“You’re welcome, Lori. And don’t stay away so long. People will begin to think you don’t like it here.” He gave me a friendly nod and went into the greengrocer’s shop.
I rolled up my window, parked the Mini near the tearoom, and sat in it for a moment, gazing perplexedly at the raindrops drizzling down the windshield. Why hadn’t Mr. Barlow or Mr. Taxman noticed me at the committee meeting on Thursday? I wondered. I’d often wished to be invisible during meetings, especially when Peggy Taxman had a bone to pick with me, but I was fairly sure I’d never Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
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actually disappeared. And why were both men under the impression that I’d been avoiding Finch?
“It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been to the village,” I said to the rearview mirror. “Mr. Barlow and Mr. Taxman must be losing track of time. It’s easy to do in the fall, when the days all look alike.”
I nodded confidently at my reflection and went into the tearoom, where I was greeted like a long-lost relative by Sally Pyne, George Wetherhead, Lilian Bunting, Miranda Morrow, and several other neighbors. Sally, who owned the tearoom, bustled off to make a pot of tea I hadn’t ordered, and the others proceeded to bombard me with questions.
“What’s Bill up to these days?”
“Are the twins enjoying school?”
“What do you think of the paint Peggy picked out for the greengrocer’s?”
“Have Will and Rob made lots of new friends?”
“Why are you driving Mr. Barlow’s old Mini?”
“What’s all this about a pervert on Emma’s Hill?”
“Do the boys like their teacher?”
“Here you go, dear,” said Sally Pyne, drawing a chair out from a table she’d set for me. “Have a seat and tell us how you’ve been.”
I looked at the circle of smiling, inquisitive faces and bowed to the inevitable. I took a seat, let Sally fill my teacup, and began firing off answers.
“Bill’s in London, arranging trust funds for cats. Peggy’s never had much color sense, but if you tell her I said so, I’ll deny it. I’m borrowing Mr. Barlow’s Mini because Annelise’s car has developed a few hiccups. Everyone at Anscombe Manor is on the lookout for the pervert. Will and Rob love their teacher, their new friends, and everything about Morningside. I’ve been perfectly well, thank you.”
My answers led to a gabfest that lasted for over an hour and proved to be very informative. I learned that Miranda Morrow’s
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cat had given birth to four snow-white kittens; that Mr. Wetherhead had purchased a new locomotive for his elaborate train set; and that Sally Pyne’s cellar had been knee-deep in water for the past two days. I didn’t know where to look when Lilian Bunting, the vicar’s wife, informed me that someone had been pilfering holy water from the baptismal font in St. George’s, but I made a mental note to drop a large donation on the collection plate the next time I was in church.
Neither Lilian nor anyone else present in the tearoom knew anything about the DuCarals. They had a vague notion that Aldercot Hall was somewhere in the general vicinity of Finch, but its exact location eluded them, and they weren’t nearly as interested in what went on there as they were in finding good homes for Miranda’s kittens. As I listened to them chatter, I realized that Kit’s wry description of my neighbors as “a bit parochial” had been accurate, if grossly understated.
I also reminded myself that none of them had lived in Finch for more than twenty years. As relative newcomers, they couldn’t be expected to be as well versed in local history as someone like Lizzie Black, whose family had lived in the area for many generations.
I was disappointed to discover that although everyone had seen Leo drive his motor home through the village on his way to Gypsy Hollow, no one had seen him since. The villagers had assumed that he was a late-season camper and felt sorry for him for having such bad luck with the weather, but he hadn’t aroused their curiosity.
After promising to return very soon, I managed to extricate myself from the tearoom and cross the village green to the pub, but I struck out there as well. Christine and Dick Peacock, the pub’s proprietors, had never heard of the DuCarals or Aldercot Hall, and they hadn’t seen Leo since he’d driven through Finch.
They had, however, seen Miranda’s kittens, Mr. Wetherhead’s locomotive, and Sally Pyne’s flooded cellar, and they were intensely Aunt Dimity: Vampire Hunter
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curious to know how the twins were doing at Morningside, if Bill would be back in time for the darts tournament, and what I thought of the paint Peggy Taxman had chosen for the greengrocer’s shop.
After I’d filled them in, they asked where I’d been keeping myself.
“I was at the Guy Fawkes Day committee meeting on Thursday,” I informed them stoically.