Anne Perry s Christmas Mysteries Page 0,86

high. No one could come down here without a light of some sort, and a candle would be blown out by the draft from the hall above.

If he had tripped and fallen, he would have dropped the lantern and it would have broken. What had happened to it? Had someone swept up all the shards and hidden them? And what had they done with the metal frame? She should find out from Mrs. Wellbeloved if there was a lantern missing or not.

But whom would the Reverend Wynter go into the cellar with? What excuse had they given? To fetch coal for him, on the pretext that it was heavy? No it wasn't, not very. Mrs. Wellbeloved normally did it herself. She was strong, but not like a man. And where was the coke scuttle to carry it in?

Whoever it was had dragged the Reverend Wynter's body from the bottom of the steps across the floor and into the other cellar, leaving the marks in the coal dust. Why? They had tried to scuff them out, but hadn't entirely succeeded. Why make them in the first place? He was an old man, light-boned, frail. Why not carry him?

Because the killer had not been strong enough to carry him. A weak man? Or a woman? Genevieve Boscombe? It was a sickening thought, but Genevieve had much to lose. A woman would do almost anything to protect her children. A bear, to protect her cubs, would kill indiscriminately.

She turned around slowly and started climbing back up again, glad of the light from the hallway at the top. She reached it and was facing Mrs. Paget.

"Sorry to startle you," Mrs. Paget said with a smile. "I took the liberty of coming in. The door was unlocked; the Reverend Wynter always left it unlocked, too. And it's bitter outside. That wind is cruel."

"Yes, of course." Clarice felt as if she should apologize for being less than welcoming. After all, in a sense the vicarage belonged to the whole village, and Mrs. Paget had obliquely reminded her of that. "Please come in. It's warmer in the kitchen. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That's very kind of you," Mrs. Paget said. "I brought you a bottle of elderflower wine. I thought it might be pleasant with your Christmas dinner. The vicar was very fond of it." She held out a bottle with a red ribbon around its neck, the liquid in it shining clear, pale gold.

"How very kind of you," Clarice said. She blew out the flame in the lantern and set it on the hall shelf, then took the bottle. She led the way into the kitchen and pushed the kettle over onto the hob to boil again. Thank goodness today she had cake. She must not get the reputation for having nothing to offer visitors.

Mrs. Paget made herself comfortable in one of the kitchen chairs. "I see you were down in the cellar again," she remarked. "Not to get coal." Her eyes wandered to the full coal and coke receptacles by the stove, then back to Clarice. "Hard for you that it happened right here."

Clarice was taken aback by her frankness. "Yes."

"I suppose you're working out what happened?"

Should she deny it? That would be pointless. It was obviously what she had been doing, and Mrs. Paget knew it. That, too, was clear in her bright brown eyes.

"Trying to," Clarice admitted.

"Poor man. That was a terrible thing." Mrs. Paget shook her head. "But vicars sometimes get to know secrets people can't bear to have told. You be careful, Mrs. Corde. There's wickedness in the village in places you wouldn't think to look for it. You watch out for your husband. A pleasant face can very easily fool men. Some look harmless that aren't."

Clarice decided to be just as blunt.

"Indeed, Mrs. Paget." She thought of the marks of dragging in the cellar floor. The vicar had trusted a woman he should not have, perhaps even trying to help her. "Do you have anyone in particular in mind?"

Mrs. Paget hesitated again, but it was clear in the concentration of her expression that she was not offended at being asked.

The kettle started to steam. Clarice warmed the teapot then placed the leaves in and poured on the water, setting it on the table to brew. She sat down opposite Mrs. Paget, still waiting for an answer.

Instead Mrs. Paget asked another question. "What did you find down there?"

Clarice was not sure how much she wanted to answer. "Nothing conclusive."

Mrs.