...Tony escapes the transit and heads into his bed and breakfast...
I leaned against Mrs. Harris’s front door, but the handle rattled. Mrs. Harris appeared in the hall holding a whisk like a dagger, pulling up her sleeves.
“What’s the trouble? I’m trying to make an apple pie, and there’s all this noise. Oh my goodness. Get out of the way, Tony. Who’s there? Don’t just stand there.”
She handed me the whisk, and grabbed an umbrella. The lock creaked, the panels cracked, and the door burst open.
“What are you going to do with that, Tony? Whisk someone to death?”
“Aristotle Paterson, you gave us a terrible fright.”
“The lock was jammed, Mrs. H.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
But then I saw an envelope on the hall table addressed to me, and the postmark said Westminster.
..to be continued...
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