The Blood of an Englishman Read Online Free PDF Page A

said.
    Her gaze flicked towards him.
    “His name’s Bonzo, lady—and he was your kid brother.”
    Mrs. Digby-Smith said nothing. She swooned. She swayed and pitched forward over the far side of the couch, too unexpectedly for Kramer to catch hold of her. The mask of yellow wax shattered on the mosaic floor, scattering like egg shell, and her upper dental plate fell out.
    “Bloody hell,” said Kramer, “just when we were getting acquainted.”
    The telephone rang once again in the district surgeon’s household. Anneline Strydom sighed and answered it, anticipating who was at the other end by having in her mind the picture of a tall, broad-shouldered man with fair hair, high cheek-bones, slightly protruding front teeth and eyes like green marbles, although it was those big, lion’s-paw hands that really gave her the shivers. “Now look, Trompie,” she said firmly, anticipating her caller’s mood as well, “there’s no point in blasting me if Chris hasn’t arrived there yet. I gave him your message—what more can I do?”
    “Er, actually it’s me, Mrs. S—not Lieutenant Kramer.”
    “Sergeant Van Rensburg?”
    “The same, Mrs. S.”
    And the picture became one of a mortuary sergeant so grossly overweight that his fingers could no longer squeeze into his tight trouser pockets. “Don’t tell me something else has come in!” exclaimed Anneline, crossly. “My poor husband doesn’t often take the morning off, you know!”
    “Hell, we all know he’s dedicated, hey?” smarmed Van Rensburg. “It’s just—if Doc hasn’t left yet—I wanted to save himfrom a wasted journey down to Gillespie Street. What’s happened is they’ve decided to bring the whole caboose here, you see, to my mortuary, and I’ve got the car with the body still intact in it out in my yard.”
    “Oh?”
    “Ja, they towed it here.”
    “Well, I’ll look and see if Dr. Strydom is about anywhere, although I doubt it. This
is
a white that Lieutenant Kramer’s making all the fuss about?”
    “Definitely, Mrs. S.”
    “That’s all right then. Bye for now.”
    Anneline knew perfectly well that her husband was still out in the garden, looking for snails with Josiah the garden boy. It was just that it was so rare for him to show an interest in anything other than post mortems that she felt extremely reluctant to disturb them again, and for another ten minutes she let the matter rest. Then, anxious he shouldn’t slip away unaware of the change in venue, she went out to call for him.
    “Chris?” He had vanished. “Chrissie—where are you, man?”
    Finally, way down at the bottom of the garden, behind some large azalea bushes, she found her husband and the garden boy squatting on their haunches, looking more like a couple of kids than two grown men, and paying great attention to something they were prodding about in a big Pyrex bowl. To her astonishment, Anneline realized that the “something” was hundreds of horrible snails, mixed in with a salad of lettuce leaves.
    “My goodness me,” she declared, “you’re not thinking of
eating
those things, are you?”
    “Hau!” said Josiah, and had a fit of the giggles.
    “Ach no, what we’re doing is scientific,” replied her husband, airily. “This is the snail Helix—”
    “You don’t have to be scientific to those extremes, man! And why use my best mixing bowl? All you need to do is stick somesalt in a bucket of water: that’ll kill them and no mistake. Van’s just been on the phone, and I’ve come down to tell you—”
    “I’m coming! I’m coming! I just wanted Josiah to get the hang of it.”
    “The hang of
that?
”
    “Certainly. We’re preparing an extract.”
    “
Hey?
What on earth for?” And she laughed girlishly.
    But he wouldn’t tell her what for, not while his feelings were hurt. He stumped off up the lawn, with his shirt tail hanging out and his shock of white hair matted, muttering darkly. It was just as well, Anneline Strydom thought, that this