Embarrassment of Corpses, An by Alan Beechey Read Free Book Online Page A

superintendent’s equal, taking it to be an example of literal nepotism.
    â€œStay on top of this murder, Effie,” Mallard said as they parted. “I have a feeling it will come our way.”
    ***
    It was nearly twelve o’clock by the time Oliver reached Barnes, and he was taken by surprise when Lorina herself opened the front door of the substantial Random home.
    â€œAre you alone?” he blurted out.
    â€œWhy, have you come to have your wicked way with me?” she said with a smile. “At long last, I might add.”
    â€œNo, it’s just that I thought you’d have someone here,” Oliver explained quickly. “Because of your loss. Your father. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m sorry about Harry’s…your father’s…I’m sorry about what happened. Oh God, can I start again?”
    â€œLet me help you,” said Lorina firmly as he flushed crimson and trailed off. “Hello, Ollie. Thanks for coming. I appreciate your condolences. Are those for me?”
    She pointed at a bunch of roses that he was clutching to his chest. He handed them over mutely.
    â€œThey’re lovely. Why don’t you come in?”
    â€œI didn’t do that very well, did I?” Oliver lamented, as the front door closed behind them.
    â€œSympathy’s tricky.” She laid the roses on a small table. “In answer to your first question, I’m quite alone. A surging sea of aunts came by yesterday, and they took the phone calls while I cried all day. I sent them away this morning. They didn’t mind; people tire of death very quickly. It’s all right to say ‘death’ to me, by the way. Rather a nice write-up about Daddy in the Times this morning, don’t you think? Want some lunch? Sandwiches okay?”
    Lorina Random was in her mid-twenties, the same age as Oliver. They had met at university when she had applied his make-up in a student-written rock musical based on the life of the Brontës, called “The Bell(e)s of Haworth.” (The deconstructive parentheses drew attention to the triple pun in the title, but even this was less labored than the show’s lyrics, which made several revisionist suggestions about Charlotte’s sexual propensities for the sake of a cheap and obvious rhyme.) Their romance lasted little more than a year, and, as Oliver remembered it, he had spent most of their time together studying the mane of straight brown hair that fell across her face while she addressed her latest radical political beliefs to the bottom of a coffee cup. But the relationship also introduced him to her father, and the friendship between the two men quickly flourished. Oliver and Lorina also remained friends, although since adopting the Sanders Club as a place to meet Sir Harry, he hadn’t seen his former girlfriend for several months.
    â€œLorina, you look wonderful,” Oliver said, with genuine admiration, as they stood together in the kitchen. She was cutting slices from a loaf of fresh granary bread.
    â€œWhat a nice compliment for a grieving daughter,” she replied graciously. But it was true. Since leaving university and joining the Ministry of Defence, Lorina had transformed herself. Gone was the uniform of student dissent—the determinedly unfashionable glasses, the peasant clothes, the bitten fingernails. Contact lenses were clearly in place, or she would have severed a well-manicured finger with the bread knife by now. Her long hair had been cut and given body. And her body…well, Oliver had never before seen her shape revealed so fetchingly outside her bedroom. Tight denim jeans and a dusty white tank top were unusual mourning clothes. Her feet were bare.
    â€œIn case you’re wondering, yes, there’s a reason why I’m dressed this way, and no, I wouldn’t have opened the door if I hadn’t known it was you.” Lorina handed him a ham sandwich and an open bottle of beer.