The Murder Pit. Mick Finlay
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sure she’ll be back by then. If not, I’ll try and persuade Sergeant Root to organize a search party.’
‘Thank you, Bill, that would help. One more question: d’you ever see the farm labourers?’
The parson shook his head. ‘They’ve never been to church, I’m afraid, and I don’t think I’ve seen them in town either. They keep to themselves.’
Sarah pushed open the door and began to lay the table for soup.
‘How’s your sister, Sarah?’ asked the guvnor.
She shook her head. ‘Not long now, sir,’ she said, so low it was hard to make out. It must have distracted her, for as she lifted the soup tureen from the tray she stumbled. Sprice-Hogg let out a shriek as it fell on its side on the table, its lid off, the soup pouring out over the napkins and cutlery.
‘Useless heifer!’ he barked, raising his arm as if to strike her. Sarah flinched, covering her face, but he checked his hand, lowering it slowly to the table.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, again and again, trying to mop it up with her pinafore. She began to cry.
‘You are a singularly stupid girl,’ muttered the parson, sitting watching her from his chair. ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that blue streak last week either.’
‘It wasn’t her fault, Bill,’ said the guvnor, kneeling to clear the floor with a napkin. ‘Her skirt snagged on a nail.’
The parson glared at her; she kept her eyes down, sniffing, scraping the thick soup from the table onto the tray. Finally, she turned and hurried from the room.
‘Have a seat, gentlemen,’ said Sprice-Hogg, the irritation still in his voice. ‘At least there’s enough for half a bowl each.’
When we’d eaten, the parson brought over the decanter of port. After two more glasses, the guvnor shook his head.
‘We’ve work to do this evening, my friend.’
The parson’s face fell.
‘Please, indulge me, William. It’s an excellent barrel. And I’m eager to hear if you enjoyed my book.’
‘I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, though I’m looking forward to it very much. But now we must go and see if we can find Godwin. I’m hoping he’ll be more approachable with a few drinks in him.’
‘Just one more? For friendship sake?’
‘We cannot.’
‘Of course,’ agreed the parson, putting the stopper back on the decanter. He looked at the ruby liquid as the flame from the lamp played on it and sighed. ‘We did enjoy ourselves the other night, didn’t we?’
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