Old Moorhen's Shredded Sporran: The Belchester Chronicles Book 4 Read online

  ‘Oh, that’s unfair, sir. What did she say to warrant that?’

  ‘It was the way that she looked at me, Sergeant; the way that she speared me with her eye.’

  No sooner had he made this remark than there was a discreet knock on the door, and Beauchamp entered, his footsteps making no noise whatsoever on the fine quality carpeting.

  A sliding, slopping noise behind him declared that he had not arrived alone, and Hugo slithered in behind him in his slippers – after all, it was the morning, and in the morning, they used the morning room. In one hand he held a copy of the Daily Telegraph, in the others, his reading glasses. They could get on with things, as far as he was concerned; he wasn’t going to have his routine disturbed for anyone.

  As the second pair of men took their seats in the morning room, the doorbell rang, and the shrill voice of Enid Tweedie called out that she would see to it.

  She eased open the huge front door slowly, to reveal a woman dressed in a leopard-print faux fur coat, and carrying two wicker baskets. Behind her stood a tall man in uniform, with a number of suitcases grouped round his feet.

  ‘I wonder if you would be good enough to inform Mr Hugo Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump that his sister has arrived for her visit,’ she intoned, in the most excruciatingly posh accent. If she spoke like that all the time, thought Enid, it would be enough to make the Queen sound common.

  ‘Do come in,’ she requested as gracefully as she could, ‘and I’ll take you to Mr Hugo. At this time of day he should be in the morning room with his paper. Perhaps your man would like to wait in the hall with the luggage, and I’ll come back to give him instructions as to where to put your cases, and where to find his own quarters.’

  Good grief! She’d brought a man with her, but no lady’s maid. Surely she didn’t allow the man to dress her for dinner? It seemed absolutely scandalous to Enid, until she remembered that it was Beauchamp who ‘did’ Lady Amanda’s roots for her, in the appropriate shade of blonde, on a roughly six-weekly basis. Provided the man never saw her in anything less than a petticoat, it was acceptable, though only just.

  She led off Tabitha Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump, for this is whom Enid correctly identified the lady as, although she had not been introduced on being greeted at the door, to the morning room, where she knocked, then entered with the new arrival.

  A thundering noise from the staircase notified all that their hostess had heard the doorbell, but been unable to attend to answering it straight away. This was confirmed when a breathless figure with slightly dishevelled hair entered the room and said, ‘Welcome, Tabitha,’ puff, puff, ‘dear.’ ‘How delightful it is,’ puff, puff, ‘to see you again after so,’ puff, ‘many years,’ and approached at an exhausted waddle, a hand held out in greeting.

  ‘Amanda, darling, no need to rush on my account,’ smarmed Hugo’s sister, taking the outstretched hand, and giving it a jolly good shaking – none of this Gallic, modern kissing for them; a handshake had been good enough for their forebears, and it was damned well good enough for them.

  The two wicker baskets she had been carrying had been deposited on the floor, and they now, alarmingly, began to jiggle around, while alarming hissing and growling noises issued from within.

  ‘Tabby?’ queried Hugo, who had abandoned his newspaper to rise and greet his sister. ‘What on earth have you got in the baskets? It’s not something that Beauchamp’s going to have to knock on the head for dinner, is it?’

  ‘You silly old owl, Hugs, of course it’s not.’

  Tabby? Hugs? Yuck! thought Lady A, mentally considering the siblings’ pet names for each other – although a tabby is a cat, and so is she, so I suppose that, at least, is accurate.

  ‘I must apologise for having to bring them along with me. They’re a pair of brown-spotted Bengal kittens. I ordered them some time ago and, as the breeder wasn’t far from here, I decided to come and pay you a visit, and pick them up on the way home.

  ‘Unfortunately, fate intervened, and the daughter of the breeder went into labour very early, and has been carted off to hospital to bring forth her first baby prematurely. The breeder wanted to hasten to her side, but didn’t want to leave her husband in charge of the cats if she still had a litter of kittens.

  ‘I was actually going to pick mine up a couple of weeks later than the other purchasers, on my way home, but now had to pick them up four weeks earlier than I had intended, while the other owners only got them a fortnight early.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of the breed,’ declared Hugo.

  ‘They seem very lively,’ commented Lady Amanda.

  ‘I do believe one of them has broken through the wicker,’ observed Beauchamp, while Enid took refuge behind a sofa.

  Neither detective moved a muscle.

  ‘I think they’d appreciate being let out of their temporary captivity,’ announced Tabitha, kneeling beside the basket and starting to undo leather buckles.

  Lady Amanda tried to call out that she didn’t feel this was a good idea in such a heavily populated room, but her warning was too late, as two tiny furry bodies shot out of their wicker cells.

  Both seemed to want some sort of police protection. First out of the trap headed straight for Sgt Glenister, and made a mockery of his smart threads by pulling a number of them with his needle-sharp claws as he navigated his way up a trouser leg to his body.

  His brother was more adventurous and devil-may-care, and merely gave a huge leap after a few careering steps across the floor. He landed, paws round the edges, right across Moody’s face, looking remarkably like a furry octopus with a fifty per cent deficit in the limb department.

  Beauchamp was quickest off the blocks, and ended up with a furry whirlwind in each hand, his arms outspread as far as they could reach. ‘I think I’d better confine them somewhere where they can’t do too much damage to life, limb or fabric,’ he enunciated, a wary expression on his face, as he marched from the room and towards the laundry.

  ‘They make wonderful pets once they settle down,’ claimed Tabitha, but with a wobble of doubt in her voice. ‘They’re only six generations apart from the Asian leopard cat, you know?’

  ‘That many, huh?’ questioned Lady A, doubtfully. ‘I trust you won’t be staying the full month as planned? I’d have thought you’d want to get the little darlings settled down where they’re actually going to live, instead of in a temporary residence.’

  ‘We’ll talk,’ replied Tabitha, watching with fascination as Inspector Moody tried out his facial muscles to see if they all still worked. He had four groups of blood-enhanced pin-prick punctures round his features, where the tiny feline had clung on, on landing, to get a decent purchase.

  DS Glenister gazed, with woe, at his Bengal-damaged trousers and shirt. He’d not be able to wear these two garments again for any activity but painting and decorating. They were ruined.

  Lady Amanda made noises about any damage being covered by the household insurance, while Tabitha approached the two men to apologise for the unexpected ambush by her two new feline charges. As she reached them, Moody was moved to vent his spleen.

  ‘You stupid woman! Whatever made you let them out in a room with so many strange people in it? I could have lost an eye when that hairy hooligan landed on me like that. You must be even further out of your mind than this lot, so I assume you must be a relative; they say lunacy runs in families.’

  ‘I say, steady on,’ chimed in Hugo. ‘She’s my sister, and I resent the implication that there is madness in the Cholmondley-Crichton-Crump family.’

  ‘With a name like that, I don’t see how you could doubt it.’ Moody was in full charmless offensive. ‘I think we should both consider suing for assault, and consult the dangerous animals act to see if such a breed of cat is mentioned.’

  Beauchamp was observed to mutter something, but only Lady Amanda was close enough to hear. ‘Just a lot of little pricks on another little prick.’

  Of course, this set Lady A off with the giggles, as she couldn�
�t have put it better herself, and then Enid wanted to know what she was laughing at. The only thing that put an end to the embarrassing probing was a duo of enormous crashes which issued from the direction of the laundry room, and a couple of animal howls of surprise and distress.

  Seven figures hurtled down the corridor towards the laundry room, each of them fighting to reach it first. It was Lady Amanda and her killer elbows that won – she’d succeeded in getting the object of her desire in many a January sale because of these formidable weapons.

  Without thought for the consequence, she flung open the door, and released the two prisoners once more, who headed, this time, up the flight of stairs which lay just down the hall.

  ‘Bum!’ she declared, as she watched their departing forms. ‘Double bum! Whoops-a-daisy!’

  ‘Manda! Now look what you’ve done!’ cried Hugo crossly.

  ‘My babies!’ screeched Tabitha.

  ‘And guess who’s going to have to catch them?’ asked Beauchamp of Enid, who nodded in understanding, deciding that her beau would have to wear gauntlets if he were going to undertake such a perilous task on a regular basis. He could never serve at table with scratched and punctured hands. It just wasn’t on. Although he could always pretend he was a footman – they always wore gloves and Beauchamp already regularly wore his.

  Closer inspection revealed that it was the large glass containers of washing powder and conditioner that had come to grief, being nowhere near full and, therefore, easy for such small – but determined – animals to move off a shelf.

  A discreet cough from the corridor caught their attention, and all heads turned to see Miss Tabitha’s chauffeur-cum-maid waiting patiently for directions and instructions.

  Beauchamp left the group to deal with the man while Enid knelt to start clearing up the mess. The rest of the group dispersed, back in the direction of the morning room, to resume their so unexpectedly interrupted statement giving and taking.

  As they were walking down the hall, Tabitha was heard to enquire, ‘Are the police habitual visitors to your residence, Manda? They seem to know you all so well.

  When they had all been released from the rather uncomfortable situation of being interrogated by a hostile questioner and dispersed in various directions, Lady A was passing down the hallway again when she heard voices in the drawing room, and just happened to stop outside to check that her shoe-laces were securely fastened.

  The door was not shut tight and, from inside, she could clearly hear Tabitha’s voice. ‘What on earth are you doing, living here, under that old trout’s roof and thumb? I can’t understand how you put up with her, Hugs.’

  Hugo’s voice suddenly rumbled in reply. ‘When Manda first came across me, I was bed-bound in the most ghastly nursing home, with only basic care and rations, and nothing to do all day. She rescued me, took me under her own roof, took me to her doctor and a consultant, and she’s been having my joints replaced ever since.

  ‘I only get the best of care here. I’m warm and comfortable, and I’ve got company. I’m also more mobile than I’ve been for years. Nobody’s been a friend to me like she has, and she leads a most adventurous life, which has livened up mine considerably. And she didn’t have to do anything at all for me; we’d lost touch years ago, and only met again by coincidence.’

  ‘Tommy-rot, Hugs. She’s using you to make herself look good and to bolster her already enormous ego. You’re just a pawn!’

  Lady A decided that her shoes were, indeed, properly tied and moved on, glad that Hugo had stuck up for her, but she still didn’t like his sister.

  Chapter Three

  Lady A, totally incapable of leaving sleeping dogs to lie, after all the feline fuss had died down for a while, fixed Enid with a gimlet eye and backed her into a corner to discuss after-nuptials accommodation.

  ‘You’re surely not considering both of you living in your little hovel in Plague Alley, are you? It’s totally unsuitable for a couple of your calibre, and I had it in mind that I might construct suitable accommodation here at Belchester Towers.

  ‘There are certainly plenty of spare rooms, and we could create some very acceptable and spacious quarters for you. Will you have a word with your other half?’ She shuddered as she uttered this final cliché, but its use seemed necessary to get the right ‘pally’ approach – something she was certainly not used to.

  Enid, startled beyond measure at this over-friendly approach, huddled in the corner she had been backed into with the expression of a rabbit startled by the headlights of a car, and unable to tear her gaze away from the terrifying expression of bonhomie on the aristocratic face.

  Stuttering like a terrified schoolgirl, Enid promised to speak to her beloved, and expressed her gratitude at the generosity of Lady Amanda’s offer.

  ‘And you could be an official maid, and I could award you a salary for all the work you currently do for nothing.’ This statement was so unexpected that Enid had to put out her hands to balance herself against the wall, to stop herself from sliding down to the floor in shock.

  When the terrifyingly friendly figure – a bit like a crocodile that expresses a seemingly sincere desire to take you out for afternoon tea – had stumped off in search of Hugo, Enid fled to the domestic regions in search of Beauchamp and sanity.

  The two policemen seemed to want to spend an interminable time in their inspection of Belchester Towers for clues as to who could have been responsible for the theft of the plate, Inspector Moody in particular, poking into every corner he could uncover, DS Glenister keeping a weather-eye out for the two wild cats, even though his garments were beyond salvation.

  They even managed to blag themselves an invitation to afternoon tea, and were still on the premises when Beauchamp retired to construct the cocktails, this situation promoting a wicked smirk to his face.

  Seeing this, Lady Amanda knew her Beauchamp well enough to translate his intention and, therefore, on coming across the two detectives, issued an invitation to cocktails, but pointed out that they would have to leave when the residents went in for dinner, as Beauchamp was unlikely to be able to stretch his menu to include another two diners.

  Thus, Lady Amanda, Hugo, Miss Tabitha, DI Moody, DS Glenister and Enid Tweedie assembled in the drawing room at the cocktail hour, when Beauchamp entered the room with a full and varied tray, and a satisfied smile plastered all over his face.

  ‘And what delights have you mixed and shaken up for us tonight, Beauchamp?’ asked the hostess. ‘I hope you didn’t strain yourself,’ she quipped.

  ‘Only those cocktails that required it,’ he replied with an acknowledging twinkle at her appropriate jest. Beauchamp put down his tray on the top of the credenza, delicately coughed ‘Beecham’ into his right hand to catch up, then began to circulate with his delights. To anyone who didn’t know about ‘Beecham Tennis,’ this small abandonment of the tray would have meant nothing, but he had confided the rules to Enid, and she now began to giggle, inexplicably to all others present except the manservant.

  He began his circulation of the room to distribute the varied cocktails, starting first with the legitimate guest, Miss Tabitha. ‘This one is for you, Miss Tabitha,’ he intoned, indicating a glass for Hugo’s sister.

  ‘And what’s this one called?’ she asked, genuinely curious.

  ‘A Jug Wobbler, miss,’ he informed her with a perfectly straight face. The woman was of a rather stout build, and smiles were covered with hands, right across the room. ‘For you, your ladyship,’ he announced, approaching Lady Amanda, ‘a Hammer Horror, and for you, Mr Hugo,’ he turned around to offer the tray to the permanent guest, ‘a Lawnmower – there is so much groundwork going on at the moment that it seemed only polite to make some sort of reference to it with tonight’s selection of cocktails.’

  Next, he glided over to the two policemen, offering the tray first to the DI and pointed out his designated glass. ‘A Crater Face for you, sir, and for your colleague,’ these last few words were accompanied by a ne
at swivel, so that the tray was pointing in the right direction, a ‘Laugh a Minute’.

  Moody’s face assumed a murderous expression and began to turn a shade of purple that would not have disgraced the vestments of a bishop, but he did not have the nerve to actually say something about this grave insult. He’d have to bide his time to get his own back.

  Glenister, on the other hand, had difficulty in confining his mirth, and his first sip of his cocktail was very nearly sprayed over his incandescent colleague.

  ‘And finally, for my lovely fiancée, a Heart Throb, and for myself, a Hell Frozen Over. Chin chin, everyone,’ and he raised his glass.

  Lady Amanda knew darned well that Beauchamp never chose a cocktail without some personal comment or judgement in mind, and decided to spend any dull periods during the meal sorting out the less obvious insults in his choice of pre-prandial beverages, but was immediately distracted by a squawked question from Tabitha.

  ‘Is your man being incredibly personal and impertinent, or does he just not have a brain in his head?’

  So, the Jug Wobbler had hit a home run, had it? ‘Not an ounce of wit, Tabitha, nor a grain of intelligence. Just ignore him, whatever he’s done.’ It was the easiest way out of a very tricky explanation, and she took it gratefully. Beauchamp would understand her reasons.

  ‘That had better be so, otherwise I shall insist on him being severely disciplined.’ Tabitha wasn’t, somehow, convinced.

  ‘Oh, definitely so. Not an iota of guile in the man; you can take my word for it.’ Hugo’s sister or not, the woman had better shut up tout de suite, or she’d be getting a four-penny one, and maybe a punch up the bracket to go with it.

  Shortly after this, the two policemen took their leave of them, Moody still looking as if he had been gravely insulted as well as injured.

  In timely fashion, Beauchamp requested that they all take their seats, which were clearly marked with little oblongs of ivory on which their names were beautifully inscribed in an impeccable copperplate hand. He was a man of many talents.