The Grub-and-Stakers Spin a Yarn by Charlotte MacLeod Read Free Book Online Page A

the man who got shot.”
    Greatly to their puzzlement, though, they found Sergeant MacVicar with a visitor: a tall, comfortably padded woman who seemed to exude a gentle aura of sugar and spice and everything nice. She was wearing a smart, well-cut ensemble of navy-blue piped in white but would have looked more natural, thought Dittany, in a print housedress and a checkered apron. Whoever she was, she showed unfeigned delight at seeing Osbert and Dittany, particularly Dittany.
    “Well now, I call this real progressive of you, Sergeant MacVicar, having a woman on your staff, and a mother-to-be in the bargain. I’m beginning to feel better about this awful business already. Just so you don’t go getting yourself shot, dear. Goodness knows what sort of traumatic effect it would have on the baby.”
    “I never get shot,” Dittany assured whomever the visitor might be. “My husband won’t let me.”
    “Er—m’ph,” said Sergeant MacVicar. “Mother Matilda, allow me to present Deputy Osbert Monk and—er—Special Deputy Dittany Monk. Mother Matilda, as she prefers to be known, is—”
    “Not the Mother Matilda,” Dittany broke in. Now, here was a real celebrity!
    “Yes, dearie,” said the celebrity. “Mother Matilda’s Mincemeat, that’s me. Which is what this awful business is about, or else I wouldn’t be here taking up your time when you might be home knitting tiny garments.”
    “Don’t worry about my time, Mother Matilda. I’m no earthly good at tiny garments. Besides, we already have a houseful.”
    “Dittany’s a great cook, though,” said Osbert loyally.
    “And I always use Mother Matilda’s Mincemeat, as did my Grandmother Henbit before me. My mother, who’s now Mrs. Pusey, still does when she gets the chance, which isn’t often these days because she and my stepfather travel in fashion eyewear.”
    Mother Matilda’s strained features relaxed in a gratified smile, though only temporarily. “That’s lovely, dear. I hear the same kind of story over and over again everywhere I go. Generation after generation, and to think it’s come to this! I don’t know what dear old Granny would say if she were alive today. She was the original Mother Matilda, you know. Mother took over when Granny’s feet gave out, and now here’s me carrying on the family tradition, as will my own daughter after me, if she ever gets the chance,” Mother Matilda added dolefully. “It looks a bit iffy right now, I have to tell you. That’s what comes of letting men into the business. They always want to organize things, then you get successful and look what happens. You wouldn’t have a spare cup of tea lying around anywhere handy, Sergeant? I’ve been so kerflummoxed by this awful business that I plain forgot to eat. Haven’t had a bite since last night’s supper, if memory serves me correctly, as it generally does. What I wouldn’t give for a nice, hot bowl of Granny’s cullen skink right this minute! Nobody’s ever been able to make cullen skink the way my grandmother did.”
    “Oh aye?” said Sergeant MacVicar. “Would you excuse me a wee moment, Mother Matilda?”
    “Gladly, if you’re planning to put the kettle on. While you’re gone, Sergeant, I’ll just fill in your deputies here on what this awful business is all about so’s we won’t be wasting your time. What you’ve got to understand, Dittany and Osbert, is that the man who died this morning over there by the yarn shop was a hero.”
    “Heavens to Betsy!” cried Dittany.
    “And well you may say so,” replied Mother Matilda. “He was also, I’m both proud and sad to say, my husband. And a finer man never drew breath, if I do say so. He was vice president in charge of nutmeg.”
    “Was he, indeed?”
    “Yes, indeed. VP Nutmeg is the highest position in our organization, next to mine. Charles was our crown prince, as I used to call him, and a true prince he was. That was his name, Charles. Charles McCorquindale, We were distantly