Murder Most Unladylike: A Wells and Wong Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

little beast!’ cried Virginia as we all squealed with laughter. ‘Give that to me!’
    She snatched the page from Daisy’s hand and read it through, her face flushing with annoyance. ‘Oh, go and sit down, and if I hear anything more from you this evening I shall report you to Matron. And be quiet, the rest of you little horrors! Shush! Shush! ’
    Daisy, triumphant, gave her audience the slightest of curtseys and then took her seat again amidst general delighted chaos and furious shushings from Virginia. As she sank down next to me, though, she leaned her head against mine for a moment and whispered, ‘Meeting in the airing cupboard tonight after toothbrushes to talk about you-know-what.’
    I went back to pretending to write an essay on the failings of George III. Classic Daisy, I thought. It was just like her. Then my stomach squished as I thought about what she had just said. Were we really ready for our first murder case?

6
    Later, when all the prefects on duty were running about chasing shrimps who should have already been in bed (there were a great deal more of them than usual that evening, and I suspect that Daisy may have been behind it), I slipped out – with my casebook stuffed up my pyjama jacket and clutching my toothbrush for cover – and tiptoed down to the airing cupboard on the second-floor corridor. A moment later Daisy padded into view, in her slippers and regulation pyjamas, looking extremely casual. She peered up and down the dim corridor, then, satisfied that there was no one else in sight, seized my arm, more or less dragged me into the airing cupboard and pulled the door shut behind her.
    The air inside was thick and damp and very dark – I stumbled against Daisy and she said, ‘Ow, Hazel, you clod.’
    There was a ripping noise and a snap, which made me jump. I said, ‘What’s that?’ and Daisy said, ‘Our cover. Oh, do stop flailing about . . . Here—’
    With a pop the electric light came on.
    Rows and rows of wooden racks piled with grey school clothes came into view, as did Daisy, who was leaning back against the racks and glaring at me. I saw that one of the buttons on her pyjama jacket had been ripped off, leaving the fabric poking through.
    ‘Well,’ said Daisy, ‘sit down.’
    I perched myself on a grey pile of games knickers. This made the wooden slats of the shelf creak dangerously, and I jumped off again.
    ‘All right,’ said Daisy, leaping up onto a rack with a cheerful bounce, and swinging her slippered feet as she spoke. ‘This meeting of the Detective Society is hereby called into session at ten minutes past eight on this, Tuesday the thirtieth of October. Present are Daisy Wells, President, and Hazel Wong, Secretary. Tonight we will be discussing the Case of the Murder of Miss Bell. Any objections?’
    ‘No,’ I said, writing busily.
    ‘Excellent, Watson,’ said Daisy. ‘All right, the order of the meeting is as follows: first, the facts of the case. Second, the suspect list. Third, the current location of the body. And fourth, our plan of action.’
    ‘Do we have any facts of the case?’ I asked, pausing and looking up at Daisy. It seemed to me that we were starting off without any of the things that detectives usually take for granted. The body had vanished (and even though I had seen it, I had been too busy behaving like a frightened little shrimp to pay proper attention to it), and what was left of the crime scene must by now have been tidied away by Jones the handyman on his rounds. We had no photographic snaps to look at, no police interviews to read and no coroner’s report to look at either. To me, the situation seemed rather bleak.
    ‘Of course we do!’ said Daisy. ‘Come on, Hazel, don’t give up before we’ve even started. We know there was a murder because you found the body. We know who was murdered – Miss Bell – and how she was murdered too.’
    ‘By being pushed off the Gym balcony!’ I agreed.
    ‘We can also make a jolly good