Free The Reaper by Peter Lovesey Page A

had a day off by the looks of things.";
    "That's right. I'm busy on!the Sabbath, you see. I take my day off some time in the week."
    "What do you do? Potter about the house?"
    "No, I need to get out of the village. There are interruptions if I stay in."
    "So you wouldn't have had a visit from Stanley?"
    "I wasn't here."
    "You're certain?"
    Otis Joy hesitated. Did Mitchell have some information? "I told you I went out for the day. What's this about?"
    Mitchell turned over the page and looked at the innocuous entries for the 10th: a visit to the church school for scripture lesson; two home calls on recently bereaved families; a wedding preparation meeting; an ecumenical meeting with the Methodist and Catholic clergy at Warminster.
    "It's about money," Mitchell said, and Otis Joy twitched.
    "Damned flies," he said, rubbing his face.
    "On the day of the burglary, Mr. Burrows visited the bank and took out a hundred pounds in cash from his personal account. When he was found, he had less than twenty in his wallet."
    "Wasn't some cash stolen from the cottage?"
    "Ninety-two pounds. But that was in the morning. He drew out this money in the afternoon."
    "And spent about eighty apparently," said the rector, trying to sound uninterested. "Perhaps he had a bill to pay."
    "According to the parish account book, he paid a hundred and sixty-two pounds into the church account the same afternoon. Seventy of that was the takings from the bring-and-buy morning. I think the other ninety-two was his own money."
    "Why?"
    "I think he was too ashamed to tell anyone it was church money that was stolen in the burglary."
    Joy frowned. "He didn't say anything to me about it."
    "He wouldn't, would he?" said George. "You didn't see him to speak to."
    "1 mean he could easily have phoned." The rector sighed heavily. "But you must be right, George. This puts everything in a different light."
    "How do you mean, sir?"
    Otis Joy's brain was in overdrive. "Knowing Stanley as I do, it would be a body blow to lose church money through carelessness. Devastating. The cash must have been lying around in the house. Usually he banked everything at the first opportunity. He'd take this as a personal failure. I don't like to think of the torment the poor man suffered."
    George Mitchell was saying nothing.
    "So," the rector summed up, "you've got your explanation. Poor Stanley. He made up the money from his own savings rather than let anyone know. And even then he couldn't live with the shame of it."
    This plausible theory seemed to find favour. George nodded, wiped his forehead and replaced his police cap.
    "George, you must come here again when you're off duty," said Joy. "Do you play chess, by any chance?"
    "Not my game, sir."
    "Well, I wouldn't challenge you to Cluedo. With your police training, you must be red hot. Scrabble?"
    "I get the tiles out with my wife once in a while."
    "Let's indulge, then. How about Monday evening?"
    George looked bemused by the prospect of Scrabble with the rector. "All right, sir. Monday evening it is."
    "Shall we say seven-thirty? And do call me Otis. Everyone does."

six
    STANLEY HAD A BIGGER send-off than any departing Fox-ford soul in years. People were standing at the back of the church. There just wasn't room for the extra chairs from the church hall. Former pupils and teaching colleagues came from miles around. The school choir filled the front pews and the singing was glorious.
    The Reverend Joy was equal to the occasion. He was in his element that morning, telling the mourners it had become the custom to treat funerals as the celebration of a life and that Stanley's life was worthy of more than that—of a fanfare— regardless of the tragic circumstances of his passing.
    He told an enchanting story to illustrate Stanley's devotion to the church: "Sometimes at the end of a service, when we look at the offerings on the collection plate we find a foreign coin—put there by mistake, I'm sure, along with the occasional button."
    He