02 Murder at the Mansion by Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot Read Free Book Online Page A

thoughts. She’d always found bees a most satisfying audience.
    “Just look at you all! So ordered, so focused.Truly God’s creatures. If only human affairs were so simple and clear. Well, I suppose it’s my own fault for fancying myself some kind of detective. I should just leave this whole mess to the professionals. My clerical teachers always said I needed to remember when things should be left for higher powers to deal with. So, enough! From now on, if I’m of no use, I’ll abstain from anything to do with this. That’s all I –”
    Suddenly, Annabelle caught a glimpse of a non-descript blue Ford Focus pull into churchyard and park beside her Mini. She had only to see the merest glimpse of the Inspector’s brush-like hair before she scampered out of her garden to greet him.
    “Ah, Annabelle!”
    “Inspector! So lovely to see you!”
    “And you,” he said, casting his eyes over her outfit.
    Annabelle snorted a laugh as she frantically pulled off her gardening gloves in order to shake his hand.
    “I hope I wasn’t interrupting you.”
    “Oh, not at all. Never, Inspector. I was just tending to my bees,” Annabelle said, surprised to discover her voice was muffled, then remembering that she was still wearing her bee-keeping helmet. She removed it quickly, and tossed her hair into place in a manner she hoped was not too glamorous for a vicar.
    “You keep bees?”
    “Yes. It’s a silly hobby, I know, but it passes the time.”
    “I don’t think it’s silly. I think it’s rather interesting, actually.”
    “It is, isn’t it?”
    They smiled at each other awkwardly for a few moments before the Inspector said, “I was just on my way to the crime scene, so I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing. You seemed a little… flustered, yesterday.”
    “Oh, well. I wasn’t at my best,” laughed Annabelle, “I’m much better now. Thank you for asking, Inspector.”
    “Actually, I thought you seemed to take it rather well. The last time I spoke to someone who had discovered a dead body, they were covered in their own vomit.”
    Annabelle laughed so loudly, that Philippa appeared in the doorway to see what all the fuss was about. Annabelle, catching sight of her, promptly flicked her hand in a peculiar gesture intended to get Philippa to return inside, a gesture she hoped the Inspector wouldn’t notice.
    “Are you okay, Vicar?”
    “Yes, Inspector. I think I have a bee sting on my hand.”
    “Oh, let me see.”
    As the Inspector took Annabelle’s hand, the Vicar struggled to retain consciousness as once again her knees barely held her up. Philippa, who was still standing in the doorway, saw what was happening, and cheekily winked at Annabelle. The Vicar responded by mouthing the word “Shoo!” as aggressively as she could without catching the attention of the Inspector.
    “I can’t see anything, but I suppose they don’t swell up until much later.”
    “Precisely, Inspector.”
    The Inspector looked around at the churchyard, nodded his appreciation, and then looked toward Annabelle. “Well, I suppose I should let you get back to your bees.”
    “Inspector, have you made any progress? Have you looked into Sir John Cartwright’s background, at all?”
    The Inspector’s face stiffened. “Yes.”
    “And was there anything peculiar about him? I ask, because, he’s still very much a mystery to many of the village residents.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t normally say this to a civilian,” said the Inspector, leaning toward Annabelle conspiratorially, causing her to breathe more deeply, “but he was actually quite well known to the police in London.”
    “Oh?”
    “Apparently, he had been under suspicion for a few years, though never charged, of running a high-class – if you can call it that – escort agency.”
    “Golly gosh!”
    “Indeed. Not the sort of thing you would usually hear about in a place like this.”
    “No… I mean, yes… I mean…”
    “Vicar?”
    “Remember the