Murder in the Afternoon Read Online Free PDF Page B

peas in it and cut a piece of cold bacon and coveredit with a teacloth and said to Austin, come on, and shut up about it, and we’ll be back before she comes home.’
    Harriet impressed me. Her story came out in a matter of fact way. The row between Mary Jane and Ethan had been a petty squabble about what time Ethan would come home. Nothing that would make her slip to the quarry and murder her husband while her children were doing the shopping.
    The path began to climb steeply. Scrubby bushes on the bank sloping down to the river turned a dusty white, which must mean the quarry was close by. And then I could smell it, a powdery dry smell that caught the back of my throat.
    The track dropped and led us to a road that was little more than a bridleway. The quarry stretched before us stark and strange, a ravaged landscape. I reached for Harriet’s hand, more to reassure myself than her.
    ‘Harriet, is this what it was like on Saturday, or was there anyone here?’
    ‘They’d all gone home. I whistled for Dad, but there was no answer. I didn’t like to go walking through, just the two of us, but I’d come this far, so I did.’
    ‘Can we do that now?’
    She ran her tongue across her lips. With a stab of guilt, I remembered that the poor child had not had so much as a sip of tea, for which she was greedy, nor a slice of bread.
    Harriet led the way along a rough path, saying nothing. We walked by a huge shed. Her breathing became louder.
    ‘What’s that?’ I asked. The building to our right looked like a photograph I had seen of an enormous shack in a deserted gold rush town.
    ‘It’s the crushing shed.’
    We passed a huge crane. A slope led up to a little hutperched on top of rocks. When we had passed that, our way dipped down, and then became level.
    She stopped by a makeshift three-sided shed, constructed of planks and corrugated iron, open at the front.
    In front of it stood a long workbench. Beyond the workbench, on the ground, lay scattered pieces of blue slate.
    ‘Was that the sundial your dad was working on, Harriet?’
    ‘I think so. It wasn’t broken when we came. It looked finished. At first I thought he must have gone home, by the road, and that was why we had missed him.’
    ‘And where exactly did you see him?’
    ‘Just there, lying just inside the hut.’
    ‘Did Austin see him?’
    ‘I don’t think so. I made him stay there.’ She pointed to the end of the table. ‘He was scared. Some people say the goblins come out when the men leave the quarry.’
    ‘Did your dad speak to you, or make any sound?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Did you speak to him, or touch his hand?’
    ‘Yes I did. He didn’t answer. His hand was cold. But the stone is cold. So he would be cold.’
    I went into the hut. She did not follow.
    There was a rusty brazier and a blackened kettle. On the shelf to my left were tools and tin mugs.
    Harriet followed my gaze. ‘They’re not Dad’s tools. But that’s Dad’s mug and spoon. And them’s Raymond’s mallets and chisels.’ She pointed to the bench that ran along the back. ‘Mam and me made them cushions for Dad and Raymond.’
    ‘Raymond was your Dad’s apprentice?’
    She looked pleased that I wasn’t entirely ignorant. ‘Dad’s apprentice, until he came out of his time. Raymond’s a mason in his own right now.’
    ‘Was Raymond working with your dad on Saturday?’
    ‘Only Dad worked on the sundial. Only Dad worked Saturday afternoon. Raymond is courting. He’s to wed next Saturday. He and Polly will live with Raymond’s mam and dad or Polly’s mam and dad. Raymond’s mam is nice but his dad is a nasty piece of work. Polly’s mam and dad are nice but they have no room.’
    Thanks to my persistence, the poor child was so busy trying to tell me everything that she did not know what to choose and what leave out.
    She stared intently at the interior of the shed, as though still seeing someone there. She pointed to the place where she would not step. ‘Here. He was