The Grub-And-Stakers Quilt a Bee
considered opinion, he was plain chicken.”
    “An interesting observation.” Sergeant MacVicar took out his notebook and made a neat memorandum. “I will elicit information as to her late husband’s physical condition from Mrs. Fairfield.”
     
    “Speaking of Mrs. Fairfield, where is she now?”
    “She is back at her temporary lodgings, being ministered to by Mrs. Oakes and Mrs. Trott.”
    “Was she around when her husband fell?”
    “It would appear she was not. The sequence of events, according to testimony thus far received, is that Mrs. Fairfield left her husband still working here at about a quarter to five and went back to Minerva Oakes’s house to get bathed and changed. She said she had been working in the attic all afternoon with young Mrs. Monk.
    You confirm this officially, Dittany?”
    “Yes, we’d been at it since half past one and we were both filthy.
    I wanted to get cleaned up before Osbert got home for his supper, and she told me she was going to do the same.”
    “This was when she told you to leave the windows open?”
    “Yes, as we were about to go.”
    “Did she stay in the attic after you left?”
    “No, we went downstairs together, carrying a slop jar and a couple of other things we’d found in the attic. I did leave the museum before her, though. She said she was going to pop in and tell her husband about the bridal quilt.”
    “What bridal quilt is this, Dittany?”
    “None, actually. It’s just pieces for one that never got put together.
    We found them in an old trunk.”
    “Where are they now?”
    “I took them home with me. I thought we might use them to organize a quilting bee as a fund-raiser. It seemed to me Arethusa ought to see them first because she’s head trustee.”
    “Then why didn’t you show them to me, addlepate?” Arethusa demanded.
    “Because you didn’t give me time, that’s why. You galloped in and told us Mr. Fairfield had been killed and we galloped out and came here.”
    “A likely yarn, i’ faith! You forgot because you were too busy being tumbled and tousled by that lecherous lout of a nephew of mine. You’d never catch Sir Percy carrying on like that with Lady Ermintrude.”
    “You’d never catch me carrying on like that with Lady Ermintrude, either,” her nephew retorted. “She’s got no more sex appeal than a bowl of tapioca pudding. Like the rest of your silly characters.”
    “May I interrupt this literary discussion before Miss Monk gets off on the subject of Appaloosas?” Sergeant Mac Vicar inquired mildly. “Dittany, would it not have been more consonant with the dignity of his position for you to have left these quilt pieces you found with Mr. Fairfield, instead of taking them straight home?”
    “I suppose so. And I would have, if you want the truth, only Mrs.
    Fairfield was throwing her weight around. I thought I’d kindly and gently let her know she can’t lord it over the trustees the way she does her husband. Did, I mean. No I don’t. She couldn’t have.
    Could she?”
    Sergeant Mac Vicar turned his head from left to right, then from right to left. “Dinna fash yoursel’ about that, Dittany. Not on the strength of the information we have at hand. Minerva Oakes avers that Mrs. Fairfield arrived at the house at approximately five o’clock in a state of dishevelment and went upstairs to tidy herself.
    She remained there for some while, having found it necessary, as she later explained, to shampoo her hair and rinse out the garments she had been wearing. She came downstairs at half past five or thereabout, hung the aforementioned garments on Minerva’s clothesline to dry, then sat on the front porch and partook of some iced tea Minerva had ready in a pitcher.
    “Zilla Trott stopped by and the three ladies chatted until they heard the church bell strike six. Thereupon, Zilla said she’d better get on home to fix her supper. Minerva Oakes also made some comment with regard to the evening meal. Mrs. Fairfield expressed
Read Online Free Pdf

Similar Books

High Wild Desert

Ralph Cotton

Eyes of Crow

Jeri Smith-Ready

Tasteless

India Lee

Pop Goes the Weasel

M. J. Arlidge