Aunt Dimity and the Next of Kin by Nancy Atherton

Author:Nancy Atherton [Atherton, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-10-11T13:20:52+00:00

PRATCHETT & MOSS

SOLICITORS

Twelve

“She ... she worked for them?” I squeaked.

“If you believe Blinker,” said Gabriel.

“I have no reason not to,” I said. “I mean, the building’s where it should be—at the end of the route you outlined on the map. And if Miss Beacham worked for anyone in Oxford, it would be for a law firm, right? But not for one split second did it ever occur to me that she might have worked for Mr. Moss.” I pointed an accusing finger at the green door. “Why didn’t the old coot tell me?”

Gabriel reached over to lower my arm. “I can understand your indignation, Lori, but let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”

“Humph,” I said, very much annoyed. “Mr. Moss could have saved us a lot of time and trouble if he’d told me Miss Beacham worked for him. I’ll bet there’s a file clerk in there right now, just brimming with information about Kenneth.”

“If Miss Beacham was an employee as well as a valued client, it would put Mr. Moss in a doubly awkward position, as far as confidentiality goes. We’ll have to go in there, of course, but . . .” Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then took me by the elbow and steered me into the café. “We’ll strategize over lunch.”

Woolery’s was not the café I would have chosen for lunch. A dark cave lined with sweet-scented grasses would have suited my throbbing head better. Woolery’s was detestably bright and cheerful, with window-walls overlooking the busy street. I selected a table with a good view of Pratchett & Moss’s offices while Gabriel foraged for food at the self-service counter. He returned with two glasses of water and two complicated sandwiches that seemed to contain many vegetables and some kind of cheese.

“Bad news,” he reported. “Mr. Woolery emigrated to Australia six weeks ago. The café’s changed management, and the old staff is gone. The name Beacham doesn’t ring a bell with any of the new people.”

“Blinker’s tip came just in time,” I said, and tore into my sandwich. My headache retreated once I’d started eating, but my amazement kept growing. When I’d dabbed up the last crumb of whole-grain bread, I murmured, “Miss Beacham worked for Pratchett and Moss. I can’t believe it.”

“You also can’t go in there,” said Gabriel, nodding toward the green door.

“Why not?” I demanded.

“Because we have to be sneaky,” Gabriel explained.

“I can be sneaky,” I said.

“Not with Mr. Moss, you can’t,” said Gabriel. “Tell me honestly, Lori: Would you be able to face him right now without giving him a piece of your mind?”

“If you taped my mouth shut,” I muttered.

“Your murderous glances would still boil his brains.” Gabriel chuckled. “Apart from that, you’ve spoken with him on the telephone. You have a distinctive voice as well as an American accent. He’d know who you were the moment you spoke, and if past experience is anything to go by, he’d refuse to tell you anything about Kenneth. I, on the other hand, have neither met nor spoken with Mr.

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