Why Shoot a Butler by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online

Anthony Corkran at the clubhouse that afternoon he found that worthy agog to talk the matter over. In company with the Fountains he had been present at the inquest, and he expressed himself much dissatisfied with the result.
    "Is that the end of it?" he demanded. "D'you mean to tell me there's nothing more. going to be done?"
    "Oh no, there's a lot more to be done. Find the murderer, for instance. Look here, there are several things I want to ask you, but first I want to play golf. What about it?"
    "Absolutely all right with me," Anthony assured him.
    "Might think out a solution on the round, what?"
    The course was a long one with a fair amount of trouble on it. Mr. Corkran warned his friend that it was imperative to keep straight and pulled his first drive into a clump of gorse bushes.
    "Thanks, Anthony," said Mr. Amberley. "Example is better than precept - every time."
    It was past five when they finished the round, and the light had already grown very bad. They found the clubhouse rather empty, as was usual on a weekday, and they had no difficulty in securing a corner to themselves. Over the first half-pint of beer, Anthony would discuss nothing but his tendency to pull, embellished by illustrative anecdotes of fatal pulls on half the golf courses of England. But when he had taken Amberley from Sandwich by way of Wentworth and Hoylake to St Andrews he at last ran dry.
    Amberley allowed him to brood over the afternoon's round for a few minutes, while he sent for more beer. When this came Anthony roused himself from his absorption and of his own accord abandoned the subject of golf.
    "This 'ere murder," he said. "What about it?"
    "Not enough. That's the trouble. What is Brother Basil afraid of?"
    "Ah, you noticed it, did you? Blessed if I know. Jolly sort of atmosphere about the place, isn't there? The sooner I get Joan out of it the better."
    "When is the wedding, by the way?"
    "Next month. As far as I can make out, I look like being a fixture there till then, or practically. I was supposed to be pushing off after these fancy-dress revels - I say, why do women get all unhinged when it comes to fancy dress? Even Joan's definitely insane on the subject. I ask you, Amberley, do I look the sort of silly ass who'd do well as Faust?" Frank shook his head. "Of course I don't. A dance is all right, but why drag in the fancy dress? However, that wasn't what I was going to say. Being a fixture. Well, I always meant to push off on Thursday, but apart from Joan wanting me to stay a bit longer, Brother Basil's all for it."
    "Pleasure of your company, or funk?"
    "Funk," said Corkran positively. "The man's all chewed up with it, and God knows why. All I know is that he doesn't want to be left alone at the manor. It's since the murder that he's got the jumps to this extent."
    "Do you know anything about him?"
    "No, not much. Nothing much to know. Good family, public-school man, and all that sort of thing. Always been fairly well off, I gather, on account of old Fountain making him his heir. Naturally I've gleaned a bit from Joan, in the way of conversation. As far as I can make out Brother Basil's led a comfortable sort of life, no worries, or debts, or riotous living. Ordinary bonhomous sort of chap. Simple Pleasures and Athletic Ideal, you know. Shoots, hunts a bit, quite a stylish bat, I believe. He's keen on all outdoor sports. Devilish healthy. Had me out before breakfast to bathe when I stayed with him down at Littlehaven. He's got a bungalow there - rather decent, except for the damned boat."
    "What damned boat?"
    "Motorboat. According to Basil you can cross the Channel in it without being seasick. Well, I didn't cross the Channel, so perhaps that accounted for it."
    Amberley laughed. "Not a good sailor, in fact."
    "The world's worst," said Corkran. "Anyone can have the super motorboat as far as I'm concerned. Joan, too. She bars it completely, which feeds Brother Basil stiff. He and she don't hit it off particularly well, you know.