An Expert in Murder by Nicola Upson Read Free Book Online Page B

wants the real thing, not the reluctant Pretender.’
    ‘You’re getting your historical dramas a bit muddled, darling,’
    said Lettice. ‘But it sounds like Josephine’s in for a ghastly afternoon. All those boys do when they get together is bitch and squab-ble and talk about money.’
    36

    ‘Trust me – I’m more than a match for them with the bitching and squabbling as long as we get to the money eventually,’
    Josephine laughed. ‘By the way, what did you mean about my bringing a mystery with me?’
    ‘Oh, there was some nasty business at the railway station last night,’ said Lettice, whose grasp of real-life tragedy was never quite as acute as her ability to bring it to the fore on stage. ‘The papers are beautifully melodramatic about it this morning, but we don’t want that to ruin our breakfast. What I’m dying to know,’ she continued, casting a sly glance at Ronnie, ‘is what you thought of Lydia’s new find. You’re always such a marvellous judge of character, and I expect she came to meet you? The two of them are practically inseparable at the moment – we’ve never seen anything like it. I gave it three weeks before Lydia started sniffing round somewhere else and Ronnie said a fortnight. George, bless him, reckoned a couple of months but men have no idea how gloriously fickle we can be when we’re bored. Anyway, as far as we can make out, we’re all wrong: she doesn’t seem to have even thought about anyone else. At times I’d have said she was almost happy!’
    Josephine agreed. ‘I wasn’t with them for very long, but Lydia did seem happy. And it wasn’t that sickly new-love happiness, either. I have to admit, coming down on the train I was dreading that – it’s always so embarrassing when you’re stuck in the middle of it. It was contentment as much as happiness and I’ve never seen that in Lydia before – she’s always been too restless.’
    ‘And Marta?’ Lettice asked again, determined to have her verdict.
    ‘Well, she’s another beauty, certainly. And she seems very nice,’
    she finished, conscious of delivering the sort of anti-climax which would never stand up to the Motleys’ relentless gaze.
    ‘Nice? What sort of word is that for a writer?’ demanded Ronnie indignantly. ‘We know she’s nice, we can see that for ourselves, but we rely on you for something a little more sophisticated. What do those big dark eyes tell you?’
    ‘That she’s got big dark eyes,’ Josephine said, with a native 37

    matter-of-factness that even the Motleys could not penetrate.
    ‘You surely don’t believe all that nonsense about reading character in the face, do you? I only ever use that when I’ve got myself into a bit of a hole with the plot and need to move things along.
    To be honest, she really didn’t say very much at all and that in itself is a good thing, if you want my opinion. But what she did say seemed awfully – well, nice.’
    ‘Talking of the strong but silent type, our dear cousin telephoned at the crack of dawn to make sure you were all right and to say he was coming over this morning,’ said Ronnie, realising that any further probing would get her nowhere. ‘He sounded a bit out of sorts, actually. When I told him that Lettice and I hadn’t thought for one moment that he’d be able to wait until dinner to see you, he quite snapped my head off. That’s the trouble with policemen: they’ve got no sense of humour.’
    In perfectly timed acknowledgement of Ronnie’s observation, there was an impatient knocking at the front door. ‘I expect that’ll be him now,’ she said, as Mrs Snipe glided past to admit the caller with all the momentum of a galleon in full sail. ‘We’d better stop having such a nice time or he’ll arrest the lot of us.’
    When the housekeeper returned, the man who followed her did seem distinctly at odds with merriment. Certainly, he bore scant resemblance to the Archie Penrose who, in spite of his cousin’s unjust