Beatrice Fishback

Dying to Eat at the Pub Beatrice Fishback

Chief Inspector Sean O'Reilly stormed into the pub. "Mrs. Weathervane, you are under arrest."

My chair rattled and clanked backwards onto the stone floor as I jumped up. "You can't be serious." I whimpered.


Even though he had been retired for quite some time, Jim's military bearing took over as he wrapped a protective arm around my shoulder. "What are you talking about, O'Reilly? What's this all about?"


The policeman barked, "That's Chief Inspector, Mr. Weathervane. Please stay out of this." He nodded in my direction. "Your wife has withheld vital evidence in the murder of Dan Swansey."


I turned to the chiseled-chin officer I had originally thought was so attractive. My jaw quivered. "I was wrong to keep that letter. I should have given it to you straight away. It was buried in my handbag. Honest." I lifted my overstuffed bag as evidence.


"We'll discuss the details later." O'Reilly dangled handcuffs in my direction, sunlight glinting off the metal. "Right now, I'm arresting you, Mrs. Weathervane, on suspicion in the murder of Dan Swansey."