Free An Unhallowed Grave by Kate Ellis Page A

actually lives in."
    Heffernan turned to Squirrel. "Thanks for your help, er Squirrel. Keep up the good work." He started to walk off in the direction of the drive. "You coming, Wcs, or what?"
    Neil stood gaping. "Well, I'll say this for your boss, Wcs, he's got hidden depths. Keep up the good work? What's that supposed to mean?"
    "Perhaps he's a bit of an eco-warrior on the sly. But he'll have to go on a diet or he'll never make it up into those trees. Best be off, Neil. See you later, I hope."
    Squirrel watched as the policemen disappeared, thinking with some satisfaction that support sometimes came from the most unexpected quarters.
    Gemma Matherley was glad to have some time to herself. She relished every spare hour when she could pass on responsibility for Amanda and Guy to their idle bitch of a mother. But however obnoxious the kids were, however viciously they fought each other, it was better to have her job looking after their ever-increasing demands than to be stuck at home with her mum and Leanne, her stupid bitch of a sister.
    Gemma began to paint her nails, smiling to herself as she remembered her encounter with her grandmother that morning. How she'd given the old cow a turn when she'd come in to clean the master bedroom. Her smile turned to a bubble of laughter. Queen Elizabeth's bed. Gemma had spent her school history lessons inscribing the names of pop stars on her pencil case, but even with her paltry amount of historical knowledge, she knew that Elizabeth had been known as the Virgin Queen. She must be turning in her grave, Gemma thought with glee, at what had gone on in her bed that morning when the kids and Mrs. Thewlis were out riding.
    And that interfering Brent woman was dead: killed herself, so they said. Gemma couldn't pretend she was sorry: that would be hypocritical and Gemma wasn't that. It still riled her that her grandmother had asked Pauline Brent to speak to Mr. Thewlis. The cheek of it. She recalled her grandmother's discovery that morning with a further glow of satisfaction. That would teach her to mind her own business.
    Gemma finished her nails and held them out in front of her for inspection. Then she got up and walked about the room, waving her hands about to dry the pale blue varnish. She strolled over to the window, bored. Her room was at the top of the house, in what had once been the servants' quarters. She had a good view of the drive and she could see two men approaching. One was young, dark-skinned and smartly dressed; rather good-looking. The other was overweight, middle-aged and scruffy with unruly greying curls. An incongruous pair. They were walking up the drive, deep in discussion. Then they turned off to follow the footpath to the creek.
    Could they be the police? Gemma turned away from the window. Even if they found her, even if they came to question her, she would keep quiet about what she had seen last night.
    "Aren't we calling at the Manor, sir?" Wesley was puzzled by his boss's sudden change of route.
    "You heard what Squirrel said. There's nobody at home."
    There's the nanny."
    "She can wait. So can the others. We'll pay them a visit tomorrow when they're off their guard after the Sunday roast. I wonder if Rachel and Steve have turned up anything with those artists."
    "Did Pauline Brent strike you as the type to mix with artists?"
    "That's the point, Wcs. We don't really know much about her, do we? She was the doctor's receptionist. She helped out at village functions but kept in the background. She was a quiet woman, according to the vicar. Not the sort to make enemies. You've talked to Mrs. Green. What about her other neighbours?"
    "The other cottage in that row belongs to a local family with two young kids. They didn't see or hear anything unusual last night." Wesley changed the subject. "Why are we heading down here, sir? Where does this lead?"
    "Knot Creek. I fancied having a quick look. If she wasn't going to the Manor, this is where she could have been