Sarah hadn’t been looking forward to this formal lunch at all.
As a kid, she had been dragged to so many of these interminable affairs. Stuffy and formal, despite the great setting.
But this, to her surprise, she was enjoying.
She and Jack had been assigned seats at the very furthest end of the dining room, away from the important local dignitaries and key committee members.
At least that humbling position made it easy to chat quietly and gossip even while the inevitable speeches droned on at the other end of the long table.
And a real treat was to find her old friend, longtime Cherringham solicitor Tony Standish sitting opposite, along with the redoubtable Buckland twins.
Waiters moved to and fro in the long, sunlit dining room, topping up wine liberally.
She saw that Jack, after his first small flute of bubbly, was now sticking to water.
Good idea. We’ve got an important job to do tonight, she thought.
It wasn’t long before the subject of the body in the woods came up — in fact, the starters had hardly been cleared away before Sarah heard the word “murder” being whispered.
“Clearly cold-blooded murder,” said Jen Buckland.
Or was it Joan?
No, definitely Jen.
Whichever it was — the two sisters were now on their favourite subject — crime. Sarah knew that while they ran the tollbooth on Cherringham Bridge — thanks to an ancient charter from the King — they really spent their days obsessively reading mysteries and solving local crimes …
… in their imaginations.
Sarah glanced at Jack who was now squarely caught by the two sisters in a pincer movement.
No beating around the bush for either, whichever “J” was doing the questioning of the NYPD detective.
“So — no doubt you and Sarah are on the case?”
Jack looked at Sarah. As much as he liked the Bucklands, they could be a bit “full-on”.
“We did drop by the scene last week,” Sarah said quickly. “But to be honest, there doesn’t seem to be much to go on.”
“Word is, the poor lad had not a stitch on him,” said Joan.
“A professional job, in my opinion,” said Jen.
Sarah saw Joan roll her eyes, then lean closer to Jack.
“Jack, you’ll have to forgive my sister. Guilty as ever of being manipulated by the evidence at the crime scene, with no regard to the wider statistical context.”
“Which is, sister dear?” said Joan, downing her glass of wine and signalling to a waiter for a refill.
The Bucklands were on the “case”.
And that was bound to be amusing. Maybe, possibly, even enlightening.
***
Jen waited until the wine-pouring waiter had completed his task, then — coast clear — she launched into her thesis on the body.
And the possible murder.
“Professional ‘jobs’ as you call them, are rarely committed in such a fashion. Most deaths by strangulation are crimes of passion. True, Jack?”
“Well,” said Jack, looking like he didn’t want to pick sides, “I’m sure that …”
“Then there is the matter of a relatively shallow grave. Hardly professional at all. But I’ll grant you this, Joan, few crimes passionelles are conducted with such cold-blooded planning for the total removal from the corpse of all forensic evidence. Right, Jack?”
“Well,” said Jack, “I do think …”
“Nonsense!” said Joan. “It is hardly beyond the wit of any able-bodied woman — or man — to commit a murder driven by deep emotion and then tidy up properly afterwards. For instance, were I to have recourse to murder Jen here, perhaps in a frenzied knife attack—”
“Not poison? You’re too kind, sister dear—”
“Welcome. I would certainly not baulk at the obligation to thoroughly cleanse the immediate area and then dispose of your dismembered remains with the utmost caution.”
“Dismembered? Such a thoughtful touch! And though that may be the case, Joan,” said Jen, not appearing to mind one bit about the image that Joan was toying with, “as we both know, most murderers are not blessed with our unique understanding of the various homicidal modus operandi. Present company excepted, of course.”
“Of course,” said Sarah.
She smiled at Jack — and could see that he was finding it hard to keep a straight face.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Jack, and take us through what you know. The forensics report?” said Jen.
At that, she saw Jack shoot her another look.
How’d they know that he had seen the forensics report?
Or was it just a lucky guess?
“Good idea, Jen. And we’ll see if you’ve missed anything,” said Joan helpfully, turning her lasers back onto Jack.
And with that, Sarah left Jack to his fate and turned to Tony Standish.
If there was a really wise person in this room, it was Tony.
***
Over the years, Tony had proved to be a reliable counsel in her and Jack’s investigations.
But he was also a longstanding friend of her father.
Ties like that mattered to her. And she knew that they did to Tony as well.
“How long shall we give him before we rescue him?” said Tony, nodding to Jack, reading the situation perfectly.
“Ten minutes?”
“Perfect!” he said, topping up her glass. “I so rarely get a chance to catch up with you and the family. How are you? The kids? Though hardly kids these days, hmm?”
Sarah smiled and started on all the latest family news.
All the while itching to get Tony onto the subject of the body in the woods.
And the missing insurance salesman.
Tony had been living in Cherringham since the year dot, and knew absolutely everyone in the village.
He also knew their secrets …