Page 30 of And Then There Was the One
A village leader with no love lost for Mr. Penbaker. And the money and renown that Murder Tourists could bring… without the actual murders?
It all sounded rather ideal for Bramble-in-the-Vale.
CHAPTER TEN
By the time they met Arthur and Constable Lexington at the Shorn Sheep that evening, Georgie was beginning to feel weary. Investigating crimes in small villages was not for the faint-hearted—there was a lot of tea to drink, and scones to consume, and sheep to visit. (The last agenda item, strictly speaking, had nothing to do with their investigation, but Sebastian had been determined to meet Ernest, and so a lengthy detour to the village green had been necessary after bidding Mrs. Penbaker adieu.)
Sebastian, meanwhile, seemed the very picture of vigorous good health and cheer; despite the damp weather, his hair maintained a jaunty curl, his skin glowed alluringly, and his shoes remained astonishingly unmuddied (though this fact had been rendered less astonishing when Georgie had witnessed him furtively produce a handkerchief from his jacketpocket and bend to wipe at a muddy splatter that had had the audacity to besmirch the expensive leather).
Arthur and Lexington arrived together, with Arthur looking visibly disgruntled.
“Hello,” she said cautiously, sipping at her half pint of cider. Next to her, Sebastian was lounging insouciantly in his chair, scanning the room—no doubt keeping an eye out for any potential romantic conquests once the evening’s business was concluded.
“George. Fletcher-Ford,” Arthur said, nodding at them as he shrugged off his damp jacket and slung it across the back of a chair. “Pint of bitter?” he tossed over his shoulder at Lexington, who nodded by way of reply. Georgie filed away this fascinating piece of information in her mind.
In a minute, Arthur was back, clutching a ginger beer for himself and sliding Lexington’s beer across the table to him; Lexington accepted the pint glass with a nod at Arthur.
“Did you learn anything interesting?” Georgie asked, once Arthur had settled into his seat.
He shook his head, looking vaguely disgusted. “Lots of chatter about Penbaker being a bold visionary for all of his schemes to draw tourists—nice bit of revisionist history, there,” he added with a snort. “But, in short, nothing that gave me the slightest suspicion that anyone I spoke to might be a murderer,” Arthur concluded. “What about you?”
“We,” Georgie said conversationally, “have decided to go on an expedition to Bramble-in-the-Vale tomorrow.”
The effect of these words was instantaneous; Lexington, who’d been about to take a sip of his drink, froze with hisglass raised halfway to his lips and offered an eloquent grimace; Arthur, whohadtaken a sip of his ginger beer, choked on it and proceeded to cough quite dramatically, not subsiding until Lexington reached over and thumped him helpfully on the back. Once his lungs were clear, Arthur said, horrified, “Why?”
Sebastian, who had watched all of this with keen interest, now turned an inquiring gaze to Georgie. “Is this village home to a prison?” he asked. “Are its inhabitants known to be petty thieves? Do they steal horses? Murder puppies?”
“Worse,” Georgie said darkly. “They’recharming.” She shook her head and took a sip of her cider.
Sebastian blinked, then looked from Georgie to Arthur to Lexington, who all gazed back at him solemnly. “More charming than… here?”
“Have you forgotten all of our corpses?” Lexington asked dryly. “Bramble-in-the-Vale is lacking in homicide victims.”
“And our shops aren’t as adorable,” Arthur added. “And far fewer of their names involve puns.”
“We don’t even have a bookshop,” Georgie put in, offering the final piece of information that should settle this debate. “No small village can be truly charming if it’s lacking in a bookshop.”
“You’ve a library,” Sebastian pointed out. “With a book club, even!”
“Amurder-themed book club,” Georgie reminded him.
“Why the devil do you want to go to Bramble-in-the-Vale, though?” Arthur said, looking horrified anew at the very notion.
“We want to speak to the council chairman,” Georgie explained.“It has been brought to our attention that they seem to be benefiting rather nicely from our little crime spree—loads of the Murder Tourists are staying there instead and popping over here to look for dead bodies before returning at the end of the day.”
“A good thought,” Arthur said pensively, reaching for his ginger beer.
“What do you intend to do?” Lexington asked, a bit skeptically. “Just march into the council office and demand an audience?”
Georgie and Sebastian exchanged a sheepish glance.
“Er,” said Sebastian.
“More or less,” said Georgie.
“I feel the need to remind you that we’re meant to be investigatingdiscreetly,” Lexington said, giving them a stern look.
“What if,” Arthur said slowly, “I came along, and made as if I were writing an article about the village.”
