Part 8 (2/2)
”What are we going to do?”
”Nothing. n.o.body need suspect anything.”
”It'll come out eventually, and anyway you can't keep your mouth shut, Yvette.”
”Sod you!”
”Well, it's true. I can't be cooped up forever ... I'll go insane.”
”We can sell the cameo ...”
Rex leaned in toward the door, a.s.suring himself that under different circ.u.mstances he would never presume to eavesdrop on a personal conversation-just as he would never normally read someone's private mail. Never.
Charley muttered something.
”That's murder, Charley!”
More murmuring, then Charley asked, ”What d'you call what you did to Henry? ...”
”... I see how you look at that s.l.u.t, chatting her up ...”
The voices grew closer and Rex decided it was time to make himself scarce. He would check the weather from downstairs. When he reached the foyer, he pulled his notebook from his pocket and scribbled down the ominous-sounding snippets of conversation he'd overheard. In the dining room, Anthony and Patrick sat at table reading crumpled newspapers.
”Three-day-old papers,” Anthony complained over a bowl of muesli. ”Though I don't know why I even bother reading the news anymore. How did that bungling American idiot ever get elected to a second term? They must put brainwas.h.i.+ng chemicals into their Big Macs.”
Patrick nursed a cup of black tea, a piece of dry toast half-eaten on his plate.
”Morning, Patrick. You seem a bit green around the gills.” Rex gestured toward their newspapers. ”Can you save me the crosswords if no one's done them yet?”
Mrs. Bellows bustled around the heating trays on the sideboard. ”There's bacon and scrambled eggs, fried mushrooms and kippers,” she told him. Patrick made a queasy sound at the mention of kippers. ”I'll send Rosie in with more crumpets.”
”That would be grand.”
”Do you have any special requests?” the cook asked on her way out the French doors.
”Well, I do like porridge in the morning.”
”I can make some.”
”Don't trouble yourself today.”
”I don't think Mrs. Bellows likes us very much this morning,” Anthony remarked. ”I never eat the fried stuff and Patrick is still feeling poorly from last night. Helen ate like a bird. You'd be doing us a favour if you polished off the kippers, Rex. They reek something horrible.”
Rex helped himself to everything on offer and sat at the far end of the table so as not to offend the other two with his reeking fish.
Rosie rushed into the room. ”Tea or coffee, Mr. Graves?” she asked Rex.
”Tea, thank you.”
Anthony and Patrick rose from the table.
”Any special plans for the day?” he asked them.
Patrick shrugged. ”More of the same. Watch TV, read, see what the weather does.”
”Wait for another murder,” Anthony added facetiously. ”Are all guests present and accounted for this morning?”
”I can vouch for Helen and the Perkins.”
”Speak of the devil,” Anthony said as Charley and Yvette shambled into the room. ”Well, enjoy your breakfast, all.”
The honeymooners settled across from Rex. Yvette fidgeted with a strand of wool unraveling from her cardigan while her husband hummed and looked about him. ”Where's Rosie?”
Yvette tensed up in her chair.
”She was here a minute ago. There's tea in the pot if you'd like some.”
”Ta.” Charley grabbed the pot and filled Yvette's cup.
Rex attempted to interpret the argument between the pair, but it was hard to focus with them right in front of him. ”Did you sleep well?” he asked Yvette.
”Not very,” she admitted, on the brink of tears. ”It's my nerves. I feel all on edge.”
”Aye, this is trying for all of us.”
Charley rested a hand on her arm. ”Can I get you some eggs and bacon, luv?”
Yvette nodded and blew her nose.
Rosie entered with a basket of hot crumpets and fresh tea. ”Will anybody be wanting coffee?”
”No, we're all set, Rosie,” Charley said from the sideboard, studiously avoiding her gaze.
Probably nothing was going on between Rosie and Charley, Rex surmised. At least, nothing beyond the mild flirtation that typically occurred between two attractive people of the opposite s.e.x. Yet young people tended to get so jealous.
”What's on your schedule today?” Charley asked Rex, bringing two filled plates back to the table.
”Well, between us three, I might try to get down to the village.”
”On the tennis rackets?” Charley chortled into his tea. ”I saw you from the window yesterday. Maybe I could borrow them later?”
”What for?” Yvette asked.
”I'm getting claustrophobic, that's all. Don't know that I could make it all the way to Swanmere though,” he told Rex. ”It looks like hard work trampling about on those things.”
”Aye, it is. My leg muscles are giving me gip today.”
<script>