Free Never Laugh as a Hearse Goes By: A Penny Brannigan Mystery by Elizabeth J. Duncan Page B

just stand there, Florence. We’ve got a lot do. You start with the sandwiches and I’ll take care of the travel arrangements.”
    “Evelyn, it’s me they want. Not us. Not you. I’m perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”
    Mrs. Lloyd had the decency to look mildly apologetic.
    “Of course you are, Florence. There’s no doubt about that or they wouldn’t have asked you. But I haven’t been anywhere for ages, and surely you would not begrudge me accompanying you, would you?” Eyes bright with enthusiasm, she added, “I could be your assistant.”
    “Do you know shorthand, Evelyn?”
    “No, I could never make head nor tail of it.”
    Florence laughed. “Then I don’t really see how you could be my assistant.”
    “I will offer unqualified support and encouragement, Florence, as you set about your important police work. Now, where did you say we were going, exactly?” asked Mrs. Lloyd.
    “I didn’t say, but it’s Gladstone’s Library. And I think you meant unconditional support, not unqualified.”
    “Oh, wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd, clapping her hands. “There you are, you see! I’ve heard so much about Gladstone’s Library and always wanted to go there, so this is the perfect opportunity. A day or two away will do me so much good.”
    Florence frowned.
    “Oh, Florence, you didn’t really think I’d let you have this adventure all on your own, did you? This is much too good to miss.” She thought a moment. “And wait until Penny Brannigan hears about this. That we,” knowing when not to push her luck, Mrs. Lloyd corrected herself, “that you were asked to go to a murder to provide assistance to the police. So exciting. Thrilling, even.”
    “I think she knows already.”
    “What? How could she possibly…”
    “It was her boyfriend, that Inspector Davies, who rang me. Penny was the one who suggested I might be able to help sort out the shorthand. Apparently there was someone they used in the past, but it’s been so long since they needed her that she’s died, so Penny suggested me. She remembered that I used to work as a secretary at the Liverpool College of Art back in the old days and thought I might know shorthand, which I do.”
    “I might have known,” grumbled Mrs. Lloyd. “What is it about that woman, that wherever and whenever there’s a murder, there she is.”
    “And mind your language, Evelyn. Nobody said anything about murder. Suspicious circumstances they called it.”
    Florence turned toward the kitchen.
    “Right, then. I’d best get on with those sandwiches. But you do know, Evelyn, that the train journey doesn’t take much over an hour from Llandudno. We’re not taking the overnight train to Scotland. And I’m sure there’ll be plenty for us to eat when we get there. We’re not likely to starve.”

 
    Fourteen
    “How are you going to spend what’s left of the afternoon, Penny?” asked Bronwyn. “I don’t expect we’ll see much of Gareth from now on. We’ll have to amuse ourselves.” Davies had left them soon after Bethan had set off to deliver the contents of Minty Russell’s luncheon plate to the forensics lab. He wanted to interview the kitchen staff himself. With the right handling, the chef might be able to help with the inquiry.
    “I thought I’d do some sketching in the garden,” Penny replied, “while the light is still good. Gardens are beautiful to me all year round. Care to join me? I’d welcome the company.”
    “Would you? I wasn’t sure.”
    “I’m not too keen on people looking over my shoulder while I work, but I like having people nearby, if you know what I mean. That’s why our little sketching group works so well. There’s always someone close, but not too close.”
    A few years earlier, Penny and a few like-minded friends had formed the Stretch and Sketch Club for amateur drawing and painting enthusiasts, and the occasional photographer, who enjoyed rambling about the countryside, capturing the beautiful, varied