I suppose, upon reflection, that it may be possible to eliminate certain people from the investigation. This morning Miss Luton and Miss Herkside bustled me from the street – where I was not, despite what they might believe, stalking the Mareks like some dolled-up hyena around a corpse – and into their home. There then followed a force-feed of innumerous tea biscuits washed down with sweetened tea.
Usually this insistence would cause me to take umbrage, especially since the two women spent the entire afternoon spreading gossip and rumour regarding the neighbourhood (who might be stepping out with who and who was breaking certain marriage vows) yet in all honesty I barely heard a word, as the tea biscuits were simply divine. Spongy and light, with a dollop of homemade raspberry jam. I cannot purge them from my mind. Those tea biscuits. No murderer could produce such food.
In my excitement regarding the biscuits, I nearly forgot to advise Unc of my idea that the murder weapon might be a fire poker. Imagine my disappointment when he laughed that he had already dismissed the idea, having ordered a search of the Marek house with no such murder weapon being found.
Perhaps the poker is lodged squarely up the rear of Mr Blair – I happened across him during my investigations of the neighbourhood, and never have I been subjected to such a stiff, utter bore of a man in my life. I can only assume there has occurred something dreadful in his life to make him believe that I would wish to hear about his ‘perfectly adequate’ children, or his broken icebox, or the watermark on his front room wall which refuses to disappear.
I did, however, receive a letter that cheered my spirits greatly; from Bertie. He writes that he shall be visiting shortly! How I squealed with glee, for I have not seen him since his wedding almost a year ago. He will be bringing Eleanor though. Must remember to tell Annie to hide my supply of tea biscuits.