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Mr. Blood1,371 words
The Dinner Party2,664 words
A Game Of Bridge2,290 words
The Suspects: Part 1 - First Murderer?2,684 words
The Suspects: Part 2 - Second Murderer?1,126 words
The Suspects: Part 3 - Third Murderer?1,773 words
The Suspects: Part 4 - Fourth Murderer?951 words
Which Of Them?3,380 words
Doctor Hooves3,593 words
Doctor Hooves - (Continued)2,553 words
Mrs. Shores1,748 words

Mrs. Shores

One eleven Bridle Lane was a small house of very neat and trim appearance standing in a quiet street. The door was painted black and the steps were particularly well whitened, the brass of the knocker and handle gleamed in the afternoon sun.

The door was, opened by an elderly parlormaid with an immaculate white cap and apron. In answer to my inquiry she said that her mistress was at home. She preceded me up the narrow staircase.

“What name, ma’am?”

“Miss Octavia Melody.”

I was ushered into a drawing-room of the usual L shape. I looked about me, noting details. Good furniture, well polished, of the old family type. Shiny chintz on the chairs and settees. A few silver photograph frames about in the old-fashioned manner. Otherwise an agreeable amount of space and light and some really rather beautiful chrysanthemums arranged in a tall jar.

Mrs. Shores came forward to meet me. She greeted me without showing any particular surprise at seeing me, indicated a chair, took one herself, and remarked favorably on the weather.

There was a pause.

“I hope,” I began, “that you will forgive this visit.”

Looking directly at me, Mrs. Shores asked, “Is this a professional visit?”

“I confess it.”

“You realize, I suppose, Miss Melody, that, though I shall naturally give Superintendent Silver and the official police any information and help they may require, I am by no means bound to do the same for any unofficial investigator?”

“I am quite aware of that fact, Mrs. Shores. If you show me the door too me, I march to that door with complete submission.”

Mrs. Shores smiled very slightly.

“I am, not yet prepared to go to those extremes, Miss Melody. I can give you ten minutes. At the end of that time I have to go out to a bridge party.”

“Ten minutes will be ample for my purpose, I want you to describe to me, Madam, the room in which you played bridge the other evening - the room in which Mr. Blood was killed.”

Mrs. Shores' eyebrows rose.

“What an extraordinary question! I do not see the point of it.”

“Madam, if, when you were playing bridge, somepony were to say to you, ‘Why do you play that ace?’ or ‘Why do you put on the knave that is taken by the queen and not the king which would take the trick’? If ponies were to ask you such questions the answers would be rather long and tedious, would they not?”

Mrs. Shores smiled slightly. I took this as a ‘Yes’.

“Meaning that in this game you're the expert and I am the novice. Very well." She reflected a minute. “It was a large room. There were a good many things, in it.”

“Can you describe some of those things?”

“There were some glass flowers - modern - rather beautiful. And I think there were a few paintings of Austneighlian landscapes. And there was a bowl of tiny red tulips - amazingly early for them.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m afraid I didn't notice anything in detail.”

“The furniture - do you remember the color of the upholstery?”

“Something silky, I think. That's all I can say.”

“Did you notice any of the small objects?”

“I’m afraid not. There were so many. I know it struck me as quite a collector’s room.”

There was silence for a minute. Mrs. Shores said with a faint smile,
“I’m afraid I have not been very helpful.”

“There is something else.” I produced the bridge scores. “There are the first three rubbers played. I wondered if you could help me, with the aid of these, to reconstruct the hands.”

“That was the first rubber. Miss Harpstrings and I were playing against the two stallions. The first game was played in four spades. We made it and an over trick. Then the next hand was left at two diamonds and Doctor Hooves went down one trick in it. There was quite a lot of bidding on the third hand, I remember. Miss Harpstrings passed. Major Amour went a heart. I passed. Doctor Hooves gave a jump bid of three clubs. Miss Harpstrings went three spades. Major Amour bid four diamonds. I doubled. Doctor Hooves took it into four hearts. They went down one.”

“Excellent,” I said. “What a memory!”

Mrs. Shores went on, disregarding me, much to my irritation. “On the next hand Major Amour passed and I bid a no trump. Doctor Hooves bid three hearts. My partner said nothing. Amour put his partner to four. I doubled and they went down two tricks. Then I dealt and we went out on a four spade bid.”

She took up the next score.

“It is difficult, that,” I said. “Major Amour scores in the cancellation manner.”

“I rather fancy both sides went down fifty to start with - then Doctor Hooves went to five diamonds and we doubled and got him down three tricks. Then we made three clubs, but immediately after the others went game in spades. We made the second game in five clubs. Then we went down a hundred. The others made one heart, we made two no trumps, and we finally won the rubber with a four club bid.”

She picked up the next score.

“This rubber was rather a battle, I remember. It started tamely. Major Amour and Miss Harpstrings made a one heart bid. Then we went down a couple of fifties trying for four hearts and four spades. Then the others made game in spades - no use trying to stop them. We went down three hands running after that but undoubled. Then we won the second game in no trumps. Then a battle royal started. Each side went down in turn. Doctor Hooves overbid but, though he got badly down once or twice, his calling paid, for more than once he frightened Miss Harpstrings out of bidding her hand. Then he bid an original two spades, I gave him three diamonds, he bid four no trumps, I bid five spades and then, he suddenly jumped to seven diamonds. We were doubled, of course. He had no business to make such a bid. By a kind of miracle we got it. I never thought we should when I saw his hand go down. If the others had led a heart we would have been three tricks down. As it was they led the king of clubs and we got it. It was really very exciting.”

“I believe that’s a grand slam vulnerable doubled. It causes the emotions, that! Me, I admit it, I have not the nerve to go for the slams. I content myself with the game.” I said, studying the scores.

“Oh, but you shouldn’t,” said Mrs. Shores with energy. “You must play the game properly.”

“Take risks, you mean?”

“There is no risk if the bidding is correct. It should be a mathematical certainty. Unfortunately few ponies really bid well. They know the opening bids but later they lose their heads. They cannot distinguish between a hoof with winning cards in it and a hoof without losing cards - but I mustn’t give you a lecture on bridge, Miss Melody.”

“It would improve my play, I am sure, Mrs. Shores.”

Mrs. Shores resumed her study of the score.

“After that excitement the next hands were rather tame. Have you the fourth score there? Ah, yes. A dingdong battle - neither side able to score below.”

“It is often like that as the evening wears on.”

“Yes, one starts tamely and then the cards get worked up.”

I collected the scores and made a little bow “Madam, I congratulate you. Your card memory is magnificent – naught but magnificent! You remember, one might say, every card that was played!”

“I believe I do.”

I continued, being carful that my tone and demeanor remained the same; “Memory is a wonderful gift. With it the past is never the past. I should imagine, Madam, that to you the past unrolls itself, every incident clear as yesterday. Is that not so?”

She looked at me quickly. Her eyes were wide and dark. It was only for a moment, then she had resumed her mare-of-the-world manner, but I did not doubt. That shot had gone home.

Mrs. Shores rose. “I’m afraid I shall have to leave now, I am so sorry, but I really mustn’t be late. I have the bridge party I must attend.”

“Of course not - of course not. I apologize for trespassing on your time.”

“I’m sorry I haven't been able to help you more.”

“But you have helped me,” I said, with attempted reassurance.

“I hardly think so.” She spoke with decision.

“But yes. You have told me something I wanted to know.”

She asked no question as to what that something was.

I removed my hat and smiled in a bidding of farewell.

“Thank you, Madam, for your forbearance.”

As she smiled and nodded at me she said, “You are an extraordinary mare, Miss Melody.”

I inclined my head momentarily in a gesture of appreciation “I am as the Gods made me, Madam.”

“We are all that, I suppose.”

“Not all, Madam. Some of us have tried to improve on their pattern. Mr. Blue Blood, for instance.”

“In what way do you mean?”

“He had a very pretty taste in objets de vertus and bric-a-brac; he should have been content with that. Instead, he collected other things.”

“Well - shall we say - sensations?”

“And don’t you think that was dans son caractère, as they say?”

I shook my head gravely. “He played the part of the devious God too successfully. But he was not the devil. Still, he was a stupid stallion. And so - he died.”

“Because he was stupid?”

“It is the sin that is never forgiven and always punished, Madam.”

There was a silence. Then I said, “I take my departure. A thousand thanks for your amiability, Madam. I will not come again - unless you send for me.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Dear me, Miss Melody, why should I send for you?”

“You might. It is just an idea. If so, I will come. Remember that.”

I bowed once more and left the room.

In the street I said to myself, “I am right - I am sure I am right – It must be that!”

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading the eleventh instalment of The Murder of Prince Blue Blood.

I hope you enjoyed it, and will await the next gripping chapter with eagerness.

Feel free to comment.

Thank you again.

Tavi4.

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