Lady Dorset's  milkmaid.

  Mary Beth was a milkmaid.  She went to the barn and never came back.  She disappeared without a trace
     ''I knew she was no good'' said Mrs Newhouse to  the inspector, ''reluctant to please and bad with her prayers''.  The inspector, who was no papist and no other anything else either still asked what she meant.
     ''She argues with all, disagrees with the pastor, if you can imagine.  Fourteen, she is,  acts like she's twenty.  Came to us from the orphanage two years ago.  A black sheep,  A bad apple, if you ask me''.
   It was  not the disappearance  of Lady Dorset's milkmaid Mary Beth  that brought the  inspector to her residence on  this fine Wednesday morning in June.  It was the fact that it was the third disappearance of a maid in the last three months.  It was not so unusual  that young maids ''disappeared''.  The lord of the house having abused of them, sent them away in shame, leaving the  poor things to  find their own ways in the world while pregnant.  Often they would end up destitute in Bath, destined to starvation or prostitution.  Inspector Lynch had had enough with these upper-class  hoodlums treating their servants like cattle.
   But his hands were mostly tied.
   As Mary Beth's last known connection was with reverend Michael Moore, he instructed his driver to take him to the parsonage.  Perhaps he could at least save her.  If he could find her.
   Arriving at destination, he stepped up to the front door and his knock was answered by a charming brunette in her mid-fourties.
     ''Yes? How may I help you?''
     ''My name is Lynch. Police inspector for this area. May I speak with the reverend, please''.
     ''Please.  Do come in. I will let him know that he has a visitor''.  She showed him to the drawing room, asked if he'd like a refreshment, which he politely declined and was standing before a  portrait of a hunt on the far wall when the reverend entered.
     A man in his mid-fifties, he looked more like a mortician than anything else.  Tall, skinny and dressed in the appropriate black.
     ''A police inspector, my wife tells me. What can I do for you. Please forgive me if  I appear brusk. I am in the midst of preparing my sermon for the next service''.
     ''I understand, reverend.  I am working on the case of the disappearance of the young maid Mary Beth Marlowe.  I am told  that her last meeting was with you?''
     The reverend did not have to think long.
     ''Yes, a black sheep that one, She simply refuses the teachings.  If she were older I would suggest severe punishment.  I would do all in my power to save her soul.  As to where she is, how should I know.  You should ask her friend Lara, a maid with the Harringtons .  Her aunt   Britta is a known witch who lives in the forest somewhere north-west of here''.
     The inspector was dismissed rather without further ado.  However he took time to walk by the church, walked around and happened to find a blue bonnet on the ground by the back entrance.  A trace of blood on it.  As a side door was  unlocked,  he went in, made his way to the back, then to the cellar.  There was a big trunk close to the wall.  The smell of death already reaching his nostrils.
   As he opened it, he saw the body of a young woman and his faith in God just dropped another notch.
     He heard steps behind him, turned around and saw the reverend holding a gun.  ''The little cunt spat at me, called me satan because I wanted to bless her''.
     ''So what now, reverend, you're going to shoot me.  That's not going to save you, is it?''
     For all answer, the reverend put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.