“Just in time for spring, presumably?”
“Can I interest you in one?”
“Not just at the moment, thanks. I really had my heart set on bread and butter.”
“I’m sorry to have let you down on your first visit to the shop. I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time.”
Jack had finished his breakfast but was still sitting at the kitchen table. When he saw I’d returned emptyhanded, he grinned. “Still having toast?”
I ignored the jibe, went over to the cupboard, took out the cornflakes and poured some into a bowl.
“I did warn you, Jill.”
“I don’t understand it. How can they be out of bread and butter?”
“Did you meet the sisters Stock?”
“One of them. Stock? Now there’s an ironic name if ever there was one. Cynthia tried to sell me a body warmer.”
“It’s almost May.”
“I know. And the layout of that shop makes no sense; there’s stuff everywhere. I used to think Little Jack’s shop was bad, but at least he stocked the essentials, and the layout made some kind of sense.” Out in the garden, Florence was still throwing the ball for Buddy who looked as though he was about to collapse. “It looks like Florence has run him ragged.”
***
I’d decided to go directly from the old watermill to Mr Edwards’ house. I wanted to see the reading room from which he claimed he’d witnessed a shooting in one of the properties across the park.
There was no off-street parking at the front of the property, but I managed to park on the road just a few doors down. The houses were all clearly expensive, and large enough to accommodate a sizable family, but I was pretty sure that Mr Edwards lived there alone.
“Jill, good morning.” He greeted me at the door. “I’ve just put the kettle on. Is tea okay or would you prefer coffee?”
“Tea would be lovely. Milk no sugar, please.”
“I was about to make myself some toast. I don’t suppose you’d care for some, would you?”
“Actually, Mr Edwards—”
“Rusty! You really must call me Rusty.”
“Sorry. Actually, Rusty, a slice of toast would go down very nicely. I was going to have some before I left home, but we were out of bread and butter, and the local shop didn’t have either.”
“What?” He looked horrified. “What kind of retail establishment is that? If that were my local shop, I’d be reading the Riot Act to them. Come on in, and I’ll get the toast started.”
I had to give Rusty his due: the man certainly knew how to make toast. While we ate, we chatted at the kitchen table, mainly about his ex-wife who he clearly still missed.
When we’d finished our tea and toast, he led the way upstairs to the reading room, which was at the rear of the property. Just as he’d described, it overlooked a small park.
“You have a lovely view from up here, Rusty.”
“I’m a lucky man. I find it very relaxing to look out over the park, particularly in the spring and summer when I can open the French doors and sit on the balcony.”
“Was it through this window that you witnessed the incident in question?”
“Yes. Do you see the house over there? The one with the garage with the red back door?”
“I see it.”
“That’s the property where the incident took place. In the window on the first floor, to the right.”
I can see the window, but I can’t see inside the room from here.”
“You’ll need the binoculars. Let me get them for you.” He walked across the room, retrieved what was clearly an expensive pair of binoculars, and handed them to me.
“They’re quite heavy,” I said.
“They’re vintage. None of that new-fangled plastic rubbish. Give them a go.”
I did as he said. The lenses were very powerful, and I could now see clearly into the rooms of the properties opposite.
“Tell me, Rusty, how often do you study the park?”
“Most days. As I mentioned when I came to see you, I’m primarily interested in the wildlife. I have some photos that I think you’ll find interesting.”
“I—err—” For a horrible moment, I had a flashback to what Winky had said about Rusty being a Peeping Tom.
I needn’t have worried because all the photos were of squirrels: Squirrels foraging amongst the leaves for nuts, squirrels running up the side of trees, squirrels sitting on benches, and even a few brave ones, going up to passersby and begging for food.
“You’re clearly fond of squirrels, Rusty.”
“Indeed I am. Such lovely creatures, don’t you think?”
“I guess.”
Rusty opened a small wooden case and took out the longest cigar I’d ever seen. “Do you like cigars, Jill?”
“I don’t smoke.”
“What about one for your hubby?”
“He doesn’t smoke either.”
I gave an involuntary shiver because the temperature in the room had suddenly plummeted.
“Sorry about the cold, Jill. The heating has been on the blink for some time now. I’ve had the man out a couple of times to check the boiler, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with it. The weird thing is that it only ever seems to happen in this room.”
“That is weird.”
Actually, it wasn’t all that weird because, standing in the corner of the room was the ghost of a woman. She walked over and whispered in my ear. “Tell him to throw away those awful things before they kill him, would you?”
“Edith?”
Rusty dropped the cigar. “What did you just say?”
“I said—err—Swedish.”
“Swedish?”
“Yes. I heard that Swedish squirrels are the biggest.”
“I didn’t know that. You live and learn.”
Chapter 7
Mrs V was hard at work behind her desk, knitting what looked like a poncho. She had a plaster on her forehead.
“What happened to your
