Aunt Dimity: Detective by Nancy Atherton Read Free Book Online Page A

“I am at your service.”
    â€œMe, too,” I piped up hastily. “We can use my car to make the deliveries. And if you need to go anywhere, please give me a call.”
    â€œSo kind, so kind,” the sisters chorused.
    The Pyms were acquainted with everyone who lived in and around Finch and were known for their generosity, so I expected to fill the Range Rover to the roof with gingerbread. I was puzzled, therefore, when Nicholas returned from the kitchen carrying only six boxes.
    â€œShall we come back for the rest?” I asked hesitantly.
    Ruth smiled. “We wouldn’t dream of . . .”
    â€œ. . . imposing on you further.” Louise fell silent, her bright eyes gleaming like polished river stones.
    Nicholas took the hint. “I’m afraid that Lori and I must run or we’ll be late for Aunt Lilian’s lunch—which you’ve spoilt, dear ladies, in a most delightful way. Your marvelous éclairs have rendered me incapable of doing justice to my aunt’s cooking.”
    The Pyms’ softly wrinkled cheeks grew pink with pleasure, and I gave Nicholas an admiring glance. He was as good with elderly spinsters as he was with nearly-two-year-old boys. After we said our good-byes to Ruth and Louise, I offered him a lift back to the vicarage.
    â€œOr would you prefer to walk off those marvelous éclairs?” I added, opening the gate.
    â€œI’d appreciate a lift, thank you,” he answered. “I believe I’ve had enough fresh air for one morning. My London lungs aren’t quite sure what to do with it.”
    A ping sounded on my internal radar, and I watched Nicholas closely as he loaded the boxes of gingerbread into the Range Rover’s rear compartment. I recalled his sudden stillness when the subject of the murder had arisen and the single, telling question he had asked. Had he happened on the Pyms by accident? Or had he insinuated himself into their home with a clear intent in mind?
    â€œNicholas,” I said, closing the rear door, “was it really the fresh air that brought you here?”
    â€œIt might have been.” He leaned back against the Rover. “You must admit that it’s a plausible excuse.”
    I frowned. “An excuse for what?”
    â€œI should’ve thought it was obvious.” The gold flecks in his eyes glittered as he inclined his head toward me. “Since you and I came here for precisely the same reason.”

Chapter 7
    My internal radar started clanging, but I wasn’t ready to show my hand just yet.
    â€œWhat reason would that be?” I inquired politely.
    Nicholas eyed me skeptically, then launched into a passable imitation of my American accent. “Why, Miss Pym, I can’t tell you how shocked I was to hear about the murder. Isn’t it strange, Miss Pym, that no one seems to know a thing about the murder?” He shook his head as if gravely disappointed. “If you were a barrister, you’d be admonished for leading the witnesses.”
    The mimicry was carried out so good-naturedly that I couldn’t take offense.
    â€œOkay,” I admitted. “I came here to pick the Pyms’ brains. I’m curious about Mrs. Hooper’s death. Aren’t you?”
    â€œAs I said, we both came here for the same reason.” Nicholas checked his watch. “We’re not due at the vicarage for a half hour, and I think my lungs could stand another liter or two of untainted oxygen. Let’s stretch our legs.”
    A fitful breeze toyed with his long hair as we stepped away from the Rover. The hedgerows lining the narrow lane were heavy with morning dew, so we walked side by side down the middle of the road. There was no need to keep an eye out for traffic. The lane was so seldom used that we could have sun-bathed on the faded center line.
    While we walked, Nicholas talked. He told me that the inquest had done little more than confirm what his aunt and