A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,33
uncertainly. “It doesn’t seem right to pry into the nature of their relationship, as you described it to me. I don’t think I would be comfortable with that.”
Penny’s mouth turned down at the corners, and an uncomfortable silence hung over the group, broken only by the sound of the rector tapping his fingers on the table.
Don’t say anything, Penny thought. Keep quiet just a moment longer and we’ll have him.
“Oh well, I guess it won’t do any harm,” he said at last, giving in with obvious reluctance. “But, mind you, I don’t know how soon I might be able to get to them, as we’ve got our hands rather full at the moment.”
He brightened, sat up straighter, and smiled.
“Have you heard about the little dog we found? Of course we’re just looking after him temporarily, until a permanent home can be arranged for him, but I must say Bronwyn is enjoying nursing him back to health and she’s doing a wonderful job. The little chap gets stronger every day. Won’t stay in his basket and follows Bronwyn everywhere. She’ll be taking him for walks soon.”
The others smiled at him.
“And has he had his follow-up visit to the vet yet?” Victoria asked. “Bronwyn mentioned that something came up and she had to reschedule that.”
“That’s right, we’ll be taking him in next week,” the rector replied. “I’m sure Jones, the vet, will be pleased with the dog’s progress. Definitely going in the right direction.”
Penny cast a sidelong glance at Victoria, acknowledging the deft way she had manipulated the conversation, and then she dived in.
“Well, that’s what we were hoping to talk to you about,” she began.
“You see, Jones, the vet, is actually the brother of Alys, and we thought that when you take your little dog in to see him . . . by the way, what’s the dog’s name, again?”
“He doesn’t have one. We thought there’s no point in us naming him when we aren’t going to keep him. We agreed that his proper owners should name him.”
Oh, you’ll be naming him, all right, thought Penny with an inward smile. That dog isn’t going anywhere, except, of course, on another visit to the vet, to be followed soon after by a nice, long walk through the town so his proper new owners can show him off.
“Right, well, when you take the little fellow in to see the vet, I wondered if you or maybe Bronwyn could swing the conversation round to Alys and the accident. I understand from the police reports that Alun was away at university in Edinburgh at the time and the police never interviewed him.”
“Is there any reason why they should have?” asked the rector.
“I don’t really know,” said Penny. “That’s what we’d like to find out. See if he suddenly goes all shifty, as if he’s got something to hide.”
The rector laughed.
“Really, Penny! As if he’s going to reveal anything about the death of his sister thirty-odd years ago to a couple of clients he barely knows, while he examines a dog in his surgery. And maybe it will cause him some distress, opening up an old wound like that.”
Penny looked deflated, and the rector, being a kind soul, responded. “Well, there’s no harm in asking, I suppose.”
He drained the last of his tea and set the cup down.
“Now, I must be off. I promised Bronwyn I would not be late. Still, I think she enjoys having the occasional evening to herself. Usually spends it curled up with a library book and a glass of sherry, as far as I can tell.” He chuckled. “From the covers on them, some of them seem to be quite racy!”
Penny jumped up and ran to the kitchen. She carried the box of Emma’s journals that she had saved from the rubbish, through the dining and sitting rooms to the front door, where the rector joined her and opened the door. He went on ahead to open the car door, and she placed the carton on the backseat.
“Now remember,” she said, “1967 to 1971. You’re looking for references to Alys Jones, and I expect there will be lots of them. We’re looking for anything that might shed some light on what happened to Alys. Who their friends were, where they went, any references to a disagreement—anything and everything that you think will help.”
The rector smiled at her earnest sincerity.
“And thanks so much for doing this. You’re the only one we could ask and we do appreciate it.”