The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

'Inspector Hewitt wants me to hand it over to him.' Father shook his head. 'Most kind of him,' he said, 'but also most official. No, Flavia, old AA here has been through many hands in its day, a few of them high and many low. You must see to it that your hands are the most worthy of them all.'

'But how does one go about writing to the King?'

'I'm sure you'll find a way,' Father said. 'Please close the door on your way out.'

AS IF TO COVER UP THE PAST, Dogger was shoveling muck from a wheelbarrow into the cucumber bed.

'Miss Flavia,' he said, removing his hat and wiping his brow on his shirtsleeve.

'How should one address a letter to the King?' I asked.

Dogger leaned his shovel carefully against the greenhouse.

'Theoretically, or in actual practice?'

'In actual practice.'

'Hmm,' he said. 'I think I should look it up somewhere.'

'Hold on,' I said. 'Mrs. Mullet's Inquire Within Upon Everything. She keeps it in the pantry.”

'She's shopping in the village,' Dogger said. 'If we're quick about it, we may well escape with our lives.'

A minute later we were huddled in the pantry.

'Here it is,' I said excitedly, as the book fell open in my hands. “But wait—this was published sixty years ago. Would it still be correct?”

'Sure to be,' Dogger said. 'Things don't change as quickly in royal circles as they do in yours and mine, nor should they.'

The drawing room was empty. Daffy and Feely were off somewhere, most likely planning their next attack.

I found a decent sheet of writing paper in a drawer, and then, dipping the pen in the inkwell, I copied out the salutation from Mrs. Mullet's greasy book, trying to make my handwriting as neat as possible:

'Apprehended,' Dogger said, reading over my shoulder.

I changed it.

'What else?'

'Nothing,' Dogger said. 'Just sign it. Kings prefer brevity.'

Being careful not to blot the page, I copied the closing from the book:

'Perfect!' Dogger said.

I folded the letter neatly, making an extra-sharp crease with my thumb. I slipped it into one of Father's best envelopes and wrote the address:

'Shall I mark it Personal?'

'Good idea,' Dogger said.

A WEEK LATER, I was cooling my bare feet in the waters of the artificial lake, revising my notes on coniine, the chief alkaloid in poison hemlock, when Dogger appeared suddenly, waving something in his hand.

'Miss Flavia!' he called, and then he waded across to the island, boots and all.

His trouser legs were soaking wet, and although he stood there dripping like Poseidon, his grin was as bright as the summer afternoon.

He handed me an envelope that was as soft and white as goose down.

'Shall I open it?' I asked.

'I believe it's addressed to you.'

Dogger winced as I tore open the flap and pulled out the single sheet of creamy paper which lay folded inside:

And it was signed simply “George.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Whenever I pick up a new book, I always turn to the acknowledgments first because they provide me with a sort of aerial photograph of the work: a large- scale map that shows something of the wider environment in which the book was written, where it has been, and how it came to be.

No work-in-progress was ever more kindly nurtured than The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, and it gives me tremendous pleasure to express my gratitude to the Crime Writers' Association and the panel of judges who chose the book for the Debut Dagger Award: Philip Gooden, chair of the CWA; Margaret Murphy; Emma Hargrave; Bill Massey; Sara Menguc; Keshini Naidoo; and Sarah Turner.

Additional and special thanks are due to Margaret Murphy, who not only chaired the Debut Dagger Awards