Page 51 of A Village Theatre Murder

‘I could make us all supper sometime, if you’re keen,’ Jono offered shyly, looking at Julia.

‘I’d really like that, Jono. Do you enjoy cooking?’

‘I’m a bit out of practice the last couple of years, and haven’t had much in the way of a kitchen. But I used to do a brilliant lasagne. Mum’s recipe. She taught me how to make it when she was…when she got sick. Remember, Dad?’

‘I do. You were about fifteen, and she said you couldn’t go out into the world without a couple of wholesome recipes under your belt. That and the minestrone soup. A few others. You made the lasagne a few times for her, until you had it down, remember?’

A soft sadness passed over Jono’s face. ‘She couldn’t eat much by then, but she gave me the thumbs-up.’ He held his own thumbs up and gave a weak smile.

‘What a loving thing to leave you with, Jono. Your mum gave you a real gift for life.’

Jono’s eyes glistened, as if he was holding back tears.

‘She did. I hadn’t really thought of it like that. And I haven’t had much of an opportunity to use the gift; things have been a bit…’ He seemed to struggle for the right word, and he came up with the rather nebulous: ‘Hard.’

Julia smiled and put her hand over his. ‘It has been difficult. You’re doing well, Jono. And you’ve got a lot of time ahead to make her lovely recipes.’

He nodded, and said briskly: ‘Well, I want to get back into cooking, so I’ll give that lasagne a try sometime.’

26

At exactly nine o’clock in the morning – the time her mother had drummed into her was the earliest time one might politely phone another person, outside of an emergency – Julia phoned DC Walter Farmer to tell him what she’d heard about Bethany’s whereabouts on the night of Roger’s death. She had thought, for a while, about whether she would be better off phoning Walter or Hayley Gibson, his superior officer. After due consideration, she’d decided that the information she had was Walter-level. Besides, Hayley was stressed and grumpy, and likely in no mood for unsolicited phone calls. Thirdly, Julia had to admit, she was motivated by the knowledge that Walter was less cagey than Hayley. She would be more likely to hear something about the investigation from him than from her.

Walter seemed pleased to hear from Julia and grateful for her information about Bethany.

‘At the Swan, you say? What time?’

‘She was there from sometime in the afternoon – you can check with Kevin for more exact timing – until Jono and his friend drove her home at about ten or ten thirty.’

‘And she was, um, incapacitated?’

‘Could barely walk, apparently. They helped her into her bedroom and onto the bed. From what they say, there’s no way she went out again.’

‘Right, well, I’ll chat to Jono, but that seems fairly conclusive. Thanks, Julia. You’ve saved us some footwork.’

‘Walter?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you know what time Roger Grave died?’

There was a pause on the other end of the line, while Walter weighed up how much and what information to divulge. Julia could almost hear his brain clunking around in his skull on the other end of the phone. On the one hand, this was confidential police information, which he shouldn’t, by rights, share with a civilian. On the other hand, Julia had been forthcoming with her own information, which created a bit of an obligation.

After some moments, Walter found a way through the conundrum. He answered: ‘Let’s just say that if your information is correct, Bethany could not have killed her father.’

‘Well, I have done my bit for justice this morning,’ Julia told Jake and Chaplin, who were regarding her with fascination and admiration. Granted, what they were fascinated by and admiring of was her ability to work the can opener or the biscuit tin and produce food at any time of the day or night. Truly, opposable thumbs were a miraculous invention. ‘It seems Bethany is no longer a suspect. Poor girl.’

The pets’ admiration was tinged with impatience.

‘All right, here you go,’ she said, clattering nuggets into Chaplin’s bowl on the counter.

She opened the kitchen door to the garden. ‘Now your turn, Jake.’

He needed no invitation. He shot out of the house like a bullet from a gun. Bad analogy under the circumstances, shescolded herself. He ran out of there like a chubby four-legged Usain Bolt. Julia had to tip the tin to scrape out a scoop of the last remaining dog biscuits. She poured them into his bowl, while he jumped around her feet excitedly.

Watching the pets crunch their way through their respective breakfasts, she made a mental note to buy more dog food before the weekend. Knowing that a mental note had about a fifty-fifty chance of remaining in her brain long enough to be actioned, she made another mental note to write down the contents of the first mental note when she went inside. She’d probably forget that one, too. Unless she made another mental note…And another…

She went inside and wrote ‘dog food’ on the list on the little pad she kept attached to the fridge with a magnet. Her mind went straight to the investigation into Roger Grave’s death. Bethany had made some kind of mad sense as a suspect – if she thought her father had killed Graham, she might have been sufficiently enraged to have hit him with that book, or even thrown it at him, causing him to fall and hit his head. But if Bethany hadn’t killed Roger, who had? With Bethany crossed off the list, the field of suspects might have been narrowed down, but who else was left? And more to the point –whyhad someone killed him? The matter was no closer to resolution, from what Julia could see. Roger Grave’s death was a mystery.

---