Free Murder in the Afternoon by Frances Brody Page A

went on his own, to try and fetch the creature back. Poor man took a terrible tumble. Some are saying it was his ghost that Harriet saw, on Saturday.’
    The whiff of pipe tobacco mingled with the smell of hay and muck. I supposed there was no reason for Mary Jane to have mentioned this earlier death. But it made me thinkdifferently about the quarry. Small wonder the children were afraid.
    ‘Did you see anything at all unusual in the quarry when you went with Harriet?’
    He sucked on his pipe. ‘Usual or not I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever passed it by, not gone circulating there.’
    ‘By the time Mrs Armstrong got to the quarry, the sundial was broken.’
    ‘Nowt to do wi’ me. Never touched it.’
    ‘Were you out and about at all on Saturday afternoon, after one o’clock? I’m wondering whether you saw anyone by the quarry.’
    ‘I saw nowt but cows, ewes and lambs. I’m eatin’, sleepin’ and dreamin’ cows, ewes and lambs. And it’s worse than usual without Ethan strolling up here after he’s had his tea to give us a hand.’
    ‘Ethan helps on the farm a lot does he?’
    ‘He does, when he’s not out and about changing the world. And afore you ask, he’s said nowt to me about slinging his hook and I’ve no notion where he might have gone. I only hope Harriet was mistaken.’
    ‘Did he come here last week to help?’
    ‘He did come, but not to help. He took it hard when Bob told him he’s sold out to the colonel. Ethan was disgusted that Bob’d given up the farm after all these years.’
    Something else that Mary Jane had not thought to mention. I acted as if I knew.
    ‘When did Ethan find out that Bob had sold the farm?’
    Mistake. He clammed up and turned his attention to the dregs of tea in a tin mug, letting on not to have heard me. But I guessed the sale to be recent. Arthur had not yet taken it in. Some new owner may not want the services of an old man.
    ‘I’m not being nosey, Arthur. It’s just that I want to help Mary Jane find Ethan, if he’s still alive.’
    ‘I know that, missus.’ He tossed the tea leaves from his mug across the dirty hay.
    ‘Then let me ask one more question. You said Ethan was here last week, but not to help. Was he here for some other reason?’
    Arthur shrugged. ‘He went in the house with yon. Don’t ask me what that was about. Nowt to do with me.’
    ‘Thank you. I hope things work out for you. Perhaps you’ll stay on when the farm changes hands.’
    His mouth turned down at the corners as he gave something like a laugh. ‘The colonel won’t keep it as a farm. We all know what he’ll do.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    If he had heard, he did not answer.
    He walked to the cowshed as I approached the house. Last week was a bad time for Ethan Armstrong. His friend sold out to the colonel, no doubt in Ethan’s view a bloated capitalist; he lost a strike vote, and he fell out with Mary Jane. Ostensibly about summat and nowt, as she said. But did she keep a secret from him – such as her bank deposit? If so, perhaps the row was more serious than she claimed.
    I knocked on the farmhouse door. It took a minute or so before the door opened. A woman with a friendly smile greeted me warmly. I introduced myself, saying my piece about investigating Ethan’s disappearance.
    She stood back for me to step inside. ‘I was expecting you.’
    I stepped onto the doormat, trying to wipe my shoes and then deciding that it would be best to take them off altogether.
    ‘Nay lass, leave thah shoes on. We don’t stand onceremony here. We’re used to a bit of muck. Come and sit down. I’m Georgina Conroy.’
    She was attractive, but not in a conventional way. The attractiveness came more from her liveliness and her energy, her ready smile. With capable hands jutting from dark sleeves, she reached for a bottle that had a teat attached. ‘Come and sit by the fire and be warm. You can talk to me while I keep yon creature this side of paradise.’
    The lamb curled in a