The Corpse's Tale (Trevor Joseph Detective series) Read Online Free Page B

gravestones around it.’ Trevor stretched. It had been a long drive and the last forty miles on narrow, winding roads had felt like eighty. An appetizing smell wafted from an extractor fan set in the wall of the pub, reminding him he was hungry.
    Peter glanced at his watch. ‘Lunch time. Our dogsbody’s van is here, so she will have set up shop.’
    ‘Don’t let me hear you calling her that again.’ Trevor liked and respected Constable Sarah Merchant and suspected she would soon make sergeant. She had often tracked down leads and information when the officers in charge of a case had felt they’d come to a dead end. She was also immune to Peter’s chauvinism and angry outbursts whenever he became irritated. Which was often.
    ‘ You’re travelling heavy, Joseph.’ Peter handed him a suitcase twice the size of his own.
    ‘We don’t know how long we’ll be here.’
    ‘Even a village like this must have a laundry.’
    ‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’
    ‘Launderette?’ Peter looked up the street. He saw a baker’s, butcher’s, chemist, antique shop, and what looked like a Post Office, general store and newsagent in one. He handed Trevor one of the large boxes of paperwork that hadn’t been computerized, picked up his case and another box, and ducked under the low lintel into the pub.
    The landlady, Rita James, had obviously been watching them from the window. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped behind the small reception desk in the passageway. ‘I don’t need to ask who you are.’ She opened the register and held out a pen.
    Peter took it. ‘Single room en suite?’ he asked hopefully.
    ‘We have no singles, only doubles. I warned the officer who made the booking I’d have to charge extra for all four. We only have the five rooms and with you taking four at the height of the season it’s going to affect trade.’
    Peter had a sudden vision of people flocking into Llan and demanding accommodation. The only problem was, he hadn’t seen any other cars on the road for the last five miles.
    ‘I’m Rita James, the landlady;, I look after the rooms and the restaurant and my husband, Tyrone, manages the bar and the cellar. You want anything you come to us. Although I’m not afraid to tell you I don’t know why you’re here and neither does anyone else in the village.’
    ‘Why’s that, Mrs James?’  Trevor asked.
    ‘Because we all know who killed poor Anna Harris, that’s why. Dai Helpful should never have been freed. Its bad enough they don’t hang people these days without letting people out of prison after they’ve served a couple of years. Life should mean life when you’ve taken one. Especially that of an innocent young girl. Anyway, that’s what we all think around here.’
    Trevor was taken aback by Rita’s anger. ‘We’re here to find out the truth, Mrs James.’
    ‘Sergeant George found that out ten years ago.’ She snatched the pen from Peter and handed it to Trevor.
    ‘If that’s the case, we’ll confirm his findings and be on our way in a couple of days,’ Peter assured her.
    The landlady frowned. ‘You’re not here to whitewash Dai Helpful and make Sergeant George look a fool?’
    ‘As my colleague said, Mrs James, we’re here to find out the truth.’ Trevor signed his name below Peter’s.
    ‘Constable Merchant arrived an hour ago,’ she said in a friendlier tone. ‘She’s in the room you booked as an office. Room one, first right at the top of the stairs. You’re in three and four, Constable Merchant is in two.’
    ‘Thank you, Mrs James. What time do you finish serving lunch?’
    ‘Food is served all day, midday till ten at night. Last orders, half past nine. Breakfast is served in the back bar from half past seven to nine.’
    ‘That is music to an overworked police officer’s ears, Mrs James,’ Peter gushed.
    ‘We’ll be down to look at the menu as soon as we’ve unpacked.’ Trevor went to the stairs.
    ‘It’s on the blackboard in the bar.