Free Dead Money (A Detective Inspector Paul Amos Lincolnshire Mystery) by Rodney Hobson Page B

particularly caustic comment on the last Christmas card. You can see it if you want. I always keep them until the next year so I can remember who to send to. I haven't got it with me but I can post it to you."
     
    "Yes, please," said Amos. "It might be useful even if, as you say, she didn't really mean any physical harm."
     
    They sat in silence for a few moments once more but this time the interview had run its course.
     Finally Amos said: "Thank you, Mrs Jones, for coming forward voluntarily. We do have your address, I take it? I shall almost certainly need to talk to you again. And the Christmas card. I should like that, please."
     
    "I shall send it to you at the station here first class. It will be in tonight's post. Your sergeant has my address."
     
    With that Mrs Jones rose to her feet and stretched out her hand. Amos took it, shook it, and opened the door. Mrs Jones sailed through serenely and off out into the street.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 16
     
    "The vicarage," Amos remarked casually. "It's time we had a word with the vicar."
     
    "You won't find him at the vicarage," Swift returned. "It isn't a vicarage any more."
     
    "Good Lord!" Amos exclaimed. "I thought it was only in the rural parishes that the vicarages were redundant."
     
    "It was a damp, rambling old place with dry rot," Swift explained. "Thornley refused to move in when he took over the parish. He persuaded the Church of England to buy him a smaller place that didn't take as much heating. There's only him and his wife. His family are grown up and have left home. The Church was only too happy to agree to his request as it sold off the old vicarage for a tidy sum. It's been done up."
     
    "A bit like Killiney Court," said Amos. "How come you know so much about Thornley? You didn't say you went to his church."
     
    "I don't. But I did make inquiries when this case blew up. It's quite a large church with a decent sized congregation. And yes, it is like Killiney Court - same development company bought the vicarage."
     
    Swift paused in the conversation as she turned the wheel. The church was already in sight. As the two detectives drove down the street Amos glanced up and spotted the house sign The Old Vicarage. It showed the unmistakeable marks of a modern makeover.
     
    Swift carried on past it, past the church and past the road junction just beyond. She took the next turning on the left and pulled up in front of a non-descript terrace house on the right hand side of the road.
     
    As she and Amos got out of the car, a man wearing a dog collar and accompanied by a woman emerged from the house. They were in their mid 50s and were showing the first signs of approaching old age. Both were greying and they moved at no more than a moderate pace, so Swift, whose door was next to the kerb, had no difficulty in stepping out of the car and intercepting them.
     
    "Mr Thornley?" she inquired of the man.
     
    "Yes. Is it urgent? My wife and I are off to the Mothers' Union meeting," the object of her question replied anxiously. "Can it wait until I've done the opening prayers?"
    Amos was alongside them now. He showed his warrant card and was about to request an immediate interview when Thornley turned to his wife and informed her: “Could you explain, dear, and take the prayers? I'm sorry, but it is a long time since I missed.”
    Mrs Thornley sighed. The corners of her mouth turned up in a waspish gesture rather akin to a petulant shrugging of the shoulders.
     
    “They won't be pleased,” she snapped. “You now how much they enjoy having you there.”
    Thornley made no reply. His wife, seeing that further entreaties were pointless, turned and walked off up the street and round the corner as hastily as her years would allow.
    “At least I won’t have to put up with that ghastly dirge they always want to sing,” the
    vicar suddenly blurted out. The vehemence took Swift aback.
    “Make Me a Channel of Thy Peace,” the vicar explained, now speaking more