Without waiting for a response, he entered a room formally and abundantly furnished in the Victorian tradition—upholstered sofas in burgundy velvet and ornate mahogany tables, every available surface crammed with Oriental vases, statuettes, and framed photographs. Over the mantelpiece hung a curved Gurkha knife with a stitched leather scabbard that Rex remembered from childhood. The thin form of Mrs. Smithings bent over a ball-and-claw footed writing desk, an Edwardian cradle phone within her reach. With an expression of vague annoyance, she looked up at him from above a pair of reading spectacles perched on her aquiline nose. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he apologized. “I came to discuss the matter of your deceased guest.” Mrs. Smithings sat upright. “Well, you had better shut the door and sit down.” Rex did so. “The long and the short of it is that Charley Perkins, who is a paramedic, thought he noticed some irregularities concerning Henry Lawdry’s death.”
What do You think about Christmas Is Murder (2008)?
