Dead Of The Winter Sun: The Spirits Are Weeping Their Terror (Lorne Turner Mystery Thrillers Book 3) by Joe Talon

Author:Joe Talon [Talon, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mirador Publishing
Published: 2022-03-20T16:00:00+00:00

Ella, with Paul in tow, turned up soon after seven. I filled them in on the night’s adventures, Paul cursing me for being left out. I just stared at him until he shut up.

“My plan this morning is to talk to the old woman who was resident here during this period. Do we know who she is and where?” I asked Ella.

She sat on a bale, nursing a black coffee whose colour matched the bags under her eyes. “We can talk to Sherry. She’ll remember Peggy’s father if anyone does. There has to be a reason the box ended up with the amateur dramatics society.”

“Okay, that’s where we’ll start. Just the three of us. We don’t want to overwhelm her. Then we go check out those ruins.”

Heather frowned at me but stayed quiet.

“What if someone goes back to the ruins while we’re talking to the old woman?” Paul asked. “I should speak to her. You should go to the ruin.”

“I can’t go in there alone, Paul. I coped last night because I could focus on the violence but…” I looked at my hands, embarrassed by my mental weakness. I’d been around people who understood the fragile state of my daily life for a while now, and it made admitting it to an outsider, one who’d known me at my strongest, difficult. I didn’t like the way Paul looked at me, as if I’d suddenly become this foreign thing unworthy of his respect. “Basically, if I go in there alone, or with you, and have an episode, I might hurt either myself or you. Neither of which will help, so you take it, or leave it. We do it my way, or you can go to the ruins on your own.”

He scowled but muttered, “Fine.”

I stared at him for a moment, wondering why he was being such a prick. I never used to find him this irritating. He must have changed since we served together.

It’s not him who has changed, idiot.

I shook my head and focused on Ella. “When do you think we can go and find Sherry?”

“She’s too old to sleep much, so any time. We’ll know if she’s up and about. She’s one of the regulars at church, which means she won’t mind talking to me. She’s in Rosebay Cottage, just up the lane from here.” Ella nodded towards Luccombe.

“Right, let’s get to it then,” I said.

“I’ll keep an eye on things here and call if something suspicious turns up. I want to look at some of those graves,” Heather said.

I nodded. “Good idea, thanks.”

We walked back towards Luccombe, and I enjoyed the rising warmth of another day. The verges danced, full of rosebay willow herb, their pink flowers vivid against the drying grasses and hardier bracken. Blackberries filled the hedgerows and sloes would soon be ready for picking. Heather and I could make Sloe Gin this year. In fact, we could do a lot of things together at the farm. The future beckoned with tempting fingers.

The small cottage

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