The Advent of Murder (A Faith Morgan Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

herself, why would no one report him missing; especially when he failed to turn up for a performance over the weekend?
    “Is there some trouble with Lucas?” Jim’s steady gaze challenged her. She took a deep breath.
    “No,” she said, guilt sitting heavily in her gut. “Just curious.”

C HAPTER
4
    Faith tried to maintain her concentration on the Midnight Mass, but in truth the boy’s face on the flyer was distracting. She gulped her tea too fast and left in something of a hurry. As she reached her car her phone trilled, shrill and urgent from its nest in the top of her open bag.
    Perhaps it was Ben with confirmation.
    “Faith Morgan?” A familiar voice, and unwelcome. George Casey, the bishop’s press officer. Not one of her favourite people. “Thank goodness I’ve found you!” The exclamation had an accusatory edge. “What is this about another body you’ve turned up? After the mess last time, you could have had the decency to ring me to warn me. I’ve had the police on to me. Apparently the victim was a member of the wretched youth choir.”
    The wretched youth choir! Faith struggled to find suitable words. George Casey hardly paused to draw breath.
    “It would be connected to the youth choir,” he lamented. “I always thought it a risk bringing in urban youth. And in the run-up to Christmas! The time of the year when we are most in the public eye.”
    Faith wondered if there might be steam coming out of her ears.
    “I realize that tragedy is inconvenient…” she began icily. She heard an intake of breath at the other end of the line and then a brief pause.
    “Of course, of course, it is a tragedy,” Casey fussed impatiently in her ear. “But a death of a boy like this – well, sudden death, press-wise, takes a lot of handling, as you well know,” he ended, resentfully.
    Faith bristled at the injustice. It wasn’t her fault that her arrival in the diocese had coincided with the notorious case of the murdered vicar. She’d grown increasingly sure that George Casey blamed her personally for those weeks of lurid headlines in the papers.
    “I am not sure what I can do for you, apart from sympathize,” she said, keeping her voice level.
    “That is why I am ringing. Apparently the police need to interview the youth choir. They are calling people in tomorrow morning at the cathedral.”
    Faith frowned. What did this have to do with her? “As it happens, I was just with Mr Postlethwaite, the choir director – you should let him know.”
    “Oh!” At least she’d startled him. “Yes. Of course. But as I was saying. The dean asks if you can be present at the interviews tomorrow.”
    “Me?” Her first thought – an uncharitable one, she quickly acknowledged – was that she simply didn’t have the time. “I’m not sure how I can—”
    “10:30 start in the Lady Chapel,’ interrupted George. “We think there should be a female on hand, as chaperone, you know. Underaged girls, and all that.”
    “Really?” Faith could feel her sixth sense tingling.“This was the dean’s idea?”
    “Well, not entirely. The police suggested it.”
    “They did?”
    “Yes. The fellow in charge – Detective Inspector Shorter,” said Casey, pompously. “An old friend of yours, isn’t he?”
     

    It was a clear, icy night. In a bundle of winter clothing, warmed in the middle by the glow of the microwaved pasta bake she had just consumed, Faith crunched down the path to the church hall. Someone had gritted it, bless them! The phone in her pocket beeped. On time to the very minute. Not bad.
    Between Ben and George Casey, she had felt powerless to refuse tomorrow’s appointment at the cathedral.
    The porch light illuminated the iron-banded door. Her mittened hands gripped the ring. It gave way, protesting. Fresh muddy traces on the tiled floor inside told her the others had already arrived. The lobby still felt cold and a bit dank, but they had got rid of the unfortunate pea-green colour that had