“Friday Fiction” Series: Mrs. Blake, Chapter Five…
Mrs. Blake
Copyright 2021, Steven M. Moore
Chapter Five
Blake told Sally to drive on to his flat and he’d be there as soon as he could. He had to charge Houghton and gather all the paperwork together for the Crown. Clarke had a previous commitment. Besides, it was more his task than hers.
He was tired by the time he walked in through his flat’s front door. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Sally sitting on the sofa with his mum.
“What are you doing here, Mother?”
“A quick visit. Leo wanted to see if I can expand here. Well, in Oxford, to put a fine point on it. Riversford might be a bit too quiet.”
Except for murders, thought Blake. He smelled the aroma of fine Italian cooking and saw the table set for four people. “Um…is Leo with you?”
“That I am, Logan,” said a tall, bear-like man striding from Blake’s bedroom. He had on one of Sally’s aprons. “Your mum thought it might be a good time for us to get to know each other since I’m going to be your new stepfather.”
Blake put a hand on the door jamb to steady himself. “Mum?”
“You look pale, Logan. Poor boy needs some food, Leo.”
Sally stood, walked up to him, and gave him a kiss. “I’ve learned so much about you, luv, from this chinwag with your mum.”
“I suppose,” Blake said, looking at the three conspirators and feeling trapped.
“Moi aussi,” Leo said. “And your Sally is a charming lady. Two charming people in one night, luv,” he said to Mrs. Blake. “My cup runneth over. Sally says you nicked another murderer. You must tell us all about it.”
***
Clarke handed one snifter to Benford, sat hers down, and picked up the stereo remote. She put on some soft jazz and took a seat next to him on the sofa. He smiled at her. She eyed him over the snifter’s brim as she enjoyed the aroma of the cognac.
“Simple elegance,” he said. “That’s what I like about you. Nothing pretentious, just elegant. Who’s playing?”
“You’ll never guess.”
Benford eyed the baby grand. “You?”
She shrugged. “I like romantic jazz improv. It’s soft and a mistake just sounds like part of the improv. That would drive other members in a trio or quartet nuts, though.”
“You’re always full of surprises. Your cooking, for example. That paella dinner was the best I’ve ever had, and I’ve had it at several places in Spain. I’m surprised you can find all the ingredients in Riversford.”
“I find them in Oxford. Plenty of international students and faculty there, so there are international grocers. You have to know where to find them, of course.” She took a sip. “I rarely cook, so don’t get used to it. I usually come home nights, kick off my trainers, nuke some leftovers, play the piano a bit afterwards, and finally crash.”
“Seems like you need someone else to make your evenings and life more interesting.”
“Maybe. Are you making an offer? Fair warning. Many men feel threatened by me. Tough old DI and all that, as if I were Harry Bosch.”
“Who’s that?”
“Google him. He’s a tough old LA cop. Fictional cop. I’m a tough, real one. I suppose you don’t read fiction?”
“I mostly read non-fiction, history in particular. Historical fiction occasionally, savoring how an author can fill in the blanks left by historical research. I just finished an interesting one that featured St. John the Divine, written by some obscure American author. I also read biographies and autobiographies.”
She nodded. “Authors obsessed with their own verbiage, I presume.” She waited for his rejoinder as if she were toying with a suspect, but Benford didn’t take the bait. “Tell me, George, why do you employ Miss Cleavage as a receptionist? Is she eye candy for you or for your male clients? I’m sure she annoys the hell out of your female ones.”
He chuckled. “That’s an abrupt change of direction. Actually, for none of those reasons. My receptionist is a single mum. Her boyfriend beat her so badly, he put her in the hospital. I paid for a nanny until she could take care of the child, gave her professional advice on how to restrain the scrote legally, and hired her as a receptionist. My niece is a smart girl but not a very good judge of boyfriends.”
Clarke frowned. “Sorry. For her, and for jumping to conclusions about you. Is she doing better now?”
“All that happened about two years ago, so yes, she’s much better. She’s living at my place. Her father disowned her when she started seeing the lout. I’ll have you over some time. Her son is a charming little nipper.” He finished the rest of his cognac. “I’m trying to make her parents sign a peace treaty. I think the mother is willing, but the old man, my older brother, is a stubborn jerk. Fair warning to you. I have some baggage, Patty.”
She smiled. “And you think a police inspector doesn’t?”
***
Comments are always welcome.
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