The Blood of an Englishman Read Online Free PDF Page B

Look! Here comes the snow.”
    Tiny little flakes were spiralling upwards as the streetlights blossomed in the late-afternoon gloom. “I don’t like it when the snow seems to be falling upwards,” said Charles. “Must have got really cold.”
    â€œI’ll phone Gareth and get the address of Bessie Burdock,” said Agatha. “She played Mother Hubbard.”
    *   *   *
    Bessie Burdock lived on the council estate, which was, like all council estates, on the edge of the village. Most of the council houses were now privately owned. They were trim, stone, two-storied buildings with well-kept gardens, or what looked like well-kept gardens under the increasing blanket of snow.
    Bessie, a voluminous woman, answered the door. From behind her came the sounds of screaming children. Agatha explained who they were and what they wanted.
    â€œCome in,” she said. “I’ll get my daughter, Effie, to shut this lot up. Effie! Get ’em out into the back garden and make a snowman.”
    A heavily tattooed teenager in a Goth outfit said, “Right, Mum. But I’m sick o’ the bastards.”
    Bessie led them into a cosy front room. “Are all those children I hear yours?” asked Agatha.
    â€œNo, thank goodness,” said Bessie. “I mind the kids until their parents get back from work.”
    Agatha thought she even looked the part of Mother Hubbard. Bessie was very fat. She had a big round head and several chins and a huge bosom.
    â€œYou’ll want to know about Bert,” she said. “Right awful to die that way. Must be some madman.”
    â€œDid you like him?” asked Charles.
    â€œNo, I didn’t. I was sorry for Gwen, his wife. He was a crude bully. Great baker, mind you. Folks come from miles around to buy stuff at the village bakery.”
    â€œDid he have affairs?” asked Agatha.
    â€œGossip here and there. That’s all. Nobody ever had any proof. My Effie loathed him.”
    â€œWhy? Did he make a pass at her?”
    â€œNo. He’d just shout insults at her in the high street, called her Night of the Living Dead. This Goth thing is just a phase. Folks are saying Gareth Craven maybe did it.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Charles and Agatha in unison.
    â€œGareth always fancied Gwen. He wanted to marry her at one time. When she got married to Bert, he went off and married someone else and that didn’t work out.”
    â€œWho was Gareth married to?”
    â€œSome woman in the BBC. She didn’t like it here. When they were married, Gareth lived in London. He kept on his house and came back here after he got the sack. That’s why he joined that Gilbert and Sullivan lot in Mircester. Gwen’s one of the stars.”
    â€œIf Bert Simple was the bully I believe him to have been,” said Agatha, “I’m surprised he allowed her to be part of it.”
    â€œI think he was proud of her. There were always plenty of local girls to work in the bakery behind the counter.”
    â€œAny of the girls report any trouble?”
    â€œNo. A lot fancy Walt.”
    â€œI’m surprised the bakery is still open,” said Agatha.
    â€œWalt told people that he and his mum found it the best way to cope with grief. They said Bert would have wanted it that way.”
    Agatha asked more questions, not so much in the hope of gaining anything new, but of a reluctance to leave the cosy, chintzy room and go back out into the cold snow.
    At last they thanked her and took their leave.
    *   *   *
    â€œNow for the First Murderer,” said Charles.
    â€œAnd who’s that?” asked Agatha.
    â€œWhy, Gareth Craven. Who else?”

 
    Chapter Three
    Charles noticed that Agatha insisted on repairing her make-up before approaching Gareth Craven’s house.
    His fears that Agatha might be in the grip of one of her unfortunate obsessions died when he met Gareth. The man was