A Woman About Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book IV)

Beware of Well-Informed Elephants

Author's Note:

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***

"Good afternoon, Ms. Fox," Mrs. Barnett stated, and Mr. Small echoed her words.

The eyes of the latter greedily roamed Imogen, while the first one of the Fleckney Fab Five - the five elderly ladies that ruled the social life of the county with their frequently gloved, iron fists - remained just as curmudgeonly as she always appeared.

Imogen squeaked a 'hello' and stared at large woven baskets in the old ladies' hands.

"We've come to offer our sympathy to Mr. Oakby," Mrs. Small announced, almost vibrating in anticipation. "We assumed he'd be in quite a shock, seeing he's found a corpse in his office. And with the head smashed in with a hammer? Can't imagine what a horror it would be!"

"I can," Mrs. Barnett grumbled under her breath.

Imogen felt a tad dizzy.

"So we thought, his favourite fish cakes from Oak and Shield and some pastries from Miss Rosa's wouldn't go amiss," Mrs. Small continued and glanced over Imogen's shoulder, which wasn't hard at all, since the top of Imogen's head barely reached Mrs. Small's clavicle.

"Mr. Oakby is out, running some errands," Imogen muttered and stepped aside, knowing very well that she wasn't getting rid of the visitors any time soon. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"Oh yes! Lovely!" Mrs. Small answered a second before Imogen finished her long E.

The two ladies rolled in like two jolly loading shovels in floral dresses. Imogen obediently followed them into her kitchen.

"Oh what a charming home you've got, my dear!" Mrs. Small twirled on one spot as much as her artificial hip allowed. "And so clean and neat! We've always known Maggie taught you well, but it's nice to see that you're keeping up with your washing up. Aren't her counters most pleasing to look at, Edna?" Mrs. Small asked her companion.

"Leave poor child's counters alone, you nosy Parker," Mrs. Barnett groused and took the chair usually occupied by the Mayor. "And it's quite obvious it's Young Oakby who does the dishes here. Look at the height of the drainer above the sink. She'd never reach."

Imogen, who was filling the kettle, looked at the woman in surprise. Mrs. Small chortled and folded her long, slender body into the second chair near the table.

"Not everyone is a born Adam Dalgliesh like you, Edna," she said with another laugh. "Or the one who bore the creator of another renowned literary detective. After all, that's where your son's talent for coming up with and solving riddles germinated. In that brilliant bonce of yours!"

"Has your son been already informed of what happened?" Imogen asked Mrs. Barnett. "They seemed very close last night, Mr. Barnett and... the victim."

"I've never liked him," Mrs. Barnett declared in a sharp tone. "Staunton, I mean. I can't understand why they were friends. My John was such a sensible boy."

Imogen froze, the box of Worker's teabags in her hand. 'Was' a sensible boy? Something in the woman's intonation gave Imogen a pause. She'd never before heard the writer's mother pronounce anything but the utmost heartfelt praise towards her son.

"Well, you know what they say." Mrs. Small sighed. "You can't control them once they leave the nest. Look at Adelaide's Sally. After she married Martin Fergusson, it's been one disaster after another. And she was such a delightful baby, Ms. Fox," Mrs. Small addressed Imogen. "Like a little cherub, really, just not the traditional blonde and blue-eyed one. But her raven locks used to curl into these adorable little wisps around her head, and you couldn't help but smile when meeting those round brown eyes! And she always had excellent marks at school, too. She was in the same form as the younger Holyoake boys, Rupert and Oliver, our current vicar, you see." The old biddie seemed to have gone down the rabbit hole of Fleckney history. "She was quite keen on the younger Fergusson boy, Dom, but he ran away from home and married the future Lady Bjornsson, Anna Rosenfeld. We're so lucky she decided to come live here after their divorce! What a fortunate, fortunate turn of events for poor darling Niklas, and the Holyoakes, and Colonel Assefa, and–"