A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,52

might. Is it possible that you are the Andrew Peyton who was a curator of art in Liverpool in the 1960s? Penny is an artist, you see, and doing some research into that period.”

Brilliant, thought Penny. He didn’t mention Alys.

Peyton gave Penny an icy appraisal as he dropped the rector’s business card into his jacket pocket without having bothered to look at it.

“Yes, I was associated with the Liverpool School of Art at that time,” he said. “We did put on some rather good shows. Showcased new artists. Of course, there was a lot of great talent about to work with. Liverpool was in the midst of a renaissance, you might say, fueled by the music.” He raised his teacup to his lips in an oddly feminine way. “The Mersey sound,” he added sarcastically.

“I’d love to learn more about the period,” Penny said, “and speak to one of the artists, Millicent Mayhew. She was one of your group, I believe. Could you put me in touch with her, do you think?”

Peyton dropped his gaze to the bottom of his now empty teacup, and then, as the cup clattered slightly, he set it on the table.

Rubbing his long fingers together, he turned to Penny.

“I’m not sure exactly where she is now,” he said, “we lost touch some time ago. And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a stressful day and I’d like to go home.”

Penny nodded and stepped aside. She and the rector watched as he made his way across the room, said a few words to his sister-in-law, and then left the hall.

“Come on, Thomas,” Penny said. “He’s lying. We have to follow him or we might never find him again. Let’s see where he goes.”

The rector took a long, last draught of his tea and, with a sigh, set the cup down on the table beside Peyton’s.

“Right. I’ll just say good-bye to Mrs. Peyton and we’ll be off.”

They got into the rector’s car just as Peyton pulled out of the parking lot. They followed him as he drove through the town, and then along Marine Drive, and when he switched on his right turn indicator, the rector did the same, turning into the Sunset Villas Retirement and Nursing Home.

“Oh, why do they always give these places awful names like that!” Penny moaned. “Sunset Villas, Gateway Haven . . .” She stopped as Peyton parked in a visitor’s spot, got out of his car, and entered the building. “Can we park over there?” she asked, gesturing to an empty spot at the end of a row of cars, which gave them a good view of the entrance. The rector glanced at his watch. “Just for a few minutes, and then I’m afraid I have to get back to Llanelen.” Penny nodded.

“Well, he’s in a visitor’s parking spot,” she said, “so he doesn’t live here. I wonder who does.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then the rector remarked, “Mrs. Peyton said Andrew probably had to leave because it was time for his injection. Apparently he’s diabetic, so if he needs his insulin, he shouldn’t be in there too long. Still, it seems odd he would come here instead of going home. What on earth is he doing here if he should be taking care of his diabetes?”

They looked at each other in puzzlement, and then the rector, glancing at his watch, reached down and switched on the radio. They listened to the news on Radio 1 for a few minutes, and then with a long sigh, the rector switched off the radio. He patted his pockets, then turned to Penny.

“If you’ll just excuse me for a moment, my dear, I think I’ll just get out and stretch my legs for a minute or two. Maybe take a little stroll and admire the garden.”

He sloped off and soon disappeared behind a tree. A few moments later, wisps of smoke drifted away from the tree, carried away on a light breeze.

He thinks Bronwyn doesn’t know that he sneaks the occasional cigarette, Penny thought, as she chuckled to herself.

With a satisfied smile, the rector returned to the car, and just as he settled into his seat, the door of the building opened and Peyton emerged. With long, purposeful strides he walked to his car, started it up, and drove off.

“Do you want to go in and try to find out what he was doing here?” asked the rector.

“No, not today. I know you need to get home. But I’ll bet