and hauls you
off to the jug. She’s not like that at all. She’s charming, and you’ll like
her. In a couple of days you’ll be calling her Daffy.’
‘All the
same … You say it’s in the will?’
‘Plumb spang
in the will.’
‘Then I
suppose I’ve no option.’
Chapter Six
Outside the offices of
Nichols, Erridge and Trubshaw, now Nichols, Erridge, Trubshaw and Nichols,
Sally paused for a moment in thought. In preparation for the interview she had
put on her best dress, but though becoming it hardly seemed eye-knocking-out
enough for the splendours of Barribault’s Hotel, where standards were high. She
looked at her watch. The morning was still young, and there would be plenty of
time to go to the best place in London and buy something really glamorous. Her
host had made a considerable impression on her, and she wanted to be a credit
to him. Her identity established, Nichols, Erridge, Trubshaw and Nichols had advanced
her a generous sum, so no obstacle stood in the way of her scattering purses of
gold. She hailed a taxi.
When
she came out of the best place in London with her purchase in her arms, the
morning had aged a good deal, but not so much as to preclude a quick visit to
Fountain Court. She was naturally curious to see her new home, and she had been
given the key. She hailed another taxi.
Number
3A Fountain Court took her breath away. Jerry Nichols had described it as posh,
and posh it most certainly was. In addition to her money Miss Carberry had had
excellent taste. Everything was just right—the furniture, the curtains, the
cushions, the rugs, the books, the pictures. To one accustomed to 18 Laburnam
Road the effect was overwhelming, and she dropped into one of the luxurious
chairs and tried to realise that all this magnificence was hers.
It was
only after some time that a less agreeable thought intruded on her reverie, the
recollection that with the magnificence went the constant company of an unknown
Miss Daphne Dolby. She wondered with some trepidation what sort of a woman this
Daphne Dolby would turn out to be, and was enabled almost immediately to
discover at least what she looked like, for Miss Dolby entered through the door
presumably leading to the sleeping quarters.
In
spite of what Jerry had said, Sally had not been able to rid her mind of the
picture of a female detective as something formidable and sinister, and seeing
this one she was relieved. The newcomer might reveal herself later as the snake
in this Garden of Eden, but she looked all right, very attractive, in fact. She
was quite young, with a round pleasant face and brown eyes that had none of the
piercing quality which one associates with members of her profession. Hers was
quite an ordinary appearance, though a physiognomist would have seen in her
mouth and chin evidence of determination and a strong will. They were not the
mouth and chin of a weakling.
‘Miss
Fitch, I take it,’ she said, ‘and if you are going to say “Miss Dolby, I
presume”, you will be quite correct. Revisiting the old home?’
‘Doing
what?’
‘Isn’t
this where you worked for Miss Carberry?’
‘Oh,
no, she bought it after I left her.’
‘And
kept it on although she’d gone to South America. What a thing it is to have
money. How do you like it?’
‘It’s
wonderful.’
‘That’s
how it strikes me. I think we shall be pretty comfortable here. I hope my
company won’t spoil it for you. I know I’m a pest and a nuisance, but then
those in my line of work so often are. I’ll be as unobtrusive as I can.’
Sally,
who liked nearly everybody, was now quite fond of her visitor. She replied with
warmth.
‘You
aren’t a pest and a nuisance at all. I shall enjoy having you here.’
‘I
believe you mean that.’
‘Of
course I do. Are you going to crawl about on the floor picking up small objects
and putting them carefully away in an envelope?’
‘I will
if you want me to. Anything to
Learning to Kill: Stories