Murder on the Village Green: A Diane Dimbleby Cozy Mystery by Penelope Sotheby Page B

escaping.
    “I think she fell from the balcony,” Richard says nervously. He kneels down next to Diane and points up above their heads.
    Diane looks up to see the balcony’s sturdy railing connected to a series of ornate spindles standing firmly in place. None of the parts appear to be cracked or missing.
    “Did you see her fall?” asks Diane.
    “No, I was in the kitchen preparing lamb casserole for Mrs. Jones’ dinner. I heard her scream and…”
    Diane nods her head. She stands up and walks back out into the hallway. Sifting through the shock, Diane feels in the pit of her stomach that Carys’ death is more complicated than meets the eye. Perhaps it’s best that Inspector Darrell Crothers gets involved. Although he might not realize that she thinks so, Diane regards him as the most dedicated detective she’s ever encountered in the county of Shropshire.
    She takes her mobile out of her pocket and dials the inspector’s number. While listening to the ring-back tone, Diane gazes at Carys’ photographs on the wall. One is of stalwart-standing Celtic crosses juxtaposing some crumbling stone ruins. Another is of a hilly pasture, lush with grass and sheep, overlooking the blue sea. Diane cannot remember where Carys had said these stunning pictures were taken…
    “Inspector Darrell Crothers,” says the 30-something Shrewsbury detective on the other end of the line.
    “Oh Darrell… it’s Carys… Carys Jones… she’s… Apple Mews…”
    “Diane, I’ve already been notified and I’m on my way,” he says. “Now listen to me carefully. I don’t want you anywhere near Carys’ house. It is the forensic team’s job, not yours, to process the scene. I’ll be in Apple Mews soon.”
    Hanging up, Darrell hopes he wasn’t too harsh with Diane, a woman he’s come to regard almost as a second mum. Of course, a civilian, no matter how great a talent they have for sleuthing, should never get involved with a police inquiry. And sometimes Diane did not always think the rule applied to herself.
    Diane and Darrell have worked on a couple of cases together already - not that he would ever admit this openly for fear of getting into more trouble, or perhaps to preserve his pride. But the truth is, through their unconventional crime-solving collaborations, a sense of mutual respect has ripened between the two. Their relationship has survived a few trying times of late, not the least of these a kidnapping by a dangerous member of a crime firm that specialized in illegal organ trafficking.
    Diane is not happy that Darrell asked her to stay away from Carys’ house, but she cannot fault the inspector for following protocol. Her gumshoeing has already gotten him into trouble at least once, plus she would not later want to be accused of messing up a crime scene.
    I’ll just take one quick look around and then I’ll leave , Diane thinks as she noses around the ground floor. In the kitchen, she admires the vase filled with sunflowers sitting on the counter. She realizes that other than the floral décor, the counters are empty.
    Diane hurries back into the living room. Richard is sitting on the couch holding his head in his hands.
    “I thought you said you were preparing Carys’ dinner…” Diane says carefully.
    “I… I… I was just about to start…”
    Diane stares at Richard for several moments until her eyes travel back to Carys lying on the floor. This time, she really lets herself look at her friend: her tightly closed eyes, her contorted mouth… Did Carys feel excruciating fear during her last moments of life?
    Diane runs out of the living room and out of the house to find some shelter in the corner of Carys’ garden. There she crouches down, bends her head to her knees and allows herself to wail for the first time. Her huddled position muffles the sounds of her deep sobs emerging from the bottom of her abdomen.
    She is not startled by the hand now resting on her shoulder. She stands to see, expectantly, her