Body in the Woods (A Reverend Annabelle Dixon Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot Page A
Authors: Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot
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company.”
Dr. Brownson nodded gratefully and followed the Reverend as she led the way to her warm, cozy kitchen.
“So, Dr. Brownson, have you been waiting long?” Annabelle said, as she readied the cups and tea bags.
“Not really. Perhaps. I’m not too sure.”
Annabelle frowned at her visitor’s confusion. She had had rather an eventful day herself and felt that she had little energy left for yet another mysterious problem. But such is the life of a village priest.
With the teapot full and the cups laid out, Annabelle brought over the plate of shortbread Philippa had left out and took a seat opposite the quiet stranger. The gentle sound of the cat door caught Annabelle’s attention before she could speak, and she noticed Biscuit entering the kitchen, her eyes focused on the table.
“Honestly,” Annabelle said, “I believe that cat has the ability to detect a sugary treat from the other side of the village.”
Dr. Brownson smiled awkwardly as the cat leaped onto his lap and settled herself into a comfortable position.
“May I ask what brings you to this corner of the kingdom, Dr. Brownson?”
“Please, call me Robert,” he said, as he tentatively leaned forward over the cat, careful not to disturb her, and measured out half a teaspoon of sugar before dropping it into his cup with great care. “I am a forensic anthropologist. I was called here on business.”
Annabelle felt her tiredness evaporate. “The body in the woods?” she blurted out eagerly, before remembering that she had promised the Inspector she would keep it a secret.
“Why yes,” Robert said, surprised.
“That’s strange,” Annabelle said, pursing her lips. “We already have someone who does that kind of thing around here, Dr. Harper Jones.”
Robert’s expression flickered through a number of emotions before he sighed slowly and abjectly. “Harper is a pathologist.”
“Ah yes, of course she is,” Annabelle said, emphatically pretending she knew the difference.
They sipped their hot teas, each passing the time by taking a shortbread. Robert slowly stroked the cat in his lap, though Biscuit, seeing that no treats were about to be offered, promptly decided she had had quite enough of their company and leaped down to the floor. In silence, they watched her make her way to the living room where she would no doubt enjoy the luxury of choosing the perfect sleeping spot, the better to be refreshed for her nightly excursion around the village that was just a few hours away. After a minute’s silence, Robert’s shoulders slumped, and he resolutely placed his teacup down.
“Actually, Harper is the reason that…”
Annabelle waited for an end to the sentence, but the man across the table seemed incapable of concluding any of his thoughts, either in his head or out loud. Annabelle realized that something was troubling him, and that he would need some assistance in discussing it. She placed her own teacup down and leaned forward sympathetically.
“If there is anything troubling you, Robert, you’re welcome to talk about it with me, whether it’s spiritual or not.”
As if realizing how close he was to spilling out his thoughts, Dr. Brownson immediately sat up rigid as a post, an innocuous smile forcefully stretched across his face.
“Ah! It’s nothing! A silly notion that will be gone by tomorrow morning.”
Annabelle glared at the doctor, unconvinced.
“Hmm. It often takes more than a ‘silly notion’ to draw people to the spire of the church. People tend only to notice it when they look to the sky for help, having found none elsewhere.”
“Really, Reverend…”
“Okay,” Annabelle said, shrugging lightly, “I remain unconvinced, however. And if you’re unable to convince me that it’s not worth talking about, I doubt you’ll convince yourself, Robert.”
Robert glanced only for a moment at Annabelle, but it was enough to see the sincerity and openness in the Reverend’s eyes. He sighed once more and
Dr. Brownson nodded gratefully and followed the Reverend as she led the way to her warm, cozy kitchen.
“So, Dr. Brownson, have you been waiting long?” Annabelle said, as she readied the cups and tea bags.
“Not really. Perhaps. I’m not too sure.”
Annabelle frowned at her visitor’s confusion. She had had rather an eventful day herself and felt that she had little energy left for yet another mysterious problem. But such is the life of a village priest.
With the teapot full and the cups laid out, Annabelle brought over the plate of shortbread Philippa had left out and took a seat opposite the quiet stranger. The gentle sound of the cat door caught Annabelle’s attention before she could speak, and she noticed Biscuit entering the kitchen, her eyes focused on the table.
“Honestly,” Annabelle said, “I believe that cat has the ability to detect a sugary treat from the other side of the village.”
Dr. Brownson smiled awkwardly as the cat leaped onto his lap and settled herself into a comfortable position.
“May I ask what brings you to this corner of the kingdom, Dr. Brownson?”
“Please, call me Robert,” he said, as he tentatively leaned forward over the cat, careful not to disturb her, and measured out half a teaspoon of sugar before dropping it into his cup with great care. “I am a forensic anthropologist. I was called here on business.”
Annabelle felt her tiredness evaporate. “The body in the woods?” she blurted out eagerly, before remembering that she had promised the Inspector she would keep it a secret.
“Why yes,” Robert said, surprised.
“That’s strange,” Annabelle said, pursing her lips. “We already have someone who does that kind of thing around here, Dr. Harper Jones.”
Robert’s expression flickered through a number of emotions before he sighed slowly and abjectly. “Harper is a pathologist.”
“Ah yes, of course she is,” Annabelle said, emphatically pretending she knew the difference.
They sipped their hot teas, each passing the time by taking a shortbread. Robert slowly stroked the cat in his lap, though Biscuit, seeing that no treats were about to be offered, promptly decided she had had quite enough of their company and leaped down to the floor. In silence, they watched her make her way to the living room where she would no doubt enjoy the luxury of choosing the perfect sleeping spot, the better to be refreshed for her nightly excursion around the village that was just a few hours away. After a minute’s silence, Robert’s shoulders slumped, and he resolutely placed his teacup down.
“Actually, Harper is the reason that…”
Annabelle waited for an end to the sentence, but the man across the table seemed incapable of concluding any of his thoughts, either in his head or out loud. Annabelle realized that something was troubling him, and that he would need some assistance in discussing it. She placed her own teacup down and leaned forward sympathetically.
“If there is anything troubling you, Robert, you’re welcome to talk about it with me, whether it’s spiritual or not.”
As if realizing how close he was to spilling out his thoughts, Dr. Brownson immediately sat up rigid as a post, an innocuous smile forcefully stretched across his face.
“Ah! It’s nothing! A silly notion that will be gone by tomorrow morning.”
Annabelle glared at the doctor, unconvinced.
“Hmm. It often takes more than a ‘silly notion’ to draw people to the spire of the church. People tend only to notice it when they look to the sky for help, having found none elsewhere.”
“Really, Reverend…”
“Okay,” Annabelle said, shrugging lightly, “I remain unconvinced, however. And if you’re unable to convince me that it’s not worth talking about, I doubt you’ll convince yourself, Robert.”
Robert glanced only for a moment at Annabelle, but it was enough to see the sincerity and openness in the Reverend’s eyes. He sighed once more and
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