The Measby Murder Enquiry by Ann Purser Read Free Book Online Page A

smiling broadly.
    “Don’t be ridiculous!” Ivy said crossly. “It’ll be more complicated than that.”
    “Only teasing,” said Gus. “Anything you’d like to add, Deirdre?” He felt it necessary occasionally to remind the team he was unofficial team leader. Or was he? He couldn’t remember what the initial meeting of Enquire Within had decided. He had a nasty feeling Ivy had just taken over, although the private enquiry agency had been his idea.
    Deirdre shook her head. “I remember the brewery, of course I do. But in Oakbridge the Jones family weren’t much talked about.” Deirdre had spent her formative years in the town across the other side of the county, moving to Barrington after her marriage to Bert.
    “Well, I remember the lot of ’em,” Roy said. “Sniffy lot. Do-gooders, every man jack of ’em. Very disapproving of people enjoying themselves, though what they thought their beer was for, I don’t know. Methodists, they were. Pofaced lot always sat in the front pew with their noses in the air. What do you want to know?”
    “Well, that’s pretty good for a start,” Gus said, suddenly cheered, as always, by Roy’s resilience and good humour. “Tell us about the brothers, George and William.”
    “Ah, now wait a minute. There was something strange, I do remember,” Roy continued. “George was always the one in the news, o’course, with his large donations and good works. Then he was made mayor, and his picture was in the paper every week, cutting ribbons and kissing babies. Young William was scarcely mentioned.”
    “Can you remember anything at all about William?” Ivy smiled encouragingly.
    “Nothing much. He got married, I believe, but I don’t remember the name of his bride. There was something, though, later on. Just can’t recall it at the moment. Don’t worry, Ivy,” he added, “I”ll remember it later.”
    “Don’t forget to tell us then, or write it down before you forget it again,” Deirdre said, and continued, “and meanwhile, Gus and I can go to the newspaper archive and find William’s wedding notice. That’ll give us his wife’s maiden name.”
    “Good idea,” Gus said, sitting up straight and smiling at Deirdre. “It’s worth remembering a brewery statement I read in the local, put in by spokesperson Bronwen Evans. Bronwen? Remember? Alwen Jones’s clever daughter? That might give us a lead. When shall we go?” His good mood increased at the thought of spending some time with Deirdre. Maybe he could ask her out for a meal at the pub this evening, instead of always waiting for an invitation to Tawny Wings. Then he remembered he had promised James at the shop a game of darts, and he gave up.
    “It’ll have to be tomorrow,” Deirdre said. “Volunteers’ meeting at the Oxfam shop in Thornwell this afternoon. They want to open a separate bookshop, and I think it’s a rubbish idea. If we’re left with only secondhand clothes and a few bits of old china, it’s not going to attract the most interesting customers, is it?”
    “Never mind about Oxfam,” said Ivy irritably. She wanted a bit of the action for herself and Roy, and thought rapidly of something useful they could investigate. “Why don’t we two ask Alwen if she’d like to walk down to the shop with us, Roy?” she said. “A gentle stroll and a casual question or two might catch her unawares. She obviously don’t want to talk about her late husband. If he is late,” she added darkly.
    Roy nodded. “Something dawning up here,” he added, tapping his forehead. “Bells definitely beginning to ring.” Maybe he had been wrong about Ivy and Alwen. A walk with two pleasant companions would be just the ticket.
     
     
    LUNCH HAD BEEN late, the potatoes not quite cooked and the gravy too salty. There had been complaints, and it had taken much tactful assurance of improvement before the residents settled down to their afternoon television. Mrs. Spurling and Miss Pinkney sat in the small office