Free The Reluctant Detective (Faith Morgan Mysteries) by Martha Ockley

surprise for you.” Her mother cocked her head at her.
    Faith shrugged. “I knew he was back in Winchester in the CID. He’s already collected a suspect: the farmer who lives next door to the vicarage – a Trevor Shoesmith.”
    “Trevor Shoesmith?” Marianne sat bolt upright in her chair. “Not Fran and Bill Shoesmith’s boy? That can’t be right.”
    “You knew them?” asked Faith. Why was she surprised? she thought. Her mother knew everyone.
    “The Shoesmiths? Oh yes. They’ve been dead for years. Such tragedy that family suffered; and as for Trevor, what a sad boy he was – gentle as anything. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
    “A tragedy? What was that?”
    “Now let me think,” Marianne looked into the middle distance, her glass of sherry balanced, forgotten, on the arm of her chair. “It must have been well over twenty years ago. There was an accident on the farm and the eldest boy was killed. It was doubly awful because Trevor was involved in some way. He was only fifteen.”
    “You mean he killed his brother?”
    “Accidentally. There was no question about that. His father shouldn’t have had those boys handling heavy machinery unsupervised; the other boy was barely a year older. Bill was as much to blame as anyone. The family was devastated.”
    “When did the parents die?”
    “They went – oh! – fifteen years later, or more. Died within a few weeks of one another. They were a devoted couple.” Faith recognized the note in her mother’s voice; Marianne disapproved in some way. “He went with cancer, I think, then Fran followed with a heart attack not long after. Poor Trevor.”
    “Why so?”
    “I said they were devoted. Too much so, maybe. I think the poor boy rather lost out,” Marianne said crisply. Faith smiled at her. Her mother had always been warmly concerned for her own children. “As I say, he was such a sad boy. A bit of a born loser.”
    A sad boy; a born loser. The thought of another sad boy just like that jumped into Faith’s mind. Richard Fisher. The case that had first come between her and Ben; the first time she had seen the worst side of him – implacable, driven and unforgiving. She had a moment of dread. What if that should happen again with Trevor Shoesmith, all because she had pointed him out to Ben?
    “You’re quiet,” her mother said. “There’s been rather a lot going on, hasn’t there?” She was still, her face concerned.
    “I’m fine, Mum. Really.” Faith took a deep breath. “There’s rather a lot to think about, that’s all. You know the bishop has asked me to cover St James’s for the interim?”
    “That’s a step up.”
    “It’s only temporary.” Faith was embarrassed. Her mother’s turn of phrase made it sound as if she were profiteering by death. “The bishop only asked me to help as I was on the spot.”
    “Nonsense,” said her mother. “He’d already invited you to look round and he invited you to lunch.” In Marianne’s world, social niceties meant something. “How did that go, by the way?”
    Faith smiled, relieved to be able to talk about something else. “The Beeches are good people. Very into their missionary work. They were out in Tanzania for years.” She thought of the faces of Alison and Anthony as they’d talked about Africa. “I think they left a bit of their hearts there. Mrs Beech insisted on going personally to the hospital to check on the victim’s son, Don. He’s a friend of Sean’s, you know.”
    “Don Ingram? Of course. I know Don,” Marianne made a sympathetic clucking noise with her tongue against her teeth. “One of Sean’s set at school. Rather good-looking. They’re up at university together. How’s he doing?”
    “Not sure.” Faith thought of Don’s odd manner. “I’m trying to keep an eye on him. He’s very much on his own now.”
    “Of course, his mother died – of cancer; another one. At least he has Sean.”
    Faith was surprised by her mother’s assurance. “Mum – how do you