Mourn not your Dead

brows rose in surprise. “But that was ages ago! August, it must have been, and what on earth has it to do with anything?”
    So the vicar had not been privy to the pub gossip, thought Kincaid, or else she was a very good dissembler. “You know, I’m sure, that other people have reported items missing. There is some speculation that a vagrant was responsible for those thefts and that Commander Gilbert might have surprised him in the act.”
    “But that’s absurd, Superintendent. None of these incidents occurred at the same time, and besides, if there were anyone like that hanging about the village, I’d know it. The church porch is usually first choice of sleeping accommodations.” Smiling at them, she relaxed back into her chair and folded her arms loosely across her plum-colored sweater. She had hooked her trainer-clad feet around the front legs of the chair, and her balanced posture made Kincaid think suddenly of a bareback rider he’d seen once in the circus.
    “Did you ride as a child?” he asked. She had about her a certain scrubbed outdoorsiness, not exactly a toughness but rather an air of healthy competence. Her nails, he noticed, were short and a bit grimy.
    “Well, yes, actually, I did.” She regarded Kincaid with a puzzled frown. “My aunt owned a stable in Devon and I spent my summer hols there. How odd that you should ask. I’ve just this morning come back from her funeral. She died last week.”
    “So you weren’t here when Commander Gilbert died?”
    “No, although the parish secretary called me yesterday with the news.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t quite believe it. I tried ringing Claire but only got the answerphone. Is she managing all right?”
    “As well as can be expected, I’d say,” Kincaid answered vaguely, pursuing his own thought. “Were the Gilberts regular members of your flock?”
    Rebecca nodded. “Alastair often read the lesson. He took the obligations attendant on his position in the village very seriously—” She broke off and rubbed her face with her hands. “Sorry, sorry,” she said through splayed fingers. “That was very uncharitable of me. I’m sure he meant well.”
    “You didn’t like him,” Kincaid said gently.
    She shook her head ruefully. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t. But I did try, honestly. Judging people hastily is one of my worst faults—”
    “So when you dislike someone you go out of your way to make allowances for them?” Kincaid grinned at her in shared understanding.
    “Exactly. And I’m afraid that Alastair was very good at taking advantage of me.”
    “In what way?” Out of the corner of his eye, Kincaid saw Deveney shift impatiently in his chair, but he refused to be hurried.
    “Oh, you know... the special service readings, opening the fete, that sort of thing—”
    “Things that look important but don’t require any real effort?” Kincaid asked wryly.
    “Exactly. I could never imagine Alastair canvassing the village for a good cause or washing up teacups after a parish meeting. Woman’s work. In fact—” Rebecca paused. A faint flush of color crept into her cheeks and she stared steadily at her hands clasped on the tabletop. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think Alastair approved of me, though he never said it in so many words. I suppose that’s one reason I went out of my way to be fair... proving to myself that I was above petty retaliation.”
    “A forgivable vanity, surely,” said Kincaid.
    She looked up and met his eyes. “Perhaps. But it wasn’t very tactful of me to speak about him so freely. This is a terrible thing to have happened, and I wouldn’t want you to think I took it lightly.”
    “Unfortunately, dying in a brutal manner does not automatically qualify one for sainthood, however much we might wish it,” Kincaid offered dryly.
    “Miss Fielding... uh, Vicar,” said Deveney, “about the thefts. You reported no sign of a break-in. Could you tell us exactly what happened?”
    Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment, as if summoning the details. “It was a lovely warm evening and I’d been working in the front garden. When I came in I noticed that the back door was ajar, but I didn’t think anything of it—I never lock up and that door has rather a stiff catch. It wasn’t until later when I was dressing for dinner that I noticed my pearl earrings were missing.”
    “And you were sure you hadn’t misplaced them?” Kincaid asked.
    “Definitely. I’m very much a creature of