Free The Measby Murder Enquiry by Ann Purser Page B

no harm had been done.
    “I wanted to see you, anyway,” Alwen continued, “on a matter concerning seating arrangements in the dining room.”
     
     
    “OH, LOR,” SAID Roy. “She’s got a table to herself, Ivy. I think we’ve frightened her off! We shall be unpopular with the others. Not so easy to ask her questions now.”
    Ivy shrugged. “Too bad,” she said. “And anyway, we’ll not be doing anything more for her, will we? Assignment cancelled. And if Gus doesn’t like it, he can lump it.”
    Roy looked doubtful, and lowered his voice as he replied. “But there’s this other case, Gus’s rumours of blackmail, et cetera. Might be a connection there? After all, whatever you call it, conning an old lady out of twenty thousand pounds is extortion. Could be the same dodgy operator, like Gus’s friend said. After all, Measby’s not that far from Barrington.”
    “I don’t think our Alwen’s been straight with us about that. I’m not saying there’s no connection with the Measby business, mind. We shall just have to wait and see what comes up. No, if you ask me, either she panicked or she’s playing some game or other. O’course, it could just have been a delay with confirmation. Something like that. It’s always happening these days. I blame computers,” she added. “The work of the devil, if you ask me.”
    Roy smiled at her indulgently. “Like mobile phones?” he said teasingly. He knew that Ivy was very attached to hers, which had been a Christmas present from Gus and Deirdre. Ever since Katya had given Ivy lessons on her own mobile, and this had helped in the last case they’d been on, Ivy had never been without her gift. She had mastered text messaging, and dropped jargon words into the conversation with ease. Roy felt nothing but affection for this unlikely side to Ivy’s nature. It was a tiny chink in her armour, and he knew there were others for him to work on if his slowly growing plan came to fruition.
    Ivy’s eyes met Alwen’s across the room, and Alwen was the first to smile. She raised her hand and gave a small wave, just to say there were no hard feelings. Ivy managed to smile back, and on their way out of the dining room she and Roy stopped and asked Alwen if she’d be playing pontoon with them this evening. “For matches, of course,” Ivy added.
    “Gus is coming along,” Roy said. “Deirdre’s got a meeting, and you’d be most welcome. It’s quite a fun game.”
    “I’m well aware of the rules of pontoon,” Alwen said, and frowned. “And I swore I would never play it again. But if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” she instructed herself, and continued. “Very well, as long as it’s matches.”
    After they had left her sitting in solitary state eating her lunch, she had felt miserable on her own and couldn’t eat much. Irritated as she was with Ivy and Roy, she missed them. Especially Roy. He was such a jolly little man, and she failed to see what on earth attracted him to Ivy Beasley. And no harm could come from a game of cards played for matches, surely?

Thirteen

    THEO ROUSSEL LOOKED across his parkland and saw heavy rain driven by a strong wind until it was almost horizontal. His horned sheep were huddled in one corner by a thick hedge, sheltering from the storm, and his thoughts were gloomy as he thought of his continual struggle to keep at bay the ravages of weather on the Hall.
    “I really should spend some money on the old place,” he said aloud to his faithful Labrador curled up under his desk. “If only I had some money to spend,” he added wryly. The Hall was cold and draughty, and most of the rooms smelled of damp. Rising damp, damp rot, every possible kind of damp had attacked the neglected fabric of the building. He could poke his finger through the window frames in places where the wood had become a crumbling sponge.
    “But how can we top up the kitty enough to finance it all? No good going to the bank. I am their most unreliable client