Jolly Foul Play: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery

  ‘I’m not doing anything,’ said Daisy silkily as the shrimp Margaret had been shouting at scuttled away nervously, leaving us alone with our suspect. ‘Wong and I – we’ve only come to ask you something.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘Did you kill Elizabeth Hurst?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘What?’ cried Margaret, and she went redder than ever, red with panic and horror. Her mouth was open, gaping, and her hands were clenched. ‘Don’t be an idiot! Elizabeth’s death was an accident—’

  ‘It was not,’ said Daisy. ‘You know that perfectly well. The whole school knows that by now. She was murdered, and it was one of you prefects who did it. That’s what everyone’s saying, do you know that?’

  ‘No!’ said Margaret. ‘That’s—’

  ‘True,’ said Daisy. ‘You know it is. There, you’re flinching. And you’re going to be blamed for it.’

  ‘I am not!’ said Margaret.

  ‘You are,’ said Daisy steadily. ‘Elizabeth was killed during the fireworks display. You were supposed to be stoking the fire at 7.50, just as it ended, but you didn’t do it, did you? Because you’d just murdered Elizabeth.’

  She sounded so terribly certain. I knew that in her head, she had leaped to the conclusion. She was seeing Inspector Priestley drag Margaret away in handcuffs. But—

  ‘I didn’t!’ cried Margaret. ‘It isn’t true.’

  ‘Then prove it,’ said Daisy. ‘If you don’t, the others are going to pin it on you. We heard them talking about it. Una and Florence, they’re plotting against you. They don’t really like you.’

  In my ears was that echo – He doesn’t even like you like that, Hazel – but I shut it off. This was different. Daisy was just trying to get a confession, as fierce as the Spanish Inquisition. She must be hoping that Margaret had seen Florence and Una slipping away together on Thursday.

  ‘They wouldn’t do that!’ said Margaret, and I knew that Daisy’s shot had hit home. ‘And none of us would have killed Elizabeth, anyway – we were friends.’

  ‘That’s a lie,’ said Daisy. ‘You wanted to kill her. Do you want me to tell you why?’

  ‘I – I don’t …’ blustered Margaret.

  ‘Very well,’ said Daisy. ‘Hazel, why are people so slow? You wanted to kill Elizabeth because she was threatening to let out your secret – that you and Astrid Frith are in love.’

  All of the colour dropped out of Margaret’s face. ‘We are not!’ she whispered. ‘I hate her!’

  ‘No you don’t,’ said Daisy.

  ‘It’s – it’s just a pash.’

  ‘It isn’t that either. Don’t bother trying to lie to me. You’re in love with her, and Elizabeth knew. She put the secret in her book, and she did the same with the secrets about the other four. You’ve all got entries that could ruin you.’

  Margaret was gulping like a frog. ‘Please,’ she said weakly. ‘Please don’t tell anyone. My parents …’

  ‘So I’m right?’ asked Daisy.

  Without warning, Margaret lunged at her. But Daisy is surprisingly strong. She caught her about the wrists and held her. ‘Hazel!’ she said. ‘Help!’

  I did not need telling. I jumped forward and seized Margaret about the waist, trying to pull her off Daisy. She did not let go, and I gave her a swift kick to the shins (I ought not to admit it, but I rather enjoyed that. It was fitting punishment for all the kicks Margaret has given to us this year).

  ‘Ow!’ howled Margaret. ‘How dare you – little beasts!’

  ‘If you keep making a noise, Matron will come, and I’ll tell her what I’ve just told you!’ panted Daisy. ‘Confess! You killed Elizabeth, didn’t you?’

  ‘No!’ said Margaret. ‘I didn’t! You’re right about the fire, but I didn’t kill her! I promise. And I can prove it.’

  ‘What?’ said Daisy. ‘Of course you did! Confess!’

  ‘Daisy,’ I said. ‘Let her explain.’

  ‘I’ve got an alibi!’ panted Margaret. ‘There’s a reason I wasn’t by the fire when I should have been! Give me a moment. Let go of me!’

  ‘Do you promise not to kill us?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘Yes!’ said Margaret. ‘Get off me! I won’t hurt you.’

  Daisy did not move, so I knew I had to. I let go of Margaret’s waist and stepped backwards. Margaret was panting, and so was I, but when I looked at Daisy, only one golden strand of hair was out of place, and only two pretty spots of colour were visible high up on her cheeks.

  ‘Come into the airing cupboard,’ I said, ‘and you can explain.’

  ‘All right,’ said Margaret. ‘But if it gets out …’

  ‘Some of us don’t tell secrets,’ said Daisy. ‘Some of us have honour. And anyway – see here, I don’t care about Astrid. I don’t care what you do. It’s no one’s business but yours and hers.’ I looked at Daisy, but for once she was not looking at me. She had got the pink in her cheeks again, and her nose was wrinkled. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I think I can guess. You were with her during the fireworks, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Margaret. ‘I was with Astrid. I wanted to apologize. Elizabeth had seen us together earlier. She wanted me to be cruel to Astrid, and I had to, don’t you see? But then, after she had gone … I couldn’t stand leaving Astrid like that. So while we were lining up the forms I pulled her out to pretend to tell her off for having a non-regulation scarf. I told her to come with me, but instead of taking her to Elizabeth for punishment, I led her away from the fire, and we stood together, away from the others, for the whole display. I missed stoking the fire for the second time, I know, but that was because I was with Astrid.’

  ‘Were you next to the pavilion?’ asked Daisy sharply.

  Margaret shook her head. ‘We were on the other side,’ she said. ‘Closer to the woods. We’d just got there when the fireworks began to go off, and we didn’t go back towards the bonfire until the shout went up about the body.’

  ‘And Astrid will agree with you?’ asked Daisy.

  ‘She must!’ said Margaret. ‘She was there!’

  Daisy made a lunge towards the door then, and stuck her head out into the corridor. ‘Hey!’ she shouted. ‘You – Betsy! Go get Astrid, all right? Bring her to the airing cupboard, now!’

  8

  ‘Now,’ said Daisy, ‘while we are waiting, you can explain what happened on the evening of the murder. Why was it that night, rather than any of the others? What did Elizabeth do, exactly?’

  She knew, of course – we had heard it already – but Daisy does like to dig.

  ‘That afternoon we’d told Elizabeth that we didn’t want to help her any more,’ said Margaret. ‘That we wouldn’t work for her, and we didn’t think that she deserved to be Head Girl. We’d been talking about it for weeks, but that day was when we decided to do it. And she went mad. Funny, she seemed more hurt than anything else. As though she had thought we were her friends! But, you see, it went wrong. We’d thought that if we all stood up to her, she couldn’t do anything. But she was stronger than us. She said that she could get new prefects – better ones – and that she was going to expose us to Miss Barnard the next day. She took out her book and waved it at us, and then she tucked it back into her pocket, where we couldn’t get it. We all panicked. We begged her not to, but that only made Elizabeth more determined.

  ‘At the bonfire everyone went up to try to talk her out of it, but she ignored us, or said something spiteful. That’s when she was horrible to me, about Astrid. But I realized – well, if she was going to tell everyone anyway, I might as well have one more evening with her. So I took Astrid away before the fireworks, and that’s where I was when Elizabeth was being murdered.’

  ‘So you didn’t see anything?’ asked Daisy.

  Margaret shook her head. ‘Nothing. I was … with Astrid, like I told you. The funny thing about the murder is, I didn’t do it, but I was thinking of it. I really was. So when the shout went up, and the body was found, a bit of me thought that perhap
s I had had something to do with it. I’d wanted it so much, and then it really happened. And all my problems were solved.’ She had gone very red, and I could see the tears at the corners of her eyes.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, and Daisy shot me a look that I knew meant I ought not to be so soft with suspects. But I really did feel sorry for Margaret now, and for all the Five.

  ‘I’m glad she’s dead,’ Margaret went on. ‘Once she latched on to something, she never let go. She’s – she was – like a terrier, or a leech, something horrid. And she got to me. All last year, and this term, she wouldn’t let go of what was between me and Astrid! I kept on telling her that it wasn’t anything, and she’d just laugh and say, Of course it isn’t. But it is in the book, Margaret. I’ve got you in the book, and once you’re in the book, there’s no coming out of it. But now she can’t say that any more. And as soon as we find that book again, all our problems will be solved.’

  I shot Daisy a look. Margaret had just all but said she did not know who was responsible for the Scandal Book’s secrets getting out. Her alibi sounded plausible, but the fact that she had not connected Binny’s disappearance with the book was almost more of a confirmation. Were we really about to rule out a second suspect?

  9

  At that moment there was a knock on the airing-cupboard door.

  I stuck my head outside cautiously, heart pounding. I was suddenly afraid it might be Matron – or worse, one of the Five – but standing outside the door was Astrid Frith, and with her was Lavinia.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked Lavinia. ‘Where’s Betsy?’

  ‘Betsy told me I ought to get Astrid,’ said Lavinia, sticking out her chin defiantly, ‘so I got her. You’d better want her now.’

  I almost laughed. Lavinia, shaking the hair out of her face and scowling, looked most fierce, while poor Astrid looked absolutely bewildered.

  ‘We want her,’ I said. ‘Bring her in. She’s Margaret’s alibi.’

  ‘Come on!’ hissed Daisy behind me, and Lavinia practically dragged Astrid past me into the dim airing cupboard. I saw Astrid twitch as she caught sight of Margaret, and Margaret clench her fists. She did not seem able to look Astrid in the eye.

  ‘Look here!’ said Astrid nervously. ‘Do let go of me!’ This to Lavinia, who was grasping her quite punishingly by the wrists.

  ‘Not until you confess!’ said Lavinia.

  ‘Lavinia, she’s not confessing,’ I said. ‘She’s an alibi.’

  ‘Oh, let me talk,’ said Daisy. ‘Astrid, who were you with on Tuesday night when the fireworks went off? Tell us all about it.’

  ‘Margaret,’ said Astrid, sounding rather afraid. ‘She came to get me when we were lining up. She – er – I was wearing a non-regulation scarf—’

  My heart jumped. Astrid was corroborating the lie that Margaret said she had told. So far, their accounts matched.

  ‘We know,’ said Daisy scornfully. ‘We know that she pretended to be punishing you, but that was a lie. The two of you went off to stand beside the bonfire, didn’t you?’

  ‘No! The other prefects were there. We went further away, towards the trees – wait, how do you know we were lying? Margaret! What have you told them?’

  ‘I had to,’ said Margaret, looking miserable. ‘They know everything. They think … somebody killed Elizabeth.’

  ‘No!’ said Astrid. ‘It was an accident …’ Her voice trailed off, and her face went pale. Then she blurted out, ‘But even if it was murder, you didn’t do it, Margaret!’ She sounded quite panicked.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘We know she didn’t. You’ve proved it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Daisy. ‘My Vice-President is correct. Margaret, you have been ruled out. You are free to go.’

  Astrid still looked rather frightened. ‘Margaret!’ she said.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Margaret. ‘Don’t worry, Aster.’

  She put out her hand, as though she was about to take Astrid’s, but then pulled away at the last moment. They both blushed. Lavinia made a face.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Daisy. ‘Thank you. Now go away. We have things to discuss.’

  So Margaret had not done it! I thought. We had narrowed down our suspects again.

  ‘Suspect list!’ said Daisy quickly, as though she had read my mind. ‘Watson, what’s the latest?’

  Lavinia, Daisy and I peered at the updated list.

  We really had ruled out two suspects, but we had also proved that there was a window of five minutes when any of our remaining three could have very easily killed Elizabeth. We were closer, but we were not there yet.

  10

  Then someone ran past in the corridor outside. ‘She’s back!’ they shouted. ‘She’s back!’

  The three of us stared at each other, and then Daisy turned and dashed out of the airing cupboard, Lavinia and me just behind. My heart was beating madly. Had Binny really been found?

  We reached the top of the stairs and looked down into the hallway. There was a girl in Deepdean uniform, hair tangled and shoes muddy. Matron had her by the shoulders and was shouting at her, face close up to hers with rage, while behind her Una shrugged off her coat and brushed down her skirt.

  It was Rose. She was wet through, and muddy, and there were tear tracks on her cheeks.

  Behind me there was a groan. I turned to see Kitty, her hands clapped over her mouth and her eyes wide. She saw me looking, and took a step backwards. ‘Of course it isn’t her,’ she choked out. ‘That little idiot! I should have known she wouldn’t be found so easily.’

  Worry settled in my stomach.

  ‘Go upstairs!’ Matron bellowed at Rose. ‘Get out of my sight! Prefects, look after the girls. I must telephone the police.’

  Rose made a sobbing noise and fled up the stairs towards us. Jose was there to meet her, and Kitty turned away from them as they met.

  Daisy took my hand then, and I started. Her eyes were glittering and her colour high. For a moment I thought she was glad that Binny was still missing, and Kitty was aching about it, but then I understood that she was only determined.

  ‘Watson,’ said Daisy in a quick whisper meant only for me. ‘We’re close. But if we don’t solve the mystery … you know.’

  I nodded, very slightly. We had to solve the case. Binny’s life now depended on it.

  1

  After toothbrushes we all climbed into bed, and I huddled under the blankets to write all of that last up in the glow of my torch. I could hear Kitty and Beanie whispering, or rather Beanie whispering soothingly, and Kitty giving short, jerky responses. I knew that she was still most terribly worried about Binny, and I was as well. We were doing all we could, but would our help still come too late?

  At least Daisy and I were friends again. That thought gave me a warm glowing feeling in the pit of my stomach, exactly where the ill sensation had been before. It really was odd how much better I felt after our conversation. It was as though the world was back in place.

  I wrote and wrote, balancing my torch on my shoulder (it wobbled about, but I was used to that by now). Then there was a soft noise, just outside the blankets. I paused, and heard myself breathing, and other breaths too – dainty, measured ones.

  ‘Daisy?’ I whispered, although of course I knew.

  ‘Coming in, Watson,’ said Daisy, not asking for permission, of course, because that is not ever her way, and then the bed bounced and the covers dipped back and she was squeezing herself in next to me, her elbow digging into my side.

  ‘Ow!’ I said quietly.

  ‘Shush, Hazel,’ said Daisy. ‘The others are only just asleep.’

  ‘Kitty’s not,’ I said.

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Daisy. ‘Although as it happens, it’s true. She’s not breathing right. I think she’s pretending.’

  I did not bother to explain how I knew about Kitty. There are some things that I feel, that Daisy never will. It is what makes her Daisy, and me myself.

  ‘How f
ar are you?’ whispered Daisy, craning over my shoulder. She saw this casebook, and then she saw Alexander’s latest letter, unfolded next to it. I had wondered, when she appeared, whether to hide it, but I did not want to any more. If we were to be friends again, for good, then I did not want to hide anything from her.

  ‘Alexander?’ asked Daisy, though of course she knew. I nodded against the side of her head.

  ‘I suppose he’s all right,’ said Daisy, after a pause. ‘If you do have to be telling someone about the case, it might as well be him. And – well, good work, using lemon juice, so as not to be detected. Very resourceful.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘And … Alexander and I really are only friends, Daisy. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Oh, very well. We’re Detective Society again, aren’t we?’

  ‘We are,’ I said, and I bumped her shoulder. ‘And I’ve nearly caught up with the case. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Binny,’ said Daisy. ‘I couldn’t say it earlier, but I think it might be too late.’

  ‘Daisy!’

  ‘I’m only being realistic. Someone has to be! I’m not cruel, Hazel, I’m just truthful. She hasn’t come back on her own, and no one heard her being taken. She’s so loud – if she’s trapped somewhere, why hasn’t she been screaming? I couldn’t say any of that to Kitty, of course, but I’ve been thinking it.’

  This, for Daisy, was quite restrained. I was rather impressed by her.

  ‘Of course, we keep on trying to find her tomorrow,’ said Daisy. ‘If anyone can find her, we will. Before the police.’

  ‘The Detective Society will,’ I agreed.

  I think both of us thought we were lying.

  2

  There was a part of me that had been hoping, despite our conversation, that Daisy and I would wake up to find Binny back and annoying people, but the wake-up bell went on Saturday morning to find House still in chaos, Binny still missing and a peaky look on Kitty’s face that deepened as we dressed and went down to school.