Superfluous Women by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page A

open them.” Daisy frowned. “I’m not sure whether they’d have to get a search warrant, in the circumstances.”
    â€œSearch our rooms?” Isabel was outraged. “Why would they do that?”
    â€œI’m not saying they will, just that they may. Depending.”
    â€œOn what?” Willie asked.
    â€œWell, I suppose, on when the victim died. Before or after you moved in.”
    In the silence that followed Daisy’s statement, Sally tapped on the door and came in with towels and flannels.
    â€œThe hot water’ll be a couple of minutes.” She piled her load on the cane-bottomed chair beside the folding screen that hid the marble washstand. “Will you be all right if I go now? I don’t want to leave you ladies in the lurch.”
    Daisy assured her they’d manage without her and offered her a tip.
    She refused it. “I wouldn’t’ve done it for anybody else, Mrs. Fletcher, and that’s a fact. I’ll be off now.” She whisked out.
    â€œYou’ve got her eating out of your hand,” Isabel commented with a touch of envy. “I wish her aunt were as tractable.”
    â€œShe’s a nice girl, and ambitious. She’s saving to take a typing course in London. I’ll give her a good tip when Alec and I leave, to help her on her way. Speaking of which, hadn’t you better book rooms for tonight? You don’t want to go back to the house, even if the police would let you.”
    Vera looked anxious. “The Saracen is too expensive for me.”
    â€œWe’ll see if we can share a room with two beds and a truckle,” Isabel suggested. “Though if one of us goes down to the reception desk smelling like this, I wouldn’t blame them for refusing us!”
    â€œDaisy has clean clothes she can change into,” Willie reminded them. “Daisy, would you mind—?”
    â€œOf course not. Here’s our hot water.” She opened the door to admit the Boots, struggling with several steaming water-cans. “Thanks, Edward.”
    He disappeared behind the screen and the metal cans clinked on the marble. Unlike Sally, he didn’t appear to notice any untoward effluvium. Also unlike the maid, he had no qualms about accepting a generous tip. He went off whistling.
    â€œIf I’m to put on clean clothes,” said Daisy, “I think I’ll have a bath. It didn’t seem fair before, but as I’m to tackle the landlord…”
    â€œDo,” said Isabel. “All the more hot water for us.”
    Half an hour later, much refreshed, Daisy went down to the foyer. The proprietor himself came in response to the bell. Mr. Whitford was short, round, rubicund, and smiling, like an idealised innkeeper straight out of Dickens. He continued to beam as he affirmed that he had a vacant room that would suit Daisy’s friends down to the ground with the addition of a remarkably comfortable folding cot that the Boots would fetch down from the attic.
    â€œAnd the names of your friends, madam?” he asked, pencil poised over the register.
    â€œMiss Wilhelmina Chandler. Miss Isabel Sutcliffe. Miss Vera Leighton.”
    He looked up, eyebrows raised. “Miss Leighton? That’d be the new teacher?”
    â€œYes, that’s right.”
    â€œSummat wrong at the house?”
    The truth and nothing but the truth, but not by any means the whole truth: “There’s a nasty smell.”
    â€œDrains. That’s an old house, that is. The last people were always having trouble with the drains. My cousin, he’s a plumber and he knows them drains inside and out, back’ard and for’ard. Here, let me write down his name for the ladies. Not but what May—May Hedger—will tell ’em he’s the one they want.”
    â€œThank you, I’ll give it to them, but they already have someone … looking into the matter.…”
    â€œNever mind, eh!