Murder at the Mansion (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 2) by Alison Golden & Jamie Vougeot

Author:Alison Golden & Jamie Vougeot [Golden, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

It was almost dark by the time the Vicar pulled up beside her home. The village by night was a serene place. The lights of the cottage windows twinkled as sporadically as the stars in the clear night sky above. With the exception of the raucous bouts of laughter and occasional music from the pub, the air hung so silently that you could hear the owl calls for miles. Annabelle got out of her Mini, quickly followed by Biscuit, who disappeared into the shadows to conduct her nightly affairs. Annabelle entered the warmth of her kitchen.

“A cup of tea and bed for me,” Annabelle said, with a gentle sigh. It had been a long day.

Just as she was removing her coat, however, the phone rang. Annabelle closed her eyes, groaned, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Vicar.”

It was Philippa.

“It’s rather late, Philippa. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Vicar,” she said, a little too brightly. “I just wanted to see how you were.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. I’m rather pleased, actually. I believe I’ve gained some intriguing insight into the murder.”

“Now, don’t concern yourself so much with this. It’s a job for professionals. You already push yourself so hard.”

“I appreciate your thoughts, Philippa. Really, I’m absolutely fine. I’ll rest well and good once the murderer has been found.”

“I’m sure you will, Vicar. I’m sure you will.”

“Thank you, Philippa. Is that all?”

“I was reading this thing, Vicar,” Philippa said, causing Annabelle to roll her eyes. This conversation was not going to end soon, she felt.

“What thing was that?”

“It was about kleptomania. Do you know what that is, Vicar?”

“I’m not terribly sure I do, Philippa,” replied Annabelle.

“It’s a disease. A psychological confliction. It’s where someone is compelled to steal things. For no other reason than to steal them. And then lie about it.”

“That sounds dreadful,” exclaimed Annabelle, her confusion growing, “but why ever would you ask me about that? Do you know someone who has this… affliction?”

“Oh… Ah… Yes. Maybe I do.”

“That’s awful. I’m deeply sorry to hear that.”

“What do you think I should do, Vicar?”

“Well, stealing is a sin, of course. But if this… person is doing so because of an affliction, well, I should think the most Christian thing to do would be to extend our compassion and to forgive.”

“Hmm,” said Philippa, “I had a feeling you would say that.”

“Would you like me to speak to the person?”

“No, no, Vicar. That would be rather difficult. Thank you. That’s all.”

“Okay. Well. See you tomorrow, and sleep tight.”

“You too, Vicar.”

Annabelle hung the phone up, and wondered why she sometimes found investigating a murder more straightforward than talking to Philippa.

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