Murder on the Thirteenth Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Great band practice.” She stood, her sturdy but shapely legs apart, in front of the fire, warming her backside. Her lantern jaw jutted forward and her clear blue eyes appeared even moreluminous against the deep windburn of her face. She walked daily in Coote’s Paradise, rain or shine.
    â€œEvening, Patricia,” Tretheway said. “Why don’t you give us your report now.”
    â€œOkay.” She looked around the room. “Is it my turn?”
    â€œYes,” Tretheway said. “Tremaine’s just finished.”
    Tremaine sat down.
    â€œWell, it was all very orderly,” Patricia Sprong began. “A few violations. Most were forgivable. But I have some names here to report.” She went on to describe an efficient patrol. As a professional major in the Sally Ann, Sprong tended to be harder or easier on offenders in direct relation to their wealth. All the names she handed in were well-to-do folk. The poor and meek she forgave. And Tretheway couldn’t help but notice that, unlike Mary Dearlove, Major Sprong was no stranger to unlit streets or dark alleys.
    â€œThat’s about it, then?” Tretheway looked around the room.
    Everybody looked around the room.
    â€œThat’s fine.” Addie stood up and flicked some crumbs from her apron. “Perhaps some sandwiches would be in order.”
    â€œGood idea,” Jake said.
    â€œWhat about the lecture on sand bags?” Gum asked.
    â€œAnd some beer,” Addie finished.
    â€œWe’ll do the sand bags later.” Tretheway stood up.
    For the next thirty minutes, everyone socialized. They made short work of the tasty, substantial sandwiches (most of the men washed theirs down with ale) and helped themselves generously to the apple tarts Addie had made after saving up food coupons for weeks. Her home-made dandelion wine moved slowly. Fat Rollo stole a tart, but Fred was blamed for it. Finally, everyone wandered back to their seats and waited for the meeting to continue.
    â€œI thought we’d go right into, ‘How to Fill an Efficient Sandbag’”, Tretheway began. “Then perhaps a little euchre.”
    Agreeable murmurs were heard, except from Mary Dearlove. She had no objection to playing euchre; something else was bothering her.
    â€œJust a moment,” she said to Tretheway. “What about
your
report? I mean, we’ve heard a lot of rumours.”
    â€œAbout what?” Tretheway asked.
    â€œThe light,” Miss Dearlove persisted. “The light on the marsh.”
    â€œCome clean, Tretheway,” the Squire chided. “Who was signalling the Luftwaffe?”
    â€œI heard it was marsh gas,” Patricia Sprang offered.
    â€œCorpse’s candles?” Cynthia Moon said.
    â€œA form of phosphorescence,” Tremaine Warbucks stated. “Ignis Fatuus.”
    Gum giggled and Garth Dingle guffawed loudly.
    â€œAll right.” Tretheway held his large hands up, palms out partly in defeat and partly to control the meeting. “Settle down.”
    He had told Zoë and Beezul about the light. Jake had been there. Gum knew about it. And then there were the people who had phoned in. So it was no secret.
    â€œWe saw this light,” Tretheway said. “Just where it was reported. Definite blackout violation. Coming from Hickory Island. So we investigated.”
    â€œYou mean you went out there?” Addie asked. “Across the ice?”
    â€œThat’s right.” Tretheway had their attention. “Not that far. Made it without incident.” He looked sideways at Jake. “We ascertained that someone had built a fire. Never found anyone. A bowl of wax had overflowed and flared up. That was the light we saw earlier.”
    â€œWax in a bowl?” the Squire asked.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWas the bowl bronze, by any chance?” said Cynthia Moon.
    â€œCould be.”
    â€œAnd
only
wax in it?”
    â€œI think