The Widow's Club Read Online Free PDF Page B

should you wish, introduce you to someone who can vouch for much of what we have said.” Hyacinth flicked over a page in the green book. “We mentioned, I believe, rumblings from computers owned by our employer. But we were not called in until a certain woman had presented herself at Head Office. This person claimed to have been the Other Woman in several liaisons, each of which ended in the sudden death of her lover shortly after he had requested divorce from his wife. That woman lives here in Chitterton Fells and is anxious to see justice done.”
    “How convenient that all the victims were insured with the one company!” I observed, somewhat maliciously.
    “That would be rather too fortuitous.” Hyacinth grimaced in amusement. “But ours is one of the largest and most nationally prominent in the business. It has a vigourous local office and has been the hardest hit. After their visit from this Other Woman, our people conferred with other companies, found further significant mortality data, and agreed to head up the investigation.”
    “Oh, indeed!” I said. “Why did this Other Woman go to the insurance company rather than the police?”
    “She did go to them first, after encountering what she termed the last straw.” Primrose pursed her lips and shook her head. “The man (one certainly cannot term him a gentleman ) whom she had been meeting each Wednesday evening in … a Volkswagen parked in a used-car lot, failed to turn up, which was most unusual.” Primrose flushed down to her neck. “Invariably he apparently begged to be allowed to come early. This time, however, he had been permanently delayed. It seems a crane at his place of business had deposited him in some sort of metal crusher. The woman had been saddened when her other paramours kept turning into bodies, but this one being scrapped sent her in hysterics to the police station. The Inspector advised her to see her doctor”—Primrose lowered her voice—“about hormone tablets.”
    My tea cake buckled when I stuck a knife in it. “Do I know this Venus?”
    “According to our records, you do.” Hyacinth waved the cognac bottle over my cup.
    I nodded assent. “Who could this inflamer of male desire be?”
    Primrose looked smug. “I fear it would be a breach of professional confidentiality for us to reveal her name. We prefer to wait and let her speak for herself.”
    I held up my hands. “That’s quite all right. If you were to divulge it now, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what it is you want from me.” The brandy tasted good now that it was no longer diluted by tea, but it wasn’t responsible for the small hopeful flame that lit within me. If what the Tramwells said were true, then maybe in helping them I could make some small reparation to Ben.
    “Excuse me,” I said. “Before we proceed, I must make a phone call.” Going out into the foyer, I found Butler dusting the chocolates in the dish on the library table. I asked him to fetch fresh tea, and as he headed for the kitchen, I picked up the telephone and quickly dialed my own number. My father-in-law answered at the third ring. After a brief conversation, I returned to the coffee parlour and closed the door behind me.
    I sat down. “Ready.”
    Primrose pressed a scented handkerchief into my limp fingers. “We wish you to give us a history of the events leading up to the tragic event which occurred on these premises one week ago tonight.”
    “How much do you need to know?” The steadiness of my voice startled me.
    “Everything.” Hyacinth uncapped a fountain pen.
    “All right,” I began. “On the day of Abigail’s premiere, I woke at a little after six o’clock feeling totally exhausted because all that night I had dreamt I was preparing food for the party. Ben, you see—”
    “No, no! Mrs. Haskell. That is not what we want at all.” Hyacinth dabbed at a splutter of ink.
    “Dear me, indeed not!” piped up Primrose. “We wish you to go back to the