A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,16
living in. Something bad happened in her life, and I need to know what it was.”
Gareth nodded.
“Well, let me give you a bit of advice. If you want to find out how she died, find out how she lived. Who her friends were, where she went, who she worked with. Start there, and everything else will follow.”
He gave her a meaningful look.
“Of course, she may have been hit by a stranger, so none of that will matter. And you do realize, of course, that all this would have been thoroughly investigated at the time. I expect the police put a lot of their resources into it. But if you insist . . .”
Penny nodded.
“Find out how she lived,” she repeated. She brightened. “Thanks, Gareth. That makes sense.”
She reached for her pen and added an item to her lengthy “to do” list. Then she, too, looked at her watch.
“Don’t think you’re the only one with places to go. We’ve got evening customers arriving soon, so I’d best be off as well.”
She wiped her hands on the napkin, set it down beside her plate, and reached for her purse.
“Put that away,” said Gareth. “My treat. You can buy me a drink later this week. How about Thursday?”
“Great,” said Penny. “You can call me later and let me know what time. The Leek and Lily is it?”
Gareth nodded, and together they left the ivy-covered tearoom beside the three-arched bridge. Gareth waved on his way to the car park, and Penny trotted off over the bridge headed for her manicure shop, where Victoria was waiting for her.
A few minutes later she pushed open the door to the tidy manicure shop she had opened some years ago and built up into a thriving business. Victoria emerged from the small preparation room at the back, carrying a small bowl and a pitcher of hot water.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I thought you were Alwynne arriving early for her appointment. Well, it’s a good job you’re here now. I expect she’ll be in any minute.”
“Alwynne Gwilt’s got an appointment?” Penny asked.
“Yes,” replied Victoria. “You’d do well to stay on top of our business here, Penny! You’re coasting these days, and you have to be more plugged in!”
Penny accepted the reprimand with a nod.
“You’re right, I better had,” she agreed. “I think it’s all the upheaval of moving into the cottage.”
“Not to mention another distraction.” Victoria set down the bowl and pitcher. “Right, well, I’ve tidied everything up. You’re fully booked tonight. Three appointments. I’m not going to stay, but there is something I want to discuss with you, so we’ll have to talk soon.”
Victoria pulled on a light jacket and opened the door. As she was just about to step out, Alwynne Gwilt appeared on the threshold. They exchanged pleasantries and Alwynne entered.
“Oh, Penny,” she said. “I can’t tell you how convenient the evening hours are. I bet you’ll double your business!”
She took a seat at the table and held out her hands. Penny picked up her left hand and looked critically at her jagged nails.
“What on earth have you been doing to yourself, Alwynne? They look as if you’ve been breaking rocks with them!”
“I know.” Alwynne sighed. “We’re putting up a new display at the museum and I was picking away at staples.” She looked at Penny. “You’re right. I should have taken a few moments to get the right tools.”
“Well, you can cut yourself, too, doing things like that,” said Penny. “Probably not a good idea. What’s the new display about?”
Alwynne looked after the local museum, housed in the old almshouses. Over the years she had put together creative exhibits showing the homefront during World War II; local farmers and their animals, including horse-drawn drays; and one that had attracted a lot of attention—buildings no longer here, including the old town hall.
“Oh, it’s set to open in mid-September, so it’s about schoolchildren. And that reminds me. I wanted to ask you to be sure to donate anything you find in Emma’s cottage that we should have for our archives. Don’t throw anything out! Just put it in a pile and I’ll go through it. Even old receipts can be useful to us because they show what things used to cost. Personally, I’m very partial to anything written up in old money. I do miss those days of guineas and ten bob notes.”
She smiled at Penny and turned her head slightly sideways.