The Spring Cleaning Murders Read Online Free Page A

chair. “How about getting one of those exercise bikes manufactured by Mrs. Malloy’s son? Do you a world of good. And George, poor blighter, is bound to need every penny coming his way. Marriage to Vanessa has to mean bills mounting like the Empire State Building.”
    “Exercise!” Jonas sucked in his already-hollow cheeks. “Next thing, young fellow, you’ll be after me to become one of them bloomin’ daft vegetarians!”
    “I don’t think so.” Freddy caught my eye and it occurred to me that perhaps he hadn’t forced himself into a two-minute trudge from the cottage motivated only by the hope of cadging breakfast. Did he want to discuss the drop-off in business at Abigail’s? Feckless though he might be in many ways, Freddy was sincerely appreciative of all Ben had done for him.
    This, however, was not an opportune moment for discussing the fate of the restaurant. The twins’ ears were flapping like sheets on a line and the clock on the wall indicated that Mrs. Large was due to arrive at any moment.
    I passed Jonas a boiled egg and several slices of buttered toast. “I want you to eat every morsel. Freddy will show you how it’s done.”
    “Ellie, you do spoil us.” My cousin gave his egg a mighty whack with the back of his spoon and began chipping away at the shell.
    “Reckon as I should keep my strength up,” Jonas growled. “A woman by the name of Large is n’owt to tackle on an empty stomach.”
    “She’ll be lovely, and I’m sure very professional, as befits a leading light of the C.F.C.W.A.” I wiped Abbey’s eggy face, poured the orange juice, and while making a pot of tea, provided what little information I knew of the elite organization.
    “I hope the rules don’t prohibit gossip,” said Freddy.
    “Probably.”
    “But not strictly enforced perhaps.” He topped off his juice glass. “After all, you say Mrs. Malloy was a member, and she was never backwards in coming forward with a juicy tidbit about this person or that.”
    “I’m not bothered about other folks’ lives.” Jonas was nibbling the edge of a piece of toast.
    “What! You don’t want the scoop on those two women with the dogs who moved into Tall Chimneys? Something dodgy about them.” Freddy shook his head. “One looks as though her parents tried to drown her at birth and other is too hearty by half. Vienna and Madrid Miller, supposedly sisters. Although my guess is they’re bank robbers on the lam.”
    “Perfectly respectable women,” I asserted. “They’re having the next meeting of the Hearthside Guild.”
    “And then there’s that woman who looks as though she just left the nunnery and is afraid to cross the road without getting permission from Rome.” Freddy was in full flood. “You know the one I mean, Ellie. She bought that cottage on Hawthorn Lane, just around the corner from the vicarage.”
    “Clarice Whitcombe, and she’s doing wonderful things with the garden. Some flowers but mostly vegetables. All very organic.”
    “Wonder what she uses for fertilizer?” Freddy smirked. “The body of the bishop who refused her request to be allowed to hitch her habit above her knees while weeding? And what about that odd little man? The one who bought the house a couple of miles down The Cliff Road toward Bellkiek?”
    “Tom Tingle,” I said, “recently retired from the family shipping firm in London.”
    “Probably a pirate.” Freddy helped himself to more toast.
    “He looks more like a gnome.”
    “A real one, Mummy?” Abbey bounced in her seat.
    “No, dear, just an ordinary man with a big head on a small body.”
    “It strikes me”—my cousin settled back in his chair-- that there is something decidedly sinister  about this influx of newcomers. Could they be members of some gang? I ask myself. Bent on setting up bingo halls or ice cream parlors as a cover for their illicit operations.”
    “Why not make them white slavers?” I suggested, putting a cup of tea in front of Jonas, who