• DEAD FUNNY •

Dressed to Kill

As we cruised along the drive, winding in dramatic bends up the hill, I was stunned by Lady Sugarcandy's estate. It was vast: an elegant series of terraces linked with flights of broad stone steps. Columns of tall, pointed cypresses were interspersed with strategically placed orange trees and huge cacti in beautifully crafted terracotta pots. It was difficult to see how my Mum was going to improve on it and she was clearly thinking the same thing; I could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off her. After the third or fourth bend we caught a glimpse of the mansion and even Marcus gasped in astonishment. It was amazing: a construction of stone, glass and steel that looked incredibly modern but also seemed to blend so well into the landscape that it might have grown there all by itself.
"What a remarkable piece of design!" enthused Marcus. "Who was the architect?"
I didn't hear Sylvia's answer because at that moment something else caught my attention.
A man, sprinting across the terrace nearest to us and then down the steps towards the iron gates two at a time. I was used to seeing jogger - our local park is full of them - but this man clearly wasn't out for exercise. He was dressed in crisp, white trousers, with a scarlet waistcoat and matching carnation that dangled from the upper-pocket of his red and white striped blazer. A once neatly knitted bow tie was rapidly unravelling, the ends flapping against his shoulder. Thinning grey hair was revealed when he stumbled and his straw hat fell onto the pavement. He didn't stop to retrieve it. When he saw our car, he froze for a second. But then he took off once more, his pace increasing even though his gait was lurching and uneven, and he had a hand to his side as if he had a stitch. He was some distance away, but I could hear his body language saying clearly as if he'd shouted the words aloud: He was panicky, desperate.
Terrified.
Elbowing Marcus in the ribs, I pointed to the man out of my window and then askerd Slyvia,
"Who's that?"
The secretary glanced at me in the rear view mirror and then looked across the grounds.
"What the...?" she exclaimed, slamming on the brakes yet again. But by the time the car had come to a halt, the man had already slipped through the gates before they shut and disappeared from view.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"No." Sylvia's smooth forehead creased in a puzzled frown that made her ponytail jerk. She said crossly, "That's most perculiar. Lady Sugarcandy didn't say she was expecting a caller today. I do wish she'd tell me when she changed her plans, it's so difficult to get anything organised otherwise." She shook her head, tutting. "I'll take you all to the house to meet Miss Sugarcandy first," she told Mum as she accelerated up the drive once more. "Then I'll show you to the guest wing. You'll need to get some rest, I should think, before you begin your work."
Mum didn't answer. By now she had gone very pale. She turned to pull a look of uncertainty to me and Marcus. When Slyvia stopped the car in front and the spectacular house and got out, Mum whispered, "I hope  this isn't a huge mistake. I suppose if she doesn't like my ideas we can always go back home again... But then I won't get paid. Oh dear!"
  "It will be fine," I said confidently. Even though I was very sleepy, I was excited about meeting Lady Sugarcandy. The prospect of studying a real life celebrity up close was absolutely fascination.
  But my eager anticipation didn't last long.
  When we walking into the vast, marbled entrance hall I realised at that point that I wasn't going to get the chance to see the star in action after all. No one was. Ever again.

Lady Sugarcandy lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of a sweeping staircase, and it was very clear to see..
She was dead.