Cause of Death: The Shires Mysteries 3: A gripping and unputdownable English cosy mystery by Legat Anna

Author:Legat, Anna [Legat, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2022-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Shaken by Mrs Fallon’s tantrum, I put my head down and redoubled my cleaning efforts. I tried to avoid any more human – or ghost – contact that day. There was a bitter taste of despondency in my mouth. I knew exactly how Cherie must have felt when her mother had accused her of stealing.

I had to reconcile myself with the prospect of not getting much sense out of the residents of Golden Autumn Retreat. I would have to sieve fact from fiction, sometimes alarmingly outlandish fiction and sometimes the sort of fiction that could easily be mistaken for the truth.

Where did the wolves come from, for example?

Was something untoward going on at this place under the cover of night?

Was it related to Gertrude Hornby’s death?

What was the overarching motive linking her death to the murder of Vicar Laurence?

I had to know. I had come here to find out and I wasn’t leaving until I did.

My plan was simple but brilliant. I carried on with my duties until four thirty p.m., with an hour’s break for lunch, the lunch being on the establishment. It was one of the unexpected perks of the job. I was offered fish pie and an apple, followed by a pear and cherry compote for pudding. I enjoyed that tremendously. My opinion of Golden Retreat sky-rocketed for the whole of one hour. I didn’t have a chance to speak to the kitchen staff as they were run off their feet serving lunch and bitching bitterly about such and such resident who complained about the quality, and the quantity, of the fish in the fish pie.

Having eaten, I departed and sauntered outside. I strolled around the grounds. There was still no sign of builders from Cinnamon Rock, I was intrigued to discover. I was also pleased to find an entrance into the premises from the building site at the rear of the property. Judging by the still present sign above the doorframe, it used to be a Fire Exit. It appeared that the door had been temporarily taken off its hinges and put away safely, pending the refurbishments. I stored that information at the back of my mind. It would facilitate the implementation of my brilliant plan later.

I was exhausted by my reconnaissance. After a morning of hard labour and with my tummy full and weighing me down, I lay on the lawn. I found a secluded spot behind a box hedge which would serve as a shield from the wind building from the north-west. I folded my hands behind my head and promptly fell asleep.

What woke me up was a barrage of rain. I cowered under the relentless bombardment. The raindrops were heavy, large and bullet-like. I gathered myself up from the soaked ground, thanking the Lord for my plasticky Tesco bag uniform which was keeping me dry. I leapt to my feet and sprinted indoors, using the back entrance. Once back inside, I was shocked to discover that I had slept for two solid

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