The Importance of Being Ernestine Read Online Free PDF Page B

unnerving sight: Lady Krumley slumped forward in her chair. At least we thought it was her ladyship. It was at first difficult to be one hundred percent certain, given that her hat was tipped down over her nose, which Milk Jugg, had he been here, might have documented in his notes as her most distinguishing feature.

Four
    â€œHow unforgivably rude of me to doze off.” Lady Krumley raised her head and blinked in upper-crust distress. Only a nightmare could have brought her to this office with its plastic plants and inhospitable furniture. She sat rolling her gloves on her lap. “It has been months since my last heart attack, Mrs. Haskell, so one may not use that as an excuse. My home is in Biddlington-By-Water, not thirty miles from Mucklesby. Therefore, the journey was not the problem. It only seemed long because I haven’t driven myself in years. My apologies to both of you,” she said, directing her nose in Mrs. Malloy’s direction, “for delaying you even longer after my late arrival.”
    â€œDon’t give it a thought your ladyship ducks! But while you’re on about it, what did keep you from your appointment with Mr. Jugg?” Mrs. Malloy nudged me toward Milk’s chair and perched her miniskirted behind on a metal folding one, next to the dilapidated filing cabinet.
    â€œSome vicious thugs took potshots as I drove past the Biddlington-By-Water police station.”
    â€œYou were fired at?” I dropped the pencil I had just picked up.
    â€œThrown at!” Her ladyship’s features narrowed, reducing her to a beaky-nosed silhouette. “They were sizeable flower pots, filled with bronze and yellow chrysanthemums.” Such a sinful waste of good flowers. “Not only was my front passenger window shattered, but I looked as though I had requested to be buried in my car.”
    â€œAnd you wanting to look ever so nice for Mr. Jugg.” Mrs. Malloy was all womanly sympathy.
    â€œYou weren’t hurt, Lady Krumley,” I asked.
    . “Shaken up and nerves all to pieces, nothing more.”
    â€œDo you think you were followed by someone who knew you were on your way to consult with a private detective?”
    â€œNot at all; I never said a word to anyone, except Mr. Featherstone, my friend and vicar, about where I was going.”
    â€œThen who?”
    Her ladyship frowned with all the aristocratic command at her disposal. “I very much fear that the assault was perpetrated by someone aggrieved by my refusal to contribute to this year’s Police Benevolent Fund. One does have to watch one’s pennies these days. And I did see a heavyset man slinking off as I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes. I suspect it was Constable Thatcher without his helmet. But I may be doing the man an injustice. He and his wife did send a wreath, rather a showy one, for my sister-in-law Mildred’s funeral last April.”
    â€œNasty losing a family member.” Mrs. Malloy would have set her face at half-mast if possible.
    â€œMildred was my late husband Sir Horace’s youngest sister. A very spry eighty-year-old to the end, but I never questioned her passing away in her sleep while on a fortnight’s holiday in Liverpool. After all, who can bear to spend more than a few days in such a place? Even when the others began dying it never occurred to me that an evil force might be at work.” Lady Krumley’s voice faltered as she stared grimly into some distant space.
    â€œSo that’s why you’re all got up in black.” Mrs. Malloy couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Relatives dropping off the family twig willy nilly.” She stood up with a good display of leg and poured herself a shot of bourbon. I shook my head, but Lady Krumley accepted a glass.
    â€œSir Horace would have expected me to go into mourning, even though it isn’t much done these days and he never had more than minimal contact with any of the