Free A Little Murder by Suzette A. Hill

to lend support – assuming that were possible.
    Felix felt himself going pink with indignation and he glared accusingly at Cedric. Really, there were times when the man was utterly impossible! ‘I take it that remark was intended as a joke,’ he replied icily, and to steady his nerves stared hard at the porcelain Pierrot on the console.
    ‘Of course, my dear fellow. Just testing!’ Cedric smiled soothingly.
    ‘Well don’t fucking test!’ Felix nearly yelled, but restrained himself with another glance at the Pierrot, and instead asked calmly whether the professor had formulated any further vi
ews
on the matter since their last appraisal.
    ‘As it happens I
have
,’ replied his friend leaning forward intently. ‘You see I’ve been considering that idea of yours – a crude tactic admittedly and a long shot, but if it works it could just be our saving grace … I’ll see what I can do about it.’

    Five days later Felix sat in Cedric’s sitting room immersed in a game of solo patience. The hall door slammed and a few minutes later his friend appeared.
    ‘Did you get it?’ Felix asked, glancing up from the spread cards.
    ‘Oh yes, no difficulty – except for the wretched salesgirl. I cannot imagine where they get them from these days. You would have thought that Gorringes might produce a better class,’ replied Cedric.
    ‘Really? What was wrong with her?’
    ‘Most things. But principally lack of interest. She seemed less concerned with me than with her nails. When I explained I was looking for one with a square handle she said she had never seen that type and they were usually curved. And then when I pointed out that I knew for a fact the store kept them because a friend had bought such a one only recently, she shrugged and said she wouldn’t know about that. To which naturally
I
said that perhaps she might gain enlightenment were she to investigate the stockroom.’
    ‘And did she?’
    ‘Gain enlightenment? I shouldn’t think so for one minute … but she did eventually produce the goods, as you can see.’ Cedric gestured towards the large parcel he haddeposited in the middle of the floor. ‘It’s the absolute replica of the original.’
    ‘That’s a relief, then – but I take it you didn’t put it on your account this time?’
    ‘No, of course not. Cash, naturally. You don’t think I would make that mistake twice, do you?’
    The other said nothing, contemplating the box. ‘But you are sure it is exactly the same?’
    ‘I’ve told you, the self-same model. Look.’ Cedric cut the string and eased the object from its wrappings.
    Felix inspected it carefully and then nodded in satisfaction. ‘That should do the trick all right. We’ll grubby it up a bit, put it by the grate, and Greenleaf and his heavies will never know the difference.’
    ‘Let us trust things won’t get that far. It seems rather excessive. Are you sure one isn’t being a trifle fussy?’
    ‘Were you ever in the Boy Scouts?’
    ‘The Boy …? No, certainly not.’ Cedric sounded slightly indignant. ‘Why?’
    ‘Because had you been so you would recall the injunction “Be prepared”. You must admit it has a certain relevance.’
    ‘Possibly. But I doubt if our predicament is quite what Baden-Powell had in mind.’
    ‘It still holds good,’ replied Felix grimly.
    As indeed it did. For when later that week Sergeant Greenleaf called at the house asking to see the coal scuttle purchased from Gorringes four weeks previously, Cedric was able to flaunt the item with pride, even going so far as to point out the unusual design of its handle. ‘What a thankless task,’ he exclaimed, ‘having to check all those grimy coal buckets, and how clever of you to have my name on your list. How on earth did you find it, officer?’
    ‘Wasn’t me,’ replied the sergeant. ‘That was young Harris’s job. He likes doing that sort of thing – foot slogging with lists and ticking off names and such. Gives him a thrill. Can’t