Free The Blackwoods Farm Enquiry (An Ivy Beasley Mystery) by Ann Purser

there? They hope she will go home tomorrow, after the doctor has signed her off. Why did they ask you to go in?”
    Gus was sitting with his feet up on his sofa, reclining back on a cushion. “Obvious, my dear,” he said. “I was with you soon after you found her. And a man of my charm and winning ways is the obvious choice. But no, Deirdre love. They reckon I must have seen her around, at least. She has no friends or family, apparently. James at the shop suggested me, as a likely character to bring her out of her trauma. God knows why, but there it is. And I thought immediately of you, as I do frequently. So will you come? I could pick you up about two o’clock.”
    He said a fond farewell, and then got to his feet. He looked at his watch, and saw that he had more than four hours before he needed to pick up Deirdre. Plenty of time to walk up to Blackwoods Farm and have a snoop around. If the hospital was intending to send her home tomorrow, there would surely be some swift cleaning work necessary, something he was sure Deirdre could organise. He set off with his small dog, Whippy, on her lead, across the Green and over towards the shop, where a gang of twelve-year-old boys yelled obscenities at him. Whippy broke away from him and approached the boys, who immediately became warm human beings, making an excessive fuss of her.
    I suppose there’s a moral there somewhere, thought Gus, but for the moment he could not think of one. On then, and with Whippy returned to him, he walked up Manor Road, and came very soon to Blackwoods Farm.
    The wind was sharp, and the previously blue sky clouded over as he approached the building. At first sight it looked completely derelict, and Gus’s heart sank. But then he noticed new paint on some of the windows and doors around the back of the house. Perhaps Mrs. Blatch had continued to make some improvements. Inside was what mattered, and Gus took the route through the dairy and into the kitchen, where he looked around without much hope.
    But after half an hour or so, he had made some notes on what could be done to make it habitable. She would need only the kitchen and bathroom, one sitting room downstairs and a comfortable bedroom upstairs. He was pleased to find that the stairs were solid and safe, and when he pushed open the doors of the bathroom, lavatory and the biggest bedroom, he reckoned that with the help of a good cleaning service, they could work wonders.
    The big bedroom had been cleared of traces of the accident, and Gus opened all the windows to admit gusts of chilly wind. He stood looking out at the road which led to the Manor House, and suddenly heard a noise behind him. He turned around quickly, but could see nothing. Then Whippy began to whimper and whine, looking fixedly at the door.
    Gus strode over to the landing which connected all the bedrooms, and sniffed. Cigarette smoke? He sniffed again. Yes, that was it. Or perhaps a cigar? Anyway, someone had been in behind him, and was having a smoke somewhere in the building.
    It could have been a homeless person making use of the house whilst it was empty. Getting in had been easy enough. But homeless persons do not usually smoke expensive cigars, even small ones. He opened first one door and then another, until he came to a half landing with one closed door at the end of the short passageway.
    The smoke smell was stronger now, and he had a shiver of unease. He knocked. No reply, but a rush of cold air passed him. Again he knocked, but there was no response, so he turned the handle and pushed open the door. The room was empty, with its one long window, almost reaching the floor, standing open. He walked swiftly over, and looked down to the yard beneath. Then he noticed the fire escape, leading to the ground below. The door of the cage at the foot of the escape was open.
    Taking a deep breath, Gus perched on the edge of a neatly made bed. There were signs of occupancy all around. A small cigar, half smoked, but black and