Free Manor House 04 - Dig Deep for Murder by Kate Kingsbury Page B

investigation going? Anything new? Has the murder weapon been found yet?"
    George sighed. "Even if it had, your ladyship, you know very well I couldn't discuss it with you. But so far, we haven't found any weapon. We don't even know how Reggie died for certain. The doctor seems to think he died of a heart attack, probably brought on by the beating he took. But as to who beat him up, we've got no idea. It's going to be hard to find out now, seeing as how he's been in the ground for more than a week. Whoever did it is more than likely miles away by now."
    "Unless the thief and the murderer are the same person," Elizabeth said quietly. "Perhaps Mr. Stewart saw the thief and recognized him, and the thief beat him to death to avoid being caught."
    "Blimey," George said, scratching his bald pate. "I never thought of that. I don't know how I'm supposed to take care of all this. I really don't. Sid's no flipping help and—"
    " 'Ere, I heard that!"
    Sid's shout of outrage made George blink. "All right, all right. Keep your hair on. I only meant they expect too much of us. After all, we're supposed to be retired, not trying to do Scotland Yard's job for them. It's worse than being a London bobby pounding the beat. At least you wouldn't have to work out all these blinking puzzles. The inspector's too busy to bother with the likes of us, and Sid and me have to take care of everything down here. Where's it all going to end, that's what I want to know."
    "When the bleeding war's over, that's when." Sid appeared in the doorway. "Beg your pardon, your ladyship."
    Elizabeth had sat through George's outburst, nodding sympathetically. Now she rose from her chair, promptingGeorge to spring to his feet. "Well, I'll let you get on with your lunch." She turned to go, then paused. "Oh, I almost forgot. It seems that Fred Bickham has gone to Ireland to live with his brother. The problem is, he left without paying his rent. I was wondering if you could track him down for me, and get his address. I'd do it myself, but I know how you hate me interfering in police business."
    "I don't know as how I can do that, m'm." George looked apologetic. "Ireland's a bit out of my area, so to speak. You'd have to speak to the inspector about that one. Though I don't think Scotland Yard's going to waste their time getting rent money back. Not even for you, your ladyship."
    "Probably not." Elizabeth crossed to the door. "But they might if they knew that Fred Bickham might very well have been the last person to see a murdered man alive."
    She'd reached the door when George's raised voice stopped her. "Where'd you hear that, then? What's old Fred got to do with Reggie Stewart?"
    "I'm not exactly sure," Elizabeth admitted. "But rest assured I'll find out."
    George groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I knew it. I blinking knew it."
    "Don't worry, George," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "I won't step on anyone's toes."
    She left before George could raise any more protests. Not that it would have done any good. She had the bit between her teeth now, so to speak, and she was going to run with it. There were a lot of questions that needed answers, and she was not going to rest until every one of them had been addressed.
    Polly stared through the tiny crossed panes of the window, watching the ocean gently lapping at the beach only yards away. Having lunch in a pub was a huge treat for her. Until now, her dining out experience had been limited tocrisps and peanuts at the Tudor Arms, a cup of tea and a cake at Bessie's, and fish and chips in the High Street, and that was eaten out of a newspaper while walking home.
    When Sam had suggested they stop at the quaint little pub for lunch, she'd tried to act as if it were a common occurrence for her, but seated in a corner window with her elbows on a white tablecloth, surrounded by polished brass antiques and pewter tankards, she couldn't seem to stop squirming in her excitement. This was living. This was really living. Her