Читать книгу The Nursing Home Murder - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 9

Friday, the twelfth. Afternoon and evening.

‘Hallo, Brer Fox,’ said Alleyn, looking up from his desk. ‘Where’ve you been in your new bowler?’

‘Paying a call on the Snow Queen,’ replied Fox with unexpected imaginativeness. ‘And when I say “Snow Queen” I don’t mean cocaine, either.’

‘No? Then what do you mean? Sit down and have a smoke. You look perturbed.’

‘Well, I am,’ said Fox heavily. He produced a pipe and blew down it, staring solemnly at his superior. ‘I’ve been to see the wife of the late Home Secretary,’ he said.

‘What? You are coming on.’

‘Look here, chief. She says it’s murder.’

‘She says what’s murder?’