She turned her back on the night, drew the curtains and switched on all the lights.
She patted the back of Frank’s chair and went out into the hall, where the answerphone for once was still.
She went into the study and switched on Frank’s computer.
She was not going to be beaten by a mere machine. Somewhere in there were details of the PCC meeting, and she was determined to find them.
Switch on. Incomprehensible gibberish. Flag. Propeller whirling. Mouse on Word. File. Open.
Take your pick.
What was it that Gilbert Adams had suggested? Frank might have put the notes under the committee that he was in? Try Property.
Bingo.
PCC notes.
Open. Bingo again. The date was right. Three pages of notes.
She scanned through them. Fine. Now to print them out.
Uh-uh. How did you print them out?
First find the manual for the printer. Mm. Put the mouse on the typewriter symbol. Whoops, something had started whirring. Alarming, this.
Whirr. Whirr.
A new insert appeared. Paper unfolding itself in an icon of the printer. Pretty.
Whirr. Whirr. Countdown to delivery.
Wow. A piece of paper unfurled itself and settled into place on top of the printer. She picked it up. It looked perfect.
Amazing.
Amazing that she’d beaten the computer at its own game.
A second page was delivered into her hand, and then a third.
Splendid. What a relief. She would put them into an envelope and take them over to the vicarage, and Gilbert could see to photocopying and distributing them.
Ah, there was one more thing she had to do. What was it? She took the folded sheet of paper out of her handbag. On it Gilbert had written down all the things that she intended to do in her new life. She crossed them out one by one.
Then looked up a number in the phone book, and keyed it in.
‘Is that the driving school? I would like to book some lessons, please.’
Murder at the Altar Page 26