‘True, I’ve carried out extensive research into the subject,’ Cornelius droned. ‘In a case like this, one could suspect poisoning.’
‘Let’s hope no one suspects us,’ Sharon said with feeling.
‘More like the surgery overprescribed. They could well be in trouble,’ said Cornelius Crow.
The door to Flat 6 was ajar, so Kate called, ‘Cooee! I’m the practice nurse come to have a look at your knee.’
She could hear a great deal of nose-blowing going on from inside before a tall, sad-looking old man, leaning on a stick, pulled the door fully open.
‘Have I come at a bad time?’ Kate asked.
The Reverend Edgar Ellis stared blankly at her for a moment before standing to one side. ‘It can’t be helped, you’d better come in,’ he said, sniffing.
Kate found herself in a large open-plan living area. There was a cumbersome sofa of oak and leather, and a couple of tartan-covered armchairs. Two walls were lined ceiling to floor with bookshelves, stuffed with leather-bound volumes, the odd ornament fighting for space amongst the tomes. Every available surface was covered with newspapers, magazines and discarded correspondence.
‘Forgive my manners,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Edgar Ellis.’
She shook his outstretched hand. ‘Kate Palmer.’
Edgar Ellis was tall, skinny with untidy white hair and a drip on the end of his long, bony nose. He regarded Kate for a minute through watery blue eyes which he dabbed gently.
‘We haven’t met before,’ he said, ‘but I’ve heard about you.’ He sniffed. ‘You’re the nurse who helped to solve the murder case back in the spring, aren’t you?’
‘I do seem to have a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
He nodded. ‘Please excuse my state of grief but I’m recovering from the most tremendous shock. Edina was a dear, dear friend.’
‘I’m sorry to have come at a bad time, Reverend,’ Kate said, ‘but I really need to check the state of your stitches after your knee replacement. I see you’re managing to walk about.’
‘With difficulty,’ he said.
‘Have you had any physiotherapy yet?’ Kate asked.
‘Oh yes,’ he replied, ‘but the man’s a sadist. He had me in agony.’
He limped back across the room, leaning heavily on his stick, and sat down carefully on the raised seat of a straight-backed armchair and rolled up the leg of his trousers. ‘I understand from Sharon, our cleaner, that you were the last person to speak to dear Edina before she died. It would help to know a little more about how she died.’
‘I’m sorry, Reverend, I don’t know, and anyway I can’t disclose personal matters about patients.’
‘Even when they’re dead?’
‘Even when they’re dead,’ Kate said.
He nodded solemnly. ‘Edina and I became very close over the past few years. Beautiful woman! Wonderful voice! Sang at Covent Garden, you know.’
‘Yes, she told me about her operatic career,’ Kate said, examining the long scar running down his knee as she removed the dressing.
‘I should have known!’ His voice wobbled. ‘I hadn’t seen her for a few days but I didn’t think!’ He blew his nose again lustily. ‘I’ve been concentrating on my knee, you see, whereas normally I’d have knocked on her door to see if she needed any shopping. But, being incapacitated, I haven’t been doing that and I shall never forgive myself.’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself in any way; there’s nothing you could have done,’ Kate said, checking the stitches. ‘The wound has healed well.’
But the Reverend wasn’t in the least bit interested in his knee.
‘She was such a beautiful woman! So talented! The loveliest voice – like a nightingale. Such a waste of life!’ Tears began to roll freely down his cheeks.
Kate patted his hand. ‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’
He drew a shuddering breath. ‘Thank you.’
Kate made her way into an extremely untidy kitchen. There were dirty dishes in the sink and a couple of unwashed saucepans which she decided to soak in soapy water. It was unclear what he’d been eating but there were several empty baked beans tins in the top of his pedal-bin. He plainly did not go in for recycling. The mugs, which featured patterns of spring flower bouquets, didn’t look too clean either, so Kate gave them a little scrub while the kettle boiled.
‘Milk and sugar, Reverend?’ she called through.
‘Just milk, my dear. You’re so kind! And please call me Edgar.’
‘Is there anyone at all I can ask to be with you?’ Kate asked as she set down the tea on the table beside him. ‘You really shouldn’t be alone when you’re this upset.’
‘No, there’s no one,’ he said, reaching for the mug.
‘You’re not married?’
‘I was, but unfortunately my dear wife passed away shortly before we were due to move down here. It wasn’t long after I gave up my parish. She died very suddenly after a short illness. But we had forty-six years together so I could not complain when God saw fit to take her.’
‘You still wanted to move to Cornwall nevertheless?’
‘Yes, my late wife and I used to come down here on holiday, you see. She was the one who actually bought this flat because she’d inherited some money.’
‘The same as my sister and me. We had lots of holidays down here.’
‘You haven’t been living here very long, have you?’ the Reverend asked.
‘No, Angie and I bought Lavender Cottage down in Lower Tinworthy and moved in at the beginning of February. We love it here although it’s been an eventful few months. Where was your old parish?’ Kate wanted to distract him from his misery.
‘Oh, the Cotswolds,’ he said.
‘The Cotswolds are lovely,’ Kate said. ‘I have a cousin who lives in Little Something-or-Other near Cheltenham. I can never remember the name.’
‘Not Little Barrington?’
Kate was surprised that he sounded anxious; all signs of his grief appeared to have gone.
‘I don’t think so. I have to look it up each time I send her a Christmas card.’
Did she imagine it or did he
