Constable Evans 03: Evanly Choirs Read Online Free Page A

to celebrate your joining the choir.” She beamed at Evan and smoothed down the Lycra tank top she was wearing, pulling the already-low neckline even lower. As Evan approached the bar, he was interested to see that the neon green top finished a good four inches above her waist, leaving a delicious exposure of flesh above her frilly white apron.
    “I didn’t say I was joining,” Evan commented as he pushed his way to the bar between Charlie and Evans-the-Meat. “I only promised to come along and see. And I did come along and I did see. And now that I’ve got my free pint…”
    The other men knew he was joking, but Mostyn Phillips turned a horrified face to Evan. “Oh, but Constable Evans, you can’t leave us now. We need you, man. We can’t do without you.”
    “See Evan, you’re going to be the star,” Betsy said, her eyes smiling into his as she handed him the overflowing glass of dark liquor. “I always knew you must have hidden talents if the right person knew how to draw them out of you.” She put such meaning into this and stared so frankly that he had to take a large gulp of beer.
    Why couldn’t he just tell Betsy that he wasn’t interested and then maybe she’d stop all this embarrassing nonsense. He wondered if, deep down, he really did want her to stop.
    “So Evan, did you hear that there’s a Musicfest down on the quay in Caernarfon tomorrow?” Betsy went on as if the two of them were alone, not surrounded by the rest of Llanfair. “Live bands and dancing and all.”
    “Half my students are playing in those bands,” Austin Mostyn commented. “I keep trying to educate them to like real music and what do they want—heavy metal, whatever that is.”
    Betsy laughed. “Heavy metal? That went out years ago, Mr. Phillips. Get with it! You should go to the Musicfest and see what the young people like today. I thought I might go. My cousin Eddie’s in one of the bands. The Groovin’ Druids, they call themselves. They’re ever so good.” Her gaze moved toward Evan. “How about you come with me, Evan? Remember I promised to teach you the latest dance steps? You haven’t even learned the macarena yet.”
    “You’re wasting your time, Betsy love,” Charlie Hopkins said while Evan was still forming an answer in his head. “He’s off with Bronwen-the-Book again tomorrow.”
    “Her again? Bloody bird watching, no doubt,” Betsy muttered as she set down a glass, none too gently, in front of another customer. “Sounds like a barrel of laughs to me.” She ignored Evan and leaned closer to Charlie. “Now if he came on a date with me, Mr. Hopkins, I’d show him that there was more fun in life than watching birds. He wouldn’t have the time or energy to notice bloody birds if he was with me.”
    This was greeted with noisy laughter. Evan was glad that the public bar was dark. He was always embarrassed at blushing so easily—one of the problems of fair Celtic skin, he supposed. He took a long drink and emptied his glass.
    “I’m not giving up, you know,” Betsy said, taking the glass from him and refilling it without being asked. “I’m going to get you dancing with me one of these days, Evan Evans, and when you’re out there with me, you’ll wonder what hit you.”
    “The floor, probably, when I trip over my own feet,” Evan said, grinning at Charlie.
    A blast of cold air made everyone turn to the door.
    “It’s y Parch, the minister,” Charlie muttered, digging Evan in the ribs. “Better watch our language from now on. Evening, Reverend,” he called as the crowd parted to let the Reverend Parry Davies, the more worldly of the two ministers, approach the bar.
    “Good evening, one and all.” The Reverend Parry Davies nodded genially to those around him. “A pint of your best Brains, please, my dear. I’ve a thirst that could drain Llŷn Llydaw tonight.”
    “Been practicing your sermon for Sunday, have you, Reverend?” Evans-the-Meat asked. It was well known in Llanfair that