Murder Comes Calling Read Online Free PDF

been exploited as a selling point to those seeking peace and tranquillity in a rural setting. This much Rex had been able to ascertain from his car tour with Malcolm.
    His friend lived four houses into Badger Court on the river side. As Rex stood with the dog on the overgrown bank contemplating the Ivel winding away to a thread, the wind buffeted him in sporadic gusts. The frigid blasts ruffled the glassy surface of the water into sharp waves that, after each onslaught, resolved into a slow current downstream, carrying along twigs and litter and sodden leaves. A cold, fusty odour came off the river, adding to the inhospitable atmosphere. The air, laden with humidity, promised more rain. Drowned in uniform grey, the horizon beyond the barren fields and misty meadows blurred into an ashen sky as fog enveloped the landscape.
    Continuing his reconnoitring expedition along the banks, Rex saw nothing of interest, except for a few squirrels, which the black Labrador didn’t even attempt to pursue. Malcolm was one of Magic’s regular walkers, and Rex, who had always wanted a dog, had been glad to take over, especially as he harboured ulterior motives. However, due to the inclement weather, he had yet to meet anyone else out with their dog, though he heard strident barking erupt from a house on Fox Lane as he passed by with the Lab. Magic did not respond to the provocation. The home of the vociferous canines stood three doors down from Ernest Blackwell’s, towards the northern end of the row of detached homes.
    The rain of the night before had left a sheen on the roofs and roads. The front lawns remained sodden, while puddles glistened at the foot of the driveways. The chill damp permeated Rex’s exposed skin, and he adjusted the soft wool scarf around his neck, which was still stiff from his drive from Scotland the day before.
    Where the devil had Malcolm got to, he wondered, glancing at his watch. Had he been arrested for withholding evidence? Rex had insisted on accompanying him to the police station in an unofficial capacity, but Malcolm had convinced him he would be fine and would call on his mobile phone if the detective in charge of the case proved “unsympathetic.” Unsympathetic, Rex echoed, with a shake of his head. Clearly, Malcolm did not comprehend the enormity of his actions.
    Magic’s tail was beginning to flag and the dog was looking at him in a questioning way, as if to ask if they were going to walk much further.
    “Right, old boy, home!” Rex announced, taking pity on the poor animal.
    Magic cocked his ears at the word “home” and gave a short, high-pitched bark. Rex felt less enthusiastic. While the walk had provided him with much needed exercise and a useful perspective regarding the layout of Notting Hamlet and its points of access and egress, he had failed to run into any of the residents as he had hoped. Then, just as he was crossing the street in the direction of Mr. Olson’s house, he spotted an elderly woman in a heavy tweed coat and blue bonnet, carrying a string bag of groceries.
    “Morning,” Rex called out. “Not the best weather to be oot and aboot, is it?”
    “Ghastly,” she replied. “You must be Malcolm’s friend from Scotland. He mentioned you’d be staying for a few days.”
    Rex did not know what else Malcolm had told her and so did not volunteer any information beyond his name in the form of an introduction.
    “Lottie Green,” the woman reciprocated, shaking his outstretched hand with her mitted one. She stooped to pat the dog. “He’s a love,” she said. “Nice you’re doing a neighbour a good turn. I’m taking some shopping to Mrs. Marbles. She’s bedridden too, from a stroke.”
    While she prattled on, Rex thanked his lucky stars that he had chanced to meet the person who’d spied Ernest Blackwell through the window. He was wondering how best to elicit information without revealing his vested interest in the case when she spared him the trouble by asking, “I