A Bedlam of Bones by Suzette A. Hill

Author:Suzette A. Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9789085241522
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2010-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

I laid the paper aside. Typical: only Mavis would be daft enough to go and feed squirrels!

23

The Vicar’s Version

“DOG’S MAULING OF CORPSE’S ANKLE!” blazoned the Clarion’s headline. “It is now confirmed that teeth marks on the ankle of the unknown murder victim found in a Surrey garden were not inflicted by human agency but most probably by a dog of fearsome disposition. According to our sources the injury occurred shortly after death. The mystery deepens as to why or how…”

And thus cheated of the possibility of ‘human agency’, the newspaper substituted lurid speculation regarding the size and savagery of the canine assailant. Of the human attacker little was said, presumably for lack of evidence, and by the end of the article Bouncer had assumed the proportions and ferocity of a Baskerville.

I slung the paper aside, lit a cigarette and cogitated. My instinct was to take to my bed for a week – or a year – until the whole thing was over, but unfortunately current demands prohibited such luxury.

The first demand came from the bishop: The Times had also briefly reported the incident of Molehill’s mysterious victim, and Clinker, with a mind like a razor, had put two and two together. “I take it this was your doing,” he trumpeted down the telephone. “What on earth possessed you and Ingaza to leave it in that woman’s garden? Surely you could have thought of somewhere more discreet. Now the whole area will be in a state of hue and cry. It’s too bad!”

Considering the awfulness of our experience, I felt the reprimand less than gracious, and with uncharacteristic boldness observed that since it was his corpse and nothing to do with me, he couldn’t be too picky as to where it was deposited.

This produced a thunderous silence followed by a spate of throat clearing, while I waited for the next volley. This in fact was less a volley than a grumbling protest to the effect that it certainly was not his corpse, and neither was it his fault if Felter happened to have been dispatched on Church premises. There being no useful response to this, I enquired how his session with the Archbishop’s secretary had gone.

“Quite good,” was the reply. “In fact, between you and me, Francis,” (note the cajoling first name) “it’s virtually in the bag. Which is why discretion is imperative…a tactical silence is required. The last thing I want is for Creep Percival to get wind of anything. You do grasp that, I trust?” he added anxiously. Oh yes, I grasped it all right!

♦

The next demand was from Primrose. She too had seen the item in The Times, and agog to hear more about the corpse in my parishioner’s flower bed thought she might stop off for a night en route to stay with friends in Harrow. “Besides,” she said, “I want to know if there have been any more developments regarding you know what!”

“What?”

“You know, the blackmailer! I’ve got one or two theories which – ”

“Yes, well, um, that’s been rather resolved…” I hesitated.

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