Manna from Hades by Carola Dunn

Author:Carola Dunn [Dunn, Carola]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2009-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

“Tell me what this is all about, Meggie,” Ken invited, leaning forward. He was stuck in the backseat of the Mini Cooper, thank heaven. The front seat couldn’t possibly have accommodated both him and the box of copies of the reports. He had been annoyed when ordered to go to Bristol with her, and furious when he saw all the paperwork he was expected to study en route.

Negotiating traffic in the narrow streets, busy again after the lunch hour, Megan was silent. She wanted to get onto the east-bound A30 before she started what was sure to be a difficult conversation.

Ken apparently took her silence for displeasure. “All right, then, Megan. Fill me in on your murder. Please.”

The end-of-speed-limit sign passed. “You’ve got all the info you can possibly need right there,” she said.

“But you know what official reports are like. I’ll make much more sense of them if I have a grasp of the big picture before I start.”

He was right, unfortunately. Where should she start? If she told it right, maybe she could keep Aunt Nell’s role out of it, at least until he read the reports. “Well . . . The call came in—”

“For pity’s sake, don’t make it sound like just another sodding report! Tell it like a story. You used to be good at that.”

“And you used to say I ought to quit the police and go and write crime fiction!”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “perhaps I was wrong about that, Meggie—Megan. Perhaps I was wrong about other things, as well.”

He couldn’t help it, she thought. Put a halfway passable female in his presence and preferably no witnesses within hearing range, and the cajolery started up without any volition on his part. It was too bad it had taken her so long to discover the fact.

At least he wasn’t trying to pull seniority on her.

“You can’t possibly not have heard anything about it,” she said, “so don’t blame me if I repeat what you already know. A body was found in the stockroom of a charity shop, first thing Wednesday morning when the place was opened. We haven’t managed to identify the victim yet—that’s what we’re going to Bristol for, we hope—but he was a boy or young man, late teens, scruffy, long hair, pot-smoker. He was found by the person who lives in the flat above the shop.”

“That’s Mrs Trewynn?”

“I knew you must have read about it! Yes, Eleanor Trewynn, who is not a suspect, I hasten to add. Nor is the manager of the shop, Jocelyn Stearns, the vicar’s wife, who was also present when he was found. Far as we can tell, the victim was one of two or more intruders.”

“He was killed by the traditional blunt instrument?”

“Not exactly.” She explained about the dolphin table, though not the fact that it hadn’t been discovered till hours later. He’d find out about the delay when—if—he got around to reading the reports.

“And the jewels are thought to explain his presence. What I don’t get is what they were doing in the shop.

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