Death and the Cyprian Society by Pamela Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

solving them twice . With, I might add, massive amounts of assistance from other people.”
    “Right,” Belinda said. “Like Reverend Kendrick.”
    Arabella did not respond at once, as she had begun to study the blackmailer’s letter once again.
    “I’ll own that the rector has proven not unhelpful,” she said slowly.
    “Well, it’s odd that you should mention Mr. Kendrick,” said Belinda, “for I have recently had a letter from him.” There! It was out, at last!
    “Hum!” said Arabella. “If he is seeking a donation for his Effing parish church, I am afraid he will have to wait at the end of the queue, behind all the creditors who will shortly be gathering outside my door.”
    “No,” said Belinda. “This is something different. I am afraid . . . that is, I am sorry to tell you, that the Reverend Kendrick is . . . no longer with us.”
    “Do you know, Bunny, between you and Constance, I sometimes think I shall go mad? Constance always tells more than she means to, whereas you seldom come to the point without prodding! What, exactly, are you trying to say?”
    “Only that you should bid Mr. Kendrick adieu in whatever organ passes for your heart,” replied her sister grimly, “for he is gone.”
    “But, you had a letter from him, you said.”
    Belinda nodded. “Once he had made up his mind to leave this world for another, he thoughtfully found the time to write me before he . . . before he departed. I have been looking all this week for a way to break it to you.”
    “Break what? If Kendrick had the time to write, why didn’t he write to me?”
    “His heart was too full, he said.”
    Arabella snorted. “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “I think you know what it means,” said Belinda, glaring at her, rather.
    “Well . . . what did he want you to tell me?”
    “That he has accepted a mission to . . . I don’t remember exactly. Pago Pago? Bora Bora? Some place like that, with a double name.”
    “Nonsense!” said Arabella. And reaching for the carriage vase, she plucked an apple blossom. “When is he leaving?” she asked, beginning to pull the petals off.
    “But I have just been telling you!” cried Belinda. “He has already gone!”
    “He . . . what?” The rest of the flower fell from Arabella’s hand. “He has gone? And you don’t know where? Think, Bunny, think!”
    Belinda bit her cuticle. “Well, it definitely wasn’t Baden-Baden,” she said. “It might have been Dum Dum. . . . Or was it Budge Budge? No, I don’t think so. Wagga Wagga, perhaps. Ngorongoro? Possibly Sing Sing?”
    “Oh, stop,” groaned Arabella, “before I Puka-Puka!”
    “That’s the one!” cried Belinda.
    “The Disappointment Islands? But we don’t even own those!”
    “Well, I don’t know the first thing about it! Mr. Kendrick did not supply particulars. He just said he was going there, and asked me to inform you of it.”
    “Silly man!” said Arabella half-angrily. “What did he want to go and do a thing like that for? It was rude of him not to inform me that he was contemplating such a rash act! I shall not even write to him!”
    “Well, just as you like,” said Belinda. “He has left a parcel for you at the rectory, though.”
    “A parcel?”
    “Yes. But he asked me to make it clear that you are under no obligation to collect it. He only left it in case you should be interested.”
    “Did he say what it was?”
    “No.”
    “Then how could I know whether I would be interested? I cannot imagine why he . . . no. No, I am not interested! Reverend Kendrick could not possibly have left me anything I could actually want!”
    “I see,” said Belinda, firmly. “It is all for the best, then, isn’t it? This affords the perfect opportunity to sever that irksome tie for good.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean that it must have been troubling your conscience, the way Mr. Kendrick always cared so deeply for you, whilst you never gave a fig for him.”
    The fig grudger mulled this over.