Название: Grave Mistake
Автор: Ngaio Marsh
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn: 9780007344857
isbn:
Grave Mistake
Ngaio Marsh
For Gerald Lascelles
Verity Preston—Of Keys House, Upper Quintern
The Hon. Mrs Foster (Sybil)—Of Quintern Place, Upper Quintern
Claude Carter—Her stepson
Prunella Foster—Her daughter
Bruce Gardener—Her gardener
Mrs Black—His sister
The Rev. Mr Walter Cloudesley—Vicar of St Crispin-in-Quintern
Nikolas Markos—Of Mardling Manor, Upper Quintern
Gideon Markos—His son
Jim Jobbin—Of Upper Quintern Village
Mrs Jim—His wife. Domestic helper
Dr Field-Innis, MB—Of Upper Quintern
Mrs Field-Innis—His wife
Basil Schramm (neé Smythe)—Medical incumbent, Greengages Hotel
Sister Jackson—His assistant
G. M. Johnson Marleena Biggs }—Housemaids, Greengages Hotel
The Manager—Greengages Hotel
Daft Artie—Upper Quintern Village
Young Mr Rattisbon—Solicitor
Chief Superintendent Roderick Alleyn—CID
Detective-Inspector Fox—CID
Detective-Sergeant Thompson—CID Photographic Expert
Sergeant Bailey—CID Fingerprint Expert
Sergeant McGuiness—Upper Quintern Police Force
PC Dance—Upper Quintern Police Force
A Coroner
A Waiter
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 5 Greengages (II) Room 20
‘ “Bring me,” ’ sang the ladies of Upper Quintern, ‘ “my Bow of Burning Gold.” ’
‘ “Bring me,” ’ itemized the Hon. Mrs Foster, sailing up into a thready descant, ‘ “my Arrows of Desire.” ’
‘ “Bring me,” ’ stipulated the vicar’s wife, adjusting her pince-nez and improvising into seconds, ‘ “my Chariot of Fire.” ’
Mrs Jim Jobbin sang with the rest. She had a high soprano and a sense of humour and it crossed her mind to wonder what Mrs Foster would do with Arrows of Desire or how nice Miss Preston of Keys House would manage a Spear, or how the vicar’s wife would make out in a Chariot of Fire. Or for a matter of that how she herself, hard-working creature that she was, could ever be said to rest or stay her hand, much less build Jerusalem here in Upper Quintern or anywhere else in England’s green and pleasant land.
Still, it was a good tune and the words were spirited if a little far-fetched.
Now they were reading the minutes of the last meeting and presently there would be a competition and a short talk from the vicar, who had visited Rome with an open mind.
Mrs Jim, as she was always called in the district, looked round the drawing-room with a practised eye. She herself had ‘turned it out’ that morning and Mrs Foster had done the flowers, picking white japonica with a more lavish hand than she would have dared to use had she known that McBride, her bad-tempered jobbing gardener, was on the watch.
Mrs Jim, pulling herself together as the chairwoman, using a special voice, said she knew they would all want to express their sympathy with Mrs Black in her recent sad loss. The ladies murmured and a little uncertain woman in a corner offered soundless acknowledgement.
Then followed the competition. You had to fill in the names of ladies present in answer to what were called cryptic clues. Mrs Jim was mildly amused but didn’t score very highly. She guessed her own name, for which СКАЧАТЬ