Read Online A Fool and His Money by Marina Pascoe - Free Book Online

something after the last lot. Maybe in the distant future but not in my lifetime. They’ve got to leave time to find something else to get worked up about. I hope you never see the likes of that again – nor your children, should you have any.’
    â€˜I’m not so sure. I hope you’re right but people are always fighting, aren’t they? And who knows what sort of new modern world is waiting for us?’
    â€˜Well, I’m quite happy with the old one – the modern one can wait until I’ve gone. Now, where’s my tobacco?’
    Irene brought in a tray and laid it on the table. Caroline had been listening to the conversation and was glad when it ended. Losing a son to the last war was more than any mother should have to bear and she certainly never wanted Irene to experience the distress that she herself had gone through with their son, John.
    Bartlett had found his tobacco and now sat happily with his pipe and his beer. He looked at Boase.
    â€˜That’s a queer business with that clown, right enough. I don’t know where to begin and no error.’
    â€˜I can’t believe that someone would kill that poor old man, Dad. Archie and I were looking forward to seeing him at the circus. Why would anyone do something so horrible? I was reading about it to Mum from the Packet . It’s terrible.’
    â€˜Yes, it is, Irene. Archie and I have got our work cut out there. But we’ll find out what happened; we’ll find out who killed the old man.’
    Eleven o’clock came all too quickly for Boase and he reluctantly had to leave. Leaving was something he hated doing whenever he was with Irene but it wouldn’t be forever. With that thought firmly in his head, he said his goodbyes and left for home.
    â€˜Any news on Aitchinson?
    Bartlett addressed the desk sergeant and a constable as soon as he came through the front door of the police station. By now, everyone there had heard about the note and the mysterious Mr Aitchinson. The sergeant shook his head.
    â€˜Sorry, sir. We were on it all afternoon yesterday but nothing so far.’
    â€˜Keep looking – we need to know. It’s urgent.’
    Boase was already in the temporary office and had made Bartlett and himself some tea.
    â€˜Morning, sir. Cuppa?’
    â€˜I wouldn’t say no – thank you, Boase. What’s that there?’
    â€˜Oh, just a pork pie, sir – want a piece?’
    â€˜Well – no, because that is not breakfast, but I was rather referring to the piece of paper under the pie.’
    â€˜Oh this?’
    Boase slid the paper out and showed it to Bartlett. It had one word written on it:
    AITCHINSON
    â€˜Go on.’
    â€˜Well, nothing really – I was just playing with the name. I even wondered if it was an anagram. But it isn’t. I was just looking at it again while I was having a snack and waiting for the tea to brew.’
    â€˜I had hoped you were going to tell me something incredible but true and we’d be arresting the killer by lunchtime.’
    â€˜Sorry, sir.’
    Bartlett laughed and sipped his tea.
    â€˜Are we sure Penhaligon heard him correctly?’
    â€˜Yes. I asked him again – that’s definitely what he heard.’
    â€˜Accent?’
    â€˜None that he could discern – not local, not anything really, he thought.’
    â€˜Why would the caller want to incriminate Edward James – is it someone who has had some past dealings with him?’
    â€˜Maybe it’s just the truth, sir, and the caller is doing his civic duty but without wishing to involve himself any further.’
    â€˜But by being covert, it makes it appear untrue , don’t you think?’
    â€˜I don’t know what to think at the moment. Come on, sir, drink your tea while it’s still hot.’
    Bartlett complied and stared out of the window.
    â€˜Can we move back in today, Boase? There’s nothing to see out of this