better rally ’round?” asked Bethancourt, hope dawning that Marla might actually take some interest in this case. Or at least be preoccupied while he was with Jack.
“I might,” said Marla. “Depending on who’s with her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not the type that goes anywhere without an entourage,” answered Marla.
“Oh,” said Bethancourt, privately wondering who of the glitter crowd would be willing to bury themselves in the Cotwolds in October.
“Hullo,” said Astley-Cooper, coming in. “Did you get yourselves a drink? No? Let me then.” He paused on his way to the drinks cabinet and added, “Those are lovely flowers.”
“I brought them for Marla,” said Bethancourt. “As an apology for deserting the two of you today.”
“We had a lovely time without you,” said Marla, her jade eyes sparkling at Astley-Cooper. “Didn’t we, Clarence?”
“Quite right,” replied that gentleman, avoiding Bethancourt’s eye and pouring the scotch liberally.
Bethancourt only grinned at him. He was quite used to Marla chatting up the nearest man whenever she felt herself neglected. The fact that this ploy seldom, if ever, succeeded in making Bethancourt jealous did not stop her from trying.
“I met the vicar and his wife today,” said Bethancourt conversationally. “He’s quite a young man, isn’t he? Somehow one always thinks of vicars as older.”
“So did everyone here,” said Astley-Cooper, handing ’round the drinks. “Considering that the previous man was ninety if he was a day. There was quite a lot of objection to Richard Tothill when he first came, but people got over it. Lord knows he’s much easier to get along with. Doesn’t badger people, and if you go to him for advice, it’s usually sensible, not a lot of muck about sinning or not sinning.”
“That must make him popular.”
“It does, but as I say, it took awhile. And then just as everyone was getting used to him, he went off and married Leandra. That caused quite a ruckus.” Astley-Cooper appeared to savor this past sensation.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Marla. “Surely if he’s young, people must have expected him to get married.”
“First off, she’s beautiful,” said Astley-Cooper with relish. “Vicars’ wives aren’t supposed to be good-looking, they’re supposed to be motherly. You, for instance, Marla, should never consider marrying a clergyman. You’re far too lovely and nobody would ever like you. Secondly, Leandra’s a woman with a past. She was a singer in London and ran, I gather, with a somewhat racy crowd. Well, musicians and all that. She met Richard when she was singing at a wedding. She’s put new life into the choir, I can tell you that, and she’s very active in the parish. But people looked askance at her when she first came.”
“It doesn’t sound so awful to me,” said Marla.
“My dear, you don’t have a village mentality. They would much have preferred her to be plain, and have been a nurse or something. Anyway, you’ll meet her tonight if you come ’round after choir practice, and you can see for yourself. Do come, by the way. Everybody turns out for a drink at the pub on Wednesdays—it’s one of our social nights. You can look over all the suspects, Phillip.”
“Phillip,” said Marla coolly, “has spent the whole day looking over suspects.”
“That’s right,” said Astley-Cooper hastily. “You never did say, by the way, why the police think old Bingham was murdered.”
“The body was moved after death,” said Bethancourt.
“That’s all?” asked Astley-Cooper. “That’s not much. Whoever found him could have got the wind up about it and hauled him back to his house.”
“And poured the corpse a glass of whisky?” retorted Bethancourt. “The only reason for doing that was if he died in a place where he wasn’t supposed to be. Speaking of which, you don’t happen to know who his girlfriend was, do you?”
“Didn’t know he
“I might,” said Marla. “Depending on who’s with her.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not the type that goes anywhere without an entourage,” answered Marla.
“Oh,” said Bethancourt, privately wondering who of the glitter crowd would be willing to bury themselves in the Cotwolds in October.
“Hullo,” said Astley-Cooper, coming in. “Did you get yourselves a drink? No? Let me then.” He paused on his way to the drinks cabinet and added, “Those are lovely flowers.”
“I brought them for Marla,” said Bethancourt. “As an apology for deserting the two of you today.”
“We had a lovely time without you,” said Marla, her jade eyes sparkling at Astley-Cooper. “Didn’t we, Clarence?”
“Quite right,” replied that gentleman, avoiding Bethancourt’s eye and pouring the scotch liberally.
Bethancourt only grinned at him. He was quite used to Marla chatting up the nearest man whenever she felt herself neglected. The fact that this ploy seldom, if ever, succeeded in making Bethancourt jealous did not stop her from trying.
“I met the vicar and his wife today,” said Bethancourt conversationally. “He’s quite a young man, isn’t he? Somehow one always thinks of vicars as older.”
“So did everyone here,” said Astley-Cooper, handing ’round the drinks. “Considering that the previous man was ninety if he was a day. There was quite a lot of objection to Richard Tothill when he first came, but people got over it. Lord knows he’s much easier to get along with. Doesn’t badger people, and if you go to him for advice, it’s usually sensible, not a lot of muck about sinning or not sinning.”
“That must make him popular.”
“It does, but as I say, it took awhile. And then just as everyone was getting used to him, he went off and married Leandra. That caused quite a ruckus.” Astley-Cooper appeared to savor this past sensation.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Marla. “Surely if he’s young, people must have expected him to get married.”
“First off, she’s beautiful,” said Astley-Cooper with relish. “Vicars’ wives aren’t supposed to be good-looking, they’re supposed to be motherly. You, for instance, Marla, should never consider marrying a clergyman. You’re far too lovely and nobody would ever like you. Secondly, Leandra’s a woman with a past. She was a singer in London and ran, I gather, with a somewhat racy crowd. Well, musicians and all that. She met Richard when she was singing at a wedding. She’s put new life into the choir, I can tell you that, and she’s very active in the parish. But people looked askance at her when she first came.”
“It doesn’t sound so awful to me,” said Marla.
“My dear, you don’t have a village mentality. They would much have preferred her to be plain, and have been a nurse or something. Anyway, you’ll meet her tonight if you come ’round after choir practice, and you can see for yourself. Do come, by the way. Everybody turns out for a drink at the pub on Wednesdays—it’s one of our social nights. You can look over all the suspects, Phillip.”
“Phillip,” said Marla coolly, “has spent the whole day looking over suspects.”
“That’s right,” said Astley-Cooper hastily. “You never did say, by the way, why the police think old Bingham was murdered.”
“The body was moved after death,” said Bethancourt.
“That’s all?” asked Astley-Cooper. “That’s not much. Whoever found him could have got the wind up about it and hauled him back to his house.”
“And poured the corpse a glass of whisky?” retorted Bethancourt. “The only reason for doing that was if he died in a place where he wasn’t supposed to be. Speaking of which, you don’t happen to know who his girlfriend was, do you?”
“Didn’t know he
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