Read Online The Advent of Murder (A Faith Morgan Mystery) by Martha Ockley - Free Book Online
Authors: Martha Ockley
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the rain while her congregation praised God and brought their gifts for the poor and needy. That afternoon – Jim, the dishy choirmaster had said – Lucas had missed the Sunday concert in which he was due to sing a solo.
“Why on earth didn’t his uncle report Lucas missing?” she asked. “For goodness’ sake, the boy was due to sing a solo with the youth choir at the cathedral on Sunday. Why did no one respond when he failed to turn up?”
“Yes, the choir chap told us about the concert no-show,” said Ben. “You might have mentioned it.”
Faith felt herself blushing. She should have, really, but with everything else going on it had slipped her mind. “Actually, last night, I learned a few other things about Lucas’s background. The lad had a hard time.”
“We’re up on the absent father bit,” said Ben. He nodded toward where the girls in the fourth row were being invited up for interview. They were refusing to move without one another, tossing their heads and giving the PC lip. “Maybe you should go and do your thing,” Ben continued.
At that moment, the girls seemed to acquiesce and one broke from the others, accompanying the officer. Faith was rather glad – she didn’t think her presence would have been particularly welcome.
Peter stepped into the silence.
“The uncle’s a piece of work. Adam Bagshaw. We tracked him down at the family home in The Hollies – after you’d given the boss the lead on Lucas’s ID,” Ben’s sergeant mentioned, helpfully. “We called soon after 6 p.m. and, according to him, we’d just woken him up. Said he wasn’t aware that his nephew had been missing for two days. Been unwell, he says.”
“He’s a drinker.” Contempt dripped from Ben’s words, and Faith’s antennae quivered. Ben considered himself an impartial investigator, but she knew how he could be when a case summoned ghosts from his past. Ben hated addicts who neglected their kids. Lucas’s uncle Adam had better watch out. He would get no breaks from Ben Shorter. But the fact he wasn’t in custody suggested they had no lead to follow.
One of the investigating team came down the aisle, leaving the girl with the golden hair waiting behind him. She wasn’t very tall. In the half-light shadow of a soaring column, she looked cherubic with her head of pre-Raphaelite curls.
“Boss!” the officer said. He indicated the girl with a tilt of his head and a significant lift of his eyebrows.
Ben stood up.
“You’ll never make senior investigating officer,” he told Peter. “You talk too much. Fay,” he took leave of Faith with a nod. If Peter was surprised by his superior’s use of a pet name for her, he didn’t betray it.
Ben stepped past her. Faith closed her eyes momentarily as the rough wool of his coat brushed her face. Terre by Hermès; the aftershave she used to buy him. A clean, clear smell – and so familiar. She opened her eyes. Peter and Ben were walking away discussing something. They hadn’t noticed. She breathed out.
Peter turned back. He retraced a step or two, catching her unawares.
“You’re still on for supper Thursday?” he asked. Faith nodded, her lips pressed together in an overly bright smile. “Great!” he acknowledged. “Come early, if you can. The boys would love to see you before they’re put to bed.” He began backing away to catch up with his boss. “And Sandy told me to remind you to bring a plus one, if you fancy it.”
An hour later, Faith was frustrated and itching to go. So far her services as chaperone had been predictably spurned. Even the investigating officers seemed unsure of what role they wanted her to play. She felt as if she had sneaked in from the street to watch a rehearsal before a play had opened to the public. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other places to be.
Adam Bagshaw. Lucas’s uncle. Ben’s distaste worried her. Last night Marjorie Davis had said Adam Bagshaw was a good man. Of course, she wouldn’t have
“Why on earth didn’t his uncle report Lucas missing?” she asked. “For goodness’ sake, the boy was due to sing a solo with the youth choir at the cathedral on Sunday. Why did no one respond when he failed to turn up?”
“Yes, the choir chap told us about the concert no-show,” said Ben. “You might have mentioned it.”
Faith felt herself blushing. She should have, really, but with everything else going on it had slipped her mind. “Actually, last night, I learned a few other things about Lucas’s background. The lad had a hard time.”
“We’re up on the absent father bit,” said Ben. He nodded toward where the girls in the fourth row were being invited up for interview. They were refusing to move without one another, tossing their heads and giving the PC lip. “Maybe you should go and do your thing,” Ben continued.
At that moment, the girls seemed to acquiesce and one broke from the others, accompanying the officer. Faith was rather glad – she didn’t think her presence would have been particularly welcome.
Peter stepped into the silence.
“The uncle’s a piece of work. Adam Bagshaw. We tracked him down at the family home in The Hollies – after you’d given the boss the lead on Lucas’s ID,” Ben’s sergeant mentioned, helpfully. “We called soon after 6 p.m. and, according to him, we’d just woken him up. Said he wasn’t aware that his nephew had been missing for two days. Been unwell, he says.”
“He’s a drinker.” Contempt dripped from Ben’s words, and Faith’s antennae quivered. Ben considered himself an impartial investigator, but she knew how he could be when a case summoned ghosts from his past. Ben hated addicts who neglected their kids. Lucas’s uncle Adam had better watch out. He would get no breaks from Ben Shorter. But the fact he wasn’t in custody suggested they had no lead to follow.
One of the investigating team came down the aisle, leaving the girl with the golden hair waiting behind him. She wasn’t very tall. In the half-light shadow of a soaring column, she looked cherubic with her head of pre-Raphaelite curls.
“Boss!” the officer said. He indicated the girl with a tilt of his head and a significant lift of his eyebrows.
Ben stood up.
“You’ll never make senior investigating officer,” he told Peter. “You talk too much. Fay,” he took leave of Faith with a nod. If Peter was surprised by his superior’s use of a pet name for her, he didn’t betray it.
Ben stepped past her. Faith closed her eyes momentarily as the rough wool of his coat brushed her face. Terre by Hermès; the aftershave she used to buy him. A clean, clear smell – and so familiar. She opened her eyes. Peter and Ben were walking away discussing something. They hadn’t noticed. She breathed out.
Peter turned back. He retraced a step or two, catching her unawares.
“You’re still on for supper Thursday?” he asked. Faith nodded, her lips pressed together in an overly bright smile. “Great!” he acknowledged. “Come early, if you can. The boys would love to see you before they’re put to bed.” He began backing away to catch up with his boss. “And Sandy told me to remind you to bring a plus one, if you fancy it.”
An hour later, Faith was frustrated and itching to go. So far her services as chaperone had been predictably spurned. Even the investigating officers seemed unsure of what role they wanted her to play. She felt as if she had sneaked in from the street to watch a rehearsal before a play had opened to the public. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other places to be.
Adam Bagshaw. Lucas’s uncle. Ben’s distaste worried her. Last night Marjorie Davis had said Adam Bagshaw was a good man. Of course, she wouldn’t have
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