The MGC returns? C12
"Well, I think that adds a lot of very interesting information to the case." Lord Downey observed, steepling his fingers in a very Vetinari-like fashion.
"You are to be congratulated, Miss Smith-Rhodes. Very well done. Impeccably planned and carried out. Which of course brings me to…"
The latest investigators' meeting was in session, this time, at Downey's insistence, in the Master's Study at the Assassins' Guild. As before, the Watch was represented by Cheery, Angua and André, and the Guild by Joan, Alice, Johanna and the two impassive QCIC agents. Vetinari had again sent Mr {Cough} to observe for him. Ruth N'Kweze was also present.
Downey rummaged in the paperwork on his desk. He found an neatly written presentation scroll with a little bit of gilding on it.
"Miss Ruth N'Kweze, Four Tump. Normally you would not pass the modules in stealth, deception, covert entry, and disguise until well into your fifth year at this school. However, I have read the report presented by Miss Smith-Rhodes concerning the assistance you gave her in this mission, and I have taken into account the degree of difficulty and danger involved to you should your cover have been exposed at any time. After consultation with your house mistress Miss Band, I have decided that it is right to award you an exceptional pass mark, with distinction, in these subjects, following your infiltration of the Howondalandian Embassy and your successful masquerade as a humbled black servant. It cannot have been easy for you. My congratulations!"
Downey passed over the scroll.
"Normally the whole school would receive details of the mission you assisted in and the part you took. But as this is sensitive.."
"Full disclosure would precipitate a diplomatic incident with Howondaland. Something the Patrician is keen to avoid." said Mr {Cough}, quickly.
"We will release a statement to the effect that you assisted in a secret and sensitive operation, and have been properly rewarded and congratulated. All pupils are instructed to follow your example and reminded that even before graduation, they may well have special skills that a fully Licenced Assassin will ask to use in the completion of a mission. For a student be invited to assist a Full Assassin on a contract is a prestigious matter, and reflects honourably on the student involved, as well as contributing practical evidence which is taken into account against termwork".
Downey shook hands with her.
"Jolly well done, Miss N'Kweze. Now you might want to report back to the meeting on what you did and saw?"
Ruth made her report, and was questioned by Assassins and Watchwomen as to the fine details.
Cautioned to silence, she was making to go when Downey added:
"And by the way, I hear that several rather, ah, Boorish, guests of the Embassy suffered an unfortunate bout of stomach trouble yesterday, which coincided with your visit. More suspicious minds than mine might perceive a connection, especially since I understand you studied the synthesis and use of laxatives as incapacitants in your Poisons class last week."
"I believe it is being blamed on a food poisoning virus a recent arrival in this city may have contracted." Ruth said, totally poker-faced.
"Which is a most convenient supposition, and entirely in our best interests if it is believed." Downey remarked, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. Other people in the room were also trying hard not to smile.
"But between you, me, and a room full of people sympathetically disposed towards you, miss N'Kweze, what in actuality did you spike their drinks with?"
Ruth held his steady gaze.
"Klatchian cascara, sir. Mr Mericet remarked that Doctor Lawn at the Lady Sybil uses it, in carefully measured small doses, to relieve truly heroic cases of constipation."
The room burst into suppressed spluttering laughter.
"I see." said Downey. "So you not only infiltrated the Rimwards Howondalandian Embassy in the guise of a humble and submissive ladies' maid, as opposed to the proud daughter and sister of Kwa'Zulu warriors and trainee Assassin that you are in reality. Whilst there, you delivered an effective comeback to a rather oafish Boor who, unasked, intimately touched your body. Nobody, except perhaps Miss Smith-Rhodes, and even she wasn't sure, noticed you infiltrating a pitcher of beer with cascara powder."
Downey shook his head, gently.
"I don't know, Miss N'Kweze. Carry on like this, and I might be forced to grant full Assassin status to you several years ahead of schedule, under the provisions available to me for rewarding exceptionally gifted students."
He sighed. "Reports reaching me from the embassy suggest that they have, happily for us, accepted the theory that a new arrival from the docks was carrying a food poisoning virus which only transmitted itself to the three gentlemen who shared a pitcher of beer ordered by the carrier. Were it otherwise contagious, it would have shown by now. Miss Smith-Rhodes, did you communicate my offer to your uncle?"
"Yes, sir." said Johanna. She recited: "I informed the Embassador that the Guild wes very sorry to hear of his problem with whet might be food poisoning. In the interests of greater friendship end co-operation, I offered him the services of Guild professionels who are trained to investigate these matters end discover whether the cause was accidental or deliberate. Es I reminded my onkle, we heve cause to know best in these investigations, end our forensic investigetory skills are unperelleled. "
Johanna thought for a second, and added:-
"I'm sure we could find convincing evidence thet it was eccidentel! I'm sorry my onkle refused, but with sincere thanks, believing it to be a regrettable end netural outbreak of bush sickness."
"Jolly good" said Downey, adding "You are dismissed, miss N'Kweze. I'm sure you are at the threshold of a remarkable career as an Assassin! I shall be watching with interest."
She smiled, and left the office.
"Inspector Loudweather?" Downey invited him.
André nodded acknowledgement.
"Thank you all for attending. I'm sure we've all progressed with the tasks we took away from the last meeting. Who wants to begin? Miss Band?"
Alice had sent a priority Clacks to Lancre asking for Nanny Ogg's assistance. The reply had come back, reverse-charged to the Assassins' Guild:
We remember her, alright. Sassy little baggage, some dam' good practical ideas she showed off to me and Esme as if she was expecting a round of applause. Stayed a week. Oh, pleasant in herself, a nice enough girl, and it wasn't forced nor put on. It was just that we dint trust her with the deep stuff. It was a feeling me and Esme had, that if we taught her the serious things with herbs and plants, somebody somewhere was going to end up regrettin' it. Esme had a quiet word, and she was on the coach back to Ankh-Morpork the next morning.
Alice had very carefully edited out an embarrassingly encouraging and candid line or two from Nanny Ogg, which had cheerfully asked about her love life in terms she wasn't comfortable with having broadcast far and wide. Mr Brown from QCIC asked the question:-
"This seems to end rather abruptly. Was this all the lady in Lancre sent?"
André, who knew Alice's secret and had reason to be sympathetic, said
"I understand the remainder of the message consisted of personal correspondence between Mrs Ogg and Miss Band, and does not concern this meeting".
He added, "I also understand that Lancre witches have some of the attributes of an informal Watch department in their native villages and rural localities. Having met Mrs Ogg myself – as my reports at the time made clear, her assistance was invaluable in solving the case of several puzzling deaths at the Opera House(1) – I can safely say that I would trust her judgement. And in this case, her judgement says that Mrs Bellamy was not a worthy or safe person to receive training from Lancre witches concerning their knowledge of flowers, herbs and spices. Which is also relevant to this case."
"But still only circumstantial" Mr Brown remarked.
"Indeed, sir. The next item to be actioned?"
"I checked what medical records are available on the deaths of Mr George Mouseborough and Miss Daphne Poundclencher." Cheery said. "While at a distance of nearly twelve years it's impossible to be absolutely certain, everything points to natural death in the case of very elderly humans with no pointers to suggest otherwise. So this line of investigation could safely be closed".
"Agreed." said André. "And did you also return to the University?"
"Yes, sir. I again spoke to Professor Pennysmart concerning exotic tropical plants. It occurred to me to ask if the provenance of a particular plant can be established beyond all possible doubt. After all, pedigree animals such as racehorses and swamp-dragons require their bloodlines to be firmly and conclusively established as part of the valuation process. With exotic plants changing hands for four-figure sums, there must be similar ways of tracking their lineage and where they ultimately came from.
"Ideally, and I'm searching for the right words here, we need some sort of scientific method to establish, er, kinship, between two plants. We can tell if two swamp-dragons came out of the same clutch of eggs, for instance. But can we tell if two plants have got the same degree of kinship?"
"Came out of the same seed-packet, sort of thing?" asked Joan.
"Such as one found at the scene of a crime, and one on display at Bellamy's Florists." agreed Cheery. "Unfortunately, Professor Pennysmart tells us science isn't quite there yet, although he's trying to take the researches of the late Professor Catbury a step further. He was apparently the one who thought every cell in a living body carries its own signature dictating what it should grow up to be and even how tall, what colour, et c. Catbury's experiments were, on the face of it, ludicrous, but they did succeed in demonstrating that the idea worked. The university still has its population of broad-beaned fruit-flies, for instance, which didn't exist until Catbury started splicing deep-down code material together from donor creatures."
Cheery sighed.
"However, the principal breeders do keep finely-detailed stock-books detailing, for instance, what amount of pollen from Plant A was allowed to interact with the stamens of Plant B and how the resulting plant AB grew and developed. And who bought plant AB and its related AC and AD versions when they grew to maturity. And their descendants. So if we can get hold of Mrs Bellamy's stock-books…"
"Or the stock-books of people who have bought plants off her…" mused André. "And the Professor? Would he testify in court as an expert witness?"
"He's concerned for Mrs Bellamy, certainly. He believes she has changed over the last year and isn't as open and approachable as she used to be. In fact, he asked me if we're investigating her for anything."
"And his attitude?"
Cheery paused before replying.
"It's a funny thing, sir, how otherworldly and naïve academics can be. He asked me if we'd also heard a rumour that Davinia sees people in the shop after hours and provides dangerous plants to them. That is, flowering plants that both parties know to be dangerous, even lethal. He's worried that normally, the Fancy trades freely in these things, but only under strict conditions, such as an understanding that very special precautions have to be taken, that both parties are equally skilled in their management, and that neither the plants nor any extract therefrom are used for illegal or immoral purposes. What concerns him is that if a dangerous plant is used for the wrong reasons, it could draw down unwelcome attention from the Assassins' Guild, the Thieves' Guild, or indeed, if they're really lucky, the Watch."
"The Thieves' Guild?" Joan questioned.
"The professor told me there was a case, a few years ago, of an enterprising unlicenced Thief wearing the Hypnosuggestive Orchid of Ghat as a buttonhole." Cheery explained. "With breathing filters inserted in his own nostrils, he'd collar a mark, take them for a drink, get them to breathe in the pollen, and then they'd respond to hypnotic suggestions, such as "empty your wallet" or "what a nice diamond ring. Give it to me." The Guild were, apparently, not happy people when they caught up with Reg Hypnos, and sharp words were spoken to the tropical flower fancy. They are, of course, also concerned that the Patrician might consider any mis-use of the flowers to be a reason to regulate and impose licences and strictly inspected dealing conditions.
"Therefore I believe that in these circumstances, if the rest of the Fancy believes Mrs Bellamy has overstepped the mark and drawn official attention to what they do, the Professor will testify against her, regardless of any good feeling, so as to mitigate any moves to restrict their freedoms. It concerned him greatly that the Watch, ie me, was at the University asking the sort of questions they'd prefer not to be asked."
She finished her presentation, and settled back.
"Cheery, see if you can unsettle him a bit more and ask to see his stock-books, would you? You know the form, if he's a bit reluctant, just hint that at the moment it's a nice pleasant ask, of course. If you need to borrow any, take a troll with you to do the carrying back to the Yard. Oh, and ask him to show you round his hothouses. You might want to delegate Reg Shoe to that, as he doesn't need to breathe. And carry on hinting that while we're not sure yet, certain inquiries point to Davinia, although we'd be obliged if he didn't tip her off, and we'll know if he does. Damn, I wish Captain Carrot were here, he'd know chapter and verse, but I'm just wondering if there's one of those old Acts we could quote.."
"The Dangerous Plants, Flowers and Flora (Licencing) Regulations of 1793, I believe, Inspector" said Mr {Cough}, helpfully. "Mr Drumknott was recently asked to retrieve a copy from the Palace archives".
Who by? , everyone else wondered, albeit very briefly.
Mr {Cough} took the floor.
"Myself and Mr Jones from the Guild went to speak to Mr Boggis at the Thieves' Guild." he said. "We explained that there are certain inquiries afoot concerning strange events in the Pelicool Steps area, and we believe we may be able to shed light on any mystery disappearances pertaining to Guild members last known to be active in that area. Mr Boggis went away to consult with his office staff, and they returned with the dossier on the strange case of Murdo Ludd, a licenced thief who, eight months ago, was authorised to burgle two premises in the Pelicool Steps area. These shops were under Guild licences, and these would have been routine visits to tick those shops off as having had their quota of agreed burglaries for the period. Mr Ludd was under strict instruction not to steal more than fifty dollars' worth of cash and goods from both, according to agreement, and to tidy up after himself and leave an appropriate receipt.
"When he failed to return the next morning, follow-up was despatched to check on his route and the premises he had been authorised to burgle. He had indeed performed a routine visit to Grace Speaker's pet shop, where Miss Speaker, aware the visit was about to take place, had left an envelope out containing fifty dollars. Ludd had left a receipt.
"He had not got as far as the Brindisian restaurant that would have been the next client. In between the two, however, were firms which we are now aware include Bellamy's Florists. Mr Boggis informed us that Ludd was under investigation for alleged freelance burglary outside the approval of the Guild. Where of course there would be no limit on the amount he could take. He may have given into temptation and decided to add a freelance break-in to the two officially sanctioned ones. Either way, some torn bloodstained clothing and a Thief's tool-belt that could be identified as his were later found stuffed behind a row of dustbins further down the waterfront. There was nothing to connect this discovery with Bellamy's, however, although Thieves' Guild investigators searching for Ludd did make a routine call there to ask if she'd seen anything. They noted nothing of interest from this call. The condition of the clothing, the dossier noted, suggested attack by a methodical large animal using a lot of very sharp teeth and claws.
"Mr Ludd's death was put down to killing by person or entity unknown, body not found. For the record, I have to say that Mr Boggis was most helpful, and has asked to be kept informed."
"OK!" said André, with satisfaction. "We're getting closer and closer and closer all the time and we might just be able to wrap this one up fairly soon. But I'd appreciate it if we could just get a few more little things together before we arrest, as we really need to make this water-tight.
"Cheery, if you can get hold of those stock-books and detail the degree of interaction across the members of this exotic flower fancy? A list of members would be useful, then we can pull in their stock-books and get a picture of how far and wide Mrs Bellamy's exotic fancies travel in this city. A good defence could still point out that we have no absolute conclusive proof the killer flowers came from her, so we need to rule out other members of the club as soon as we can.
"Miss Smith-Rhodes, you noticed a second, potentially lethal, plant on open display at Bellamy's. Can you go back through previous murder scenes to check if that's been used in past cases? If she's got to the stage where she's boasting about her secret life as a murderer with one killer plant, she may be doing it with a second.".
"It follows on" Joan said. "By this stage in my old life, I was absolutely sure I'd be arrested any second. Which is where you make mistakes and a clever investigator can lead you into a trap. And in my cookery school, I had a couple of my lethal weapons out in the open, where everyone could see 'em. Part of that was a challenge – let's see if you're clever, shall we, and identify the special almond flakes on top of this frangipan tart, if you can. Take 'em away and analyse 'em, and you'll find they're 60% hydrocyanide."
She paused, grimaced, and added:
"And deep down, a little bit of you wants to make a mistake. You're caught in a situation you can't control, it's running away with you, and trying to keep a normal face up while you know what you're doing is anything but normal – well, you want the nightmare to be over, one way or the other. Mr Mericet was the one who trapped me, when he trapped me into letting on that I knew more about poisons than many qualified Assassins. Pride, you see."
"We can use that insight" André said, thoughtfully. "Thank you for that, Miss Sanderson-Reeves. It can't have been easy to say."
And the latest review meeting broke up.
While the meeting was in progress, Davinia Bellamy presented herself at the Gleam Street offices of the Times, much to the surprise of the CSP plainclothes officers who had been discreetly following her ever since she left the shop.
They conferred briefly in the street, and, being coppers, decided the best place to watch for her re-appearance on a wet and grey morning would be from a window seat in the Bucket over a hot drink. They could call by the offices later to ascertain her business there: but being a shop owner, it was likely she was discussing advertising, maybe even being interviewed for the shopping pages, or even for one of the glossy womens' magazines coming off the presses in ever-greater numbers these days. Most likely totally legitimate and unremarkable, but it paid to ask the question.
Meanwhile, Davinia was asking, shyly, if she could do a search in the archives. Of course, a three-dollar search fee was only fair, as it bought the assistance of the times archivist and picture librarian Ms Houser.
That visit from the Howondalandian ladies the other day was bothering Davinia. Something about it was prickling her slightly, a long-submerged memory starting to nag at her. Oh, Katerina was alright. Not the brightest girl in the world, but enthusiastic for the aesthetic details of flowers, not that she'd use a word like "aesthetic" where "pretty!" would do. The Diplomatic Services needed people like Katerina, to issue invitations, plan parties and formal balls, oversee domestics in cleaning, polishing and making pretty, setting out the table places, and prettying the Embassy up with fresh flowers. Probably from good family at home, and the product of an upscale finishing school in Überwald, she'd been dignified with the term Social Secretary and sent overseas to fill in the interim between graduation and marriage. All she needed then was a crash-course in realpolitik, which for Social Secretaries boiled down to not seating the Borogravian Ambassador next to his Zlobenian counterpart, nor indeed the Ephebian and the Tsortean.
No, it was the other one, who'd introduced herself as Johanna van Kaiboetje, who worried her. On the face of it, as much a fluffy airhead as Katerina. But there had been something deeper in her eyes, which she had seen relax into the thousand-yard stare of one who has seen and done things the Katerinas of this world cannot imagine. Davinia had seen a reflection of herself in Johanna's eyes: it had taken her a while to work it out, but it had come to her in the night. This was a woman who had, at some point in her life, also killed people. It took a killer to spot a killer.
And Johanna had unerringly spotted the Death Lily. Davinia quailed inside. Putting one on display, for her own personal satisfaction, had been a risk, but she'd reasoned that only one person in ten thousand would recognise it. And the ten thousandth person just walked into the shop!
Davinia ran through the possibilities. City Watch? No. Vimes would employ just about any nationality, but not this one. Too many black people lived in the city. Vimes was too good a copper. Still at the embassy… but BOSS? She shuddered. The Bureau of State Security was known to be ruthless and efficient, home-grown professional killers who could give the Assassins' Guild a hard fight. But apart from the appalling and offensive van Hoogstraten, have I done anything to merit their attention? If Hoogstraten was one of their agents, I may have inconvenienced people who a wise person does not annoy.
But van Hoogstraten had been a native Kerrigian, not a White Howondalandian, and he'd just been a spectacularly nasty landowner and property speculator with no political ties? She'd got him with some poisoned tulips, as she recalled. Flowers from Home. She smiled at the memory: a very satisfying deadheading.
And then her mind had backtracked, in the still of the night, to the words Assassins' Guild. The red-haired girl had an association with the Guild? It was there, the ghost of a memory… something she'd seen in the Times? Ah well. She could take an hour off in the morning. See if the Times archive had any leads. Berenice Houser was one of her customers, a woman whose ex-husband had no idea how lucky he was to still be alive. (2) If he hadn't left her when he did, she might now be a widow and not a divorcee.
Davinia fell asleep, thinking she'd at least managed a little kindness to those two coloured girls. Fifteen years ago I fought apartheid as a student, a part of her soul reminded her. Now I let it into the shop and take its money. She didn't stop to consider that one of the otherwise disregarded maidservants might have been more than she seemed. There was no reason for her to: Ruth's performance had been exceptional.
And today, here she was, making small-talk with Berenice over a cup of gratis coffee and piles of back issues of the Times.
It had taken an hour or so of narrowing it down, but it was in Times editions from four and five years ago. A small article from over five years before: The Guild of Assassins has confirmed it is to go fully co-educational within the next two years. A spokeswoman for the Guild, Lady T'Malia (54) has informed the Times that a recruitment and selection procedure is underway to engage suitably qualified and vocationally inclined women to the School's staff. It is envisaged that the successful candidates will first undergo an accelerated training programme to enable them to qualify as fully Licenced Assassins before they begin teaching female students.
Lady T'Malia (56), at the moment the only licenced female Assassin, would not be drawn on what the Guild considers "essential career attributes" for female hopefuls, but assured the Times that they are even now drawing up a list of candidates who the Guild hopes to employ, by "making them an offer they cannot refuse".
Lady T'Malia (58) did not contradict our use of the phrase "headhunting" to describe this recruitment process, saying that she hopes the Mature Students' Class will be up and running at the earliest possible opportunity. She was also keen to convey that the Guild is also looking for suitably inclined accountants and book-keepers to breathe new life into its financial department, and a dual qualified assassin-librarian would also be an advantage.
And from the following day's Times:-
Correction: Lady T'Malia, senior tutor in Realpolitik and Political Studies at the Assassins' Guild School, would dearly like us to clarify some confusion about her age that crept into yesterday's edition. We appreciate this has caused her some emotional irritation, and we therefore apologise unreservedly and are happy to clarify that she is, in fact, 52 years old.
"She's actually way over sixty" Berenice breathed, confidentially. "Mr de Worde got hold of the relevant graduation yearbook. However, he chose to be gallant to a lady, which isn't especially difficult to do when she's holding a blade to your writing hand."
The hopefuls: As of today, the Guild of Assassins will be running its very first Mature Students' Class of thirty adult entrants to the Guild. Four women and twenty-six men, ranging in age from 18 to 48, and coming from as far away as Howondaland, will undergo competitive and rigorous training and selection and it is hoped the majority of them will end up as fully licenced Assassins by this time next year.
We would have liked to have said more, but this article is subject, at the wish of Lord Downey, to a P-Order(3) agreed by the Patrician last night. The P-Order system is invoked only infrequently and is used to prevent matters of the greatest state security appearing in the Press, a state to which the Times is forced to give guarded and critical consent. We cannot at present give details of names or of the reasons why ceretain members of this class have been accepted for Assassin Training, much though we would like to.
"You'll like this one!" Berenice said, handing over a newspaper dated for a year or so later.
There was an iconograph captioned "Downey's Angels? Or Downey's Deadly Belles?". It showed the Master of the Assassins' Guild, looking rather pleased with himself, surrounded by the four women who had succeeded in passing out as Licenced Assassins.
While the article again expressed apologies for being subject to P-Order, it stated that the Times had at least been able to secure limited interviews with the four new female Assassins which it could print. However, the questions we could ask were pre-vetted and the text of this article, under the P-Order system, had to be passed by the Palace prior to publication.
Joan Sanderson-Reeves (48) I will be teaching Domestic Science, Elocution and Deportment and I will have a degree of responsibility for day and bursarship pupils at the School.
I must say I feel jolly lucky and privileged to be here today, and I hope I have proven the doubters wrong who considered forty-eight was too old for anyone to start training as an Assassin. There was room for another challenge in my life, I think, and this is it…
The Right. Honourable Miss Alice Band (23) As the daughter of a Bishop, I was brought up to deeply contemplate the mysteries of human life, including those to do with death and judgement and forgiveness for sin. Had I chosen the priesthood, I would perhaps need to consider all three, but happily, the profession of Assassin appears to have chosen me, where I only need consider one of those qualities in any great detail. This simplifies things enormously, as you may imagine.
I will be teaching archaeology, some history, traps and lockpicking, and edificeering. I also have language skills and will be helping out in the modern languages department as appropriate.
Madame Emmanuelle-Marie Lapoignard les Deux-Épées (22)
I am from Quirm, yes, Is it obvious? My father is a swordsmith and my family has been dealing in weapons for many generations now. I am married, certainement, but mon mari is a Colonel in the Klatchian Foreign Legion and is away ten months of the year, so I have to find something useful to fill in the time. Therefore, a respectable profession like teaching, non?
I will be teaching swordsmanship, bladed weapons of all kinds, some metalwork, and physical education to the girls.
Miss Johanna Smith-Rhodes (20)
I am from Piemburg in Howondaland and I arrived in this city as part of the crew of a ship delivering vital trade goods to Ankh-Morpork. At home, I had just finished my National Service in the Armed Forces, in which I had the honour of serving with the Selouis Scouts in the north of my country. The Scouts are a quick-reaction kommando trained to patrol the borders and punish incursion, and uniquely recruit women as something more than just non-combatant auxiliaries. I saw active service in the fighting that flares up with our neighbouring tribes, and learnt the arts of survival in jungle and desert. My passage as a member of the armed escort aboard ship had been my last service to my country before discharge. I was not looking forward to returning to civilian life again, so when the Assassins' Guild approached me with a proposition, I was eager to accept. I will be teaching natural studies, wilderness survival and informal combat skills.
That is her! Davinia's nerves shrilled. She's the one they infiltrated into my shop! So the Assassins' Guild is after me too!
"Vinnie, you look so pale" Berenice said, concerned. "Can I get you another drink?"
"Yes, please!"
Davinia scrutinised the face in the photo. Girlish, a hint of tomboy, plaited red hair, but those eyes…. Looking at the photo of Johanna Smith-Rhodes, Davinia Bellamy felt a stab of loss and fear. Joan Sanderson-Reeves was not comforting to behold, either. Davinia recalled the rumour, hastily quelled (4), that she had been the original Marriage Guidance Counsellor and that the Guild had taken her in as a member on the strength of that alone.
That thought was comforting – the idea that all four of these women, despite having killed in cold blood, had been offered not the gallows but a new life.
Davinia closed her eyes and let her mind wander, at least till Berenice came back with more coffee.
(1) see Maskerade
(2) See Making Money for Berenice, an unhappy divorcee who reckoned it was still happier than a loveless marriage.
(3) In Great Britain, the D-Notice system is used to censor the press in very rare circumstances where Government does not want something to be publicly known and the newspaper can not be gently persuaded to drop the story. Although in these Internet days, most people can Google the foreign press to find out what the British government is trying to conceal, part of the reason why D-Notices have not been used for some time now…
(4) After Joan's arrest, the Tanty Bugle had led on her detention and speculated, loudly, that the MGC had been caught. The paper had been forced to retract in its next edition and state there was no truth in the rumour, and indeed by now most people had forgotten. Except those who obsessively filed every edition, that is…