Evans to Betsy by Rhys Bowen Read Free Book Online Page A

aura around us,” Betsy said. “And we psychics can learn to see it. Everyone is surrounded by lovely colored light. Some people have gold auras, some have pink, some have mauve—and you, Barry-the-Bucket, have a dirty brown aura.”
    “I never heard such a load of rubbish,” Harry said. “Where on earth have you been that they’ve filled your head with ideas like that?”
    “It’s not rubbish. You wouldn’t understand, not being psychic like me,” Betsy said. “The Sacred Grove is full of people who can see auras and heal with crystals, and who worship the trees—all kinds of wonderful stuff. It’s the most amazing place. It’s like this beautiful village you’d see on television, not like somewhere in Wales at all. Pools and fountains and spas, and the guests each have their own little houses. Like another world.”
    “You’ve said that about ten times already. So stop talking and start pulling. These gentlemen are dying of thirst and poor Constable Evans is going to go hungry because you weren’t here to put pies in the oven.”
    Betsy turned her blue Barbie-doll eyes on him in horror. “You haven’t had any dinner? You poor thing. I knew it was a bad idea moving in on your own without a woman to look after you.”
    “Betsy, I’m perfectly capable …” Evan began, conscious of all the eyes on him. “It’s just that I haven’t had time to get my kitchen properly stocked yet.”
    “He can’t do a thing without his soufflé dishes!” Evans-the-Meat nudged Charlie Hopkins, who had just come in. “We all expect to be invited to dinner when you’ve become a gourmet cook, you know.”
    “I don’t know why everyone thinks my living on my own is doomed to failure,” Evan said. “I can handle myself in most situations, you know.”
    “Betsy is dying for you to handle her in a few situations, aren’t you, Betsy fach?” Charlie Hopkins asked, his body shaking with a silent laugh.
    “I’d know how to handle him , that’s for sure,” Betsy responded. “And I’d start off by feeding him right.” She gave Evan her most encouraging smile. “Hold on a second and I’ll pop a meat pie in the microwave. Will that do, do you think?”
    “Lovely. Thanks.”

    “I give him a week,” Charlie Hopkins said to Evans-the-Milk, who had just come up to the bar. “Then he’ll be back with Mrs. Williams again.”
    “Oh, but he can’t do that!” Betsy exclaimed.
    “Why not?”
    “Because she’s already let his room.”
    There was an instant hush. It wasn’t often that something happened in Llanfair without the news being spread within seconds.
    “Let his room?” Evans-the-Milk said. “There are no tourists at this time of year, surely.”
    “It’s not a tourist,” Betsy said. “It’s my friend Emmy. You know, the American lady from the university who I told you about. She needed a cheap place to stay because she’ll be here for a while doing her research. She wants to find out how many Celtic people still have ESP. That’s extrasensory perspication, in case you didn’t know, Barry-the-Bucket.” She added triumphantly, “And I’m her first subject and what do you know? She gave me one test and I scored right off the chart.”
    “Off the wall, if you ask me,” Harry muttered.
    “So I’ve got to go back for further testing. I met the owner of the place today and he’s going to test me himself.”
    “Bland-Tiggy or what he’s called? I thought the old lord died long ago and it was his daughter who owns it now.”
    “It’s pronounce Bland-Tie , not Tiggy . You lot are so ignorant,” Betsy said crushingly. “And Lady Annabel Bland-Tyghe does still own the place, but she’s married to an American man called Randy and he’s a very famous psychic over there and he’s going to make this place just as famous. I met him today. Ooh, he was lovely, just. Like a film star—long blond hair right over his shoulders … .”
    “A bloke?” Barry asked. “With long blond