Up from the Grave by Marilyn Leach Read Free Book Online Page A

what displeased her husband. It was in her nature to ask questions, to fill in missing pieces of the puzzle. He understood that. Often, he even appreciated it. He just wasn’t fond of her muddling parish business with inquisitive designs, especially after the kind of happenings that took place today.
    She crunched two cauliflower florets. “Rummaging indeed.”
    “It’s Dr. Meredith.” Hugh swung back through the kitchen door. “He wants to speak with you.”
    Berdie whisked to the hallway in double time.
    “Loren?” Berdie wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but she made herself ready to listen carefully.
    “Do hope I’m not interrupting. Long to short, we’re bringing in a forensic anthropologist. At the moment, all we know is that the victim appears to be a young child.” His voice grew somber. “There are indications of trauma. Wish I had better news.”
    “Well, I dare say I know one person who will be happy as a sand boy.”
    “Goodnight will be unbearable.”
    “Well, thank you for the information.”
    There was a pause. “Lillie says to get the oil can out. I suppose you know what that means.”
    Berdie laughed. “Just a little something to do with an earlier conversation today about being rusty. You’re with Lillie now then?”
    “Dinner, yes.”
    “May I make a suggestion?”
    “Put it out there.”
    “Turn your mobile off for the next hour or until your meal is finished.”
    There was a distinct silence. “You’re not serious.”
    “As a heart attack. You’ll be doing yourself a great favor if you turn it off.”
    “Thank you for the suggestion.” He didn’t sound even slightly convinced and returned to the initial subject. “I’ll keep you abreast of developments in the case, on the Q T of course.”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    Berdie rang off. When she returned to the table, Hugh was picking at his food. Truly, her roast chicken, too, suddenly didn’t seem quite as tasty.
    “And so Loren informed you, as he did me, of the dark news?”
    “Yes.”
    Hugh folded his napkin and sat it on the table. “Sad, sad business this.”
    “Indeed.” Here sat her dear husband, who had been engaged in staggering active military warfare, now trying to comprehend the ugliness unearthed in his church garden.
    “The police certainly have a great deal of work to do.” Hugh directed his eyes keenly towards her. “Do you understand? The police have much to do.”
    Berdie nodded. She hoped the eagerness with which she wanted to dig into the matter was well concealed.
    “And when it comes to it, I have work to do as well.” Hugh’s voice betrayed his disconcertedness. “There are a few things that need tending at the church.”
    “I’ll have tea brewing when you return.” Berdie squeezed his hand.
    When Hugh departed, she watched out the library window to see the tall figure of her husband, in an uncustomary hunch, walk the hundred yards to the church.
    Tidying the kitchen took no more than ten minutes. Berdie was looking forward to a nice soak where she would try the new rose-scented bath crystals Hugh had gotten for her just last week. Then she’d settle in with her latest Dorothy Sawyers read accompanied by a warm cup of tea. But, as she ascended the stairs, the front doorbell chimed. Berdie considered what kind of master plan to devise that would send whomever it was packing.
    She retraced her steps and opened the door. “Mathew,” she greeted in a less-than-warm tone.
    “Am I interrupting?” The young man’s face was flushed and his words clipped. “It’s just that I need some assistance.”
    “Hugh’s out but you’re welcome to come in for tea.”
    “Thanks, but no time for tea. Where is Hugh exactly?”
    “He’s at the church.” Berdie had barely made her reply when Mathew started for the house of worship. “You’ll probably find him at the kneeling rail,” she called after him.
    “Dear me,” Berdie said while closing the door. “Why so flushed?” But then,