The Hangman's Row Enquiry by Ann Purser Read Free Book Online Page B

with a laden tray.
    “Morning, Katya,” Gus said quickly, before Ivy could find anything to criticise. “How are you settling down in England, my dear?” Ivy scowled at him, but he pretended not to notice.
    “Very well, thank you, sir,” Katya said, smiling broadly at him. He spoke so beautifully that she could understand every word. “You like something else?”
    “Won’t you stay and tell us about Poland for a while?” Gus said hopefully.
    Katya raised her eyebrows. “Oh, no, sir. Not allowed! Thank you, sir,” she said, and rushed from the room.
    “Fool!” Ivy said. “D’you think old Spurling would let her fraternise with the guests? She allows them two sentences per inmate, and that’s it.”
    Gus was quite sure that Ivy was making this up, but consoled himself that he was quite likely to meet Katya in the street some time, and then he could take things further. Poor girl was probably lonely, and would welcome a fatherly friend to take care of her.
    “Down to business,” Ivy said, seeing Gus lost in a day-dream. “You can drive, can’t you? Time to get a decent car for you, and then we’ll be safely mobile without asking Deirdre for the loan of her Rolls Royce every time we want to go into town.”
    It was beginning to look like Ivy intended Gus and herself to be an investigating twosome, and he was not sure this was a good idea. She could cramp his style more than somewhat, and he said that yes, he could drive, but had no money for new cars at present. Maybe later. Meanwhile, he must drink up his coffee and get going. “Some important research to do,” he said vaguely, and palmed a couple of shortbreads into his pocket for later.

Eleven

    THE SHOP WAS full of people who had just got off the Tresham bus, bags full of purchases from the market. Will was trying hard to restock the shop with more interesting items than had the previous owner, hoping to lure customers who would eventually give up supermarket shopping. A forlorn hope, but worth a try, he thought. The post office was still a useful adjunct, but there was a constant threat to its continuation. Post offices were fast disappearing from rural areas, and elderly people were up in arms at the loss. Where would they get their pensions, their TV licence stamps, post their letters to home and abroad?
    At present, the shop was flourishing. Will was popular, and already had been elected to the parish council. He was a bachelor, young and good-looking, and gaggles of teenaged schoolgirls made straight for the shop’s new selection of ice creams the moment they got off the afternoon bus. Will was only human, and appreciated long legs and fluttering eyelashes along with the other youngbloods in the village. But he was very careful not to overstep the mark, and was regarded as trustworthy by all.
    “Hi, Will,” said Gus, adopting the jargon, he hoped.
    “Good morning again, Gus,” Will said with a smile. “Forgotten something? Milk, some of my delicious new cheeses?”
    “No, sorry. Maybe later. No, I came in to see if you could fill me in on activities in the village. Something likely for me to join? I mean to be a useful part of the community, in time.”
    “Blimey! Better not say that too loud, else you’ll find yourself dragged into everything, even the WI if you’re not careful. They’re talking about having men’s evenings, if you can believe it! No, you know what they say about a willing horse. Well, it’s certainly true in Barrington. But,” he added, “to be serious, I am sure there’s a couple of things to interest you. First the pub, and then the reading group . . . well, only possibly the reading group.”
    Gus laughed. Here was a man after his own heart, even though he was—um—several years younger. “Well done,” he said. “Just what I wanted. Now, I suppose I could go down for a pint tonight, but . . .” He hesitated, and Will said obligingly that he would be glad to meet him there around nine o’clock and