Murder in Abbot's Folly by Amy Myers Page B

Elena said helplessly. ‘I can find out. I wasn’t going to speak about it until I found him, but I couldn’t bear it alone.’ She burst into tears. ‘I did right to tell you, didn’t I?’
    â€˜Straight clean bowled,’ Peter said ruefully when they had returned to the office. He hadn’t referred to Elena or to Rick on the journey home, and Georgia wasn’t going to raise the subject. She wondered whether she should do so in case he brooded once he was alone, but she had to struggle to sort out her own feelings first. Elena had put the cat amongst the pigeons, and so all Georgia could do was try to shoo them off. Don’t attack the cat. Shooing away in this case would probably amount to giving Elena her head in trying to track this survivor down, but Georgia vowed to try not to get too emotionally involved. If Elena found this survivor, that would be the time for her and Peter to decide whether they wanted to meet him. If her mother failed, then she did not want to be disappointed.
    â€˜My tactics are to retire from the pitch until summoned to bat again,’ Peter continued, to her relief.
    â€˜Agreed.’
    â€˜And meanwhile a good antidote might be Barbara Hastings, so that we can continue filling in the background to the Luckhurst murder while we’re waiting to talk to the Fettises. So far as we know, Jane Austen’s love life is unlikely to have anything to do with Luckhurst’s death.’
    â€˜I like knowing all the background though, not just parts of it, and Austen is certainly part.’
    â€˜Patience, daughter, patience. Be like me.’
    She laughed, as he had meant her to.
    Georgia drove to Dunham on Thursday morning, without great expectations of its producing anything other than background colour. Barbara Hastings had been more curious than welcoming on the telephone, which was hardly surprising, Georgia supposed. She must have been shocked by Laura Fettis’s death, as she had worked for her, and it must seem odd to her that Marsh & Daughter were enquiring about events twenty-five years earlier at a time when Laura’s death was on everybody’s mind and lips. She lived on the outskirts of Dunham, in a farmhouse set well back from the road. The house was old and detached, with a former garage-cum-barn which Barbara explained had been converted recently into a dedicated kitchen for professional cooking. Her own kitchen had been large enough for the days she cooked for open days at Stourdens, but now she wanted to expand , and the look she gave Georgia suggested that expansion could well have to do with Stourdens. The kitchen was state of the art, but didn’t look to be greatly used as yet. Barbara did not comment but led her into the garden where coffee and biscuits were duly produced – both excellent, as was the garden itself. When she complimented Barbara on its blaze of colour and thriving looking vegetables Barbara grunted.
    â€˜Got time to do it now the farm’s gone.’
    â€˜Farm?’ Georgia asked.
    â€˜Farmed by my late husband, but when Bill passed on I sold it to Tom Miller, since it was next to his place.’ A pause. ‘You were at the Gala on Saturday,’ she said almost accusingly. ‘I remember you. You had the pork frigasy.’
    â€˜And it was delicious. I came back for tea later.’
    Georgia was glad at least that Barbara remembered her for the pork and not for being the woman who had found the body. It had been a mistake to mention ‘later’ though, with its reminder of Laura’s death, but if it struck a wrong note Barbara Hastings showed no signs of resenting it. ‘The frigasy was one of Mrs Raffald’s recipes,’ she told her. ‘Book handed down by my granny. Mrs Fettis was very fond of it.’
    â€˜I’m sorry about her death,’ Georgia replied. ‘You must have known her very well.’
    â€˜Worked for her for ten years or more.