The Actuary's Wife
Page 34
“There’s no need to talk to me like I’m senile, young man,” Freda grumbled.
“I’m fifty two.” The presenter started to lose his nerve. “I’m not really a young man.”
“Compared to ninety, you’re a babe in arms!” Freda bit. “Ah yes, the scandal at the school. My colleague found the plaque and advised the headmaster. We were waiting to see what he wished to do about it.”
“Ah, yes. Little Arden School has issued a statement saying the event will go ahead as planned but more as a celebration of the work of the school in the community rather than a commemoration of any particular date.”
Freda cackled, the sound carrying across the airwaves like the trumpet blast for Halloween. Emma suspected she did it on purpose to watch the technical staff scramble for switches and volume controls.
“So how did the plaque end up at St Di’s in the possession of one of the deceased?” The presenter sounded a heady mix of perplexed and depressed.
“No idea,” Freda said. “Can we talk about me now?”
“Er, well, we’re going to the news item in a minute or two.”
“No, you’re not. It says ten minutes on that little digital thingamy. I can see it counting backwards. I came all the way here on my scooter. It’s not easy being ninety, you know.”
“I’m sure. Perhaps our listeners might like a few more minutes of history then. I understand you became one of the famous Ayers of Market Harborough after the war when you married John Ayers.” The announcer sounded dangerously smug. “That’s quite a rags to riches romance, isn’t it?”
“No.” Emma heard Freda’s smile through her voice, carrying from the radio station offices in town and broadcasting her interview to the community’s eager listeners. “My sister, Charlotte and I were the children of Geoffrey Ayers. I was born a noblewoman and I’ll die one.”
Emma touched the healing cut on her neck and smiled as the presenter covered the huge silence with a song from the 1950s. Freda’s secret spun through the airwaves and would land in Clarissa Jameson-Arden’s ears before the day was out. Emma shook her head and wondered if the spiteful family would cool their heels for a while and allow the town to settle after the series of revelations and the death of the toxic Adam Jameson. The plaque generated a whirlpool of excitement, especially when Sam and Emma claimed it went missing from the school’s attic. Emma stayed away from work for the last few weeks of term, giving Mr Dalton and his board of governors time to decide whether they still wanted an archivist or not. It allowed her neck to heal and gave her space to reflect on her changed circumstances over the last months.
Paul Barker visited Emma at home and commented how pale she looked. Wearing a high necked jumper, Emma blamed it on her pregnancy, signed her verbatim statement and smiled sweetly. “It’s a bit of a mystery,” the detective sighed, smiling as his father handed him a mug of tea. “Quietest town in the county for years and now three murders I can’t solve.” He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure Clarissa Jameson-Arden’s in this up to her neck but I can’t find any evidence of it. And the dead Russian came here on a false passport so nobody knows who he was, not even the Russian embassy.”
Ray glanced at Emma and shrugged before patting his son on the back. “Ah well, son,” he said. “Ya can’t win em all.”
The front door slammed and Emma heard the sound of running feet. She tensed as Christopher Dolan burst into the quiet kitchen. “You’ll never guess what?” he blurted. His face changed at the sight of the detective and he bit his lip and backed away. “Sorry, I’ll tell youse later,” he said. Paul Barker knitted his brow and looked to his father for explanation.
“He’s a wally,” Ray snorted, drawing attention away from Emma, who rolled her eyes and watched the kitchen door close behind him.
“Yeah,” she breathed and chewed on her lower lip, dreading whatever latest mayhem the Irishman had dragged to her front door this time.
Get the next in the series The Actuary in Trouble
Dear Reader,
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The Actuary’s Wife
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About the Author
K T Bowes worked in education for more than a decade, both in New Zealand and the United Kingdom and has been writing since she could first hold a pencil. Now she works part time as an archivist maintaining a private collection. She believes in God, which is just as well because the situations she gets herself into often require His assistance. Surprisingly happily married despite her crazy escapades, K T Bowes still hankers after another parachute jump but hasn’t convinced her husband to join in. Her four beautiful children are all now making their own way in the world and finally eating salad and vegetables. She lives in the North Island of New Zealand between the Hakarimata Ranges and the Waikato River with a mad cat and often a few crazy horses. Horse riding is her passion but unfortunately she keeps falling off and breaking bones, so has gone back to road running instead. She can’t be seen pacing the streets of Ngaruawahia because she runs in the dark, convinced people will laugh. Often accompanied by one of her characters complaining about something, the author appears to have mental problems as she frequently answers back, w
hich is another good reason for running under cover of darkness.
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