British Manor Murder Read Online Free Page A

way.”
    â€œThen I’m glad we’re here, where you’re used to the roads,” said Sue.
    â€œAye, I could drive around here with my eyes closed,” he said, turning to give them a wink. “But for your sake I won’t.”
    Leaning back in the comfortable seat, Lucy gazed curiously out the window, watching as the densely packed, narrow streets of the old university town gave way to wider, more spacious modern roadways, dotted here and there with gas stations and shopping malls. Those eventually disappeared and they were in the countryside. Hedges lined the road, occasionally revealing thatched cottages and fields where sheep often grazed.
    Reaching a small village where a pub and a few stores clustered together, Harold turned into a fenced yard filled with sheds, dog houses, mowers, and tractors. A sign on a large stone building announced in gold letters on a black ground that this establishment was G ALBRAITH AND S ONS , L TD . Beneath it, a smaller sign bore the words F ARM S TORE .
    Harold hopped out and was greeted by a stout man wearing an apron, who clapped him on the back and led him inside. Lucy and Sue waited in the Land Rover. A couple of young assistants, also in aprons, barely acknowledged them as they began loading various and sundry products into the car. First, several bags of smelly fertilizer were tucked in next to Sue’s suitcases. An enormous bag of chicken feed was arranged on top of Lucy’s suitcase, and a huge bale of wood shavings wrapped in plastic was added to the pile. The final items were two boxes of adorable fuzzy yellow, chirping chicks, which Lucy and Sue were requested to hold in their laps.
    â€œEverybody comfortable?” asked Harold, taking his seat behind the wheel.
    â€œWe’re okay,” said Lucy, uncomfortably aware of the bale of wood chips right behind her head.
    â€œI meant the chicks,” said Harold.
    Sue lifted a flap, peered into the box, and studied the tiny balls of yellow fluff. “They seem to be all right,” she said somewhat skeptically. “They’ve kind of hunkered down. I think they’re sleeping.”
    â€œThat’s good,” said Harold as the Land Rover lurched forward and crossed the yard to the gate. He suddenly slammed on the brakes when confronted with a delivery truck attempting to enter. The bale of wood chips slid forward, knocking Lucy in the head before bursting open and showering them all. The jolt wakened the chicks, who were all peeping frantically.
    â€œThe chicks!” exclaimed Harold, backing up to let the truck enter.
    Lucy and Sue checked, discovering no harm had been done to the baby birds, who were flapping their tiny little winglets and settling themselves.
    â€œThey’re fine,” said Sue.
    Lucy was tilting her head from side to side, stretching her neck to check for whiplash.
    â€œNo harm done, then,” said Harold, shifting into drive and exiting through the gateway.
    Lucy and Sue were still picking wood chips out of their hair when he turned through a pair of massive stone piers, each topped with a carved stone lion.
    â€œMoreton Manor,” announced Harold as they proceeded along a drive lined with leafy trees.
    In the rather long grass beneath the trees, Lucy noticed dots of blue flowers. “Are those bluebells?”
    â€œIndeed they are,” said Harold. “Moreton is famous for its bluebells. People come from miles around.”
    â€œI can’t wait to see them,” said Lucy.
    The Land Rover suddenly swerved round a bend, continued past a circular lawn with a fountain, and came to a halt in front of a massive stone building. “Welcome to Moreton,” said Harold, hopping out.
    Lucy gazed at the enormous stately home, which loomed high above them like a castle from a fairy tale. Dotted with ferocious gargoyles, the stone walls were punctuated with numerous arched and many-paned windows, including an ornate conservatory. In