Free Death in High Heels by Christianna Brand

turquoise overalls, two dark heads and one exquisitely fair.
    “Is this where you were cleaning the hat?”
    “Yes,” said Rachel. “I wish we’d never tried.”
    “It ruined the hat too,” said Victoria. As though ashamed of her flippancy she added: “It’s terrible to think she’s actually dead!”
    “Did you like her?” he asked them all, collectively.
    “She was a funny soul,” said Victoria, slowly. “She was like oysters—you either loved her or you hated her.”
    “I loved her,” said Rachel in her warm, sweet voice “She was so gay and big-hearted and generous; there wa nothing mean or petty about Doon.”
    “I liked her too,” said Toria. “You didn’t though Rene, did you?”
    “No, I didn’t,” said Irene. “I can’t think how anyone can say she was kind. She said the most cruel things, sarcastic things, and she was always laughing at people and making fun of them. I don’t like that sort of person.”
    “Macaroni adored her, and she should know, she worked for her.”
    “Yes, but it was just a goofy, silly sort of affection.’ Victoria began to side with Irene. “She was often terribly rough and irritable to Macaroni, only Macaroni never saw when she was being sarcastic. Look at the way Doon treated her over that brooch affair; as if the ruddy kid would pinch a brooch.…”
    “I thought the brooch was Mrs. ’Arris’s bit of trouble,” said Charlesworth.
    “Oh, poor old Mother ’Arris got it too. Gregory started it, of course, but Doon joined in. The trouble with Doon was that she never stopped to think; she just said or did the first thing that came into her head—that was the secret of her generosity, really; it wasn’t a very deep quality—it was just that her first impulse was to give and she followed it without further to-do. In the same way, she’d have given the brooch to either of them, any day of the week; but if she loses it and Gregory says Mrs. ’Arris took it, she rushes off and accuses Mrs. ’Arris. I do think that was rotten of her and so did we all. Rachel was furious with her, weren’t you, Ray?”
    “Yes, I was,” said Rachel, flushing at the memory of her own wrath. “It was most unjust and I told them so.…”
    “Oh, she’s a tiger when she’s roused,” said Victoria, laughing. “She looks so sweet and gentle, Mr. Charlesworth, but you can’t trust her—she’s a tiger when she’s rou …” She broke off, looking rather uncomfortable at the implication of her words. Charlesworth changed the direction of the conversation.
    “Was Miss Doon engaged or anything?”
    There was a sudden silence. Rachel broke it, saying carelessly that she didn’t think so. “We didn’t know much about her outside Christophe et Cie.” The others looked relieved.
    “What are you trying to hide from me?”
    Toria looked at him and laughed. “Nothing that you’re not bound to find out for yourself very soon. We just don’t want to be the first people to tell you. It’s very mere, anyway.”
    “Isn’t that your sergeant at the door?” said Rachel.
    Charlesworth rose and went to meet him half-way across the showroom. “What have you been up to, Bedd?”
    “Doing a little petty larceny, sir.”
    “I thought it was something of the sort. Well, what are the proceeds?”
    “’Alf a dozen grains of oxalic acid crystal out of the lining of a coat pocket, sir.”
    “Good lord, Bedd, you’re a wonder. Where did you find the coat?”
    “’Angin’ in a wardrobe of Mr. Cecil’s flat.”
    “You figured that the elegant Cissie would wear his suits in strict rotation?”
    “That’s right, sir.”
    “And you burgled the blinking flat?”
    “I’ad to get the porter to let me go in and write a note to Mr. Cecil asking ’im to be there at seven o’clock tonight for an interview with you, sir,” said Bedd, with a great display of offended virtue.
    “What am I supposed to say to him at seven o’clock this evening, may I ask?”
    “You might arst