A Country Gift Shop Collection: Three cosy crime novels that will keep you guessing!. Vivian Conroy

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СКАЧАТЬ over her shoulders instead of pulling it back into a ponytail, just to please her sweet old mother. After all, Claire had come to get her at the police station in the dead of night.

      Eager to place the call to Diane at once, Vicky ran downstairs to find Everett Baker waiting for her in the den. He was dressed in a crumpled brown suit that made him look even taller. With his inevitably clammy hands he clasped hers and shook repeatedly, saying he was so sorry and so worried about her and she could have been killed herself.

      Vicky tried to smile and be nice and explain that she had not been alone with the dead body, at which point Everett launched into a tirade against Michael Danning, who had put Vicky’s life in danger. It was an outrage and he would write to the newspaper editor about it.

      He seemed to forget in his agitation that Michael was the newspaper editor.

      “Look,” Vicky said, “it’s very nice of you to stop by and ask how I’m doing, but I would really like to get some breakfast now. And I’m sure you have an important appointment waiting for you. Your time is so precious.”

      Everett tore his gaze away from her face and fumbled with his large hands. “Yes, yes of course, I’m late, you are so right. It’s still quite a drive and I should really be getting on my way. Lot of money involved, you know. Important deal.” He took a hurried leave, of Claire also, who hovered in the background, and then he dashed to his car.

      “How can you treat the man like that?” Claire burst out as soon as he was gone. “He is so obviously in love with you and you treat him like dirt.”

      The thought of Everett Baker being in love with her was a bit much, especially before breakfast. Vicky didn’t comment but dived into the kitchen. She had to contact Diane and tell her what had happened. She wanted to look up the number in the phone book, under the old owner of the cottage, Black, but then remembered she still had the note with the three phone numbers she had copied off at Mortimer’s. She got it from her purse and called Diane’s cottage.

      She waited with a pounding heart for Diane to answer. She didn’t look forward to telling Diane that Michael was in jail. She might think it somehow had to do with her reappearance in Glen Cove and blame herself for it.

      Even worse, Vicky would have to tell her that Mortimer Gill might have suspected who had killed her sister, but Mortimer’s knowledge might have died with him. The latter news would probably be the worst blow to Diane. She had been so close, and yet the information was now so far away.

      “Hello?”

      “Diane? It’s Vicky.”

      “It’s Mrs. Appleton, the cleaning lady.”

      Vicky’s shoulders sagged. “Is Diane there?” She already guessed the answer. If Diane was there, she would have answered the phone herself.

      “No. She went out. Real early. At eight when I just came in. She wanted to talk to that former deputy, Ralph Something.”

      “The one who retired?” Vicky tried to conjure up his face, but came up empty.

      “No, the one who quit the job after a few years. Got a chicken farm fifteen miles up north. I bet it has something to do with her investigation of her sister’s disappearance.”

      Vicky asked if she had Diane’s cell phone number, but she did not. Mrs. Appleton was of an age where cell phones didn’t play a large part in her world. Eager to end the conversation before her overnight stay at the police station could come up, Vicky thanked her and asked her to write a note for Diane to call her as soon as she returned. She gave her cell phone number so Diane could reach her any time. She emphasized it was very important that she talked to her as soon as possible, then disconnected.

      “Forget about that phone now,” Claire ordered. “Michael Danning can take care of himself. He’s been in worse scrapes all over the world. I even imagine he has been in worse prisons than we have here in Glen Cove. It can’t hurt him to be locked up for a day or two. He doesn’t need you running after him like a nanny. Sit down to eat. The kettle is already on for tea. And hand me the butter, will you?”

      Vicky nodded and fetched the butter. But her mind was on the other number on the sheet. The one Michael had not known. There was an easy way to find out whom it belonged to.

      Simply call it and see who answered.

      Her fingers trembled as she punched in the numbers. Behind her back Claire grumbled that nobody ever listened to her, while she was putting bread into the toaster.

      “Good morning,” a friendly female voice said on the other end of the line, “Rowland Loan, Mortgage and Investment. How may I help you?”

Chapter Eleven

      Vicky disconnected in a rush, as if she had burned herself.

      The number belonged to Deke Rowland’s company. Deke Rowland, Cash’s brother. Why on earth would Mortimer Gill have wanted to call him?

      She leaned against the sink to cut some cheese off the chunk. Deke had been dating Diane back then. It had been pretty serious, because when Diane had gotten her grant to study in Europe, Deke had planned on going there too, and had even tried for a job there.

      But his parents had never approved of the relationship and after Celine’s disappearance and Diane’s hasty departure, they had forced Deke to change colleges. After his graduation he had been moved into a good job at a law firm and once he had met his current wife and planned to marry her, his father had set him up in that investment firm.

      She wondered how Deke had felt about Diane’s return to Glen Cove. It had to have stirred up a lot of old memories.

      Mr. Pug wound himself around her feet, and she cuddled him, even giving him some cheese, which was normally against the law. She was just glad to be out and about again.

      Free.

      As she sat down to eat, the phone rang. Vicky wanted to jump at it, but Claire had it first and answered. Vicky held her breath that it would be Diane already, or some bad news about Michael, about prolonged incarceration. Her mother was at the center of all intelligence in Glen Cove. If something was up, she’d be the first to know.

      Claire listened intently, saying a lot of well, well, well. Vicky could just hear the cogwheels in her mother’s head churning. As soon as the call was finished, she asked her what was up. Her mouth was dry, thinking Michael was in real trouble now.

      “Guess what they found in Mortimer Gill’s place?” Claire refilled her teacup. “A pink hair curler. Now Gwenda hasn’t lived there in months, so there must be some woman involved. A new live-in girlfriend, who got sick of his birds and his scraping, clubbed him and took his money? Maybe Gwenda herself came back and clubbed him for the money.”

      “What money?” Vicky asked automatically, putting jelly on her toast. “Mortimer Gill had no money. Gwenda blamed him for it, even divorced him for it.”

      “That is what everybody believes. But it seems Mortimer had just ordered a brand-new van to transport his birds in. With lettering and all, advertising his falconry business. That suggests he had some money.”

      Claire leaned over. “Gwenda has claimed for years that Mortimer had a source СКАЧАТЬ