A Village Mystery

Chapter 2 - Bumbling

Lynda sat in the living room in the back of her shop with bare feet resting on the coffee table and holding a large glass of red wine. She rolled the cool glass over her forehead and heaved a big sigh. Thirty-six and divorced was a familiar thought that invaded her solitary moments, leaving her to replay the events over and over always ending the same no matter how it was spun.

Her husband Richard's seven year itch had led to a careless pregnancy, a bitter divorce and a handsome settlement that financed Lynda's retreat from the big city and the opening of her gift shop in Merryvale. Now just over a year on her own she was finding the awkward attentions of the local Police Sergeant stirring interesting memories and a welcome change from the all female company provided by the Merryvale Ladies' Guild.

The Guild was really becoming an intrusion in her life, not that her life was occupied with much beyond her gift shop and an occasional bus trip to the city. It was an unnecessary few hours a week spent listening to the clique that hijacked the agendas for their own purposes. Tonight had been a good example with Louisa Beecham and her superior pretence of having knowledge only she could be privy to because of her nephew Nigel . . . that very same Merryvale Police Sergeant.

Lynda finished her wine and stretched mightily before getting up and heading to the kitchen. The knock on the door surprised her and she glanced at the antique Cuckoo clock on the wall. She walked through the shop from her apartment at the rear and stopped, drawing a short breath and forming a quizzical smile.

"Evening, Miss Tidwell. Sorry to bother you at this time."

"It's hardly late, Sergeant even if the shop is closed." The smile widened and became friendlier.

"Uh-- no, guess it isn't for some. Most of the people in this town are ready to tuck in around now." He stood awkwardly, waiting for a cue to continue.

"Would you care to come in?" She backed away from the door, holding it as he nodded and stepped inside. "Come on right through. What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"Uh, Nigel is fine; this isn't police business."

She did a slight stutter step and paused by the sofa. "Please. Sit. Can I get you a glass of wine or some tea . . .?"

Nigel waved his hand negatively and side stepped to the chair by the sofa. "Thank you, no-- I wanted to ask what my aunt said at the meeting. One of my men heard some of the women talking and it seemed she-- well it seemed out of place if you know what I mean."

"Indeed." Lynda sank back onto her sofa, suddenly aware of her bare feet and tucked them under her bottom. "Louisa often regales us with the goings on in your office."

"Yes, well, that's not popular behaviour with my men or me. She often pops in nosing about and carries away little nuggets that she immediately inflates into gossip."

Lynda shifted on the sofa and steepled her fingers in front of her face.

"It was mostly about the Kleinham affair I think. I'm embarrassed to say that I sort of turn her off when she begins her stories. As a matter of fact, most of the topics hold little interest for me; it's just that as a business owner I feel obligated to take part in the various activities of the village. Don't get me wrong, they do good work it's just-- just--"

"They're all old ladies; mostly widows."

"Now I really am embarrassed."

Nigel sat back and smiled. "Don't be. That's the bulk of the population here." He fiddled with his fingers a bit then stood, realizing his inference. "Look, I'm sorry to have bothered you; I'll get out of your hair and let you enjoy your evening."