The Wages of Desire Read Online Free PDF

that moment, Winston-Sheed was readying the body to be transported to Winchester for autopsy. The woman got onto the tips of her toes to better see the corpse. The other two stayed back a bit from the fence. The older woman turned to them and said, “But I can’t see a thing! Not really!” She turned again toward the cemetery, as if hoping that the view might suddenly have improved in the instant during which she’d turned away from it.
    â€œThat’s all right,” the younger woman said. “Lilly and I will be getting off home now anyway.”
    The older woman left the fence and rejoined the other two. “But we must find out what happened,” she insisted.
    â€œWe’ll find out soon enough, Flora,” the other woman said.
    The older woman caught sight of Vera. “Oh, here’s someone,” she said and began moving very quickly toward Vera. The other two followed, though not as quickly. The woman in the lead waved at Vera. “I say, are you with the police?” Before Vera could answer the woman was in front of her.
    â€œMy word—a girl policeman,” the woman said. She stared at Vera for a second. “You are a girl, my dear, aren’t you?” Vera found the question rude. She hadn’t thought her uniform that baggy and unflattering.
    â€œYes,” she said without enthusiasm.
    The woman smiled. “I say,” she said. “ Good for you, my dear. I’ve never seen a girl policeman—though it’s about time. But that’s what the war has done, hasn’t it? Opened up things for us.”
    Vera forced a smile. “Yes, ma’am,” she said.
    The other two caught up and stood behind the woman named Flora. The young girl caught Vera’s eye and ostentatiously whirled her right forefinger around her ear, signaling to Vera not to be alarmed—as if to say that the woman who stood in front of her was loony and that everyone knew it. The younger woman gently swatted at the girl’s hand, but without vehemence or true censure. Vera did her best to suppress a smile.
    â€œMy name is Flora Wheatley,” the older woman said, offering Vera a pudgy hand.
    â€œI’m Vera Lamb.” Miss Wheatley shook Vera’s proffered hand with what Vera thought was needless vigor, as if Miss Wheatley was working a recalcitrant water pump. She realized that she had no rank to put in front of her name—only the baggy uniform.
    â€œI say, my dear, can you tell us what’s happened?” Miss Wheatley asked. “We only know that some unfortunate woman has been shot to death in our cemetery.”
    â€œI’m afraid that I don’t know any more than that myself.”
    â€œOh, but you must!” Miss Wheatley said. “You’re with the police, aren’t you?”
    â€œI am, but …”
    The younger woman stepped closer. “It’s all right, Flora,” she said, putting her hand on Miss Wheatley’s shoulder. “I’m sure Miss Lamb would not be at liberty to discuss the case with us even if she did know anything.” The younger woman smiled at Vera.
    â€œYes, that’s right,” Vera said, though she wasn’t certain that it was. “Even so, I really do know nothing. I’m only just a driver, you see. It’s a temporary job.”
    â€œI should think it would be a nice job to have,” the girl said. “Exciting.”
    Vera smiled at the girl. “It’s not bad. But to be truthful, it’s mostly standing around waiting.”
    â€œStill, you get to go to the scene of the crime,” the girl insisted.
    â€œThat’s true.”
    â€œI’m afraid Lilly’s on a bit of kick when it comes to detective novels at the moment,” the younger woman said. She offered Vera her hand. “My name is Julia Martin, by the way, and this is my daughter, Lilly.”
    â€œI say, my dear, is your captain about?” Miss Wheatley