Fragment of Fear Page #2

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of Pompeii in her handbag. It was folded between the

pages of her prayer book. Her missal. Her missal. On it there was a cross,

very very lightly pencilled in on exactly the spot

where she was killed. Now I had already planned to meet her

elsewhere in a restaurant, so she obviously knew

where she was going, and she certainly did not go to mass. Did you tell signor bardoni? No. Should I have? Mrs gray? Oh. Yes? It's the major

calling you from London. Oh. Forgive me, mr Brett. I'm sorry if your journey's

proved pointless. Ls there anything else

i can do for you, mr Brett? - You're miss...?

- Ward-cadbury. Well, are there any other friends

of my aunt's in the hotel that it would be right for me to meet? Well, she was fond of miss dacey. Well, can I see her? Oh, I'm afraid she's still

having her nap. Well, when does she wake up? She usually has her tea

in the television room, if you don't mind waiting. No, gladly. Thank you. You waiting for someone? Miss dacey, yes. She won't be here till the western. I'm, er, Lucy Dawson's nephew.

That's why I'm here. Ah, poor soul.

At least she was quick. Quicker than arthritis. Why the dickens do you

want to see miss dacey? Well, miss ward-cadbury told me that

they were very close friends. They were about as close

as London and Hong Kong. Oh, they acknowledged each other's

existence quite affably, of course, but they had nothing in common. Have you seen mrs gray? Yes. Ah, now she was a friend. Looked after Lucy Dawson like a

civil servant looks after his minister. Were you friends with mrs Dawson? Of course I was. She was a damn nice woman. The only lively body

in this overheated crematorium. Yes, I would have had

an affair with her, if my legs had been in better shape.

Oh, no offence. None taken. Would you care for a small cigar? Ah, fortunately, I've managed to

give them up, so I won't. I have one a day,

and two on Sundays. I'll follow your good example

until after supper. Er... you wouldn't care to give me

a wheel in the fresh air? Certainly. Yes, he was an army man. He was killed just three months

after he and Lucy were married. - That was during the war, was it?

- No, no, no, no, no. You're probably too young to remember.

There wasn't a war then. No, he was killed by a burglar. You mean he was murdered, too? Yes, god works in

a mysterious way, doesn't he? If Lucy's husband hadn't disturbed

that burglar and got himself shot, she would never have started taking

an interest in the criminal classes. And thirty or forty young delinquents who've managed to make their way

in the world, thanks to her, wouldn't be blessing her name today. Care to stay for a spot of dinner? I'm uncommonly grateful. Well, I'd love to, but unfortunately

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