“I’m not getting any younger, and all those trips up and down the stairs. ‘More tea, please. Get me some crackers. Would you mind making me some soup?’ You’d think all of a sudden that she owned the place. When Lady Exner gets back I’m asking for a raise.”

“Right.” Livingston tried to sound sympathetic. “I’ll try to reach Miss Twyler this evening.”

“Whatever you’d like. I’ll be home by then, soaking my poor feet, parked in front of the telly. ’Bye.”

Livingston was relieved to hear the receiver click in his ear. He glanced at his watch. Two forty-five. Time for a quick plowman’s lunch and a pot of tea at the pub across the street and then I’m off to the Barleyneck Inn, he thought. He had a feeling that the proprietor of the hotel would be only too happy to chat him up about Cameron Hard wick. As he walked out of the station house he only wished he didn’t have to wait until that night to question Valerie Twyler. His wife had hoped that he’d be able to be home that evening. But something told him that it shouldn’t wait until morning. Oh well, he thought as he entered the darkened pub, I can always decide after my visit to the Barleyneck. Maybe after I get through with that bloke I’ll be ready to call it a day.

Chapter 51

THE BARLEYNECK INN was located at the end of a cul-de-sac in a farming village. As Livingston turned down the street he paused to allow a few free-roaming sheep to cross the road. They stared at him with bored expressions as they made no attempt to hasten their progress, the only outward sign of their heartbeat being an occasional “baaaa.” “Hurry up,” Livingston muttered to himself, “before you find yourself lying in front of my fireplace.”

Pulling into the driveway, Livingston found a small country inn, charming in a Victorian sense, nestled below large oak trees. Inside, the atmosphere was pleasant. Floral draperies and wallpaper in the community room offset the rich dark paneling in the foyer. An old man whom Livingston guessed to be the one he had spoken to sat at a large antique desk urging a young couple to be sure and come again. Weathered skin was topped by thinning gray hair. Bifocals rested on his amiable-looking nose. He looks as if he’s been here since the Reformation, Livingston thought.

“I hope everything was to your liking.”

“Splendid,” the young woman answered quickly as she tapped her foot impatiently.

“Yes, yes. Traveling around a bit, are you?”

“We’re headed back to Australia in a couple of days,” the thirtyish-looking man replied as he put his credit card back in his wallet. “Well, thank you.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Australia but never quite made it. Where in Australia are you from?”

“Melbourne.”