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“Mrs. Eglantine is perfectly stable,” the colonel said, “and Nigel is hardly an alcoholic simply because he’s developed a palate for malt whisky. And there are special pleasures to be found in the absence of television. As for what sort of person would willingly come here, I may say that I myself am pleased to spend six months a year here.”
“I rest my case,” Dakin said. “This investigation of yours is a lot of crap, and so’s the idea of everybody tripling up in kinky little trios. I’m with my wife, and the two of us’ll be sticking together, and everybody else can just stay the hell away from us. And in the morning we’re gone, and I’ll tell you, I’ll be glad to get out of this nuthouse.”
I could see his point.
“It’s hopeless,” I a
“I think it’s just blowing around,” Carolyn said.
“Well, I don’t. I think it’s fresh snow, and I think it’s falling, and maybe it’ll go on like that all night. I don’t know what to do.”
“Keep a stiff upper lip,” Blount-Buller advised.
“I’ll certainly try,” I said, “but…”
There was a knock on the door. I went over and opened it, and Raffles came in. He usually scratches, and he’s not very good at that, and I was trying to figure out how he’d managed to knock when I realized that Molly Cobbett was standing there, waiting to be acknowledged before she said anything.
“Yes, Molly,” I said.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” she said, “and yours, ma’am, and yours as well, sir-”
“What is it, Molly?”
“It’s di
“A drink before di
“Yes, sir. It sharpens the appetite, Mr. Eglantine says.”
“Well, then,” I said. “We’d all better have one, don’t you think? Everybody knows you can’t trust a picky eater.”
CHAPTER Nineteen
Di
It was actually rather tasty, once you sat down and tucked in, but it offered little in the way of eye appeal. A quaint name would have helped-dog’s breakfast, say, or Taffy-in-the-woodpile. As it was, guests would slip into the dining room, then reconsider and visit the bar first. Once in the bar, one tended to linger, counting on malt whisky to heighten the appetite for the evening meal.
Eventually, though, everyone got to table, and the main course turned out better than it looked or sounded. There wasn’t much of a market for second helpings, aside from Rufus Quilp, who’d probably have asked for seconds on death angel mushrooms. For everybody else, one portion was plenty. I kept an occasional eye on Gordon Wolpert, but as far as I could see he wasn’t any more picky an eater on this occasion than the rest of us.
There was good bread on the table, and some sort of custard for dessert. The coffee was weak.
We were in the library with fresh mugs of coffee when the colonel found us and a
I asked which door he’d be using to enter that world, Trevelyan’s one-volume History of England or the more specialized England Under the Stuarts.
“Neither, I’m afraid. I’m reading his three-volume history of England under Queen A
“Ramillies and the Union with Scotland,” I said.
He looked startled. “Quite,” he said. “However do you happen to know that?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
“Hardly that. I gather you’re a student of English history.”
“Some college courses,” I said. “Years ago. And I never actually read the three volumes on A
“Marlborough and Prince Eugene,” he said. “The War of the Spanish Succession. The Battle of Blenheim.”
“A famous victory,” I said, echoing the Robert Southey poem.
“Famous once. Forgotten nowadays, I shouldn’t wonder. I don’t know what young people remember these days. Shouldn’t think they recall anything much earlier than the day before yesterday. It’s stirring stuff, Trevelyan’s history. You should read it sometime.”
“One of these days.”
“Well,” he said, setting his shoulders. “You’ll forgive me for breaking ranks, won’t you? I know we’re supposed to hold in squads of three, but I’m sure I’ll be all right in my quarters, and just as confident you two can see to each other’s safety. So, if you’ve no objection…”
I could hardly object. They’d all agreed readily enough to hang out in trios earlier, but that had gone by the boards as the day wore on, and by the time di
“Nobody’s taking it seriously,” I told Carolyn. “I don’t get it. There are three people dead and an unknown killer in our midst, and they’d rather grumble about di
She thought about it. “I think they’re just good at adjusting,” she said.
“At adjusting?”
“I think so, Bern. They were all really spooked earlier, when we found the cook cooling off in the kitchen. There were bodies all over the place and nobody had a clue who was go
“There still are,” I said, “and they still don’t, but all of a sudden nobody gives a damn.”
“Right. They’ve adjusted. Rathburn and the cook are outside where nobody has to look at them, and Orris is way down at the bottom of the gully. You know what they say, Bern. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“The bodies are out of sight,” I said, “and the rest of us are out of our minds.”
“People adjust,” she said. “Take you and me. Last night the coffee was strong and full-bodied, and we enjoyed it. Tonight it’s weak, and we’re still enjoying it.”
“We didn’t adjust to it.”
“We most certainly did.”
“We put Scotch in it, Carolyn.”
“That’s how we adjusted,” she said, “and I’d have to say we made a good adjustment, Bern. It tastes a lot better this way. Somehow you don’t notice that it’s weak. You know, that might be a good way to stretch coffee, as a sort of economy move. Use less coffee and add whisky to taste.”
“For economy,” I said.
“Well, if there was a major coffee shortage, say, or if we went to war with Brazil.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Why does anybody do anything?” She frowned. “Where was I?”
“You were drinking fortified coffee.”
“Fortified,” she said. “That’s a good word for it. I suppose it’s a crime against nature to put single-malt whisky in coffee, but that coffee was a crime against nature to begin with and I figure they cancel each other out. At least we didn’t use the Drumnadrochit.”