Pauline Philbey prided herself on being a good decision maker; but not now. Speeding down the hill in her 4 x 4, she wondered what the hell to do about Harry Riddles and the treasure. It was nearly 7.30: late for choir practice again. St Maurice’s car park was full. There was nothing else to be done: she would have to double park behind the organist and choirmaster’s Skoda.

Pauline Philbey thought that Mozart’s Ave verum sounded good, at least from outside the church. She opened the porch door quietly and tiptoed down the side aisle in the hope that Quick Draw McGraw would not notice her entrance.

‘Good of you to join us.’

The late arrival blushed.

‘Sorry’.

The choirmaster pointed to the vacant seat. Pauline Philbey picked up...

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