Village Affairs by Cassandra Chan

of him,” she said. “He wasn’t one of those older men who are always pinching girls’ cheeks. He liked to banter and flirting was the way he did that with me. In a funny sort of way, he meant it. It would have tickled his fancy to be sleeping with the vicar’s wife—it’s the kind of thing that would have appealed to his sense of humor. On the other hand, he never actually expected it to happen. He knew it wasn’t on.”
    “That was because he liked you as a person,” said the vicar. “Which he wouldn’t have done if you had slept with him. He could be perfectly scathing about anyone he didn’t like.”
    “Was he generally popular?” asked Carmichael, who had been listening intently to these reminiscences.
    “I’d say so,” answered the vicar. “Of course, he was still the new man in town, so there was a lot of talk about him, but most of it was in his favor, I think. Don’t you, Lee?”
    “Yes,” she agreed. “The Eberharts liked him, and that went a long way with people. They both grew up here, you see,” she added to the policemen.
    Carmichael nodded. “Were either of you aware that Mr. Bingham was rumored to have a secret girlfriend?”
    Both the Tothills laughed.
    “Oh, yes,” said Tothill. “I never asked him about it, because, frankly, I rather thought the lady must be married. But it seems I was wrong.”
    “Oh?” Carmichael cocked his head, as alert as a pointer. “Why do you say that?”
    “Because I did ask him about her,” said Leandra. “I’m not absolutely sure she wasn’t married, though.”
    “What did he say?”
    Leandra smiled. “He wouldn’t tell me a thing, although he didn’t deny there was someone. All he said was to tell Richard there was nothing to concern him in his clerical capacity.”
    “Which I took to mean that the woman wasn’t married after all,” put in Tothill. “Surely that’s what he meant.”
    “Probably,” agreed Leandra. “It’s only that I wouldn’t put it past Charlie to lie to me, just so my conscience wouldn’t be bothered. I don’t think we can really tell the chief inspector that for sure.”
    Carmichael smiled. “I don’t need sureties,” he said. “Every little bit of information can help in a case like this. Now, one last question. Would you say he was a man of independent means?”
    Tothill shrugged. “He was retired. I think everyone assumed he was living comfortably on his pension, within his means. He once told me he’d managed to put away a bit over the years.”
    “You would be surprised then to learn that he was a very wealthy man?”
    Both the Tothills smiled. “Oh, yes,” they agreed.
    There was a pause while the implications of the question sank in, and then Leandra, with her eyes wide and the smile gone from her face, said,
    “You mean he was?”
    “Exceedingly,” replied Carmichael.

    Marla was somewhat appeased by Bethancourt’s prompt appearance and the bouquet of autumn flowers he brought with him. Presents counted for a lot with Marla.
    In an attempt to spark some tolerance of the case from her, Bethancourt announced that the dead man had been the father of the socialite Evelyn Bingham.
    “Eve Bingham?” repeated Marla.
    “Yes,” answered Bethancourt. “I think we’ve seen her in clubs a time or two. You must remember.”
    “Of I course I do,” said Marla. “I know her.”
    “You do?” said Bethancourt, nonplussed.
    “Yes. When I went to Paris last year for the shows. She was hanging round with the lead singer of Who Else, and the drummer was seeing Carol, who was doing Lacroix with me. You remember Carol?”
    Bethancourt thought so.
    “Anyway,” Marla went on, turning back to flower arranging, “I ended up seeing quite a bit of her. She was fun—rather high-spirited. She drank a lot.”
    “I doubt if she’ll be much fun when she gets here,” said Bethancourt.
    “Not a very cheerful time for her,” agreed Marla, stepping back to view her handiwork.
    “Do you think you’d