Murder at the Maples: A Flora Lively Mystery Read Online Free Page B

call it that. It just sounds so … like a final resting place, or something.’
    ‘Which it is,’ countered Marshall with a shrug.
    ‘You know, Marshall, you don’t have to look for the dark side in everything. Lots of people live in places like the Maples and they’re really happy.’ Flora tapped her foot impatiently, squinting in the low sun. ‘Anyway, what precisely are you getting at? What do you mean about Otto being there all on his own?’
    He leaned against a bollard and gave her a twisted smile. ‘I think, Flora, that little Otto might have been trying to, you know – end it all?’
    ‘Oh, you are the most hateful man!’ Flora swung her tote bag and whacked him on the legs as hard as she could. ‘The most annoying, hateful, horrible man I have ever met. How you could take something as serious as this and turn it into some kind of a joke ... that’s low even for you, Marshall Goodman. Even for you.’
    ‘You’re right,’ Marshall said, trying to smother his laughter. ‘You’re right, Flora. I’m so sorry. It’s unforgivable. I’m sure you’re right, I’m sure Otto’s really happy there.’
    ‘I hate you. I really do.’
    ‘No. You don’t. And that’s part of the problem, don’t you think?’
    While Flora stood with her mouth hanging open, trying to think of a snappy comeback, Marshall raised his arm and walked away up Castle Hill. Come back, she wanted to shout. I haven’t finished having a go at you yet. But the insistent beep, beep, beep of the pedestrian crossing forced her to walk forward with the crowd and before long he was out of sight completely.
    ***
    By the following morning, Flora had calmed down enough to almost see the funny side of Marshall’s joke. But it didn’t make her laugh, or even raise a smile. When she arrived at Joy’s unit with her favourite chilli chicken Subway roll, her friend looked to have aged about five years.
    Which, in an octogenarian with chronic asthma, was not a good thing.
    There was a chill in the air, April showers threatening, and not for the first time Flora lamented her inability to drive. The walk across the city from Sunnybank Rise to the Maples never seemed to get any shorter.
    ‘Hey, I know,’ Marshall had said last month when their driver retired, ‘why don’t you learn to drive? That would solve all our problems, and you’d be a bit more use around here, wouldn’t you?’
    Flora hadn’t risen to it. She’d made her face blank the way she always did when he needled her and carried on typing, her back ruler-straight, her chin set to “get stuffed”. This was a sore point, but it was one Marshall didn’t even know he was prodding. Flora had to date failed her driving test seven times, and that was six times too many. But as far as Marshall was concerned, Flora had never even had lessons. Only Uncle Max knew the truth.
    Flora and Joy ate their lunch side by side on Joy’s tiny sofa, elbows knocking together companionably. Flora tried not to look at the window, now devoid of the garish red blinds. Otto lay at Joy’s feet, surrounded by squeaky toys and wrapped up cosily in the crocheted blanket.
    ‘How is he doing today?’ Flora said, offering the mutt a piece of bread. Otto turned his head away disgustedly.
    ‘He’s a trouper, is Otto. I think he’s fine. But he won’t go near the window and he whimpers if I try and take him outdoors.’
    Flora sniffed the air, wondering how they were managing toilet trips if that were the case. She decided not to ask. ‘And how are you feeling?’
    ‘Oh, you know. Not great. But I have to keep my spirits up or they’ll move me to the third floor. Like the Captain.’ Joy shook her head and sighed. ‘It was so sad to see him go up there. Once they’ve got you in Special Care ...’ She shuddered and returned to her baguette.
    ‘Oh, come on!’ Flora wiped her mouth on a piece of kitchen roll and laughed. ‘What is it with you lot and this third floor business? You talk as if there