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  ‘Er, yes,’ he said uneasily. ‘Yes, no doubt.’ He looked across the lobby to the makeshift bar where Gemma and her Cousin Opal were holding forth.

  ‘Why don’t we sit down?’ Lorinda suggested, adding hastily, as Dorian’s mouth tightened, ‘I’m afraid I’m still feeling a bit jetlagged and dizzy.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ Since it was her weakness, he could pander to it. They settled themselves on the padded top of a window seat nestled between the marble arches framing the comfortable niche. The silver handle of Dorian’s ebony walking stick glittered as he raised it in an imperious gesture.

  Betty Alvin immediately headed in their direction, detouring only to catch up a tray of canapes from a nearby table.

  ‘Ah, excellent.’ That was obviously what Dorian had wanted. ‘And, while you’re about it, why don’t you commandeer a bottle of that Chardonnay and freshen our drinks?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Betty nodded and obediently trotted off towards the table where the bottles were arrayed.

  ‘Really, Dorian, you’re impossible!’ Freddy said. ‘Betty is not only off duty, she’s a guest, like the rest of us. She shouldn’t be running your errands.’

  ‘She doesn’t mind.’ Dorian sounded mildly surprised at the reprimand. ‘She’s very —’ He leaned against a marble arch and his eyes widened in amazement.

  ‘ … pack of self-satisfied, middle-class, middle-aged, mid-list second-raters …’ The others could hear the woman’s voice now, low and venomous, as she ranted on. ‘ … never seen a mean street, or a corpse in their lives … nerve to write about it …’

  ‘Well!’ Dorian had regained his breath, his eyes narrowed. ‘Nice to know what people think of us.’

  ‘“Would some power the giftie give us”,’ Freddie quoted.

  ‘This place is a whispering gallery,’ Lorinda explained. ‘We discovered that a while ago. It’s all the marble, I suppose —’

  ‘ … my friends …’ They hadn’t needed to hear Macho’s voice to know who must have been speaking. ‘ … and, I can assure you, we’ve all seen our share of — murder victims — in the past few months.’

  ‘I’ll never know what he sees in her,’ Freddie complained. ‘You’d think —’

  ‘ … chance to break out … can’t weaken now … you’ve got to …’ The voice died away and they looked across the room to see Cressie and Macho emerge from one of the alcoves opposite them.

  ‘What does she want him to do?’ Freddie wondered what they were all wondering. Nothing he really wanted to do, judging from the expression on Macho’s face.

  ‘Here we are!’ Gemma rushed up to them, flourishing a bottle. ‘Betty said you were running low. Can’t have that!’ She poured briskly.

  Betty Alvin, Lorinda saw, had just been cornered by Cressie and was not looking any happier than Macho as Cressie harangued them both.

  The few local shopkeepers Gemma had invited were clustered together, except for Jennifer Lane of the bookshop, who was talking to – or rather, listening to – Cousin Opal. From the look on her face, she was finding Opal a bit wearing.

  ‘It’s going rather well, I think.’ Gemma looked around and gave a satisfied nod. ‘Everyone is here except Hilda Saint – she warned me she might be late. She’s having an extension built on her guest house and she tries to supervise the builders as much as possible to make sure they keep working – they seem to be an awkward lot.’

  ‘Aren’t they always?’ She might be awkward, too, Lorinda thought, if she had to have Hilda Saint constantly hovering to make sure she was getting her money’s worth.

  ‘Oh, and I have a message for you from Professor Borley.’ Gemma gave Lorinda an arch look. ‘Such a charming man! He’s at some conference in Oxford this week, but he’s delighted that you’re back and is looking forward to being able to interview you soon.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lorinda said bleakly. She supposed it had been too much to hope that the American academic had forgotten about the interview he wanted. She liked the professor well enough, but would have liked him better had he not decided that his next entry in the academic Publish or Perish Stakes was going to be an in-depth study of English mystery writers in their native habitat: Brimful Coffers.

  ‘Isn’t his sabbatical year just about up?’ Freddie felt the same. ‘He seems to have been hanging about here for ever.’

  ‘Oh, I believe he still has another month or so in hand. And,’ Gemma added enthusiastically, ‘he says he might be able to get a bit of an extension if his work is going well.’

  ‘Mmmm.’ Freddie was not so enthusiastic.

  ‘So you needn’t worry,’ Gemma went on. ‘Our happy little group isn’t going to be broken up yet. In fact —’ she gave Dorian another of her arch looks – ‘I gather more happy reunions are in the offing. I hear you’ve had a postcard from Edinburgh …?’ She waited expectantly.

  ‘Ermm … yes.’ After a long pause, Dorian decided to respond. ‘The Jackleys are back from the Continent and doing some touring around Britain at the moment. They say they’re looking forward to being back in Brimful Coffers soon.’

  ‘That’s a blow.’ Freddie was not pleased at the news that her neighbours in the other half of her semi-detached were returning. ‘I was hoping they’d succeeded in killing each other by now.’

  Dorian gave an involuntary nod of agreement which he tried to disguise by a sudden coughing fit. Obviously, the thought of Karla Jackley back in pursuit of him was no more welcome than Lorinda’s threatened interview.

  ‘Oh, it will be nice to have us all back together again,’ Gemma gushed. ‘It will be so healing – after all we went through. If only …’ Her face darkened. ‘That poor child …’

  ‘You’re brooding about it again!’ Her Cousin Opal swept up to them, Jennifer Lane trailing reluctantly in her wake. ‘I can tell by the expression on your face. You’ve got to stop! It wasn’t your fault’! You weren’t driving the car!’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Gemma wailed. ‘But I can’t help feeling that I should have been able to do more. I couldn’t even tell the police what kind of car it was. And I must have seen something that would give them a clue!’

  Her words rang out into one of those abrupt silences that can fall over a group. There was a theory, wasn’t there, Lorinda seemed to recall, that these fell at twenty minutes to, or twenty minutes past, the hour. She was surreptitiously glancing at her watch to check the time when Gemma’s voice rang out again.

  ‘I feel so awful about it that …’ Gemma lowered her voice and leaned closer to them. ‘That I’m thinking of volunteering to be hypnotized! They say you can remember all sorts of things you think you never noticed at the time if a professional hypnotist regresses you.’

  ‘It’s worth considering.’ Her cousin nodded. ‘It might even work. You’d have nothing to lose.’

  ‘Exactly. And it might make her family feel better. At least, then, they’d know we’d tried everything.’

  ‘Sorry about the delay.’ Betty Alvin, having broken free of Cressie, bustled up to them with a bottle. ‘Oh – you’ve already been topped up.’

  ‘Don’t go away.’ Dorian was looking a bit frayed. ‘It won’t be long before we can use another.’

  ‘So kind of you to help, dear,’ Gemma said, automatically scanning the room to make certain all her guests were happy. A faint frown rumpled her forehead as her gaze rested on Macho, then moved away. There was nothing even the most perfect of hostesses could do to rescue him from his predicament.

  ‘I can’t stay much longer,’ Dorian said abruptly. ‘I’m expecting a call from my agent. Something about a lecture tour. I suppose I shall have to do it.’ He did not look as reluctant as his words suggested.

  ‘What a shame,’ Gemma sympathized. ‘They’re working you too hard.’

  A muffled snort from Betty Alvin reminded the others who did most of the hard work. Gemma didn’t notice the hidden message but, unfortunately, brought her attention to bear on the communal secretary.
r />   ‘Opal, have you had a chance to discuss things with Betty yet? I know your deadline is coming up and – ’

  ‘No!’ Betty’s voice rose. ‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t do it! She’s not the only one with a deadline. I can’t take on any more work!’

  Lorinda and Freddie shifted guiltily. Perhaps, Lorinda decided, she woudn’t ask Betty to type up the diary she’d been keeping on her trip – at least, not yet.

  ‘Oh, but surely —’ Gemma, made of sterner stuff, was not so easily discouraged.

  ‘No!’ Betty slammed the bottle down on the table. The bottle swayed, but did not break. The same could not be said for Betty.

  ‘I can’t do all this! There’s only one of me – and there’s more of you every day! Even that tart of Macho’s thinks I have nothing better to do than drop everything whenever she waves a manuscript in my direction!’ Her voice was higher, she was perilously close to tears or hysteria – or both. ‘I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!’ She whirled and rushed for the back stairs leading up to her attic quarters.

  ‘Well!’ Gemma said to Opal. ‘We’ll just have to wait and talk to her when she’s in a better mood.’

  ‘It’s not like Betty to throw a wobbly like that.’ Dorian frowned. ‘Have you all been pushing her too hard? I have first call on her services, remember, and I’ll want my lecture notes sorted out and the first draft of the new book ready to take with me to work on while I’m touring.’

  Poor Betty. How she must rue the day she allowed Dorian to talk her into taking up residence in Brimful Coffers. It was fortunate that Dorian hadn’t decided to move her into the housekeeper’s rooms in the Manor House. Of course, that would have cramped his style with the various ladies who floated into and out of his life. Which might have been the reason he hadn’t yet acquired a housekeeper and depended on the services of a daytime cook and cleaner from the village.

  ‘Has something upset Betty?’ Macho sidled up, looking as guilty as Lorinda felt. Cressie strode behind him.

  ‘I don’t know why you rave about that woman.’ Cressie sent a contemptuous glance at Betty’s retreating back. ‘She isn’t at all helpful. In fact, she’s the most obstructive person I’ve ever met.’

  ‘She helps us.’ Freddie sent Cressie a glance of her own. Cressie was undoubtedly an expert on obstructive people. The way she talked to them was not likely to bring out their co-operative qualities.

  ‘We’ve never had any problem with her.’ Lorinda backed Freddie.

  ‘Well, I don’t know how you do it.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s because we say please.’ Freddie darted a look at Dorian. ‘Most of us.’

  ‘But I offered her double pay.’ Cressie was uncomprehending.

  ‘Really?’ Gemma’s eyebrows arched meaningfully at Opal. ‘That’s hardly fair play. No wonder Betty is so upset. It isn’t done to bribe your way to the front of the queue. Betty takes everyone in turn as they come along.’

  ‘Macho was in the queue already.’ Cressie gave her a poisonous look. ‘Just because he’s changed his mind about what he’s going to write, she wants to treat it as a new assignment. That’s not fair!’

  ‘Oh, look!’ Gemma was not prepared to debate the subject any longer. ‘There’s Hilda now!’ She waved to the guest house proprietor, who had just arrived. Hilda waved back feebly and moved towards the drinks table.

  ‘Oh, dear, she does look frazzled! I must talk to her …’ Expertly, Gemma slid away from the group and headed for the new arrival, Opal following in her wake.

  The others turned their attention to Macho, who quailed at the flurry of interest generated by Cressie’s revelation. Not that some of them hadn’t suspected it already, but it was satisfying to have their deductions confirmed. They waited to see whether further information would be forthcoming.

  Not from Macho; he retreated behind Cressie, kicking her sharply on the ankle as he passed.

  ‘Right, right, I remember. I was just saying —’

  ‘Well, don’t!’ he snapped.

  This time he got the poisonous glare. Cressie picked up a truncated celery stalk and swirled it in the bowl of houmous.

  ‘Not even taramasalata!’ Macho found another source of complaint as he surveyed the vegetarian spread provided with the drinks. A large platter of crudities was flanked by bowls of houmous, dal, green olive tapenade and the inevitable onion-and-sour-cream dip. Other bowls contained marinaded mushrooms, black olives glistening with oil and speckled with herbs, green olives stuffed with pimentos or anchovies, cheese straws and mixed nuts.

  All very healthy and tasty, but nothing to bring home to a hopeful cat.

  ‘Gemma’s not so dumb,’ Freddie observed. ‘She doesn’t intend to feed all the neighbourhood pets.’

  ‘Considering the amount she snaffles for her own brutes at every party, it isn’t very sporting of her,’ Macho grumbled.

  ‘I never said she was sporting.’ Freddie nodded at Gemma’s retreating form. ‘Just smart. In her way.’

  ‘Which is not our way.’ Dorian gazed speculatively at the departing backs. ‘What do you think of that cousin of hers? Does she look like a troublemaker to you?’

  ‘What do troublemakers look like?’ Freddie wondered.

  ‘She hasn’t really said enough for us to formulate any opinion of her,’ Lorinda temporized.

  ‘Why is he worried about troublemakers?’ Macho muttered. ‘Is he afraid of competition?’

  Cressie took another piece of celery and crunched it loudly.

  Abruptly, Lorinda longed to go back home and settle down with a good book – or any book on which someone else had done all the work.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Mmmff, ooaah, umph,’ he moaned.

  ‘You’ll have to speak up,’ I told him. ‘I can’t understand a word you’re saying.’

  ‘Mmfff, oooah, ummph.’ He tried again, rolling his eyes desperately and twitching.

  It was his own fault. He’d insisted on the thumbscrew being applied to his tongue. I’d heard him myself. What else could Delilah do but oblige? He was the paying customer.

  ‘He’s doing it on purpose,’ Murgatroyd gurgled from the floor at my feet. ‘Hit him! Kick him in the balls! Show him who’s boss!’

  ‘I can’t kick him,’ I said. ‘I’m not wearing my stiletto heels.’

  ‘Use the cigarette lighter!’ Murgatroyd rolled over and licked my toes.

  ‘Will you two kindly shut up?’ I moved my feet away. ‘I’m trying to watch television.’

  ‘Mmmfff! Mmmfff!’ Mr Smith fell to his knees and began banging his head on the arm of the couch.

  Maybe I should do something, he was beginning to turn blue. But I hated to interfere with Delilah’s business.

  ‘At least throw your drink in his face,’ Murgatroyd said, ‘or he’ll think you don’t love him.’

  ‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘I don’t even like him —’ or you. I think you’re absolutely disgusting!’

  ‘Oh, that hurt!’ Murgatroyd gasped. ‘That really hurt! Thank you.’

  Mr Smith had fallen strangely silent. I looked at him uneasily. Delilah had the key to his handcuffs. I knew she was busy with a special customer, but I wondered if I could knock on the door and disturb her for just a minute. I wasn’t used to this and Smith was making me nervous.

  ‘Stop!’ Murgatroyd hurled himself in front of me, trying to trip me as I started towards the Inner Sanctum. ‘You can’t interrupt her. It’s against the rules.’

  ‘You have rules?’ It was news to me. ‘Well, they’re nothing to do with me. I can’t —’

  ‘OHGODOHGODohgodohgod!’ The door opened abruptly and Delilah hurtled through it. ‘He’s snuffed it! I just left him tied up in the closet with the ferret and the baby boa constrictor for a couple of hours and I come back and he’s snuffed! Do something!’

  ‘For God’s sake, Delilah! That’s the second corpse this month and it’s only the thirteenth. You’ve got to stop throwing yourself into your work this way!’
/>   ‘Friday the thirteenth,’ Murgatroyd giggled. ‘Unlucky for some …’

  ‘I didn’t do it!’ she wailed. ‘I didn’t do the other one, either! We’ve got to get him out of here! If the landlord finds out, he’ll break my lease!’

  ‘We’ll help you,’ Murgatroyd said eagerly. ‘We did the last time, remember? just untie us and we’ll carry him out.’

  Smith, who seemed to have revived, nodded eagerly. As a Captain of Industry, he blossomed at the prospect of action.

  ‘Oh, would you?’ Delilah flew over to Smith and removed the thumbscrew from his tongue. ‘I’d be ever so grateful.’ To prove it, she twisted the instrument as she pulled it free and he reeled. ‘Ever so.’

  It just goes to show: you never know how your old school friends are going to end up. It had seemed like such a good idea when Delilah wrote offering me a room in her flat for a very nominal rent if I wanted to move to the city. How was I to know the career path she had decided to follow?

  I just knew one thing for certain. Once I had enough money to get out of here, I was never again going to share a flat with a Dominatrix.

  And this had been described on the cover as ‘a delightful introduction to a sparkling new genre: Cosy Noir’!

  Lorinda hurled the book into the growing heap at the far corner of the room, glad that she had waited until morning before trying to settle down with it.

  At least she had the rest of the day free now to do something else. If only she could decide what she really wanted to do. She was not yet in the mood to get on with the books in progress. The backlog of housework definitely did not appeal.

  She prowled restlessly over to the window, in time to see a taxi sweep past and take the turning that led up to the Manor House. Presumably, Dorian’s guest arriving. That meant another welcoming cocktail party was on the cards.

  A moment later, Gemma and her cousin hove into view, each holding a leash for one of the pugs. Lorinda looked after them wistfully. A walk would be nice, especially with a dog or two to add purpose to it. Lovely as they were, cats weren’t quite the same.

  Thinking of which, where were Had-I and But-Known? She hadn’t seen them for some time. Either they hadn’t quite forgiven her desertion of them, or Freddie was cooking again. She crossed to the telephone.