Free The Claresby Collection: Twelve Mysteries by Daphne Coleridge Page B

Bishop is choosing “Best Stall” – I thought I ought to slip him in somewhere.”

    Wendy nodded. She knew that Laura was actually talking about the churchwarden, Monty Howard. During the interregnum following the retirement of Reverend Pierce, Monty had been the big power in church affairs and would have been offended not to be given a significant role in Claresby Fair. Laura was now looking around for Rupert, reluctant to proceed without him. Luckily at that moment she saw his head bobbing through the crowd, head and shoulders above most of those around him. Laura sighed with relief and mounted a small podium to a gentle ripple of applause. The awards went well, with general good humoured appreciation, a few clever words from Conran, and a surprisingly gracious announcement from Samantha admiring the lovely flowers. They had just reached Monty Howard, a bulky, bullish man with an oddly high pitched voice which was at odds with his stature, when a bellow from the back of the crowd made them all turn around. Sebastian had reappeared; very flushed in the face and gloriously drunk. The cameraman nudged his companion; things had become exciting at last.

    Laura was sitting beside a gently weeping Sebastian in her study. It was a comfortable, chintzy room with a warm feel to it despite the stone doorway with fifteenth century mouldings and the high ceiling with its ornate plasterwork. Sebastian was drinking the black coffee which Rupert had brought him and was hiccupping gently.

    “Floyd came to me last night – he was very superstitious and started asking me whether I thought the Egyptian ring was cursed - he’d picked up one of your old university books, Rupert, something on Egyptology, and was filling his head with nonsense. He was mumbling on about Lord Caernarvon and Tutankhamun and I told him he was a silly fool and that it was all balderdash. Then he got a bit argumentative and told me that just because I was insensitive and prosaic, it didn’t mean that there weren’t strange things at work in the world. You know: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” After he had finished quoting Shakespeare at me he started casting aspersions on Plate of Meat . We ended up having a bit of a bicker – the usual thing. As a matter of fact we are old friends; but you know that.”

    “Of course we do,” Laura reassured him with all sincerity. The two artists may have squabbled their way through forty years, but the friendship had been a steady one.

    “Well,” continued Sebastian, “he can’t have been too troubled in his mind, because once his head touched his pillow all I could hear from his room were colossal snores. It was driving me crazy and I hardly slept a wink. Then, at about six-ish, I heard him make his way to the bathroom. I suppose I was filled with mischief and a desire to get my revenge on him, because I had a sudden urge to give him a bit of a scare. I meant it as a joke. Well, I know very well that Floyd takes an age in the bathroom – I don’t even want to contemplate why – but even so I took a bit of a chance. I took a brush and a dab of gold paint on my palette and went to scrawl a spooky message on the wall. Then I had a bit of a scare myself as I heard his footsteps returning. As luck would have it, he actually carried on past his room and went downstairs, perhaps to have a quick drink in the kitchen – the water from the upstairs cold tap comes out an interesting yellow shade that even Floyd could not miss. Then I had an idea. Seeing the Egyptology book beside his bed I picked it up and copied out a few hieroglyphs at random. In the dim light the paint seem to glow: it was very effective. Anyway, I hot-footed it back to my own room and waited for his response. As it was I heard nothing and I must have dozed off for half an hour after that.”

    “So what you mean,” said Laura with dawning understanding, “is that when you found out