A Little Murder

A Little Murder by Suzette A. Hill

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Authors: Suzette A. Hill
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both by the lady arriving early. And far from being intimidated by a visit to a police station, Mrs Perkins exuded an unsettling confidence.
    ‘So what’s all this, then?’ she began belligerently. ‘I told you geezers everything I knew when I found the body. I don’t like to boil my cabbages twice you know! Besides, I’m a busy woman, I got things to do.’ Her gaze swept around Greenleaf’s office and alighted on the street map pinned to the wall. ‘Hmm, I suppose that’s where you record all them suicides and stabbings and such. “X marks the spot”. I know all about that, seen it on the films. That’s what they always say:
X marks the spot
. And then they goes and shoves in a drawing pin at the place where it happened.’
    Greenleaf cleared his throat. ‘I, er—’
    ‘Mind you, I don’t see no photographs.’
    ‘Photographs?’
    ‘Yes. You know – the Rogues’ Gallery. That’s what they call it. All them mugshots of the villains. Haven’t you got any of those?’ She sounded disappointed.
    ‘Well, no – I mean, at least not here. That’s in a different section …’ He felt oddly disadvantaged and asked tentatively if she would like a cup of tea.
    She declined the offer but demanded cocoa with plenty of milk and three sugars. ‘A couple of biscuits wouldn’t come amiss, neither. I like those H & P Ginger Nuts best, they’re ever so good.’
    Greenleaf nodded dutifully and got up to catch one of the constables in the corridor. When he returned to the room he saw that the witness had taken his cushion from the deskchair and put it on her own. She had also taken out her knitting: four needles and a sock.
    ‘Now, dear, what was it you wanted to ask?’ she enquired graciously. ‘I’m all ready for the third degree. Elsie Perkins can stand anything!’ She leered toothily.
    ‘I’m sure she can,’ he murmured. ‘So would you mind telling me what you found in the waste-paper basket?’
    ‘In the …? Well, blow me!’ she exclaimed. ‘You don’t think I’ve been snooping around while you was out of the room do you? That’s just typical of your sort. You don’t trust no one! And here was me thinking we was going to have a nice cosy chat about that poor murdered Mrs Beasley, while all the time you was suspecting me of having a good old rummage in things what aren’t my concern. I don’t know what types you’re used to having in here, my lad, but whatever they are I ain’t one of them!’ She gave a withering glare and needled the sock with vicious dexterity.
    It was a long time since Greenleaf had been addressed as ‘my lad’ (not since his old granny, in fact) and he felt a fool, and cursed the ailing Harris huddled safely in his deathbed. However, the confusion was rectified and the injured one assured that her probity was never in doubt. The timely arrival of the cocoa aided the healing process.
    ‘So, the wastepaper basket in the deceased’s drawing room,’ he continued, ‘did you by any chance see whether it contained anything?’
    ‘Waste-paper baskets are not the sort of things you think about at times like that,’ was the tart response. ‘Not when there’s a corpse in front of you wearing a coal scuttle on its head – especially when she’s as naked as the day she was born. Disgraceful it was!’
    Greenleaf agreed that it was indeed disgraceful butpersisted with his question. ‘But as far as you were aware there was nothing in the basket? Or were you too shocked to notice?’
    There was a long pause while Mrs Perkins appraised the sock and appeared to meditate. And then with a sudden toss of her head, she said, ‘Well, nobody bothered to say anything about it at the time, did they? No one mentioned no bleeding basket. Not to me they didn’t. How was I to know it was supposed to be important?’ Thrusting the sock aside she stared at him defiantly.
    Greenleaf gave a sympathetic smile and pushed the biscuits towards her. ‘Of course not, you were far too shocked.

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