Free Shadows in the Cotswolds by Rebecca Tope Page B

theweather, aren’t we? It’s often lovely in September. Your father always used to say …’ She interrupted herself with a glance at Fraser. ‘Richard was full of sayings about the weather. He grew up in the country, you see.’
    ‘My husband was the same,’ added Thea, slightly too heartily. ‘It was one of the things they had in common.’
    ‘They got along well, didn’t they?’ said Maureen, with a soft sigh. ‘Such good men, both of them.’
    It sounded strange, but it was nothing less than the truth. Carl Osborne and Richard Johnstone had indeed both been good men, and their loss was never going to cease to hurt. ‘They were,’ said Thea.
    ‘And a good man is hard to find,’ Fraser said, even more heartily. His attempt at a twinkling smile fell flat. Thea did her best to credit him with the right instincts. After all, he had just been presented with a dead body to identify. He could be forgiven for losing his bearings for a while.
    ‘Your daughter’s name is Maureen – is that right?’ she asked, risking the renewed embarrassment this might cause.
    ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said ruefully. ‘I never told my wife why – which was very wrong of me, I know.’
    Thea’s mind clicked into action at last. ‘So the murdered girl must have known your family. She must have
some
connection. She told me your daughter’s name. She knew her way around the house. Are you
sure
you didn’t recognise her?’ 
    He bristled. ‘Why should I lie about it?’
    ‘No, no, I’m not suggesting … only, you were expecting to see your daughter. So when it obviously wasn’t her, that might have been all you focused on. If she was somebody you only met a few times, perhaps as a younger girl, you could easily not realise. Don’t you think?’
    ‘No,’ he said.
    ‘So where’s Oliver?’ Thea flashed back, following some urge to put pressure on the man.
    ‘I’m not at liberty to say. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone.’ He avoided her eyes, and ignored Maureen completely.
    ‘You’ll have to tell the police. They’ll be wanting to speak to him as a matter of priority.’
    ‘Matter of priority,’ he repeated, with amusement in his eye. ‘Really?’
    She gave up and their food arrived. ‘Nice,’ approved Maureen after one or two mouthfuls.
    Thea silently considered all the things that were wrong with the situation. For the first time all day, she wanted Drew. A warmth ran through her at the thought of him, and how he would sit comfortably beside her if he were there, helping her work things out, making no demands, simply offering himself without conditions.
    Stop it
, she ordered herself. It wouldn’t be like that at all. He would be sad and stressed, preoccupied with his children and the fragile state of his business. Hewould make demands without intending to, as she knew she had herself, after Carl had died.
    ‘We shouldn’t be long,’ she said. ‘The police will want to keep track of us, I expect.’
    As if on cue, her mobile tinkled, deep inside her bag. It was still switched on, she realised, after the abortive efforts to contact her mother. ‘Thea? Where are you?’ Gladwin’s voice was almost calm. ‘You’re not supposed to just wander off, you know.’
    ‘We’re at the Plaisterers Arms, in the town square. In the garden at the back, having lunch.’
    ‘Right. Well, come back here afterwards, will you? We’re not finished.’
    ‘No – I was just saying.’
    ‘Half an hour, okay?’
    ‘All right.’ She felt more than a little like a schoolgirl summoned by a fairly friendly head teacher who nonetheless carried all the authority and might yet turn out to be unpredictable.
    ‘It’s
plasterer
not
playsterer
,’ came a voice from the table behind them. It took a moment to understand that it was addressing her. She turned to look. A man somewhat younger than herself was grinning at her, one eyebrow raised disarmingly. ‘Sorry – but I thought you’d want to know.’
    ‘Thanks.’