A Place Of Healing – 36

The telephone rang at Stanecroft House. Cassie answered it.

“Hello, Stanecroft House.”

“Hello, is that Mrs Shelley? My name’s Stephanie Latimer. I’m one of your husband’s patients.”

“Oh, yes, Mrs Latimer. I think I’ve heard Andrew mention you.”

Mrs Latimer went on.

“Well, I have to tell you your husband was very good. He put my fears at rest and made sure that I got the best treatment, which I’m delighted to say was very successful.”

She shuddered.

“I must admit when they were talking about lasers . . . well, you know how it is when it’s your eyes. But here I am, wittering on when you’re probably very busy.”

“It’s fine, Mrs Latimer. I have five minutes before a yoga class.”

“Oh, yes, your husband mentioned the yoga. He’s very proud of you, I could tell. You know, it’s something I’d like to try. Do you think I’d be too old?”

Cassie laughed.

“Not at all. You’d be very welcome. Give it a try.”

“I think I will,” Stephanie Latimer said. “But I’d better get to why I phoned you. Now that we’re back on Skerrabost we would love you and your husband to pop round one evening for a drink. There’s something my husband would like to discuss with Doctor Shelley. Do say you’ll both come.”

“We’d be delighted,” Cassie said.

She particularly wanted to meet Philip Latimer, the man who’d steered her through so many murder mysteries.

“That’s lovely,” Mrs Latimer said. “How about tomorrow evening, at about eight?”

So, the following evening, Cassie and Andrew were driving through the glen towards the Latimers’ imposing bungalow.

Jess had settled down at home with Maura Campbell to watch a DVD of “The Sound Of Music” – yet again.

They hadn’t been able to tempt Gideon into joining them.

*  *  *  *

“Come in, come in.”

Philip Latimer opened the door as they got out of the car.

“They’re here, Stephanie!” he called over his shoulder. “Come in, both of you.”

A few minutes later the four of them were settled in the Latimers’ sitting-room looking out in the gloaming to the glen, the river and the purple-hazed hills.

Cassie sipped a tonic water as she would be driving on the return journey. Andrew had a glass of Skerrabost malt whisky in front of him.

Philip Latimer waved his glass towards Cassie.

“Do I see an old favourite on your lap, Mrs Shelley?”

Cassie laughed and held up the book she had brought with her, blushing slightly as she did so.

“Yes, I was right.” Philip Latimer nodded. “‘The Point Of Death’. That one sold very well. Did you enjoy it? And did you spot the murderer?”


Lucy Crichton

Fiction Editor Lucy is always on the look-out for the very best short stories, poems and pocket novels. As well as sourcing enjoyable content, she enjoys working with our established contributors, encouraging new talent, and celebrating 155 years of 'Friend' fiction!