The Chemistry of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

bones of gossip.
    But I wasn't surprised that Janice knew about the body. Half the village would be buzzing with the news by now.
    'Over by Farnham Wood,' I told him.
    'Some birdwatcher, probably. Yomping around with a backpack in this heat.'
    'Probably.'
    His dark eyebrows went up at my tone. 'What, then? Don't tell me we might have a murder? That'd liven things up a bit!' His smile faded when I didn't join in. 'Something tells me I shouldn't joke about it.'
    I told him about my visit to Sally Palmer's house, hoping talking about it might make it seem less of a possibility. It didn't.
    'Good Christ,' Henry said heavily, when I'd finished. 'And the police think it might be her?'
    'They didn't say one way or the other. I don't suppose they can, yet.'
    'God, what a bloody thing to happen.'
    'It might not be her.'
    'No, of course not,' he agreed. But I could see he didn't believe it any more than I did. 'Well, I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink.'
    'Thanks, but I'll give it a miss.'
    'Saving yourself for the Lamb later?'
    The Black Lamb was the village's only pub. I often went there, but I knew that this evening the main topic of conversation wouldn't be one I wanted to join in.
    'No, I think I'll just stay at home tonight,' I told him.
    My house was an old stone cottage on the outskirts of the village. I'd bought it when it became obvious I'd be staying longer than six months after all. Henry had told me I was welcome to stay with him, and God knows Bank House was certainly big enough. Its wine cellar alone could have swallowed my cottage. But I'd been ready to move into my own place, to feel I was putting down permanent roots rather than continue as a lodger. And as much as I enjoyed my new work, I didn't want to live with it. There were times when it was still good to be able to close the door and walk away, and hope the phone didn't ring for a few hours at least.
    This was one of them. A few people were drifting up the churchyard path for the evening service as I drove by on my way home. Scarsdale, the vicar, was in the church doorway. He was an elderly, dour man I couldn't pretend to like very much. But he'd been here for years and had a loyal, if small, congregation. I raised my hand to acknowledge Judith Sutton, a widow who lived with her adult son Rupert, an overweight hulk who always trudged along two paces behind his overbearing mother. She was talking to Lee and Marjory Goodchild, a prim couple of hypochondriacs who were regulars at the surgery. They regarded me as on-call twenty-four hours a day, and I hoped I wouldn't be flagged down now for an impromptu consultation.
    But this evening neither they nor anyone else stopped me. I parked on the baked earth at the side of the cottage and let myself in. It was stuffy inside. I opened the windows as wide as they'd go and helped myself to a beer from the fridge. I might not have wanted to go to the Lamb, but I still needed a drink. In fact, realizing just how badly I needed one, I put the beer back and poured myself a gin and tonic instead.
    I broke some ice into the glass, added a wedge of lemon and drank it at the small wooden table in the back garden. It looked out across a field onto woods, but if the view wasn't as spectacular as from the surgery, neither was it quite such a daunting landscape. I took my time over the gin, then cooked myself an omelette and ate it outside. The heat was finally ebbing from the day. I sat at the table as the sky slowly deepened and the stars began making their first hesitant appearance. I thought about what was going on a few miles away. The activity there would now be around the once peaceful stretch of country where the Yates boys had made their discovery. I tried to visualize Sally Palmer safe and laughing somewhere, as if thinking about it would make it so. But for some reason I couldn't hold a picture of her in my mind.
    Putting off the moment when I would have to go to bed and face sleep, I stayed there until the