Free Rattle His Bones by Carola Dunn Page A

at a corner table, heads close together, whispering, eyes for nothing but each other. Add their self-absorption to the giant mammals and wide pillars,
and they would probably have remained unaware of anything short of a bomb blast.
    They would not have noticed when ffinch-Brown went through into the pavilion, either. The Grand Duke just might have seen him, though, and might have some idea of the time. Daisy was tempted to ask.
    She really must stay out of the investigation, she reproved herself. True, she had been the first on the scene, but her alibi, along with Dr. Smith Woodward’s, was impeccable. Though she had to give a statement, and would no doubt be called to give evidence at the inquest, the Chelsea district detectives would resent any attempt to add her twopenn’orth.
    The detectives were a long time coming. Mrs. Ditchley, defiantly determined, went behind the counter and found milk and biscuits for the tired, hungry children.
    â€œPut on a kettle for tea,” suggested Mr. ffinch-Brown. “I’ll pay for the lot.” He put a half-crown on top of the till.
    Constable Neddle had left them. With main entrance closed, none of them could leave the building if they tried. No one else joined them. Daisy wondered whether Mummery was the only member of the scientific staff, apart from Smith Woodward and Pettigrew, who had not gone home at half past five. There might be others tucked away in offices, work rooms, and libraries, not yet winkled out, or left to work in peace until needed.
    So far, Mummery, ffinch-Brown, and Grand Duke Rudolf were the only suspects Daisy knew of.
    The only ones she was ever likely to know of, she tried to persuade herself. She was not going to get involved. She went to sit with Mrs. Ditchley and the children.
    At last a tall young man appeared and announced himself
as Detective Constable Ross. “We’ll take Miss Dalrymple’s statement first,” he said. “Would you come this way, please, miss?”
    Mrs. Ditchley arose in wrath. “What about my grandkiddies?” she demanded. “And their mum come home from work and waiting for them and not knowing where they’ve got to? I’m sure I’d have no objection to Miss Dalrymple getting to go first if it wasn’t for the kiddies, but you wouldn’t mind, would you, dear, if I took your turn?”
    â€œNot at all,” said Daisy.
    D. C. Ross, with Mrs. Ditchley advancing upon him, caved in. “All right, madam, all right. I s’pose it won’t matter that much.”
    â€œCome along, children.”
    But there the constable drew the line. He hadn’t been told nothing about bringing no children along.
    â€œI’ll take care of them,” Daisy offered.
    Mrs. Ditchley was only gone a few minutes, fortunately, as Katy was growing tearful and Arthur obstreperous. Upon her return she gathered her flock, wiped noses, and saw coats buttoned as Ross escorted Daisy from the room. Daisy wondered whether she ought to mention that the children had told her Mummery could have crossed the dinosaur gallery without their seeing him. She felt the detective in charge ought to have spoken to them himself, but perhaps he planned to at a later date, or maybe he already had information clearing Mummery.
    In any case, she was not going to get involved.
    She followed D. C. Ross through the Central Hall to an office at the front, tucked away to the right of the entrance as Smith Woodward’s was to the left. A sign on the door read SIR SIDNEY HARMER, DIRECTOR.

    Ross opened the door and stood aside, announcing, “Miss Dalrymple, Sergeant.”
    Behind Sir Sidney’s desk rose a very familiar figure, vast, suited in ghastly tan and yellow check, with a luxuriant greying walrus moustache counterbalanced by the shining dome of his hairless head.
    â€œMr. Tring!” cried Daisy.

5
    â€œG ood evedig, Biss Dalrybple,” said Alec’s favourite sergeant, coming round