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

considering her Clare and Nick, what’s youth if not a series of flushes?
    The soft blue terry robe caressed her just-bathed skin. The scent of roses still lingered as she sat in her favorite Queen Anne chair near the hearth of the master bedroom and opened her book with enthusiasm.
    Berdie had to make a concerted effort to keep focused on the reading material. Her thoughts drifted to all that had happened this day: the criticized Mr. Webb, the coarse coach tour gentleman, the unknown contessa, outcries against the construction of the garden, collapses, lost tablet bottles that were actually there, and then that child’s photo.
    It was just as she finished her second cup of tea and the last page of chapter four that the front door opened. She listened carefully to the steps of her husband ascending the stairs. His gait was his usual confident stride, although not as rapid as usual.
    Hugh’s quiet “I’m done in, love,” as he entered the room prompted Berdie to fetch her husband a welcoming cup of tea. By the time she arrived back to the gracious bedroom, Hugh was already in his woolen robe, seated on the Chesterfield opposite Berdie’s chair.
    “Thank you, love.” Hugh gratefully accepted the tea.
    She hoped the refreshing liquid would add a touch of energy for her dear one. She ran her hand across the side of his cheek. “The weight of the world has gone a bit lighter?”
    “God is still in His heaven.” Hugh smiled. “Despite dozy vicars who momentarily forget that.”
    Berdie cuddled next to her husband on the couch.
    “Speaking of lighter, Aidan Kirkwood has one less guest tonight.” Hugh blew on the surface of the drink.
    “How’s that?”
    “Mathew’s woes,” Hugh continued cooling the tea.
    “He found you then.”
    “Indeed, one of his clients from the coach tour has gone missing.”
    “Gone missing?”
    “Well, done a bunk really.” Hugh took a swallow of the hot brew. “He signed in at the Lawler’s B and B but never made dinner with the tour group. So Mathew went to rouse him from his room. The gentleman and his luggage were gone.”
    “Hard on Mathew, I shouldn’t wonder.”
    “And Cherry Lawler was distressed, thinking something in the accommodations didn’t suit. Mathew asked if the fellow may have said anything to you.”
    “Me?”
    “Apparently, you had a conversation with him at the tea today?”
    Berdie pursed her lips. “Oh, that gentleman, the surly one. He didn’t have any problem expressing his disgust concerning what an environmental disaster the garden water feature would be. No, I’d say he’s surely the type who would readily make known his dissatisfaction if that were an issue.”
    Hugh took another sip. “I told Mathew not to take it to heart. There were any number of reasons one would leave a tour without notice. I suggested he ring the fellow tomorrow and see if he could set things right. And then I encouraged him to apply himself completely to the people who didn’t do a runner.”
    Berdie laid her head on Hugh’s capable shoulder.
    “Just a nightcap to the scramble of a day, I suppose.” Hugh put his arm around Berdie. “Let’s do hope tomorrow will be more even keeled.”
    “Yes.” Berdie tried to make her voice sound resolutely in agreement while in her heart of hearts she courted an insatiable curiosity concerning the disappearance of Mathew’s gentleman and just how it may play into the most peculiar puzzle taking place in their back garden. A copious grin spread across her face.
     
    ****
     
    The next morning, the lovely call of the church bell announcing Sunday worship sounded across the village, and Hugh was at its bidding. However , scattered was the best word to describe the attendance at church, Berdie decided, as she entered the nave.
    She sat in a front pew, listening to Mr. Castle’s rendition of “Christ is Made the Sure Foundation.” Then he played it a second time, and a third. It was then Berdie realized something was missing.