Read Online The Advent of Murder (A Faith Morgan Mystery) by Martha Ockley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Martha Ockley
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known him very well, but the fond, grateful look on the old lady’s face stuck in Faith’s mind. Marjorie might be old, but she was no fool. She had been quite high up in the civil service before she retired. Faith’s curiosity smouldered and took hold.
Peter had said the Bagshaws lived in The Hollies, one of a number of developments put up on the city outskirts during the property boom before the bottom fell out of the market. An upmarket address for someone on a carer’s salary like Trish. Perhaps Adam owned the house outright, and had neither mortgage repayments nor rent to find. She found herself constructing a history for him – a good job, perhaps in IT or accounting, personal problems, then a break-up, divorce and drink. She had to tell herself to stop it. One thing she’d learned as a policewoman, which had only been reinforced in her recent role, was that human lives didn’t always follow the neat course of cause and effect.
Bagshaw. Not a local name. There shouldn’t be that many of them around. Unless the family were ex-directory, she could find the address online. Adam Bagshaw was, after all, doubly bereaved, she told herself. He might appreciate a pastoral visit. She got up to leave.
Jim Postlethwaite was standing in the shadows looking at her. How long had he been watching? He must be wondering about her connection to the police inspector and his sergeant. He might even think she had been spying on him on their behalf. She was surprised at how much she disliked the idea that the choirmaster might think her deceitful. She gave a friendly wave as he walked toward her.
“You’re going?” he asked, his expression blank. The relaxed friendliness of yesterday had vanished.
“I’m not needed here.”
Jim turned his face away from her toward the activity at the front of the chapel. “They say they’re finished with me,” he muttered.
Ben was standing by the marble statue, listening to a colleague. Faith felt the beam of his intense stare. JimPostlethwaite wasn’t Ben’s type. She could almost hear his thoughts; the look on his face said it all: “Do-gooder” – what’s he covering up?
“Investigating officer seems a bit of a bulldog,” said Jim. “Do you know him well?”
Faith hesitated, not knowing how to answer. Jim stepped back, widening the space between them. The hazel eyes looked down at her coldly.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I appreciate the value of discretion.” He started striding toward the exit. She followed after him.
“I’ll walk out with you,” she said. They marched side by side a few yards. Faith felt tongue-tied. She searched for something to say.
“So, how did you get involved in all this?” Jim asked. “Did you know before you accepted my offer of a mince pie and a cup of tea? Was the fainting an act too, to lure me in?”
“Please,” said Faith. “It wasn’t like that at all. I wasn’t sure until you showed me the flyer. Not even completely sure then.” She hurried on, determined to explain herself. “Lucas’s body was found on a parishioner’s land. I happened to call on the landowner to discuss some church business and ran into the police there.”
Church business – a visit to talk about the costume and role of Joseph in a Christmas pageant. How trivial that sounded now! For a moment she was disorientated by the disconnect. But the Bible was full of human tragedy, and she had faith in a God who made a difference in the face of it all. She felt the ground under her feet again.
They had reached the parting of ways, and stood at the point of a triangle of light pushing in through the open door. She didn’t usually find herself at a loss like this. There was something about Jim Postlethwaite; she sensed compassionate intelligenceand guarded experience. He made her feel girlish in comparison, even though she must have been the older of the two.
“I can see you’re telling the truth,” he said. “I apologize for my
Peter had said the Bagshaws lived in The Hollies, one of a number of developments put up on the city outskirts during the property boom before the bottom fell out of the market. An upmarket address for someone on a carer’s salary like Trish. Perhaps Adam owned the house outright, and had neither mortgage repayments nor rent to find. She found herself constructing a history for him – a good job, perhaps in IT or accounting, personal problems, then a break-up, divorce and drink. She had to tell herself to stop it. One thing she’d learned as a policewoman, which had only been reinforced in her recent role, was that human lives didn’t always follow the neat course of cause and effect.
Bagshaw. Not a local name. There shouldn’t be that many of them around. Unless the family were ex-directory, she could find the address online. Adam Bagshaw was, after all, doubly bereaved, she told herself. He might appreciate a pastoral visit. She got up to leave.
Jim Postlethwaite was standing in the shadows looking at her. How long had he been watching? He must be wondering about her connection to the police inspector and his sergeant. He might even think she had been spying on him on their behalf. She was surprised at how much she disliked the idea that the choirmaster might think her deceitful. She gave a friendly wave as he walked toward her.
“You’re going?” he asked, his expression blank. The relaxed friendliness of yesterday had vanished.
“I’m not needed here.”
Jim turned his face away from her toward the activity at the front of the chapel. “They say they’re finished with me,” he muttered.
Ben was standing by the marble statue, listening to a colleague. Faith felt the beam of his intense stare. JimPostlethwaite wasn’t Ben’s type. She could almost hear his thoughts; the look on his face said it all: “Do-gooder” – what’s he covering up?
“Investigating officer seems a bit of a bulldog,” said Jim. “Do you know him well?”
Faith hesitated, not knowing how to answer. Jim stepped back, widening the space between them. The hazel eyes looked down at her coldly.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I appreciate the value of discretion.” He started striding toward the exit. She followed after him.
“I’ll walk out with you,” she said. They marched side by side a few yards. Faith felt tongue-tied. She searched for something to say.
“So, how did you get involved in all this?” Jim asked. “Did you know before you accepted my offer of a mince pie and a cup of tea? Was the fainting an act too, to lure me in?”
“Please,” said Faith. “It wasn’t like that at all. I wasn’t sure until you showed me the flyer. Not even completely sure then.” She hurried on, determined to explain herself. “Lucas’s body was found on a parishioner’s land. I happened to call on the landowner to discuss some church business and ran into the police there.”
Church business – a visit to talk about the costume and role of Joseph in a Christmas pageant. How trivial that sounded now! For a moment she was disorientated by the disconnect. But the Bible was full of human tragedy, and she had faith in a God who made a difference in the face of it all. She felt the ground under her feet again.
They had reached the parting of ways, and stood at the point of a triangle of light pushing in through the open door. She didn’t usually find herself at a loss like this. There was something about Jim Postlethwaite; she sensed compassionate intelligenceand guarded experience. He made her feel girlish in comparison, even though she must have been the older of the two.
“I can see you’re telling the truth,” he said. “I apologize for my
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