Free Police at the Funeral by Margery Allingham Page A

all. The dreadful part was that great-aunt didn’t even know she was ill. You see, she never gets up until eleven o’clock, and we hadn’t thought it was serious enough to disturb her before.’
    â€˜What makes you say it was poisoning?’ demanded Marcus suddenly.
    â€˜Dr Lavrock,’ said Joyce. ‘He didn’t say so in so many words, but it was quite obvious what he thought from the first moment he came in. You know him, don’t you, Marcus? This isn’t old Lavrock, the “veteran doctor of Cambridge”. This is his second son, the one with the beard. He’s known the family ever since he was a child; nowadays old Lavrock only comes to see great-aunt, and this one – Henry – looks after the rest of the family. He took one look at Julia this morning, examined her eyes, and promptly turned Aunt Kitty, who was practically in hysterics anyhow and in floods of tears, out of the room.
    â€˜Then he turned on me and said quite angrily: “When did you find this out?” I told him – exactly what I told you. Then he asked me if she’d been depressed at all lately, and if Uncle Andrew’s death had upset her and – well, I had to tell him that it had simply made no difference to her at all, and that if anything she was rather acidly glad about it.’ She shuddered. ‘It was horrible, with her lying there dead. He asked me a lot of other questions. If she’d had any breakfast. I told him no. I’d carried some up to her, and it was then that I’d found her so ill, and therefore I’d taken it down with me again.
    â€˜Then he started asking the most obvious things. Had anyone received a note from her? And we looked round the room together to see if there was a note. While we were doing this Alice came in with a message from Great-aunt Caroline, asking us both to go to her room immediately. The doctor posted Alice outside Aunt Julia’s door with instructions to let no one go in, and when we got there we found that she’d been talkingto Kitty, and knew practically as much about it as we did. The doctor was very straightforward, although, of course, he couldn’t be snappy with great-aunt. She took it amazingly calmly, sitting up in her great canopy bed, in a big lace cap. It was when the doctor said he’d have to report the matter at once to the coroner’s officer that she sent me down here for your father, Marcus, and if he wasn’t back I was to fetch you. She also said that if Mr Campion was here she’d be very pleased to see him. I suppose Uncle William must have talked about you to her when he came in last night.’
    She glanced at the other girl.
    â€˜You’d better keep away from us, Ann. This is going to be a terrible scandal. I’m as sure as I’m here that Aunt Julia never committed suicide. She wasn’t that sort. Besides, the last thing she said to me last night was that I was to see that Ellen – that’s the cook – “didn’t let her hysteria over affairs that didn’t concern her interfere with the culinary arrangements, and would I see that the bread sauce was better made tomorrow than it was this evening.” Whatever you do, you mustn’t get mixed up in this.’
    Ann snorted. ‘Don’t talk any more nonsense like that,’ she said. ‘If you expect anyone to go high-hat over a misfortune like this, you’re on the wrong track where I’m concerned. I know it’s no good asking you to come and stay with me now, but if at any time of the night or day you want to get away from it, come right round. I’ll never forgive you if there’s anything I can do and you don’t ask me.’
    While the girls were talking Campion and Marcus prepared for departure. In the hall the young lawyer caught his friend’s eye.
    â€˜Joyce thinks it’s murder,’ he said dryly.
    Mr Campion made no comment. In a few moments the