WRITER'S DEATH (Agnes Taylor Mystery) by Eva Bernhard

Author:Eva Bernhard [Bernhard, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781777787752
Publisher: EB Press
Published: 2023-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Jac sucked fresh air in greedy gulps. She sprinted down the porch steps into the parking lot. Too angry to speak, she veered toward the lane.

“Stop! Wait up,” she heard Agnes shout. Annoyed, she spun around.

Already panting after a twenty-yard jog, Agnes drew near. “Not that way. Ran into Herb earlier at the lookout. Can’t we get back to town by the road?” She wriggled her left hand into the opposite direction.

“Whatever. I don’t care which way,” snapped Jac. Then she relented. “There’s a footpath by the river. About a mile out, it meets the trail along Water Street in town.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Agnes.

A nature walk might calm her frayed nerves, Jac figured as they crossed the pine grove adjacent to the pub and entered the narrow path. The quick jog from campus through the park brought temporary relief—shattered too soon by Timothy’s smug and smirking visage. The memory still festered despite the beauty of the winding path.

On their right, conifers shielded from the road. No traffic sound penetrated the serene atmosphere. The pub, the only habitation at this end, drew visitors in larger numbers solely for special events like weddings or music gigs at this time of year.

The sloping bank on the left was sparsely treed. In summer, blooming bushes and wildflowers rioted with color, their scents perfuming the warm air, Jac remembered from walks in the past. Across the river, the vista of rolling hills reminded her pleasingly of Constable’s pastoral paintings. Brilliant sunshine sparkled on the water and bathed the distant slopes in a glorious play of light and shadow.

The soothing calm of the setting fractured when Agnes, beside her, asked in a peeved tone, “If you find the pub smelly, why did you pick it in the first place? Sounded like an underhanded jibe at TC—pretty rude if you ask me.”

Anger mounting again, Jac snapped back, “What was the ‘see you tonight’ all about? Are you two planning another B&E? Didn’t Mr. T. C. Elliot create enough problems for us already?”

“Come off it, Jac. Remember, it was you who wanted me to figure out what was going on.”

Incensed, Jac stood still to face Agnes. Her friend’s features, heated both by the sun and annoyance, fell as their eyes met.

“Sorry, Jac. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. You’re right,” admitted Jac, her temper evaporating. The hurt in the darkened eyes shamed her. “Timothy brings out the worst in me. Strange to find him at this pub,” she muttered, more to herself.

“Well, you chose it too.”

“Unthinkingly. After you told me about Cassandra, I was so in shock. When you asked where to meet, the Riverside Pub popped into my head because I heard it mentioned a moment before.”

“You rarely go there, do you?” Agnes glanced at her and tucked her arm under Jac’s. “Should we mosey on while we chat?”

A smile hovered on Jacqueline’s lips. Exercise was not Agnes’s favorite activity. They strolled on as Jac replied, “Mostly in summer. Last time was with you early on this term.” She rearranged her thoughts.

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