two out. Benny stays where he is.”
To be preyed upon by wild dogs and the elements? Now I had to stall. “What are we supposed to do-thumb a lift?” The last words came out in jerks. I was half out of the car. Reggie and Magdalene were already in the road and I was hearing the loveliest sound on God’s earth. And, what was more, a sound that was endearingly familiar. Creeping toward us was the hearse. I recognized Butler, who was driving, but the other two occupants were strangers. Both wore leather riding helmets and goggles, but then I saw a flutter of lavender shawl and a beaded carpet bag being flagged out the window. Spitting fury, Reggie waved the hearse on. Perhaps he had forgotten the gun in his hand.
The hearse stopped. Nipping out of the vehicle, Butler glided around to open the other door, but Primrose was already trotting toward us, the ends of her shawl blowing in the breeze. “Ellie, my dear! Hyacinth and I are out on a scenic drive. How very pleasant encountering you! Surely this must be your mother-in-law, of whom we have heard
Snickering, Reggie chucked Primrose playfully under the chin with the gun. “Hey, old girl, was you born when brains was rationed?” He sucked in a fetid breath. “You got a choice. Get back in the death wagon with the other ugly sister, or come for a little walk and spend a naughty weekend with me. Only it won’t be just the two of us, sweetheart, I’ll have me other prisoners along.”
Butler amazed me. He stood immobile in front of the hearse, his eyes fixed on the puffy little clouds, his expression one of mild amusement. It was Hyacinth in a Sherlock Holmes cape who now whapped past Magdalene, me, and Ben, still mercifully prone and oblivious in the back seat.
“How dare you!” She swept her sister aside and fixed her goggles on Reggie. “How
Her arm swung out in an arc, her hand cracked Reggie on the chops, her elbow caught the gun, sending it spinning over the cliff edge. It was probably imagination overload, but I swore I heard a small gulp from the sea.
The Whist and Crocheting Groups both cancelled meetings on the evening of the above date, on account of several members not feeling up to light-hearted socialising as a result of the immensely disappointing cookery demonstration in the church hall. When it next meets, the Board will consider whether to withdraw our annual contribution to the Policeman’s Benevolent Fund. It will also discuss whether the club feels it would be immoral to serve the recipe provided by Mr. Bentley Haskell at the Midsummer Potluck.
Also to be discussed at the next Board Meeting-1st June-is the matter of membership badges lost or misplaced by owners. Suggestions for penalties for this infraction will be voiced. In the past, offenders have been banned from participating in trips for a three-month period, but with the rising cost of badges, it is felt that this censure is insufficient.
23
“I always hoped I would get to meet the Raincoat Man.” Primrose pushed her goggles up on her forehead as, with cowardice aforethought, Reggie decided against taking on four women bare-handed. Away he went, slithering over brambles and boulders to the flat land above the road, hurling down stones and threats.
“I ain’t done for! I’ll be back!”
“I shall pray for you,” Magdalene called after him triumphantly. I would have cheered for her if my throat hadn’t squeezed shut.
Butler coughed deferentially. “A very small world this is, madams. That cove… person is none other than Reggie Patterson; he and I were partners once upon a time in a pickpocketing h’enterprise.”
“Really, Butler, you should be ashamed,” reproved Hyacinth.
“Agreed, madam. I should have known better than to work with someone so incompetent.” Butler flexed his fingers. “I’ll see to your car, Mrs. Haskell. There’s nothing I can’t start, not h’even if the motor’s missing.”
“Where the hell am I?” came a drowsy growl from the back seat. It began to rain, a few drops at first, then a gauzy blur, like curtains blowing at the window. The Tramwells were talking to Magdalene, their exclamations of concern laced with professional excitement. Finally, the full horror of the afternoon’s events clobbered me. I took Ben’s hand, glad he couldn’t see my face clearly. “We’re on our way home, darling. There was a little accident with the pressure cooker.”
Strangely, he looked more pleased than not. “Really! Well, you know what I think of those things. I’ve been having the most awful dreams, fraught with menace. I dreamed I was dying.”
“You’ll live,” I promised fervently.
I was alone in the drawing room. Magdalene had led the Tramwells to the bathroom so they could freshen up. Butler was in the kitchen. And Poppa was with his son. Ben had insisted he was fine. His face and hands were only slightly reddened and sore from the steam, and his headache was negligible. Poppa had gone the colour of putty when he learned about the pressure cooker, and although he quickly rallied, saying that a mishap of that nature was preferable to rotten eggs being thrown by the audience, it wasn’t hard to persuade him to take a little rest himself and keep his son company.
The women were back.
“Yes, Giselle does have everything nice and clean; my son won’t have it any other way.” As I got up from the sofa, Magdalene paused behind me and whispered, “These are your friends and this is your house, but you won’t encourage them to stay long, will you?”
Both sisters heard, but gave no sign of taking offence. As we settled ourselves, Butler entered with a loaded tea tray.
“I can highly recommend the cherry cake,” he informed the Tramwells. “Should anything further be required, kindly knock on the wall with the poker-this h’establishment lacks a bell.”
As he padded from the room, Hyacinth adjusted her chair and drew out the familiar green notebook. “Where”- she flexed an orange-lipped smile-“do we begin?”
I handed out cups of tea. “Magdalene, the Misses Tramwell are private detectives. I want you to tell them about the Pattersons, after which they will have something to tell you.”
Abigail watched from her portrait.
“My dear Ellie.” Primrose clinked her teaspoon into her saucer. “Naturally, Flowers Detection will be delighted to do everything possible to assist Mrs. Elijah Haskell against the forces of evil; indeed, we regret that more pressing matters placed the Raincoat Man low on Butler’s job list. As for…” she floundered, “I am not sure it is wise to discuss a certain organisation…”
“It isn’t only wise, it’s morally right,” I said firmly. “Ben is Magdalene’s only child and she nearly died three times having him. Besides which, I think she may unknowingly have the answers to some questions of mine.”
“I don’t know about that.” On the edge of the seat, her feet tight together, Magdalene tugged at her cardigan. “And before I say anything about the Pattersons’ persecution of Eli and me”-her eyes nipped from one sister to the other-“I do need to know if you charge by the hour. Otherwise I won’t know whether to talk at a run or a walk.”
Butler replenished the teapot twice during Magdalene’s story. The Tramwells commented and exclaimed. They expressed sympathy and a willingness to assist, but I knew that their curiosity having been appeased, they were anxious to discuss Ben’s close call.
“Magdalene,” I said, moving to the edge of my seat so I could catch her if she swayed, “you face a very difficult problem. In fact, you face two. What happened to Ben at the church hall was no accident. It was a vicious attempt
