No Flowers for the General (A Mike Faraday Mystery Book 3)

by Basil Copper

  I got in my car and sat with the engine idling. He put a strong hand in at the window for me to shake.

  ‘So long, Mr Faraday,’ he said. ‘Any time you’re up this way look us up. I shan’t forget what you done.’

  ‘Thanks, Tom,’ I said.

  He grinned and saluted. I gunned the motor and drove off quickly across town. Before I left I went into a booth and called Stella.

  She sounded petulant. ‘Do you know that tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, Mike?’ she said. ‘We’ve got a million things to do and all the presents to get before we leave for mother’s.’

  ‘There’s plenty of time, honey,’ I said. ‘I’m on my way in.’

  Stella had persuaded me to go up and stay with her people this Christmas; it would make a nice change from my usual routine. I used to get in two extra bottles of Scotch and switch the TV on permanently. This Christmas looked like being a lot less painless.

  ‘Dame Dora phoned,’ said Stella. ‘She wants us to go to her office Christmas party tomorrow afternoon. The two of you can do an exhibition judo bout.’

  I groaned. That was Patti’s surprise. ‘Just so long as she doesn’t want to play Postman’s Knock,’ I said.

  After I came off the phone I got out of the drugstore. It was after six and quite dark. The shop windows looked kinda cosy in the gloom with their tinsel and coloured lights. The first thick flakes of snow were falling and from over the way came the faint notes of a youngsters’ choir singing carols.

  My last call was at Redbarn Autos for gas. Newton Cheney didn’t seem to be doing so badly. He had a slightly built, grey-haired woman in the office with him whom he introduced as his mother. He didn’t hold any grudges. He even shook hands when I came away.

  ‘I took your advice, Mr Faraday,’ he said.

  ‘Like what?’ I said.

  ‘Like facing up to life. It worked out real fine. Do you think I’ll make it?’

  I gave him a long look, remembering a lot of things about Mudville and Carmen Benson.

  ‘I think you’ll make it,’ I said.

  I got in the Buick and drove out of town. On the way my headlights picked up something new. I got out of the car to see what it was. Though it wasn’t really funny I couldn’t help smiling all the way back to L. A. The Chamber of Commerce had taken my suggestion to heart after all.

  They’d erected a big new, white-painted signboard at the edge of town. The wording, picked out in the simplicity of black paint merely said: WELCOME TO MUDVILLE. Population: 5,996.

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