RIGHT ROYAL REVENGE, A by R. B. MARSHALL

Author:R. B. MARSHALL [MARSHALL, R. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eden Press
Published: 2020-11-29T05:00:00+00:00

“Afternoon, Evan,” I called over the garden wall.

The Glengowrie postman stopped digging in his vegetable patch, and shaded his eyes so he could see me. “Oh, it’s yourself, Miss Izzy. What brings you round here?” He stood in the middle of several raised beds with neat ranks of onion, carrot, and other plants that I couldn’t recognise from that distance.

I nodded at Jorja, who he wouldn’t be able to see, since she was at my feet. “Just taking the dog for a walk.” Of course, I didn’t mention the fact that I’d looked up where he lived and deliberately chosen our route so we’d pass his cottage, in the hope that I could speak to him. He would think I was some kind of mad stalker. “Remember, the little terrier I saw the other week? I’ve kind of adopted her.”

“Well, there’s lovely,” he said, striding over so he could make a fuss of Jorja, who put her front paws on the wall so he could scratch her head. “She seems a sweet little thing.”

“She is.”

“Is you all recovered, then?” When he saw my frown, he clarified, “From finding the body, I mean.”

“Yes, thanks.” Inwardly, I smiled. The postie had given me the perfect cue to ask the question I really came for. “Actually, I wanted to check something with you, something the Misses Large told me. They said that Mrs McDade used to buy a lot of things from catalogues. Is that right?”

He ran a hand through his brown hair. “Ise not really supposed to talk about things like that.” My heart sank. “But, since I read in the paper that you help the police, I s’pose I can tell you.

“If you ask me, Mrs McDade is not a well woman,” Evan continued in his sing-song Welsh voice. “Almost every day, it’d be boxes, boxes, boxes. But then, there she’d be at the post office a few days later, sending everything back.”

I thought back to a girl who’d been in my class at school. She’d buy something, wear it with the label tucked in carefully, then return it for her money back. Was Francine doing something similar? It would be a way to keep up the appearance of having an extensive wardrobe, without actually spending much money. But surely Pat had been loaded? Did he not share his wealth with his wife? “That’s interesting, thanks. I’d better get on with our walk. I’ll let you get back to your garden.”

He gave Jorja a last scratch behind the ears, then, with a quick wave, I walked off, deep in thought.

Things were not right in the McDade household, as far as I could tell. But how would I get to the bottom of it and work out who’d killed Pat?

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