Free Troubles in the Brasses by Charlotte MacLeod Page B

down, it amounted to, “You unspeakable persons, get out of here.”
    Madoc raised his hand to stem the flow. “Before we leave, Miss Fawn, I should perhaps explain that I’m here in my professional capacity as a detective inspector of the RCMP. My duty at the moment is to investigate a murderous assault which was made a short time ago upon Lucy Shadd, who is occupying the room two doors away from yours. May I ask how long you and Mr. MacVittie have been in one another’s company?”
    Steve MacVittie was slowly coming to life. “Assault, huh?” he grunted through a jaw-cracking yawn. “Is that what all the yelling was about down the hall a while back? Yeah, I’ve been here ever since I won the toss. I haven’t had strength enough to leave. But these guys weren’t.”
    “We were so, eh,” Rintoul protested. “You just couldn’t see us. We were hiding.”
    “Where, for instance?”
    MacVittie’s question was a good one. There wasn’t even a closet, just a few hooks screwed into an unpainted board on the wall opposite the bed.
    “We were under the bed,” said Jason Jasper.
    Madoc stooped and checked. “You were not, Mr. Jasper. This is an old-fashioned coil spring and it sags in the middle. Mr. MacVittie is a big man and Miss Fawn is not puny, either; therefore it sags a good deal. You and Mr. Rintoul are no lightweights yourselves, I may point out. The combined weight of the occupants is pushing the mattress and spring down so low that neither one of you would have been able to crawl underneath, much less the pair of you together. Added to that, the dust under the bed has not been disturbed. Come on, Mr. Jasper, what else have you and your pal been up to? Did you also think it would be a jolly jape to scare Lucy Shadd within an inch of her life?”
    “God, no! Why’d we do a thing like that?”
    “Perhaps for the same reason that Mr. Rintoul amused himself by tickling Frieda Loye’s neck with a piece of violin string taped to his trombone all through last evening’s concert, knowing full well that Mrs. Loye was subject to screaming nightmares as a result of previous teasing, and would probably wake up everybody tonight with another one.”
    With the exception of Monsieur Houdon and Madame Bellini, who’d have been wearing their earplugs, but Madoc saw no reason to go into that. “It was in fact a piece of violin string, was it not, Mr. Rintoul?”
    “What’s the big deal about a piece of violin string?” Rintoul was trying to be truculent, but he’d forgotten he still had the surgical mask over his mouth, so he missed his effect. He snatched off the mask and snarled at Madoc.
    “And how come this crap about being a Mountie? I thought you were Sir Emlyn’s son.”
    “The two are not mutually exclusive, Mr. Rintoul.”
    “Lady Rhys told me you worked for the Canadian government.” Jason Jasper sounded like a petulant four-year-old. “In research.”
    “That is quite correct, Mr. Jasper. On behalf of the law enforcement branch of the Canadian government, I am at present researching you. Getting back to my question, Mr. Rintoul, was it in fact a piece of violin string you were using to torture Mrs. Loye?”
    “I resent the use of me word torture. ”
    Madoc didn’t respond to his resentment, merely stood and waited. Delicia Fawn was in no mood for passivity.
    “Cedric, don’t be such a jackass. So what about it, Madoc? Or do we have to call you Inspector now? What’s so important about a hunk of violin string?”
    “Call me what you please. What’s important about a violin string is that a piece of one was used by somebody trying to strangle Lucy Shadd. Where did you get your string, Mr. Rintoul?”
    “I’m not saying I had one.”
    “If you don’t, one of your colleagues will,” Madoc pointed out. “It’s not possible that none of the other members of the orchestra noticed what you were up to. My mother and I could see it quite plainly from where we were sitting. You’ll be