Speedy Death (Mrs. Bradley)
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Guests have gathered to dine at Alastair Bing’s elegant country manor, but only one guest—a murderer—is aware of the dead body in an upstairs bathtub. With renowned explorer Mr. Everard Mountjoy noticeably absent from the dining table, the rest of the party searches for him, and soon discovers the explorer’s drowned corpse. The murder is mystifying, not in the least because the body in the bath is clearly a woman’s! As danger and theories unravel, psychoanalyst Mrs. Beatrice Lestrange Bradley observes and interprets all, from shrieks in the night to drowning attempts to poisoning. It’s clear that Mrs. Bradley has a basilisk eye for detail. But can she uncover a motive for murder?
Rediscover the notorious detective Mrs. Bradley in her original starring role. This definitive mystery is the first in Gladys Mitchell’s sixty-six book series featuring this most unusual and brilliant heroine.
well?’ said Bertie to his partner, as they swung out into the hall. ‘Of course.’ ‘Well, I mean, you don’t think she’s the juicy jimmy who did in that Mountjoy, do you?’ ‘Good gracious!’ said Dorothy. ‘No!’ ‘Oh, all right. Only, to me,’ pursued Bertie, negotiating a standard lamp with masterly ease, ‘she looks the sort of Caesar Borgia Nero de Medici who would fluff out her own mother for the fun of it. Don’t you think so?’ ‘She’s a very gifted woman,’ said Dorothy severely. Bertie, steering
if you’ll excuse an entirely unofficial opinion, sir, would be better out of the way; and Miss Eleanor Bing is one of them. Now I wonder who the man is that she’s shielding. If we could find him we might be laying our hands on the Mountjoy murderer, sir.’ ‘I rather doubt that, you know,’ said Sir Joseph quietly. ‘But we shall see. Yes, we shall see. What do you propose to do next?’ ‘Just what I was going to ask you, sir.’ ‘Oh, you’re in charge of the case now. It is for you to decide. I’m only
Clark stands in need of a husband’s protection.’ ‘Protection?’ The inspector ruminated on this for a time, and then exclaimed: ‘Mr Carstairs, you’ve hit it! They are afraid of another attempt on her life! I was wrong about the Guy Fawkes! It was not a practical joke. We realized that when we heard that Miss Clark and Mrs Bradley had rigged it up between them, and that the young fellows, Bing and what’s-his-name?—Philipson—had had no hand in it. That means they can guess pretty nearly who the
and drown a naked person? Seems to me she’s such a prim sort of young woman she’d hardly like to think about people with no clothes on, never mind coming in where they were and murdering ’em! You see my point, sir, don’t you? It isn’t in the picture, that isn’t. And I’ve learned to beware of things that don’t fit.’ ‘You knew Everard Mountjoy was masquerading as a man, and that Eleanor Bing was formally engaged to her, didn’t you?’ asked Carstairs. ‘Good Lord, sir. Yes, of course! I was losing
rumour has spread, be kind enough to reassure the ladies, and tell them that I say it is nonsense.’ Garde departed, and encountered Carstairs on his way from the garden to find Alastair. ‘Apropos of what I said this morning, Bing,’ began Carstairs crisply, upon entering the library, ‘I have received a wire from my people to the effect that they can carry on without me for a little while, and so, with your permission, I propose to get to the bottom of this mystery about Mountjoy’s death.’