Appleby and the Ospreys by Michael Innes Read Free Book Online Page B

The young man, Appleby saw, had the true Osprey innocence of the pleasures of literature, even in one of its lighter manifestations. ‘But don’t,’ he said, ‘underestimate Ringwood’s regiment. The fingerprint wallahs, for instance. It’s my bet that they’ll arrive any time now in a big way. They’ll dust through this whole room pretty thoroughly. Incidentally, they’ll certainly want your fingerprints. And, I suppose, mine too.’
    ‘Why ever should they do that?’ It was in something like alarm that Adrian asked this question. ‘I don’t see–’
    ‘Simply to eliminate us, my dear young man. As it’s so evident that neither of us murdered your father, they’ll want to ignore our fingerprints wherever they turn up.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ It was perhaps a shade suspiciously that Adrian glanced at Appleby for a moment. Then he laughed abruptly. ‘They’ll have a job,’ he said. ‘All those bloody books, for instance! I doubt whether they’ll turn out to be what are called well-thumbed volumes.’
    Appleby received this joke with concurring jocularity. It was the first indication, he reflected, that the new Lord Osprey might have a steak of cleverness in him. And the momentary relaxation ought to be seized upon.
    ‘Would you mind,’ he asked, ‘if I put a few questions to you?’
    ‘Not a bit.’ And Adrian sat back in his chair. ‘Fire away, Sir John.’
    ‘I don’t doubt that you are a pretty observant young man. So what I’d ask first is whether – over, say, the last few days – you have been aware of anything out of the way going on here at Clusters?’
    ‘I’d say not.’ Adrian’s features at once took on a look of pronounced perspicacity. ‘It wouldn’t be too much to say that nothing out of the way ever does take place at Clusters. It would be dead against the grain of the place, you know. It’s why I don’t spend much time in the old home. Home, sweet home, of course. But damned dull. Dull as ditchwater. Or as that bloody moat.’
    ‘But you intend to change that a bit? As the new owner, I mean.’
    ‘It would be an uphill job, Sir John. And I don’t know that I intend, just because my father has gone, to plant my bottom any more frequently in the family seat. Peers, of course, do have seats. It’s undeniable. The country seat of the young Lord Osprey! Balls to it.’
    This was clearly a dismissive remark, and Appleby moved on.
    ‘I am thinking, in particular, of the past twenty-four hours. Nothing occurred in them that strikes you as worth mentioning?’
    ‘Nothing at all. Or only the business of the lurking intruder, I suppose. You’d have to ask Jane Minnychip about that. The old cat came to dinner, you know. And, because of the fuss Ringwood is making about coming and going, she’s here still.’
    ‘I remember Miss Minnychip. Tell me about her, please.’
    ‘She’s a useful guest, who lives not far away. In a little house a couple of miles from what we call the dower house. Yesterday my mother found she’d muddled our dinner party – as she often does. We were a woman short, so the chaste Jane was summoned at short notice. She often is. And because the short notice is a bit against the polite rule book in such matters, she’s always asked to stay the night. That’s why she’s here still. Because of that, and then because of this Ringwood’s wanting everybody to stop on for a bit. The whole rotten little house-party is in a sort of deep freeze. All, that is, except my uncle Marcus. He’s gone fishing.’
    ‘I know he has. I met him on his way, and we had a word together. But go on telling me about Miss Minnychip and the lurking intruder.’
    ‘It’s really about my father and the lurking intruder. But he can’t tell you, and she did have a glimpse. We were all, or nearly all, in this room, drinking that eternal sherry. It was already dusk, of course, and the lights were on, but nobody had closed the curtains on that big French window. It was