by Joyce Cato
Causon eyed her grimly. ‘No, we don’t,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re thinking of people we’re holding down at the station. These people,’ he waved at the people who were still giving statements to the officers, ‘can go home as soon as we have their details.’
Jenny sighed, but wasn’t inclined to give up yet. She had bread rolls that had been perfectly proved and would be perfect, when baked, for beef-burger buns. ‘It’s just that I do so hate to waste food,’ she persisted hopefully. Surely the man could be persuaded to see reason? ‘And I bet your mother did, too, and brought you up the same. And since it’s all here and ready to …’
But the inspector was now glowering at her.
‘No! Get the idea out of your head. You’re not going to cook for us and that’s that,’ Causon all but yelled at her. It made several of his officers and a few of the SOCOs glance over and grin at them. No doubt they were glad that it was someone else, and not them, who was getting the sharp end of Causon’s tongue for once.
He ran an harassed hand through his hair and sighed. ‘Look, Miss Starling, it’s not that I don’t appreciate all the help you’ve given us these past few hours. But you need to leave now, and let us get on with what needs to be done. And we can’t have you underfoot whilst we’re doing that,’ he said, forcing his voice to sound reasonable. ‘You can see that, can’t you?’
‘Look, I understand that it’s a bit unconventional and all that,’ Jenny concurred magnanimously. ‘And I have no intention of messing with a crime scene,’ she reassured him fulsomely, holding up both hands in an appeasing gesture. ‘But there’s nothing stopping me from setting up the barbecue outside in the lane, is there? I mean, that’s a public place, right, and well away from the pavilion, and all this. And I really don’t mind trekking all the food and things out there …’
‘No!’ Causon howled now, going a quite spectacular shade of puce. There was just no getting through to this woman!
Jenny sighed. ‘Oh, come on.’ She gave his upper forearm a gentle nudge with her own, willing to give it one last shot. ‘Every man loves a barbecue,’ she insisted. ‘There are steaks, and my homemade Oxfordshire herb sausages… .’
Causon took a step away from her, stared at her balefully for about thirty seconds, then pointed imperiously at her van. ‘Out,’ he thundered through gritted teeth.
Jenny Starling stared back at him, then sighed sadly. Her shoulders slumped as she turned and walked dejectedly away.
There was just no helping some people, she acknowledged to herself sadly.
In fact, she thought, with a spurt of resentment, some people could be just downright unreasonable.
Which, by an odd coincidence, happened to be exactly what Inspector Laurence Causon was also thinking.
By the same author
Birthdays Can Be Murder
A Fatal Fall of Snow
Dying for a Cruise
An Invisible Murder
Deadly Stuff
An Unholy Mess
An Unholy Whiff of Death
© Joyce Cato
First published in 2016 by
Robert Hale an imprint of
The Crowood Press Ltd,
Ramsbury, Marlborough
Wiltshire SN8 2HR
www.crowood.com
www.halebooks.com
ISBN 978 0 7198 2024 3 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 2025 0 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 2026 7 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1889 9 (print)
The right of Joyce Cato to be identified as
author of this work has been asserted by her
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988.
