The Body at Penford Priory: A 1920s Lady Jane & Mrs Forbes Mystery (The Lady Jane and Mrs Forbes Mysteries Book 3) by B. D. Churston

Author:B. D. Churston [Churston, B. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

Kate and Jane got as far as the church when they saw Jim Archer heading towards them on a delivery bicycle with an empty wicker basket on the front.

He smiled as he approached.

“You’re busy for a Sunday, Jim,” said Kate.

“Just running an errand. All done now.”

It seemed strange. One minute he was breaking up a crate, the next he was whizzing about on his bike.

They continued past the church, stopping at the War memorial – a tall stone cross in the church grounds. Here, they offered a silent prayer for those local men who fell during the 1914-18 conflict. Ronald Lambert’s name was among thirty from the combined parish of Penford, Upton, and the neighbouring hamlets.

Beehive Lane was the first turn on the left after the church. Heading down it, they were afforded a view into the orchard that ran along the back of a few old cottages up on the right. The first of these was set back from the lane. It had whitewashed walls, small paned windows and a slate roof.

“This looks like the place,” said Kate.

She led them up to a royal blue door and rapped on the iron knocker.

“I hope this isn’t going to be a baseless diatribe against Teddy Mortimer,” she whispered.

A few moments passed without a response, so Kate knocked again. Hopefully, Betty wasn’t putting the finishing touches to tea as Kate was already at her limit for food and drink.

“Mrs Bagnall? It’s Kate Forbes and Lady Jane Scott.”

No reply came.

“She must be out,” said Kate.

“Strange,” said Jane. “She specifically asked us to call.”

Kate pushed the door. It creaked open. Perhaps some oil in the hinges wouldn’t go amiss.

There was a large bag of flour just inside the front door.

“Mrs Bagnall? Hello?”

She felt uneasy. Should they go in? Weren’t they just meddling? What if they were inside when Betty came back? Might she think they had overstepped the mark?

But Kate had an itch – and it needed scratching.

They stepped into the short hallway and halted outside an open door on their left. Inside was a small, tiled fireplace with an oval mirror above it. The walls were a faded cream, the curtains faded yellow. There were two worn brown fabric armchairs, one padded with extra cushions. Apart from that, the room was empty.

“Let’s try the back, Jane.”

It was only a couple of steps to the back room, where they found a dresser full of crockery, a gate-legged table, a cushioned chair, a painting of St Peter’s church on the wall, a geranium on the windowsill, and a large kitchen knife protruding from the back of a blood-stained body on a sizeable, patterned rug.

Kate gasped. Her heart thumped. There was a sudden need to sit down. But she remained standing. This was clearly a murder scene and evidence could easily be destroyed by carelessness.

She beheld Jane, who had a steely look on her face. Any emotions bubbling up were being held in check.

“Poor Betty,” she said.

“Yes, Jane. Poor thing.”

Kate sighed, both to calm herself and to prepare for the move beyond inertia.

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