White Lies Read Online Free PDF

me over until the dole comes through.”
    “Would you like me to look out for work? You never know what you can come across.”
    “That’d be kind of you, love, but I doubt there are many willing to give a job to an ex-con.”
    “Nevertheless, I shall put the feelers out. I have a lot of contacts in town. I’m sure someone knows someone who wants someone.”
    Jimmy looked out into the drizzle. “Easy for you to say.”
    “Would you like an umbrella to borrow? You could give it back later, when I visit.”
    He shook his head. “Thanks all the same, but umbrellas are for toffs and sissies. There’s never been a bit of rain that’s hurt me.”
    “An admirable proclamation, albeit a damp one.” Meinwen took a step backward into the house. “Well then. I must get on.”
    “Aye, as should I.” Jimmy turned his collar up and strode off toward the gate. He gave a final wave as he stepped through and then was gone. Meinwen closed the door thoughtfully. It would be interesting to investigate something again. She’d have to pull her collection of Agatha Christies out from under the bed to see if Monsieur Poirot could give her any tips.
    She crossed to the house phone and called the police station. “May I speak to Detective-sergeant Peters, please?”
    “May I ask who’s calling and what it’s in connection with?”
    “This is Meinwen Jones. It’s about the suicide of John Fenstone.”
    “That’s not a serious crime, madam. Can I put you through to the civil liaison officer?”
    “I’d rather talk to Peters, if you don’t mind.” Meinwen took a deep breath and smiled. She could tell when someone was smiling on the other end of a telephone line. “I helped his wife give birth to their first child, you know.”
    “Ah, I see. Just wait a moment then, while I see if he’s in.”
    “Certainly.” Meinwen dropped the smile. She’d told a lie there. Only a little white one but still. The help she’d given Julie Peters had been more of the phone- for-an-ambulance variety rather than actually assist in the birth. She hadn’t even known it was the sergeant’s wife at that point either, just a poor woman’s water breaking in the pasta aisle at Sainsbury’s.
    The line clicked and the woman returned.“Miss Jones?”
    “Yes? Still here.”
    “DS Peters isn’t in the office at present. May I take a message for him?”
    “No, it’s fine, thanks. I’ll try his mobile.”
    “I’m afraid we can’t give out an officer’s mobile number.”
    “It’s all right. I have it.” Meinwen put the phone down, mentally kicking herself for not using his mobile number in the first place. She fetched her phone from the kitchen and found his name.
    “DS Peters.”
    “Sergeant? It’s Meinwen Jones, here.”
    “Ah. I was expecting a call from you. I sent a lad round. James Fenstone?”
    “About the death of his brother, yes. I wanted to ask you why it was ruled suicide.”
    “I didn’t deal with the case myself, but I had a glance through the file this morning after he came in. As far as I’m aware it was an open-and-shut case. There was no sign of a break-in, nothing was missing and he’d taken a lot of trouble to give himself enough of a drop for a broken neck. No foul play assumed. The autopsy listed it as death by asphyxiation.”
    “Not from a broken neck?”
    “No, but that doesn’t mean the neck wasn’t broken as part of the death.”
    “That’s unusual, surely? If he hung himself, his cause of death would be the broken neck? If the break occurred after death, you’ve got murder on your hands.”
    “Look, don’t get excited, Meinwen. It wasn’t a murder. You’ve been watching too much television.”
    “I don’t have a television. You should know that.”
    “Reading too many books then. Laverstone has more than its fair share of murders, I’ll admit, but John Fenstone isn’t one of them.”
    “All right.” Meinwen dropped her voice low. “What if I asked you very nicely, though? Could you