Never Laugh as a Hearse Goes By: A Penny Brannigan Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

playing somewhere in the house. She knew the timing of her sister’s illness had annoyed the bishop, who saw it as a personal inconvenience, but it could not be helped. Constance was recovering much more slowly than the doctors had predicted, and although Minty had desperately wanted to stay longer, she’d returned to get ready for the conference. She had assured the bishop she would and he expected nothing less.
    She looked at the large stack of unopened mail that had been tossed on her desk and with a resigned sigh, reached for her letter opener. A single woman who needed to work, she had expected to retire at sixty as British women used to. But with the downturn in the economy, she was glad that the laws had been changed so she could continue on in the position she had held for almost ten years. Money was definitely an issue; she hadn’t saved nearly enough for a comfortable retirement. And the cost of everything kept going up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a new winter coat. Vacations were spent with her sister or a cousin in Devon.
    She enjoyed her job, most of the time, and her old-fashioned, unquestioning loyalty to her employer was almost absolute. But lately feelings of resentment had begun to creep in. She found it harder to get up in the morning to come to work. There were other things she’d rather be doing. She was more tired than she used to be at the end of the day and occasionally she longed for a nap after lunch. There were times when it took every ounce of restraint she had to not tell the bishop’s spoiled, vain wife what she really thought of her. As for the bishop, although she was well aware of his flaws, she respected him. She admired his sharp, clear thinking and the way he made decisions quickly. He hated dithering. He was all about getting the job done quickly and efficiently. She knew that some thought him cold and even questioned his suitability for the role of bishop but she thought his first-rate administrative skills made him perfect for the job. He held people accountable. If he had one weakness, though, it was that he did not pay as close attention to the financials as he ought to. After all, they tell the real story and the only one that matters for any organization.
    She reached out a veined and freckled hand to switch on the desk lamp, and in the little pool of white light that flooded her desktop, she slit open the first envelope. Soon she had a small pile of parish reports to analyze, enter into a spreadsheet and summarize for the bishop’s attention. She checked her watch. That late already! She was beginning to regret not taking an earlier train. She walked into the small kitchen that adjoined the office and filled the kettle. A cup of tea would help. It always did.
    An hour later, puzzled, she sat back in her chair. She peered closer at the document on her computer screen and took a reflective sip of cold tea.
    That’s rather peculiar, she thought, running her finger along the rows of numbers that summarized various activities in the different parishes. In one parish a set of numbers was substantially higher than in the others. She compared the figures on each side of the parish that puzzled her. Perhaps there had been some kind of error. She double-checked her entry figures one last time and then gave up. She printed out the document, circled a number and tucked the paper in her handbag. She’d take a closer look in the morning. It was easier to make sense of numbers when they were on paper. It was late, she was tired, her eyes felt strained; at her age she much preferred working by daylight. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. Just a few bills to pay and then she’d be off home. She didn’t understand why the bishop was so resistant to the idea of using modern technology to process donations. She’d been paying the bills online for the bishop, his wife, and the diocese for ages and it saved a lot of time and bother. The old way of writing out