The Advent of Murder (A Faith Morgan Mystery) Read Free Page A

Mrs Granger’s neck – a stylish Swedish-looking piece in platinum and gold. Ostentatious for a country walk, she thought.
    “You’ve probably heard of my husband – Neil Granger,” said Mavis. “He’s well known in the community; his family have farmed in the area for at least three generations. We live at the Old Mill, over that way.” Mrs Granger nodded upriver, then treated Peter to a rather fierce glare. “I often walk Jam and Marmalade down here,” she told him. “You are a policeman?”
    “Sergeant Peter Gray. And when were you last here, Mrs Granger? Did you walk this way over the weekend?”
    “Oh, not since last week sometime,” she said. “Last Wednesday, maybe?”
    “And when you’ve come this way before, you’ve never noticed any teenagers hanging out in the area – they don’t make a habit of using any spots along here?”
    Mavis looked at him sharply. “What for?”
    “Well, you know – the usual; to meet up, hang out, the things teenagers do.”
    “Take drugs you mean? Disgraceful! I wouldn’t know about that.”
    Faith could see Peter had categorized the conversation as fruitless and was losing interest, and Ben stood deep in conversation with Harriet Sims. Very close, she thought. Almost touching.
    “I am afraid I must ask you to move on, Mrs Granger,” Peter said. “Back the way you came, if you don’t mind.” He offered her the direction she had come from with an outstretched arm and a conciliatory expression. Mrs Granger’s mouth and chin took on a stubborn expression.
    “But we haven’t finished our walk.”
    “If you don’t mind, ma’am,” Peter repeated. “This path is closed until further notice.”
    Mrs Granger looked to Faith.
    “It’s procedure, I understand,” Faith commiserated. “It is a bore to have to turn back, I know, but I am sure the police will be clearing the path just as soon as possible.” Mrs Granger stared straight at her. Faith could almost see the cogs whirring behind her eyes. Something clicked into place.
    “Of course. We must support the police. Good boys!” (This last addressed to her dogs.) The Dobermanns moved neatly synchronized to heel as Peter accompanied Mrs Granger back up the path. As she went, Faith heard her confiding,“Though I will say, sergeant, as a long-time resident of this neighbourhood, it’s hard to feel safe any more. Only this summer, while my husband was away, we were broken into at the Old Mill. If I didn’t have the boys for company, I don’t know what I would do. You people still haven’t caught anyone for that!”
    Peter exercised enough self-discipline to thank her for her help, then returned to Faith’s side. Together they watched as Mrs Granger and her dogs grew miniature in the distance. She never once looked back.
    “Could this be connected to burglary?” Faith asked Peter. “Have there been many break-ins round here lately? I vaguely remember something in the local rag, but I haven’t had time to follow the news much.”
    “Not as many as the press like to make out,” he replied. “You always get a few more in the run-up to Christmas. It’s mostly young offenders – other people’s Christmas presents. All laid out in plain view from the front window and ready to go.”
    “Sergeant!” Ben called across from the crime scene. “Do join me inside, if you’ve got the time.”
    “On my way, sir. Sorry, Faith – got to go…”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll walk with you,” Faith said quickly, skipping a couple of steps to catch up with him. She wondered if she’d be allowed to speak with Oliver before they took him away. They strode back toward the house.
    “Do you remember the burglary at the Old Mill this summer?” she asked, puffing slightly.
    “Not our department,” said Peter, a little defensively. “But you know the statistics on theft. Hampshire’s clear-up rate is less than 20 per cent.”
    “Not a conviction score to brag about.”
    “No. But like I said, not our