Free Late of This Parish by Marjorie Eccles Page A

daughter’s remark. ‘You talk as if he was the last of a string. He’s only the second man Laura’s ever shown any interest in, to my knowledge.’
    â€˜You know what I mean. What’s he like? Not another wimp, I hope. It’s time something good happened to Laura, she deserves a break.’ Philly swung her legs. She was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, biting into a crisp apple with her sharp white teeth.
    â€˜He’s certainly not a wimp, whatever that might imply. No oil-painting, I’ll grant you, and frightfully intellectual. Fairly intimidating to talk to, and very abrupt. Anyone else and I’d think he was shy, but it’s more likely he’s just impatient with lesser mortals.’ Aware by Philly’s quizzical look that she was damning with faint praise, Miriam stopped. ‘If he suits Laura, what does that matter?’
    â€˜Not a lot, I agree. But crikey, she does pick ’em, doesn’t she?’
    If there had previously been a shade of reserve in Miriam’s acceptance of David Illingworth, it vanished as she had a momentary vision of Laura’s face, seen that morning. She said decidedly, ‘He’s going to be very good for her, she looks happy for the first time in ages, and she’s really coming out of her shell. So smart lately you wouldn’t recognize her. You should’ve seen the outfit she had on today.’
    Philly contemplated one slim, bare brown foot. ‘Well, whatever, this one has to be an improvement on Jon Reece.’ Miriam’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. ‘Jon? What’s poor Jon done to deserve that? There’s nothing wrong with Jon that I can see. Unless,’ she said severely, ‘being popular with everybody – and amusing and good-looking into the bargain, is wrong. What’s more, he may be Headmaster by the end of the year – well, either him or David.’
    â€˜Mum, you’re priceless!’ Philly said, in the way she had of making her mother feel as though their roles were reversed and it was she who was the child, a feat of not inconsiderable skill when dealing with Miriam. Then she added obscurely, ‘You don’t see what’s under your nose, do you?’

CHAPTER 6
    â€˜Must be like living in a goldfish bowl, Parson’s Place,’ Kite remarked. ‘Not somewhere to be having it off with the neighbour’s wife.’
    â€˜I don’t know, looks to me as though most of the front windows’ll overlook the valley. There’s no view from this side. No garages, either, two entries and one way round the square. But somebody may’ve seen something.’
    The house-to-house inquiry would find out if anyone had. As it looked at the moment, whoever had killed Willard must have gone in behind him and left before Oliver went in. Twenty minutes at the outside. Leaving plenty of time for a row to develop and tempers to rise. But imagine, Mayo thought, imagine walking up to the altar to get the cushion and corning back with it, with the old chap watching all the time, knowing what was going to happen and not being able to do a thing about it. No, he’d rather not imagine that, he thought, sickened.
    He telephoned Howard Cherry, the Detective-Superintendent, to give him a brief rundown on what was happening. Cherry listened in his usual attentive way and then said, ‘I’ll let the powers that be know and then I’ll be along to have a look around myself as soon as I can, but I have to pick my daughter up from a disco first. I don’t imagine you’ll be finished just yet awhile.’ Not yet – but no later than we can help, Mayo thought, yawning, his lack of sleep beginning to make itself felt, hoping mightily that Cherry would get a move on, tell Cinderella it was an early night for once.
    Meanwhile, since Laura Willard was in no condition at present to be questioned, and Mrs Oliver was not at home, Mayo decided to