The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 Read Free Page B

Cornwall?”
    “I think it’s the whole priest thing.  I see a naïve
mid-aged housewife alone in a foreign country, and I get concerned.”
    “Uh uh, I keep house for no one.”
    “I thought you were married.”
    “Divorced actually…and don’t go there.”  I shook my head.  This
proved to be a bad idea.  “Just how much whiskey did I drink?”
    “I don’t know, but I was one ahead of you.”  Father Michael
breathed in.  “Smell that.”
    I did.  The aroma of fresh brewed coffee filled the cabin. 
Amy brought not only coffee but biscotti too.  I didn’t want to overstep
myself, so I blessed her silently in my head.  I took a sip of the richest coffee
I have had in a long time.
    “Why are you going to England? Or is it just a stop over?”
    “I’m on a missing person case.”
    “Tell me more.” I encouraged.
    He just tapped his collar like he would be breaking a vow or
something.  Dirty pool.
    “All this time I thought you were following me,” I said in
an offhanded way, testing the waters.  My instincts couldn’t be totally screwed
up by the booze could they?
    He shook his head in amazement as he reached into his pocket
and produced a card.  He tapped it with pride.
    “I have written down all the phone numbers you can get a
hold of me by.”  He handed me the business card.  The front had his U.S.
information, and on the back he had penned in tiny block letters the U.K.
contacts and dates that he would be accessible by each corresponding number.
    “Thank you, as soon as the coffee runs out I will do
likewise.  I didn’t realize priests had business cards.  I can just imagine
what would be on an exorcist’s...sorry.”  I bit into my biscotti and
concentrated on my coffee.
    Luckily for me, Amy came by for a chat and distracted him. 
I reached down and fumbled around in my bag until I came across my composition
book where I had written Angie Bathgate’s phone number.  I use black
composition books instead of fancy journals and organizers because they’re
cheap, but also because my handwriting is appalling.  If I try very hard you
can read seventy-five percent of the words.  The pages, however, don’t come out
easily, so instead of ripping a jagged wad of paper out of the book I opted for
the next best alternative, writing the information on the inside of a Hershey
chocolate bar wrapper.
    “Here,” I said simply, handing him the wrapper.
    “Hershey.  Any relation to Barbara Hershey?” he joked dryly
and put the wrapper away in his wallet.
    Father Michael stood up and reached for his carry-on bag.  “Be
right back.”
    I looked at my watch and calculated we would soon be
landing.  I arranged my things, located my passport and begged some mints off
of Amy.  I’m sure I smelled like a distillery.
    Father Michael returned dressed in casual clothing.  He
stowed his bag under the seat for easy access.  I think he wanted me to say
something about his change of attire, so feeling peevish I didn’t.
    “Well?”
    “Well what?”
    “No comment?”
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Ms Fin-Lathen...”
    “Come on Michael, it’s Cin to my friends.”  The casualness
of my address gave me away.
    “Jesuits aren’t as...”
    “Not many perks in Church of England territory,” I supplied.
    “You could say that. How are you getting to Cornwall?” he
asked sitting down.
    “I’m going to take a coach.  I only have one bag besides
this one to lug around.  Besides, I love the scenery once you get past
Plymouth.”
    “So, you’ve been there before?”
    “Yes, didn’t I tell you?  My daughter Noelle and I took a
vacation there years ago and ended up in Sennen Cove. It’s near Land’s End,
fabulous cliffs and beaches.  That’s one of the reasons I said yes so quickly
to the job.  Two days wasn’t nearly enough time to explore the area.
    “I feel better knowing you’re familiar with the country.”
    “A bit protective aren’t