Lois Meade 01; Murder on Monday by Ann Purser

Author:Ann Purser [Purser, A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: [2011.01.24]
Publisher: [Côte d’Azur]
Published: 2002-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

∨ Murder on Monday ∧

Twenty-Two

“Morning, Lois!” Malcolm’s voice came as no surprise to Lois as she let herself into the Barratts’ kitchen. A call from Janice Britton had given her the news of his return. Janice was wary of the new arrangement but had been told by Hunter Cowgill himself to cooperate with Lois. Janice had explained to Lois that she’d seen Malcolm in the shop, looking as full of himself as usual, with Rachel tagging along behind him with a meek expression on her foolish face. Janice had sounded annoyed, as if Rachel was letting down the whole of womankind, and Lois had momentarily agreed. Then afterwards, once she had thought about it, her sympathies moved to Rachel. After all, Rachel had the girls to bring up and no job of her own. It was easy for Janice to be judgemental when she was single with no children and a good career in front of her. “Ah, you’re back, Professor Barratt,” said Lois coldly. Malcolm had just come in from the garden, back in countryman mode, wearing his Barbour and a tweed hat which made him look like an actor playing the part.

“Surely,” he said in a mock stern tone, “you know me well enough now, Lois, to call me Malcolm?”

She ignored this, and said blandly, “Did you have a nice holiday?”

He nodded quickly, and said, “I’d be glad if you could do my study first this morning? I want peace and quiet up there as soon as possible and no interruptions.”

“If that’s all right with Rachel,” Lois said, and added, “and the totally silent cleaner’s not yet been invented. Perhaps you could do that, being a professor and all, Malcolm?”

Rachel was in the sitting room, plumping up cushions and stacking newspapers. “I don’t expect you to tidy as well as clean,” she said. She had said this every week before Malcolm’s disappearance, and then she couldn’t have cared less whether the house was clean, tidy or burnt down to its foundations.

Lois recognised the old catchphrase as a return to normality, and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “If only all my clients were as thoughtful as you, Rachel. I’m to start upstairs, then?”

“Please, if you don’t mind,” said Rachel, apologetically.

Lois had all but finished in the attic study when she heard Malcolm’s step on the stairs. She rapidly rewound the cleaner flex and made for the door, but suddenly there he was, barring her way.

“All done?” he said, but he was not smiling. Lois nodded, moving forward. He put out a hand and took her arm. A shiver of fear made her start back. “Now, Lois,” he said, turning her back into the room. “I have meant to say this to you before, but now it’s even more important. A lot of my work deals with sensitive issues and anything you may see or hear in this room is strictly confidential. Do you understand? Papers, telephone calls, anything at all. Do I make myself clear?”

Stupid old fart! Suddenly Lois was angry.

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