A Simple Country Murder: A 1940s Cotswolds Mystery (The Helen Lightholder Murder Mysteries) by Blythe Baker

Author:Blythe Baker [Baker, Blythe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

10

It took me awhile, but I was finally able to coax myself up the stairs. It was Sunday, so the shop was closed for the day, which was a great relief to me. After hearing everything that Constable Chamberlin had to say, I knew it was going to take me some time to adjust to everything around here now.

When I had read Aunt Vivian’s obituary, and it said that she had died in her home, I had imagined her curled up in her chair beside the fire, perhaps with a book in her hand. As it turned out, it was a great deal bloodier than that, and the image kept lingering whenever I would close my eyes, even for a brief moment.

I needed some fresh air. I needed to distract myself, and knew that being outside was likely the best place for it.

After collecting as much laundry as I could find, including the rug at the bottom of the stairs, I headed to the washing machine tucked away in the small, back room off the shop. I got everything washed up, and soon was eager to get the clothes out on the line in the backyard.

As soon as I stepped outside, I breathed in deeply through my nose, the sweet smell of the country air clearing some of the dark thoughts from my mind.

The clouds overhead had thinned, allowing the sun to peek through on occasion. The breeze was rather strong, however, and as I lifted one of the bed sheets from the basket at my feet, it whipped and flapped in the wind, smothering my face and chest as I tried to heft it up onto the line.

Blindly, I moved my hand down the thick string to locate a clothespin, but it seemed I was fresh out.

Finally, with a quick and desperate shove, I managed to disentangle myself from the sheet and throw it up onto the line.

Perhaps this was not the best day to try and be productive…I thought sourly as I tugged on the back side of it, struggling to get it into a place where it would stay put.

“You’re quite brave, you know.”

My already strained heart leapt in my chest, and I wheeled around to see a handsome young man leaning on the low, cobblestone wall between my house and the one next door.

He had a warm smile, a face peppered with many freckles, especially over his nose, and bright red hair that reminded me of warm, buttery toffee.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” he asked, in a very clearly Scots accent. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“No, it’s alright,” I said, turning toward him, brushing some of my hair out of my eyes. I flinched slightly as the sheet behind me whipped me in the back of the head.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you too much,” he said. “I just moved into the cottage next door, and I have been trying to meet as many of my neighbors as possible. You, though, miss…you are quite elusive.”

“My apologies,” I said.

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