Aunt Dimity and the Deep Blue Sea Read Online Free Page A

telephone calls have been made, and everything else has been properly seen to.You’ve been energetic and sensible and, most important, well organized. I applaud you.
    “Thank you,” I said, with a little half bow.
    Now, my dear child, don’t you think it’s time for you to tell me what’s really going on inside that head of yours?
    I studied the question in silence, then lifted my gaze to look slowly around the room. I couldn’t count the number of hours I’d spent in the study since the cottage had become my home. I was intimately familiar with each floorboard’s creak, each shadowy corner, each whisper of wind in the chimney. As I ran my hand along the armchair’s smooth leather, I recalled that I’d been sitting in the same chair the first time I’d opened Aunt Dimity’s remarkable journal.
    I closed my eyes and let my mind travel through the cottage’s other rooms, past the silver-framed family photographs, the piles of stuffed animals, the scrawled notes taped to the living room’s mantel shelf—reminders of events and appointments that had seemed important six hours ago but that had since become wholly irrelevant. I saw with my mind’s eye the ink-stained cushion on the window seat beneath the living room’s bow window, the scratches on the legs of the dining-room table, the overflowing coatrack in the front hall. I saw the twins asleep in their beds, nestled beneath quilts sewn by the village’s quilting club, and Bill standing over them, with cold fear in his eyes.
    “What’s really going on inside my head?” I said softly, and looked into the fire’s quivering flames. “I’m being terrorized by someone who wants to kill my husband, my children, and me. I’m being forced to leave the place I love above all others on this earth, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back. I’m keeping calm for Bill’s sake and the boys’, Dimity, but if you want to know the truth about how I’m feeling, here it is: I want to camouflage my face and go out there in the dark with a machete and a machine gun and a flamethrower. I want to find this evil creep and shoot him and stab him and stomp on him and cut him into little pieces and burn him to ashes and send his ashes into space so they’d never pollute any air I might breathe.” I paused to let my thundering heart quieten. “I guess you could say that I’m having a slight problem with anger management.”
    To the contrary, my dear, I would say that you’re managing your anger exceptionally well.You haven’t by any chance acquired a flamethrower, have you?
    I astonished myself by laughing out loud. “Of course not, Dimity! I haven’t had the time. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with a flamethrower if I had one.”
    I’m sure they come with instructions.That being said, I believe you’ll be better served if you leave all such matters in the capable hands of Ivan Anton and Chief Superintendent Yarborough.
    “That’s exactly what I intend to do,” I said. “I also intend to bring you with me.”
    I should hope so.You’ll need someone to keep you from running amok. And Reginald?You won’t leave him behind, will you?
    Reginald was a small, pink flannel rabbit with black button eyes, beautifully hand-stitched whiskers, and the ghost of a grape juice stain on his snout. He’d been my constant companion from the earliest days of my childhood, and he remained a cherished chum.
    When Dimity mentioned Reginald’s name, I looked up at the special niche in the bookshelves where he sat gazing down at me. His black button eyes seemed to dance with impatience in the flickering firelight, as if he were eager to hop into one of the suitcases in the front hall. I hadn’t told him yet that he’d be traveling in my carry-on bag, along with the blue journal.
    “How could I leave Reginald behind?” I said. “I haven’t taken him to bed with me since I was ten years old, but with Bill in London . . . Who knows? I may start sucking my thumb