The Sting of Death Read Online Free Page A

our foreign surnames to unite us, as well.’
    ‘Did you go to the same schools?’
    She shook her head. ‘No, we didn’t. We pleaded to be allowed to, but it never happened. We lived just too far apart for it to be feasible.’
    When Penn got her first teaching job, after college, Justine had been living close by. They’d laughed about the coincidence, but they both knew that Penn had deliberately applied for posts in the area, she admitted now. ‘I suppose it must be the family connection; she’s just always been my best friend. And she needed me at the time. She was having a very rough patch and it was important for me to be there for her.’
    Drew let her prattle on, following the thread, but making no response. The sooner the story got itself told, the happier he’d be. It wasn’t too long before Penn realised she ought to summarise. ‘She lives in a funny little cottage now, on a farm. She’s never had a proper job, you see, never had much money. She does pottery.’
    ‘Pottery,’ Drew echoed. ‘Does she have a workshop, then? And a kiln, and all that?’
    ‘She has now,’ said Penn shortly.
    Drew felt as if he was being led in a very convoluted zigzag where a straight line would have worked very much better. ‘When did you last see her?’ he asked impatiently. ‘And whatmakes you think there isn’t a nice ordinary explanation for her absence?’
    ‘Today’s Sunday,’ Penn held up her forefinger. ‘I last saw her on Tuesday evening. So that’s – five days? I’d made an arrangement to see her on Thursday, for lunch, and she didn’t show up. I phoned her, and there was no reply. I emailed her – still no reply. Then I went to the cottage and she wasn’t there. I’ve got a key, so I let myself in, and had a look round. It seemed to me that she’d dropped several things at short notice, meaning to come back to them. It’s very seriously out of character.’
    ‘Email?’ echoed Drew. ‘She can afford a computer, then?’
    ‘No, no. It belongs to Philip – the farmer. Except he doesn’t really farm now. All his animals were slaughtered in the foot and mouth outbreak. He’s some sort of dealer. Anyway, Justine goes to the main house to use his computer. She helps with their child, so she’s in the house quite a bit.’
    Drew tapped a finger thoughtfully on the arm of his chair, trying to think what else to ask. ‘You haven’t gone to the police?’ he checked.
    Penn shook her head. ‘They wouldn’t take much notice. She’s an independent adult, and there’s no sign of violence.’
    ‘Have you got any mutual friends? Anyone else who might have some idea of where she’s gone?’
    ‘Only the Rentons.’
    ‘And they haven’t seen her either?’
    Penn closed her eyes in a give me patience gesture. ‘No,’ was all she said.
    ‘How much does she have to do with them? Rather a lot, by the sound of it.’
    Penn paused, as if mustering her thoughts. ‘It’s quite complicated,’ she said with a frown. ‘Philip doesn’t keep much stock, as I said. Just a few sheep, I think. He buys and sells straw, great lorryloads of it, and does a bit of dealing in fodder. Justine’s cottage is a long way from the house; a quarter of a mile at least. And she has the use of a small barn, as well. For her pottery.’
    Almost lazily, he elicited the rest of the story. It didn’t strike him as of very much interest, and he felt no sense of excitement or challenge. Justine babysat the Rentons’ daughter, Georgia, and did some secretarial work for Philip on his computer. In return she was charged a very low rent, and allowed to use the computer for email and internet access. Sheena Renton was a workaholic sales manager, commuting to Bristol and away from the farm most of the time. Her life seemed filled with a never-ending succession of new initiatives, launches, promotions, assessments. ‘Justine makes fun of all the jargon,’ Penn said with sudden relish. ‘She can be very funny when she’s