Murder by the Book by Eric Brown Read Free Book Online

go.’
    He climbed the thickly carpeted stairs to the luxurious suite of rooms on the top floor, knocked and entered. Charles was seated at a breakfast table in the bow window, and Mrs Bledsoe, who did for him, was serving a gargantuan plate piled with a full English.
    She smiled at Langham as she hurried to the kitchen. ‘And the same for you, Mr Langham?’
    The very idea made him feel queasy. ‘Tea and toast will be fine, thanks, Mrs Bledsoe.’
    She cast him a critical eye. ‘No wonder you look as thin as a rake, if I may say so. You need feeding up, you do.’ She disappeared into the kitchen.
    Langham took his place opposite Charles.
    His agent speared half a kidney and held it before him. Langham winced at the noxious offal, slick with melted butter.
    â€˜Whatever slings and arrows the world throws at us,’ Charles declaimed, ‘whatever obstacles fate tosses in our path, there is always the consolation of the humble kidney!’
    He popped it in his mouth and chewed vigorously, then perched his pince-nez upon the bridge of his porcine snout and peered. ‘You look, if I might be so bold, dreadful. Have you shaved this morning, my boy?’
    Langham rasped his stubbled jaw. ‘Didn’t have time.’
    Charles harrumphed, as if neglecting one’s toilette was a serious breach of etiquette. He reached out for a silver teapot. ‘May I?’
    He poured, and Langham took a sip of Earl Grey. ‘Ah … that’s good.’
    â€˜Now,’ Charles said, ‘you mentioned seeing young Kenneth yesterday.’
    â€˜That’s right.’
    Charles forestalled the conveyance of a plump mushroom towards his equally plump lips. ‘And?’
    â€˜And he’s innocent – well, innocent of the blackmail. Turns out he was threatened.’ He gave Charles a synopsis of his conversation with the boy. ‘None of which alters the situation.’
    Mrs Bledsoe arrived with a rack of toast and a pot of marmalade. ‘Now eat up. And there’s more when you’ve finished that.’
    Langham helped himself to a slice of toast, buttered it but forewent the marmalade.
    Charles waited until Mrs Bledsoe had returned to the kitchen and closed the door behind her, then said, ‘I knew it, my boy! I knew it.’
    Langham eyed him over his toast. ‘Knew what?’
    â€˜I knew beyond doubt that Kenneth was innocent, as much a victim in this foul matter as am I.’
    Langham refrained from reminding Charles of his curses directed at the boy just two days ago.
    His agent was in full spate. ‘You see, it is always the downtrodden and impecunious who find themselves shat upon – I said positively shat upon – by the system.’
    Langham eyed Charles warily. ‘By that I take it you’re referring to Kenneth?’
    â€˜Do you realize how much the boy earns at that sweatshop, my boy? Three shillings a week! Is it any wonder he is forced into supplementing such a meagre stipend?’
    Before Langham could enlighten Charles as to the boy’s actual wage – or at least the sum Kenneth had told him he earned – his agent went on: ‘And now that it eventuates that the poor boy is innocent of all charges, I might have second thoughts about visiting again and bestowing upon him my largesse.’
    Any largesse, Langham mused upon recollection of Kenneth’s parting gesture yesterday, was unlikely to be bestowed by Charles. ‘I would have thought that once bitten …’
    Charles waved this away. ‘But the poor boy needs support from someone, Donald. The poor and deprived have been neglected for too long!’
    Langham sipped his tea. ‘All this talk of injustice, Charles … I never had you down as a socialist.’
    Charles stopped chewing and pointed a fork at Langham. ‘You and I might have many things in common – and I am thinking here of intelligence and wit – but we are not