British Manor Murder Read Online Free

saw someone wearing one just like it on the British version of Antiques Roadshow . I’ve been watching a lot of PBS, boning up for the trip.” She nodded. “And I got it for practically nothing in a thrift shop.”
    â€œWhy am I not surprised,” said Sue with a resigned sigh. “We don’t have anything to declare so we can skip customs, but we have to get the bag of hats. It’s on to the baggage claim.”
    After collecting Sue’s big roller case that contained her hats, they proceeded to the A RRIVALS hall, toting all the bags on a wheeled trolley. There, they joined a small group of travelers studying a large yellow sign with arrows pointing to various transport options.
    â€œWe’re supposed to catch a bus to Oxford,” said Sue, checking her smartphone for the instructions Perry had sent.
    â€œThat way,” Lucy said, pointing in the direction indicated by the sign.
    â€œIt’s still quite early in the morning. Do you want to stop for a coffee or something? I couldn’t drink that stuff on the plane.”
    â€œSounds good.” Lucy could never sleep on a plane and was feeling even more tired than usual. “I need something to perk me up.”
    The two perched on stools at a little snack bar and ordered extra-large coffees. After a few reviving sips, Sue again consulted her smartphone. “The busses to Oxford run quite frequently. We can catch one in an hour.”
    â€œYou’ve got the schedule?” asked Lucy, somewhat amazed.
    â€œPerry sent it. And once we’re on board, I’m supposed to call and he’s going to have someone meet us.”
    â€œIn a limo?” asked Lucy. “A Bentley or a Rolls Royce?”
    Sue licked her lips and smiled. “I imagine so. Don’t you?”
    * * *
    When the bus rolled into the Gloucester Green bus station in Oxford, a fortyish man in a dark green Barbour barn coat, green Wellies, and a tweed cap stepped forward and greeted them. “Mrs. Finch and Mrs. Stone?” he asked, tipping his hat.
    â€œThat’s us,” replied Sue with a big smile. “But I’m Sue and this is Lucy.”
    â€œHarold Quimby,” he said, introducing himself. “Pleased to meet you ladies. Now if you’ll just come this way . . .” He deftly relieved them of the giant bag and led the way past the busses’ docking station to the parking lot where he stopped beside a huge and very muddy, very aged Land Rover. He opened the rear hatch and stowed their bags amid a collection of umbrellas, boots, blankets, flashlights, and assorted tools, including a small hatchet. “I hope you don’t mind a few stops.”
    Lucy was doing her best to restrain a case of the giggles and not succeeding, despite a stern glance from Sue.
    â€œIs it a long drive to the manor?” asked Sue.
    â€œNot at all.” Harold opened the rear door for them and removed a wire dog crate from the backseat. “I bet you were expecting a fancy car, weren’t you?” he asked with an amused smile.
    â€œWe were,” admitted Lucy.
    â€œThe Bentley’s in the shop. Besides, I had to come this way anyway, so I said I’d meet you at the station.”
    â€œWe’re really very grateful,” said Sue, climbing into the backseat and sliding over to make room for Lucy.
    â€œWe certainly are,” agreed Lucy, joining her.
    â€œI’ll have you at the manor in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” promised Harold, shutting the door. He went around to the rear of the car where he collapsed the crate and added it to the jumble in the rear, then slammed the hatch and hopped into the driver’s seat on the wrong side of the car.
    â€œIt seems odd to have you sitting there on the right,” said Lucy.
    â€œI tried driving in the States once,” said Harold, “and I kept slipping into the wrong lane. I even went around a roundabout the wrong