Daisy and Piper looked at each other and grinned.
“What … ?”
“You sounded just like Mr. Tring, darling. The oracular ‘ah.’ I don’t think I can tell you any more about ffinch-Brown. Who’s next, Mr. Piper?”
“Mr. Mummery, Curator of Fossil Reptiles.”
“He has an explosive temper, too. If he had a specific, personal reason to hate Pettigrew, I don’t know of it. On the other hand, Pettigrew was killed inhisgallery.”
“Point noted. Ernie?”
“Mr. Witt, Chief, Curator of Fossil Mammals.”
“Good-looking,” said Daisy, “youngish, smart dresser, public-school, charming, helpful …”
Alec’s brows met in a straight line above his grey eyes. “This isnothelpful,” he growled.
“ … ran a mile when I mentioned having Derek and Belinda with me,” Daisy concluded her teasing list of Witt’s attributes. “He was working with ffinch-Brown on the flint tool thing. Pettigrew bodily hauled him away to look at some flints when he was talking to me. He looked pretty fed up. It must have been rather humiliating.”
“Aha!” said Alec.
Daisy chuckled. She nearly added that Tom Tring had got on very well with Witt, to the extent of joining him in a Latin music-hall turn. She remembered in time that she was not supposed to have been there.
“Mr. Steadman,” said Piper, “Curator of Dinosaurs.”
“He was very good with the children,” Daisy recalled, “as well as helpful to me. He shared the general dislike of Pettigrew, but that’s all, as far as I know. His disgruntlement was aimed at the museum’s trustees, for not sponsoring a dinosaur-hunting expedition, and at the Americans for sending a model Diplodocus, not the real thing.”
“So we’ll know where to look when we find a dead trustee or a dead American on the premises,” Alec said sardonically. “Do stick to the point, Daisy.”
Daisy folded her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Any detail may prove significant,” she quoted his oft-repeated maxim.
“Mr. Ruddlestone,” Piper inserted hastily, “Curator of Inver … in-ver-tee-brates. What are they when they’re at home, Chief?”
“Animals without backbones, Ernie, like so many petty criminals.”
“Daisy darling?” The door swung open and Lucy appeared on the threshold. Alec politely stood up. “Oops, sorry, darling! What am I interrupting? Good morning, Alec. Or is it Chief Inspector today? You’re looking rather official. How fortunate, Daisy, that you didn’t fall for a uniformed policeman!”
“Good morning, Lucy,” Alec said dryly. “Iamofficial this morning, which is why I’ve brought D. C. Piper.”
Lucy nodded to Piper, who had jumped to his feet when Alec rose, but she turned at once back to Daisy. “Good gracious, darling, what have you done now?”
“I suppose you don’t know. You were out when I got home last night and up at some ungodly hour this morning.”
“Yes, Lady Ashton wants her photos toot sweet and the tooter the sweeter, and they needed some delicate touchingup. Darling, can you lend me half a crown for a taxi, or I shall be late.”
“Not if I’m going to buy biscuits, and if I don’t Mrs. Potter may quit.”
“Horrors! And likewise blast and bebotheration!”
With a resigned air, Alec reached into his pocket. “Here you are, Lucy.”
“Gosh, darling, thanks. I’ll pay you back this evening—well, I’ll give it to Daisy to give to you. Toodle-oo, I must run.” Lucyneverran, but she had sauntered through the doorway and half closed the door when she stuck her head back in to say, “By the way, what is it I don’t know?”
“A murder at the Natural History Museum,” said Daisy bluntly.
“Darling, how too, too tiresome. You must tell me all about it later. Pip pip.”
“Toodle-oo,” Daisy responded as the door closed and the men sat down. “Don’t worry, Alec, I shan’t tell her more than I ought. Besides, she isn’t really frightfully interested. Murder is vulgar. Where were we? Ruddlestone?”
