Candied Crime (3 page)

My, she´d better scarper now.
What a fortune she was such a lousy shot, she must have missed him
by yards.

She dived
into the protective shade of the kitchen, just as Sir Bellini came
rushing up the basement stairs, flailing his long arms. Hastily,
she hid the shotgun behind the refrigerator.

”
Who on earth
has taken a shot at my best cask of Amontillado,” he thundered.
”The one I´ve been saving for my 60th birthday.”

Congratulating herself on her
cool head, Annabella decided to offer him a sip of his own sherry
to mollify him a bit, only to realize it must be the bottle she had
stuck behind the fridge.

9. Trick or Treat

”You daren´t …” Their voices
taunted me all the way up the drive.

I knocked on
the heavy oak door, and an ancient butler opened the creaking door.
”Whom may I announce?” he lisped.

”Get out of my way, you old
fart.” With my heart in my mouth I crossed the threshold of Crow
House. “Trick or treat,” I shouted.

“But certainly. Please come this
way, young man. I´m Dr So Wat.” A tall guy with slanting eyes
materialised out of nowhere. He turned around without waiting to
see if I was following him.

“What´s your problem?”

Cautiously, I lay down on the
leather couch. “When I see a pretty girl, I want to bite her in the
neck.”

“Don´t we all? What´s your real
problem?”

“I´m not sure I believe in all
this Halloween stuff.” Whew, I had said it.

His intense eyes studied me for
a while. “I really don´t think that makes any difference to us.
Boy, you are in for a trick.”

10. Tea for Ten

Characters
:

Earl Grey
-
host

Lady Grey
-
hostess

Jasmine
- their young
daughter

Lipton - hussar

Darjeeling
-
hussar

Bai Mu Dan
- karate
teacher

Lapsang souchong - Chinese ambassador

Shui Xian
- his
wife

Medova
- Russian
maid

Pickwick
-
butler

Rooibos
-
gardener

Assam Khongea - detective inspector

”You may pour the tea now,
Medova.” Lady Grey nodded at the Russian maid and the butler
Pickwick who stood armed with the Chinese teapots and dishes of
exotic canapés.

It was such a scoop that she had
roped in the Chinese ambassador, Lapsang Souchong, and his slight
little wife, Shui Xian, during their first week in London. The
ambassador couple were the stars, but the two young hussars,
Darjeeling and Lipton, also gave lustre to the company in their
dazzling uniforms. She was certain they both intended to propose to
Jasmine, and she couldn´t wait to hear whom her husband, Earl Grey,
preferred. Jasmine was so stubborn, she would probably insist on
making her own choice, but surely that would just be a question of
withholding her allowance for a week or two.

“
Sushi fishi
takey waiki” Lady Grey was genuinely proud of her talent for
languages and never missed a chance to practice. She pointed to the
canapés, but the tiny Chinese just looked confused. Bai Mu Dan, who
was sitting opposite her, crammed most of his napkin into his
mouth, but that was probably some Asian custom. She must remember
to ask him.

The guests chatted merrily,
especially the young, until Lipton suddenly started panting and
rattling, and soon after Darjeeling got up and tried to get away
from the table, holding his starched napkin to his mouth.

Earl Grey rose and turned
towards his wife. “Hibiscus dear, what have you trotted out for us
this time?” He pushed his plate away while he turned his head from
one sick guest to the other like an engaged tennis spectator.

“
Medova, what
did you put in the tea?” Lady Grey was not proud of her childhood
in the general teashop, but she had developed a sound survival
instinct.

“Milady, an individual wants to
speak to you.” Pickwick´s classic profile revealed nothing, and
that was never a good sign.

“Inspector Assam Khongea at your
service, Milady.” The tweed jacket bowed slightly. “I hear you have
had a couple of deaths this afternoon.”

“
You are in
good time, my good man, but perhaps you are in the cavalry?” Earl
Grey stood by his wife. “You can still observe the dying
twitches.”

Inspector
Khongea bent over the jerking hussars, his nostrils quivering. “Hm.
Undoubtedly a severe case of tannic acid.”

Medova broke into a wail. “Me
never put nothing in the teapot.”

”
Medova is
right, Inspector. May I speak to you in private?”
Jasmine
´s metre long eyelashes fluttered
like butterflies, and a drooling Inspector Khongea followed her
into the library.

“I really don´t know how to say
this. It is so embarrassing,” she sobbed. “But I do fear it is our
gardener, Rooibos, who has poisoned the two hussars by adding weed
killer to the tea. You see...” She put a delicate hand on the worn
tweed sleeve. “I just tried to be kind, but I fear he may have
misunderstood something I said and...”

“
Y
ou mean that he was captivated
by your irresistible beauty and tried to get rid of his rivals?”
Khongea leaned forward to comfort her while he threw a discreet
look down her low-cut dress. Whoops, he´d better keep his
head.

The beauty nodded unhappily
while a single tear stole down her alabaster cheek. “I am so
relieved that you understand me.”

“
But no, it
was
nothing like that!” An agitated
Medova swept into the library. “She there is lying through her
teeth. She is so naughty, that one. She say Rooibos weedkills them
hussies while she tell him do it! She cuddle gardener on back stair
and afterward she squeeze Bai Mu Dan in the hall.” She raised an
accusatory finger towards the unhappy Jasmine.

“Foreign servants!” Inspector
Khongea shook his head sadly. He snapped his fingers, and two
uniformed men stood ready. “Take the gardener into custody, and
you´d better bring miss Medova here in for interrogation. My
instinct tells me she is involved in the conspiracy.”

“Now you need not fear any more,
miss Grey. The police are here to protect you.” He patted her pale
cheek and hastened out the door.

“Finally alone, my love!” Bai Mu
Dan crept out from the antique tapestry and held her in his
muscular arms.

“But my parents?” Wondering, she
looked around her.

”Well, there was plenty of tea
in that pot.”

11
. Toffee´s Christmas

I
When Toffee Brown moved to
Knavesborough, no one noticed her the first few weeks. She could
just as well have been a ghost. Perhaps she was? No, surely she
would have noticed. She tried to poke a finger through her own body
and wailed loudly. These country bumpkins just chose to ignore her!
How inconsiderate!

She, however,
noticed her neighbour in the adjacent house. The blind man in the
wheelchair with the afghan coverlet and the blue-eyed cat
constantly on his lap. She especially noticed that each time they
passed each other on the pavement, the cat ignored her, while the
man seemed to be following her with his eyes, but of course that
was impossible. Toffee, you are losing it, she whispered to
herself.

Every day she made up her face
as carefully as always, she did her white hair and put on her
tailored, pink coat before she went out to walk Tweedledee, her
snow white Pekinese. But invariably, her new neighbours would pay
more attention to Tweedle than to herself. Especially the cat which
glared as if it wanted to pounce on her poor little doggie. And she
had a creepy feeling that its blind owner was laughing at her.

Whenever she passed a shop
window, she checked her elegant figure among the glittering
Christmas decorations and made sure her beret sat at just the right
angle. Nothing wrong with her, as far as she could see.

“Trimming our feathers, are
we?”

Toffee jumped, fearing she would
have a heart attack.

“Didn´t mean to scare you, Ms
Brown. I am Agatha Mistletoe, your new neighbour. Jim Partridge´s
nurse.” Miss Mistletoe´s creased face cracked up in a broad smile
much like the vigilant cat´s.

“Oh, the gentleman in the
wheelchair?” Toffee was not sure he was what she´d consider a real
gentleman, but she never forgot her manners.

“Sure.” Miss Mistletoe barked.
“Mr Partridge is our local antique dealer. Old knick-knacks are his
speciality.” She tilted her head and sized Toffee up.

“Have a good day, Miss
Thistlemoe.” Toffee spun around and dragged Tweedledee back so fast
his short legs hardly touched the pavement, wishing she had never
heard about Knavesborough.

II
A few days later Rhapsody and
Psalmonella Gershwin, the vicar´s daughters, came across the
newcomer while shopping in the local grocery.

“Isn´t that Miss Brown?”
Psalmonella nudged her sister.

“No, it can´t… Dear me, I´m
afraid you´re right. Do you think she was caught up in a duel
between a couple of graffiti painters?” Rhapsody bit her lip to
keep herself from laughing out loud. Her first impression of Toffee
Brown had been a non-descript granny who suited her name
admirably.

Unfortunately, Miss Brown ambushed them with her trolley
before Rhapsody could gain control of her wicked grin. Resolutely,
she bent down to pat the chubby little dog before she had to face
its owner. Toffee´s fluffy, white curls had been coloured pink and
green like a peppermint cane.

“Hello, Tweedledee. Good
dog.”

Psalmonella was the better
actress. “How nice to meet you, Miss Brown. I hope you are settling
down in Knavesborough?”

“
W
ell, it´s a bit quiet up here,
isn´t it? When one is used to the bright city lights…” Toffee Brown
muttered.

“So you lived in a city before
you came here?”

“I did indeed. In the limelight,
you might say.” She leaned forward, whispering theatrically.

“
In the
limelight, even. Then I understand that we must seem a bit trivial
for your taste,” Rhapsody smiled.

“You see; Toffee Brown is not my
real name. It´s a pseudonym.” Toffee stepped so close to the
sisters that they could inhale her latest cup of coffee and screwed
up her blue eyes. Nice eyes, actually, if she hadn´t stuck so much
goo around them.

Rhapsody took pity on her. “A
pseudonym. But why, Miss Brown?”

“I write novels! Romances!
World-famous bestsellers. But I came here because I needed a rest.
“

“
I see. I´m
sure you have come to the right place, then. Plenty of rest and
fresh air and all.” Psalmonella patted her shoulder and stretched
out a hand to put a few tins of baked beans into her
trolley.

Behind them, the bestseller
writer kicked a sack of dog food viciously.

III
Toffee´s big chance came when
she received an invitation to Sir Bellini´s pre-Christmas
Party.

She had been
itching to meet the world-famous violinist, Knavesborough´s only
celebrity. Apart from herself, that was. She donned her best silk
frock, pink with embroidered silver flowers, and a fabulous hat
with ostrich feathers that hid most of her hair. The new hairdo
might not have been her most brilliant idea.

She had not
expected quite so large a turnout at Netherdale Manor, and when it
dawned upon her that all and sundry had received an invitation, she
ground her teeth. Drinking eggnog with the hoi polloi of Yorkshire
when she could have…

“In the pink, Miss Brown?” The
officious nurse intercepted her arm just as she was about to
approach her host.

“Now that I have you here, I
have been meaning to ask you how a blind man can buy and sell
antiques?” Toffee had wanted to know, but she had certainly not
meant to ask such a rude question so where did those words come
from? She squinted at the cup in her hand, wondering what they put
in that tacky brew up here.

Miss
Mistletoe laughed gaily. “Jim Partridge has a seventh sense, you
might say. Just follow his nose and it´ll lead you to the good
stuff.”

A Goth butler picked up her
empty cup and put a new one between her fingers. “Exquisite hair,
granny. Who´s your hairstylist if I may ask?”

Toffee was on
the brink of tears, but she was on a mission. She had come to speak
to Sir Bellini. She looked around her for some place to put down
her cup, but all she saw was taller people´s elbows. Well, down it
would have to go. She drained it surreptitiously and let the cup
slide down into someone´s very large tweed pocket.

With a determined hiccup, she
squeezed through the throng and swooped down on her tanned host.
“What a pleasure to have you on my own,” she flashed, conveniently
ignoring two-three hundred villagers.

“Why, nice to meet you, Miss
Brown. I hope you´re enjoying yourself. A Christmas cracker?” He
handed her one end of a glossy twist of paper, and she had no
options but pull at it though the bang always made her heart
flutter.

“Hahahahaha,” Toffee laughed
shrilly, sensing that this might be her one and only chance. She
ignored the paper hat but rolled out the small strip of paper and
cried out, “Someone in our midst is a famous writer!”