Mrs. Pargeter's Plot by Simon Brett

hot, sweet cup of tea,’ Mrs Pargeter said soothingly.
    The girl nodded through her tears, as Mrs Pargeter performed the same rough surgery on the tape across the manager’s mouth.
    Hedgeclipper was a lot more vocal than his underling. ‘He took Erasmus!’ he screamed in fury. ‘The bastard took Erasmus!’
    â€˜Don’t fret. I’m sure the monkey won’t come to any harm,’ Mrs Pargeter reassured meaninglessly. ‘Now you just hold still while I get these knots undone.’
    By the time the manager was free, the receptionist had recovered sufficiently to make a practical suggestion. ‘Shall I go and phone the police?’ she asked through the final spasm of her sobs.
    Mrs Pargeter looked sharply across to check Hedgeclipper Clinton’s reaction. Her own attitude to the police was one of great respect and admiration, but she knew there were certain occasions when it was simply not worth adding to their already excessive workload.
    Hedgeclipper’s reaction revealed that this was one of those occasions. ‘No,’ he said judiciously. ‘I think we might be better advised to keep this quiet. We do have to think of our guests. The presence in the hotel of a crowd of noisy policemen would be bound to disturb the more sensitive amongst them.’
    The girl looked dubious. ‘But, I mean, when someone’s caused this amount of damage to the place, surely the proper thing to do is—’
    â€˜Oh, this isn’t really much damage. No, absolutely no problem at all,’ said her boss breezily. ‘I’ll get this little lot cleared up in no time.’
    â€˜Even so,’ the receptionist continued pugnaciously, ‘it’s not just the assault on property – there’s also the assault on us.’
    â€˜He didn’t hurt us much – just tied us up, that’s all.’
    But she wasn’t going to be fobbed off by that kind of reassurance. The receptionist was a girl of her time, aware of her rights as a woman, and of the political ramifications of any form of violence against her sex. ‘You may not mind being assaulted and tied up like that – I regard it as an actionable assault against my freedom as an individual – and as a woman.’
    â€˜Oh, come
on
,’ Hedgeclipper pleaded.
    But the girl was not to be so easily diverted. She turned for support to Mrs Pargeter. ‘Surely you must agree that we should call the police?’
    If, however, she’d been looking for female solidarity, she’d chosen the wrong ally. Mrs Pargeter had quite detailed views of her own on the subject of women’s rights, but she was first and foremost a pragmatist. If Hedgeclipper Clinton was signalling that the police should not be involved, then she was sure he was doing so for very good reasons.
    â€˜No, no, I agree it would only upset the other guests,’ she said airily.
    The receptionist looked shocked to hear such political flabbiness from a member of the sisterhood.
    â€˜Maybe,’ Mrs Pargeter continued, looking across at Hedgeclipper, ‘if the young lady were offered some compensation for the appalling distress that has been caused her, she might see the situation rather differently . . .?’
    He caught on instantly. ‘That’s a good idea,’ he said, moving quickly across to where the safe lay on the floor, and twiddling the knobs to open it.
    â€˜If you think you can fob me off with money to stop me complaining about an assault on my dignity as a woman . . .’ the receptionist began.
    But when she saw how much money her boss was offering for her silence, she allowed her words to trickle away. Reaching across to take the two folded fifties, she concurred that it probably didn’t make sense to upset the guests.
    â€˜No, I think you’re absolutely right,’ said Hedgeclipper. ‘So glad you see it my way.’
    â€˜A mature, adult response,’