The Proof in the Pudding: Prudence Bulstrode 2 by Rosemary Shrager

Author:Rosemary Shrager [Shrager, Rosemary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Cozy, General, Culinary, Women Sleuths, Amateur Sleuth
ISBN: 9781472135391
Google: jfF5EAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B0BPC3C21Q
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2023-02-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The door to the Chandler home opened, disgorging Detective Tom Beck back into the snowy darkness of Scrafton Busk.

Of course, David hadn’t been pleased to see him. He’d been able to sense the frostiness almost the moment he stepped into the room – and who could blame him, for only a day before, Tom Beck had been facing him across an interview room table, slamming his fist down and demanding to know the reason he’d killed his brother and how he’d bundled him into that snowman. But Tom Beck hadn’t been the only recipient of David’s frostiness in the room. David had been as icy as the hillside surrounds as Rachel told the story of the brick through the window. He’d been icier still when the fuller story of those telephone calls had been related. ‘It’s nothing, Rachel,’ he’d kept saying. ‘Detective, it’s like we’re putting two and two together and making five. One of Terry’s detectorist friends put that brick through the window – they think I’ve got away with murder. And, as for those phone calls – well, we get them at work all the time! Just students sat in a call centre, dialling numbers to get their stats up. And we’re sat here talking about it, instead of finding out who really killed my brother!’

This business of the rock through the window might have been everything – or it might have been nothing at all. That was the problem with policework: you just couldn’t tell. If it wasn’t for that note Rachel was obsessing over, Detective Beck might have put it down to some local vandal – there were more than enough of them – and thought of it not a second longer. But then there was the fact that David hadn’t been up for telling the police about it at all. It was just about believable that he’d been so traumatised by his day in the cells (they were really very nice cells, there wasn’t that much to complain about) that he hadn’t wanted to involve the police. But it was the way he’d insisted on his wife keeping her trap shut that bothered the detective. The man obviously loved his wife. Well, every decent husband did – at least until they revealed their personal trainer sessions weren’t exactly about personal training. Back when he was in love, Tom Beck had given in to just about all of Shona’s whims. Whatever she wanted, she got. That was love. So it must have been something serious that had kept David from giving in to his wife’s desire to summon the police. If only he knew what it was, perhaps this whole case would become straightforward. Most cases did. You had to strip away the mess that clouded a case. You had to forget about the frills and complications.

Now, Detective Beck stood again in the snow-capped garden, judging the angle of the break in the glass – the window now sealed with boards from the Chandlers’ outhouse

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