Free A Nice Class of Corpse by Simon Brett Page B

information-gathering service is remarkable. I'm sure he could find out for me very quickly.'
    'Oh, er, well, in that case . . .' Mr Holland wavered. 'I suppose the details are to be public soon enough. . . . I doubt if much harm could be done by . . . And since you aren't a beneficiary . . .'
    Mrs Pargeter laughed. 'Of course I'm not. I only met her once. Why should I be a beneficiary?'
    'That, Mrs Pargeter, is one of the strange features of the will. Mrs Selsby, as you just said, had no living relatives, no one in fact very close to her – except for the people living in this hotel.'
    'Oh?'
    'She was happy here. She found the Devereux a dignified and genteel place in which to spend the, er, evening of her life. And so, two years ago, she summoned me and asked me to draw up a will, which divided her estate equally between all of the people living in the Devereux.'
    'Staff as well?'
    'Yes. Miss Naismith and Newth were to be included. Loxton, too, although she does not actually live on the premises. Mrs Selsby's only stipulation was that the beneficiaries should have been here for at least six months. Which is why,' he explained, apologetically, 'as I said, I'm afraid you fail to qualify.'
    The late Mr Pargeter had left his widow sufficiently well cushioned to accept this news with equanimity. 'But that's a very unusual will, isn't it?'
    'Yes,' Mr Holland replied with some asperity. 'And a very ill-advised one. I spelled out to Mrs Selsby all of the arguments against such a course, its potential dangers and disadvantages, but she was adamant. That was how she wanted it to be.'
    Mrs Pargeter was struck that Mr Holland must be a very weak man. He was employed as a professional adviser and yet no one seemed to take his advice. Mrs Selsby had ignored him, and he had allowed Miss Naismith to ride roughshod over him that morning. Weak and stupid, she decided.
    'So . . .' she said slowly, 'everyone in the Devereux stood to benefit from Mrs Selsby's death. . . .'
    'Well, I think that's a rather cynical way of putting it, but, under the terms of her will, everyone would inherit an equal share, yes.'
    'How much money are we talking about?' Mr Holland winced at the indelicacy of this question. 'Come on. How much? Five thousand? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Fifty thousand? A hundred thousand?'
    Pained at the necessity of replying, he said quietly, 'Nearer your final figure than the others.'
    Mrs Pargeter nodded. 'And do you know if any of the people living here were aware of the unusual provisions of this will?'
    'Of that I have no idea.' And, feeling perhaps that he had let down his professional image, Mr Holland added huffily, 'But I can't see that it's important.'
    No, thought Mrs Pargeter, you wouldn't be able to see that, would you?
    But it is important. Very.
    CHAPTER 17
    WEDNESDAY
    6 MARCH – 10.45 p.m. – It is strange – or perhaps even amusing – to see how quickly my thoughts are once again turning to murder. After my first, eminently successful, foray, which so simply – and even elegantly – achieved what I needed, one might have expected a period of peace and recuperation, a period of resting on my laurels, before thoughts of murder should once again begin to dominate my mind.
    But that, I fear, is not to be. Already I am experiencing that cliche of history and literature – the fact that one crime very easily leads to another. I can understand how this unalterable rule of human life might cause considerable anguish to those afflicted with a conscience, to those who commit one murder on the premise that it is a once-and-for-all solution to an intolerable problem, and then find themselves drawn inexorably on to new murders.
    For me, of course, such considerations do not matter. Since removing Mrs Selsby, I have still felt no pang of remorse – indeed, no emotion at all, except for a certain smug satisfaction.
    My new target is another lady – one, who, I fear, is already showing far too much interest in Mrs