Free Die Laughing by Carola Dunn

cronies she met there—that she had been driven from her home by her daughter-in-law’s insistence on entertaining unsuitable people. She stalked out, her drab silk skirts rustling reproachfully.
    The room seemed the warmer for her absence. It was a pleasant room, looking southwest over the back garden, now sunny again. Alec’s first wife had had the ponderous “good” Victorian furniture reupholstered in gay prints and the walls painted white. A cheerful view of Paris hung over the fireplace, in front of which, on a low table, Alec and Belinda’s unfinished chess game from last night awaited them.
    â€œSit down,” Daisy invited. “I simply must ring up Alec, but I won’t be a moment.”
    â€œClues!” Sakari pronounced gleefully. “You have thought of some clues which he missed.”
    â€œI’m sure Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher wouldn’t miss any clues,” Mel protested.
    â€œI can’t be sure, that’s why I must ring him. I’ll tell Dobson to bring tea.”
    â€œThen you will return and tell us all.”
    â€œSome of it, anyway,” Daisy promised, laughing.
    Tom Tring answered the Talmadges’ ’phone. London operators were usually too busy to listen in, but she chose her words with care, just in case, as she told him about the alley and the errand boy and the incinerator.
    â€œMaybe I should have come back to the house to tell you right away. If there was anything burning, it might be gone by now.”

    â€œI shouldn’t worry, Mrs. Fletcher. Those things burn slow. We’ll have a look, but—I’ll tell you, though the Chief may have my hide for it—we found what I expect you’re thinking of in the waste bin in the surgery.”
    â€œOh, good. I nearly looked in there, but I couldn’t face it.”
    â€œNor you should have,” he said in what was supposed to be a reproving voice. Daisy could practically hear his splendid moustache twitching as it covered a grin. “The Chief sent young Ernie off with the stuff to the lab at the Yard, to make sure it’s what we were looking for.”
    â€œI should think it must be. Dentists can’t have much use for that sort of thing.”
    â€œNot unless they let the drill slip and—”
    â€œDon’t, Tom!” Daisy exclaimed, reminded that she still had to see a dentist. “Did the servants have anything interesting to say?”
    â€œNow, that I can’t tell you, Mrs. Fletcher, or the Chief really will have my hide. If that’s all, I’d better go and see to that incinerator. There might be something in it we haven’t thought of.”
    â€œJust one thing more. Gladys told me Hilda Kidd and Cook—Mrs. Thorpe—often stopped talking when she went into the kitchen.”
    â€œSo Miss Gladys told me.”
    â€œRight-oh, Tom. Cheerio, then.”
    â€œâ€˜Bye, Mrs. Fletcher, and thanks for the tips.”
    Daisy said good-bye, hung up, and returned to the sitting room. Dobson had brought tea and biscuits, but Daisy was not allowed to enjoy them in peace. Though she tried not to tell her friends more than she ought, she was too tired to guard her tongue. She most definitely should not have let
slip that Alec was looking for patients who might have been having an affair with Raymond Talmadge.
    â€œOh dear, I hope neither of you was a patient of his?”
    Sakari and Mel exchanged a look.
    â€œWe both went to him once or twice,” said Sakari. “And we both, independently, disliked his attitude more than we liked his expertise.”
    â€œHis attitude?”
    â€œCondescending,” Mel said in her soft voice.
    â€œHe thought he was the cat’s pyjamas. What is more to the point, he did not trouble to hide his contempt for those of us who have not been blessed with perfect teeth. I am sure—do you not agree, Mel?—that Raymond Talmadge would never make love to a