Christmas is Murder Read Online Free Page A

station. There was packed ice blocking the tracks.”
    Charley nodded. “Me and Yvette are expected at her mum’s for Christmas Eve. I don’t know if that will happen now.”
    “Argh, I don’t suppose newlyweds mind too much where they are as long as they’re together in a nice warm bed.”
    “Right enough, and anyway I could give Christmas at Yvette’s house a miss this year. Her mother’s a bit of a busybody, well-meaning and all, but …”
    “So,” Rex said, casually picking off a frayed end of wool from the sleeve of his blue sweater. “You wanted to talk to me.”
    “Yeah, that’s the other reason I’m in no hurry to leave. I don’t want to miss all the excitement—you know, when the police come and examine the body.”
    “The old man who had a stroke?”
    “It wasn’t a stroke, mate. He was poisoned, sure as I’m standing right here.”
    “Poisoned? How?”
    “I’m certain his almond tart had cyanide in it. There was white foam at the corners of his mouth. That’s what made me suspicious. What with the increased threat of terrorism and all, we have regular courses on poisons and what to do in the event of biochemical warfare. Dicobalt edetate in the case of cyanide and—”
    “You are in the medical profession?”
    “Paramedic.”
    “So you’re saying he ate an almond tart and died as a result?”
    “Looks that way. He only ate the filling. He couldn’t manage the pastry with his dentures.”
    “Who else ate the tarts?”
    “That’s the funny thing,” Charley said, scratching his ear. “I think everybody did, except maybe Anthony—you know, the ponce with the designer goatee? Well, he’s a health nut from what I can make out, and I don’t think he would have eaten one.”
    “And where is the rest of Mr. Lawdry’s tart now?”
    “I wrapped it in plastic and put it in my room for analysis in a lab when the police arrive.”
    “Did you tell anyone else about this?”
    “Nah—didn’t see the point in scaring people when no one can get to us. Imagine being cooped up in a house full of hysterical women.”
    “Quite. Well, I admire your sang-froid .”
    “Sig Freud is my middle name,” Charley joked, looking around the room. “Wonder where Yvette’s got to? I’m dying for a fag.”
    “And you didn’t call the police about it?”
    “Like I said, what was the point? I decided to wait until they got here. Then when you arrived, I thought, Here’s a man of the law—I can unburden my secret to him, sort of thing.”
    “I’d be glad to help, but I’d like to see your bit of evidence first, if I may.”
    They met Yvette on the stairs.
    “Here you go,” she said, handing Charley his cigarettes.
    “Ta. Go on downstairs. I want to show Rex something.”
    The Perkins’ suite was located in the east wing. Rex waited outside while Charley fetched the remains of the tart. Unwrapping it, Rex sniffed and examined it. Most of the soft center between the fluted crust had been scooped out. He pulled a starched handkerchief from the pocket of his corduroys and dipped a corner into the filling. It tasted of sugary almonds, and something bitter and caustic besides.
    “What d’you think?” Charley asked, eying him intently.
    “The tart would have had to contain more than a sprinkling of cyanide to cause death, wouldn’t it?”
    “The heart is very susceptible to cyanide, and Lawdry had a weak heart. Everyone knew about it. He kept his pills on the dining room table. But you’re right—it would have taken more than a sprinkling. It’s a bit of a coincidence, what with cyanide tasting like almonds and all …”
    “The filling does have a slightly peculiar taste. All the same, it would help if we could establish the presence of cyanide in the house.”
    “The culprit like as not got rid of the evidence. We’d have to search the house from attic to cellar. Fat chance we’d find anything, or even know what we were looking for. Perhaps you should take a look at the