Magpie Murders Read Free

than their private home. He should have listened to her. Mary had shown herself in and she was standing there, holding up a little bottle of green liquid as if it were some medieval talisman used to ward off demons. ‘ Good morning, vicar! I heard you were having trouble with wasps. I’ve brought you some peppermint oil. That’ll get rid of them. My mother always used to swear by it! ’ It was true. There had been wasps in the vicarage – but how had she known? Osborne hadn’t told anyone except Henrietta and she surely wouldn’t have mentioned it. Of course, that was to be expected of a community like Saxby-on-Avon. Somehow, in some unfathomable way, everyone knew everything about everyone and it had often been said that if you sneezed in the bath someone would appear with a tissue.
    Seeing her there, Osborne hadn’t been sure whether to be grateful or annoyed. He had muttered a word of thanks but at the same time he had glanced down at the kitchen table. And there they were, just lying there in the middle of all his papers. How long had she been in the room? Had she seen them? She wasn’t saying anything and of course he didn’t dare ask her. He had ushered her out as quickly as he could and that had been the last time he had seen her. He and Henrietta had been away on holiday when she had died. They had only just returned in time to bury her.
    He heard footsteps and looked up as Henrietta came into the room. She was fresh out of the bath, still wrapped in a towelling dressing gown. Now in her late forties, she was still a very attractive woman with chestnut hair tumbling down and a figure that clothing catalogues would have described as ‘full’. She came from a very different world, the youngest daughter of a wealthy farmer with a thousand acres in West Sussex, and yet when the two of them had met in London – at a lecture being given at the Wigmore Hall – they had discovered an immediate affinity. They had married without the approval of her parents and they were as close now as they had ever been. Their one regret was that their marriage had not been blessed with any children but of course that was God’s will and they had come to accept it. They were happy simply being with each other.
    ‘I thought you’d finished with that,’ she said. She had taken butter and honey out of the pantry. She cut herself a slice of bread.
    ‘Just adding a few last-minute thoughts.’
    ‘Well, I wouldn’t talk too long if I were you, Robin. It is a Saturday, after all, and everyone’s going to want to get on.’
    ‘We’re gathering in the Queen’s Arms afterwards. At eleven o’clock.’
    ‘That’s nice.’ Henrietta carried a plate with her breakfast over to the table and plumped herself down. ‘Did Sir Magnus ever reply to your letter?’
    ‘No. But I’m sure he’ll be there.’
    ‘Well, he’s leaving it jolly late.’ She leant over and looked at one of the pages. ‘You can’t say that.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘“The life and soul of any party”.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because she wasn’t. I always found her rather buttoned-up and secretive, if you want the truth. Not easy to talk to at all.’
    ‘She was quite entertaining when she came here last Christmas.’
    ‘She joined in the carols, if that’s what you mean. But you never really knew what she was thinking. I can’t say I liked her very much.’
    ‘You shouldn’t talk about her that way, Hen. Certainly not today.’
    ‘I don’t see why not. That’s the thing about funerals. They’re completely hypocritical. Everyone says how wonderful the deceased was, how kind, how generous when, deep down, they know it’s not true. I didn’t ever take to Mary Blakiston and I’m not going to start singing her praises just because she managed to fall down a flight of stairs and break her neck.’
    ‘You’re being a little uncharitable.’
    ‘I’m being honest, Robby. And I know you think exactly the same – even if you’re trying to convince