The Winds of Change by Martha Grimes Read Free Book Online Page B

‘Thanks for your help.’
    Sergeant Platt was sitting on one of the wooden benches with a cup of tea when Jury walked into the cafe.
    ‘You found it?’ Platt said.
    That made Jury smile for some reason. It was as if the grotto had a tendency to move around. ‘I did, yes. I can’t say I’m much enlightened by the find, though.’
    ‘Yes, well, the boss just wanted to put you in the picture, you know. He was talking about atmosphere. Having a look round. You know.’ Platt frowned a little, seemingly pained by his not finding exactly the right words to describe what Macalvie had meant.
    ‘And he was right. I should see it; I’m glad I did. Enlightenment, let’s hope, will come some time down the way.’
    ‘You want some tea or something?’
    ‘I could use some food. Maybe we can just move along to Launceston. ‘
    ‘Right. South Petherwin, actually. A little village before Launceston. There’s a pub there.’
    Good. A pub lunch. Jury was starving. Except for those dozen or so cups of tea, he’d had nothing all day. ‘Fine.’

7

    The Winds of Change was located in the village of South Petherwin and, given the size of the car park, was set up for a brisk business. The lack of it was probably owing to the time of year or the time of day. At the car park’s far end, a large space was marked off for tour buses. Jury wondered what it was about the village that would attract tourists.
    Brian Macalvie, who had driven there from Devon and Cornwall police headquarters, was sitting at the bar, drinking, smoking and watching the door. When Jury and Platt walked in, he waved them over as if picking them out over the heads of a crowd and as if he’d been sitting here for hours - days, even - waiting for the congenitally late.
    Jury sat down and pulled out the menu. Cody ordered a club soda.
    ‘What took you so long?’ asked Macalvie.
    Cody opened his mouth to answer, but Jury got there ahead of him. ‘Most people say a simple ‘Hello, how are you?’ when greeting old friends. Your standard greeting has always been ‘What took you so long?’’
    Macalvie drank from his pint and stared at Jury, expressionless. Jury repeated it: ‘Every time it’s ‘what took you so long?’’ Macalvie wiped a trace of foam from his mouth. ‘What did?’
    Cody’s snort of laughter got him club soda up the nose. Then he said, ‘My fault, boss; I let him go off.’
    ‘Me, the old pensioner leaning on his zimmer bar.’
    To Cody, Macalvie said, ‘You were supposed to show him the place, not let him go wandering all over.’
    Cody mumbled some half-baked apology and took his club soda into the room on the left with a billiard table.
    Jury looked around for the barman. ‘I’m glad this is a pub. I’m starving.’
    ‘Lunch has gone off.’
    ‘Oh, terrific.’ When the barman came, Jury asked for a pint of Pride and tossed the menu aside, saying, ‘Let me get this straight. You discovered this dead woman is - was - an acquaintance of Scott’s wife, Mary, according to the husband?’
    ‘Declan Scott. The one I told you about. You’d wonder he could live there with so many memories.’ As if he knew the limit on memories, Macalvie looked away. ‘He wants to be where the memories are.’
    ‘Does anyone have a choice?’
    There came a click of billiard balls from the room next door.
    The barman set down Jury’s pint.
    ‘Probably not. But don’t some people feed on them?’ said Macalvie.
    Jury thought Macalvie might be one of them. ‘Perhaps. And this is the man you want me to talk to?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Didn’t you say you didn’t like him for this murder?’
    Macalvie shook his head. ‘I don’t. I don’t think he did it, but I can’t point to any hard evidence. He certainly doesn’t have an alibi. He was alone, asleep.’
    ‘But you think this case is connected to the disappearance of the little girl. Flora?’ Jury drank his beer, hoping it would fill him up.
    Macalvie nodded, staring at the row of