, and walked over to Max. I wiggled my finger at him, and he screeched, “One more wrinkle and you’d pass for a prune!”
    My cockatoo, Max, was sweet tempered, but no one enjoyed his company any more thanks to my ex-husband teaching him to swear and insult people as some kind of joke while he had temporary custody. It made it that little bit harder for people to love Max, as is normal with anyone that insults you, I suppose. “Max, no! Don't insult people,” I ordered.
    Ignoring me, he replied, “You smell!” before releasing a torrent of words no polite company should hear.
    I turned to Mr. Buttons whose face had flushed beet red, no doubt as a result of the improper words uttered by the cockatoo. “I'm sorry about Max. He’s getting worse; now he’s even imitating sounds and even whole sentences from TV. I have to be careful what shows I watch now.”
    “Your ex-husband isn’t very a nice person,” Mr. Buttons said.
    I laughed bitterly. “You could say that. He did try to have me murdered, after all.”
    Mr. Buttons threw the used wipes in the trash, and then returned the spray bottle of disinfectant to my cupboard. He yawned and stretched.
    “Mr. Buttons, I'm going to bed, and you should do the same. Sitting here worrying isn't going to help, but a good night's rest just might.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back.
    “Thank you, Sibyl, you're right. I'll see you in the morning.”
    I showed Mr. Buttons out, and then walked back to my room with my hands over my ears, hoping Max’s fresh torrent of words wouldn't be heard up at the boarding house.
     

“Let sleeping dogs lie.”
(Robert Walpole - first Prime Minister of Great