Die Laughing by Carola Dunn Page A

the West End, but more formal than a country house party. Maybe it was the hemline just below the knee Mrs. Fletcher took exception to; or the hip-level belt— she still kept her waist where her waist had once been; or maybe the flesh-coloured stockings, though only old ladies wore black or white these days, and not all of them.
    Whatever her objection, she merely uttered a disapproving “Hmm.”
    Paying this as little heed as it deserved, Daisy went to the coat cupboard to get her coat. It was a beastly day, cold and rainy, the sullen drizzle quite unlike yesterday’s smiling
showers. She turned to the umbrella stand, and remembered she’d left her umbrella in Talmadge’s waiting room.
    â€œBlast!” Her mild epithet earned a pursed mouth from Mrs. Fletcher.
    Both Alec’s and Belinda’s umbrellas were gone. With a choice of sharing with her mother-in-law or getting wet, Daisy resigned herself to the latter. Thus she arrived at Mrs. Grantchester’s with her hat dripping and drooping over her ears and the shoulders of her coat soaked through.
    The parlourmaid took their coats. On impulse, Daisy handed over her hat, too. The maid’s eyes widened, and Mrs. Fletcher’s lips pursed so tight Daisy wondered if they would ever unknot again. Lunching out without a hat simply wasn’t done, but she’d rather be thought eccentric than have it drip in her soup. No doubt her hostess and the other guests would blame her aristocratic background for the lapse. They might be right.
    She felt entirely justified when, after her mother-in-law gave their names as “Mrs. Fletcher and Mrs. Alec Fletcher,” the maid announced them as “Mrs. Fletcher and the Honourable Mrs. Alec Fletcher.” She must have done so on prior instructions from Mrs. Grantchester, with intent to impress.
    Mrs. Grantchester surged forward to greet them. Dressed in pale silk, she made Daisy think of a battleship swishing through the waves. She blinked at Daisy’s bare head, but at least she didn’t comment. She was far too keen to start on the topic of the day.
    â€œMy dear, it’s too, too brave of you to join us. I’m sure I should be quite prostrate after what you went through yesterday.”

    Daisy refrained from asking why, then, she had been invited. The room had fallen silent, awaiting her response. Trying to look brave, she said bravely, “It’s no good brooding, is it?”
    An elderly lady sitting nearby said in a loud voice, “Admirable, if you ask me. In my day we were expected to brood. You don’t see these modern young things going into a decline over a lost lover.”
    â€œHer dentist, Mother!” said the woman next to her in an agony of embarrassment. Daisy recognized Mrs. and Miss Tebbit, and gave the latter a reassuring smile. When Mrs. Tebbit responded with a wink, Daisy realized she had been deliberately outrageous and immediately wanted to know her better.
    â€œAn excellent dentist,” young Mrs. Ledway lamented. “So good with the children.”
    Mrs. Grantchester ignored this by-play. Having succeeded in snaring Daisy for her luncheon party, she abandoned restraint and asked bluntly, “It was murder, I suppose? A chief inspector would hardly be called in for anything else.”
    â€œWe shall all be murdered in our beds!” That was Miss Petherington, who was given to premonitions of disaster.
    â€œBetter to be murdered in bed,” observed Mrs. Tebbit, “than anywhere else. So much more comfortable.”
    â€œNonsense,” said Mrs. Grantchester. “No doubt Mr. Fletcher will very soon arrest the perfect monster who killed Raymond Talmadge. It must be quite obvious to him who did the dreadful deed , and it will be equally clear to us once Mrs. Fletcher has told us all about it, won’t it, Mrs. Fletcher?”

    The question was addressed to Daisy, as her mama-in-law had abandoned her to join a crony on