The Woman In Blue: The Dr Ruth Galloway Mysteries 8 by Elly Griffiths Page A

a lasagne.
    ‘What sort of people are on the course?’
    ‘All women priests. Most of them are like me and have been in post several years. So we’re ready for the next step.’
    ‘Which is becoming a bishop?’
    Hilary smiles modestly. ‘I wouldn’t say I was ready, personally, but we’re hoping that the General Synod will give its approval to women bishops in July. It’s as well to be prepared.’
    ‘Who’s running the course? A woman priest?’
    Hilary looks slightly embarrassed as she says, ‘No, it’s a theologian called Robin Rainsford. He’s very well respected, though, and a big supporter of the cause. I went on another course that he ran last year.’
    Ruth rather envies Hilary all these courses. She wanted to go on a course a couple of years back – something to do with DNA-dating techniques – but Phil had flatly refused. ‘We just don’t have the budget, Ruth.’ This before disappearing on a weekend fact-finding trip to Padua.
    ‘The other women seem lovely,’ Hilary is saying. ‘So supportive and friendly. In fact . . .’ She looks speculatively at Ruth.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Well, we’re going out for a meal tomorrow night. You should come. I know they’d love to meet you.’
    Why? thinks Ruth. Why should they want to meet me and why should I want to meet them? She takes refuge in her usual excuse. ‘I’ll have to see if I can get a babysitter.’
    ‘Of course.’ Hilary is looking supportive again. ‘It must be hard when you’re on your own.’
    ‘I’m sure it’s hard with both of you working,’ counters Ruth. ‘Especially with you and your husband both being priests. It’s not exactly a nine-to-five job, is it?’
    Hilary doesn’t seem to want to discuss her domestic arrangements.
    ‘Who was that priest you introduced me to?’ she says. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’
    Ruth hesitates – is Father Hennessey her friend? She liked him from the first, he’s clever and funny and surprisingly non-judgemental. But can a priest be a friend? Then again, here she is sharing a scone with her old university friend Hilary, who is also a priest.
    ‘He’s called Father Patrick Hennessey,’ she says. ‘I met him when I was working on a case in Norwich.’
    ‘A police case?’ says Hilary.
    ‘Yes. The field archaeology team found some bones buried in a house that was about to be demolished. The house used to be a children’s home. Father Hennessey ran it.’
    ‘Oh.’ Hilary looks as if she has some more questions, but, to her credit, she doesn’t ask them. Instead she says, ‘What’s going to happen to the letters now?’
    ‘I think Nelson . . . the police . . . just want to look at them to see if there’s anything . . . suspicious.’
    Hilary looks at her shrewdly. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
    That’s the trouble with Hilary. She always was sharp, even in the old days. Ruth sighs. ‘You know there was a murder here last week?’
    ‘Yes. Some poor drug addict. I read about it in the papers.’
    ‘Well, Nelson thinks there’s a possibility – just a possibility, mind you – that there’s a link.’
    ‘Between my letters and the murder of that poor girl?’
    ‘It’s just a theory. He has to explore every lead. I probably shouldn’t have told you this much.’
    ‘Is that why you asked me if any other women priests had had letters?’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    For some reason Hilary is smiling. ‘I was right. You have become a detective.’
    ‘No I haven’t.’ Ruth is feeling rather stupid, an emotion she realises that Hilary often engenders in her.
    ‘You have. You really must come out with us tomorrow night. Do some sleuthing.’
    Ruth is about to reply – to recall some vital prior engagement – when she sees a dark figure hurrying past. It’s Father Hennessey. She’s about to tap on the window to invite him in, but there’s something about the black-clad figure that makes her hesitate. Father Hennessey looks like a man on a mission.