Murder At Wittenham Park Read Online Free PDF Page B

say something, for God’s sake, when I’ve just saved our reputation. What would be the point of all this”—she gestured around the Gothic splendour of the library, its solid furniture rearranged for the benefit of their guests, with teacups, plates and cakes set out on a vast side-table—“what earthly point would be there if I hadn’t concocted a simply brilliant murder.”
    â€œYou’re a genius, sweetheart,” Gilroy managed to say. “Only you could have done it.” He hesitated, uncertain whether he was supposed to have second sight. “That’s to say, what have you done?”
    Dee Dee gave a tiny moue, vexed at his wanting explanations on top of assurances, then over-handed the final sheet of paper on which she had listed the cast in her rounded American handwriting.
    â€œEven Agatha…” She cut herself short. “No. This is nothing to do with the wretched woman, but it is a family set-up her fans would like. A perfectly beastly family called Sketchley. I shall be Mrs. Louise Sketchley, an extremely rich widow, who is a pain in the butt to everyone and won’t hand over the boodle. Not a cent. She has two grasping sons; they can be played by these fellows McMountdown and Chancemain.”
    â€œAnd she gets murdered?” Gilroy suggested.
    â€œHow else am I going to get out of playing games all weekend with these odious people? Of course she gets murdered. First thing in the morning. Before breakfast. You can have breakfast with them, darling.”
    â€œAnd who murders her?”
    For a moment Dee Dee’s confidence faltered. “Well, we have options. If you want to keep Welch occupied all the time, and out of our hair, then he ought to do it.”
    â€œAny reason?”
    â€œHe’s her brother and he’s lost everything on Lloyds.”
    â€œGetting a bit close to home, aren’t we, darling? Anyway, how do you know Welch hasn’t?”
    â€œAlternatively”—Dee Dee wasn’t giving up at this stage—“it’s done by his wife. The actress could play her. Wouldn’t that be brilliant? She’s determined to save her husband.”
    â€œMust be the only person in the world who is,” Gilroy commented. “But don’t we have to write clues? And character descriptions? I mean, we’re supposed to hand those out after tea.”
    â€œAll done.” Dee waved a sheaf of further notes. All I have to do is get them on the word processor. While you entertain everyone.”
    Gilroy’s none-too-agile mind fumbled with another problem. Remembering the plot that they had not been allowed to use, he recalled all sorts of minor characters, like the doctor, the local policeman and the detective.
    â€œSo who’s the sleuth?” he demanded.
    â€œObviously this insurance-assessor man. And his daughter can be…” Dee Dee faltered. She had never realized how hard it was to construct a murder plot. “She can be a reporter.”
    â€œWhich she is anyway. At least she won’t forget her role.”
    â€œShe’s the only one who isn’t after Louise Sketchley’s loot.”
    At the risk of wrecking his marriage, Gilroy asked the crucial question. “How is Mrs. Sketchley killed?”
    â€œPoisoned. A good old-fashioned British murder.”
    â€œSo it’s a murderess?”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œEnglish wives always poison their husbands. Either that or they grab a kitchen knife in the middle of a row. Odd how there always seems to be knife handy at the time.”
    â€œActually,” Dee Dee said, “it’ll be Mrs. Sketchley’s brother, played by Welch, and her companion, who get in cahoots to kill her. So everything depends on noticing who drinks what in the evening and who is around the bedrooms at the time.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œSometime between midnight and seven-thirty A.M . There’ll be