Little Knell by Catherine Aird Read Free Book Online Page A

but…’
    â€˜The police?’
    â€˜Someone called them out. Two of the mares got out on to the road. It was our fences, Howard. They’ll really have to be mended properly now if we’re going to help horses here as well.’
    Air frowned. ‘We can’t have that, can we? I’ll have to see what I can do. We might be able to spare some wood.’
    â€˜Inspector Harpe told us the two of them caused havoc with the traffic on the Larking road. Jennifer went out to see if she could help and said that cars were backing right up to Billing Bridge.’
    â€˜No one hurt, I hope?’ he asked throatily.
    â€˜Not this time. We may not be so lucky the next time it happens.’ She turned away from him so that he couldn’t see her face. ‘Have you heard about our poor nephew?’
    â€˜Derek? No. What about him?’
    â€˜He died,’ she said bleakly. ‘It…’ her voice faltered and then picked up again. ‘It was not unexpected.’
    *   *   *
    â€˜Oh, thank you, officer.’ The radiographer who had arrived at the museum with Dr Steve Meadows was young and pretty. She smiled sweetly up at Detective Constable Crosby as he helped her align the portable X-ray machine with the side of the mummy case. ‘You’re very kind.’
    Crosby beamed.
    â€˜Now,’ she smiled again, ‘if you would just lift that cable there for me…’
    â€˜This one?’
    â€˜Take care,’ she said. ‘It’s very heavy.’
    The constable squared his shoulders like a latter-day Hercules applying himself to one of his labours. ‘Where do you want it putting, miss? By the coffin?’
    â€˜Cartonnage,’ said Marcus Fixby-Smith snappily, making it quite clear that radiology was not the only expertise around in the museum and that he, too, knew a pretty young girl when he saw one.
    â€˜We’ll start with the cranial area, please, Ruth,’ called out Steve Meadows, the Berebury radiologist. He turned to Sloan. ‘You can’t tell how the anatomical remains are lying within the casket at this stage, Inspector. If we can establish the position of the naso-frontal suture, that should get us started.’
    Getting finished and done with rather than getting started was what interested Sloan, but he did not say so.
    â€˜All the same,’ carried on the radiologist chattily, ‘I can’t think what’s got into the coroner. He’s usually pretty reasonable.’
    â€˜Perhaps he’s interested in ancient Egypt,’ murmured Sloan, at the same time noting that Crosby was getting increasingly interested in the petite and present-day young radiographer, who still managed to look attractive in spite of wearing a lead apron.
    â€˜Or just anything nubile,’ said Meadows, almost equally sotto voce. ‘Great place for beautiful girls, Nubia.’
    â€˜Perhaps,’ contributed Marcus Fixby-Smith, who wasn’t used to being left out of any conversational exchange going, ‘the coroner thinks the ancient Egyptian practice of weighing the heart of the deceased against the Feather of Truth would be an improvement on an inquest.’
    â€˜Well, there’s one good thing to be said for X-raying a mummy,’ remarked the radiologist in more everyday tones.
    â€˜Really, doctor?’ In Sloan’s book there wasn’t anything at all to be said for spending a whole morning on it when he was so busy with the drugs scene.
    â€˜It doesn’t have any trouble keeping still when it has its photograph taken. That makes a nice change,’ he added feelingly.
    A line of verse from a Great War poem flitted through Sloan’s mind: something about confusing stillness with death. It would come back to him presently.
    â€˜Now, officer,’ Ruth, the radiographer, was saying prettily to Crosby, ‘if you wouldn’t mind just standing well back, please, while I take some