Read Online Murder in the Cotswolds by Nancy Buckingham - Free Book Online

you couldn’t have told us yesterday.”
    “You weren’t at the sharp end of a third degree. When you’re as near as damn it accused of murder, it seems best to keep quiet about an association that might be misconstrued.” He snorted. “But I don’t expect you to understand that.”
    “Okay, we’ve had the excuses,” she said. “Now we’ll have the details. Who was the person, or persons, whom Mrs. Latimer suspected of misappropriation of funds?”
    He pulled a reluctant face. “She had no definite proof, you must realise that.”
    “Were you yourself suspicious?”
    “After what Belle told me, I had to be.”
    “Belle? You knew her well enough to be on first-name terms?”
    Gower flushed. “She invited me to call her Belle—half-way through lunch, by which time we’d downed a couple of dry martinis and most of a bottle of Nuits St. Georges. It was done condescendingly, if you must know. I guess she thought she was granting me a favour.”
    “Perhaps,” said Kate, holding eye contact, “by the time you’d finished the bottle of wine and maybe a liqueur or two as well, she was in a mood to grant something more in the way of favours.”
    “Damn you, no.”
    “So let’s get back to where we were. What was it Mrs. Latimer said to convince you that she was right about someone creaming off the Leisure Centre funds?”
    For a few moments Gower said nothing, regarding her with a look of hatred. Then he began in a flat, uncaring voice, “We’ve had all kinds of fund-raising activities going on ever since last summer ... fetes, garden parties, sponsored swims, an old-time music hall at Christmas—you name it. Last month, at a meeting of the Ladies’ Circle, a collecting box was passed round for the Leisure Centre extension. To test her suspicions, Belle Larimer went armed with twenty-five pound coins and slipped these in. Yet the total recorded as collected that afternoon was only just over twenty-seven pounds. It was quite unbelievable that the rest of the women had put in only a couple of pounds altogether.”
    “Who was responsible for counting the money?”
    “The sealed box went straight to the honourable accountant.”
    “And that is?”
    Gower hesitated, still reluctant, then said, “George Prescott.”
    “He’s a local chartered accountant, ma’am,” put in Sergeant Boulter.
    “Did you speak to Mr. Prescott about it?” Kate asked Gower. “Challenge him?”
    He shook his head. “We were still debating exactly how to tackle the matter, bearing in mind the need to avoid a public showdown that might affect future donations. I suppose it’s possible that Belle Latimer threw it at him in a fit of anger. She didn’t like being cheated, and she could be impetuous at times.”
    “Is that so?” Kate gave him a direct look. “It seems to me that you knew the lady a lot better than you’re admitting.”
    She saw him clench his fists in anger. “She was a forceful woman. Anyone could have guessed that much about her in just a few minutes’ conversation.”
    “I see. Have you anything more to tell us, Mr. Gower?”
    “Nothing,” he said shortly. Then he met Kate’s eyes and continued in a more reasonable voice, “Well, there is one thing, not to do with this. I remembered something last night that might be significant, and I’ve put it into my statement.”
    “Yes?”
    “It’s about my car. Yesterday morning, when I got in to drive to the office, the seat seemed to be in the wrong position and I had to adjust it a notch further back. Because of my stiff leg, you see, driving is uncomfortable if the seat’s not exactly right. I didn’t really think about it at the time, just made the adjustment. But ...”
    “You’re saying that this proves that someone else drove the car between the time you left it outside your home on Tuesday evening and used it again yesterday morning?”
    “Well, it’s a pointer, isn’t it?”
    “Perhaps—if you’re telling the truth. I have to inform