The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 Read Online Free

you?” I said a smidgeon too
sharply.  I always regret it when I snap at people and snapping at a priest is
inexcusable. 
    “Cin, you have to realize this country isn’t a Masterpiece
Theatre program, it has real people and real dangers.”
    “I can take care of myself,” I said defensively.
    “You’re being a...”
    “Don’t swear at me, it will limit your time in England.”
    “How?”
    “All that confessional time,” I said and got up once again
to use the bathroom.  I didn’t want to talk to him anymore.  I didn’t want the
warning to add credence to the bad feeling I already had.  I wanted a working
vacation in the country of which Noelle now lives in.  I wanted to read gothic
novels and not live them.  My thoughts blinded me, and I walked right into someone.
    “I’m so sorry,” I addressed the beige blur before me.  As my
eyes focused the blur turned into a man dressed entirely in tan.
    “Whom are you running from?”  He looked around me.
    “Would you believe a priest?”
    “Do you need some help?” His accent was British but more
theatrical than I was used to.
    “No, no, I’m fine just a bit of temper to walk off.
    Amy walked by and mentioned we would be landing soon.  I
apologized again, and he dismissed the incident with a wave of his hand, smiled
and asked if he could cut the queue for the bathroom.  I let him by.  I walked
back to my seat ignoring Father Michael’s sigh as he once again got up from his
seat to let me in.
    “Who was that?” he questioned nodding at the tan man exiting
the restroom.
    “I don’t know.”
    “You seemed to know one another.” Father Michael hissed in
my ear as the man passed us on the way to his seat.
    “No, I was just being friendly...”
    “You better be careful being so friendly.”
    “Father Michael Williams, isn’t covetousness one of the
seven deadly sins?”  I whispered back, adding, “In for one, in for seven?”
    “I am just giving you counsel.”
    I could tell by the new edge in his voice that I had made
him angry.  I hated leaving anyone that way.  “Sorry, bad joke. Still friends?”
    “Being your friend is a tough job.”
    “Not a job for the weak,” I wanted to add, or the pious, but
I knew enough to keep that thought to myself.

Chapter Three
     
    Father Michael and I parted after customs.  He headed for
the rental cars, and I to the gift shops.  I had a bit of a wait ahead of me
before my coach would leave for Cornwall. Gatwick airport is full of
interesting shops to browse through, so, in short, I wasn't inconvenienced so
much as I was in heaven.
    It was after I was coming out of the third shop that I
noticed the tan man from the airplane waiting outside in the terminal.  Hadn’t
I seen him before waiting outside the first two shops that I had been in?  I
wasn’t sure.  When I’m shopping I seem to lose track of time and space.  This
time I studied his looks.  He was in his mid-fifties, wearing a tan raincoat,
tan shoes and carrying a tan umbrella – no suitcase.  Maybe his wife was
infected with the same consumerism I had?  Or maybe he was watching me.  Father
Michael’s overprotective comments had ruined my good time with the spoiling
effects of paranoia.
     
    ~
     
    I was quite proud of myself for being first in the queue.  I
knew from previous trips on the coaches that if I wanted to get one of the
front window seats on the top of the bus I would have to be first in line.  Not
only did I get the seat I wanted but, also, since the coach wasn’t filled, I
had two seats to myself.  I wouldn’t have minded a seat partner.  Conversation
does make the time go faster, but sitting with Father Michael had used up all
of my company manners for today at least.
    The eight-hour bus ride took me through the plains of Surrey
and wound its way via the A30 nonstop till we reached Exeter.  Noelle was
touring with her friend Paisley otherwise I would’ve met up with her then.  I
missed my petite blond