A Body in the Village Hall by Dee MacDonald (best business books of all time .txt) 📗

‘I should let the lovely detective deal with all that,’ Angie said. ‘I’d even put aside my paints for a day or two to help him.’

Kate took a deep breath. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Angie was padding her way back into the kitchen. ‘Have you seen that half-full bottle of gin I left in here by any chance?’

‘No, I haven’t. It’ll be where you left it. But I’ve got something––’

‘I could swear I left it on the work surface next to the fridge,’ Angie interrupted.

‘Well, I haven’t touched it.’ Kate sighed as she folded up her sheet of paper carefully. She was going to have to work out how to meet and suss out all these characters on her list in the vague hope she might impress Woody with some of her observations.

‘Angie, there’s something I have to tell you,’ she said yet again as Angie reappeared clutching the gin bottle with one hand and a glass full of ice in the other.

‘Have we any lemons?’

‘Shut up for a moment! The lemons are in the fridge where they always are. I have something to tell you.’

‘What’s that then?’ Angie called out as she headed back into the kitchen in search of lemons.

‘The lovely detective is taking me out to dinner tomorrow night.’

Angie came back into the room and set down her glass – filled to the top, slice of lemon in position, ice tinkling – on the coffee table.

There was silence for a moment. Then Angie asked pointedly, ‘How did you manage that?’

‘I didn’t manage anything,’ Kate retorted. ‘I went to see Maureen Grey, who’s temporarily in custody at the police station, and chatted with Woody afterwards. And he asked me out. And I’m going.’

‘I bet you are,’ Angie said, taking a large gulp. ‘Well, full marks to you. I don’t suppose you mentioned that you had a lovely, lonely, needy older sister?’

‘Strangely enough I didn’t. But he has seen you several times so perhaps your loveliness and neediness failed to impress him.’

‘I must be losing my touch then,’ Angie said sadly, taking another large gulp. ‘Well, when he gets bored with you and your silly list, do tell him I’m here to offer light relief. Anyway, he’s not supposed to hobnob with witnesses, is he?’

‘Probably not,’ Kate replied. ‘So don’t go telling anyone.’

‘Just don’t go falling for him or something.’ Angie took a large gulp of gin.

Why shouldn’t I? Kate wondered. But she said nothing.

Kate didn’t know where Woody was likely to be taking her but decided casual was probably best. She selected her one and only cashmere sweater, which was black, and teamed it with an emerald-green pencil skirt and long black leather boots. She paid special attention to her make-up and hair and she polished the boots. She felt sure that all policemen would treat their footwear to a daily spit and polish, a bit like the army. Then she wondered if Woody had been a policeman in the States before he came to the UK. And why had he come over here? There was so much to find out about this attractive man.

Angie had taken the car and gone to the cinema in Wadebridge. Kate wasn’t sure how much she really wanted to see the film as opposed to how much she didn’t want to see Kate going out with Woody. Kate was a little worried about her sister; was she really so lonely and needy? She’d have a heart-to-heart with her at a suitable time. The trouble with Angie was that she had too little to do other than daub paint onto canvas all day long, which gave her far too much time to daydream, mostly about men. Because, for sure, Angie still hoped to meet someone. She’d never given up looking for Mr Right. Even her late husband – who’d adored her and put up with no end of her drunken binges – had only been Mr All-Right, according to Angie. They’d jogged along for years before Angie thought she’d finally met Mr Completely-Right in the form of a ‘double-glazing and conservatory specialist’. He turned out to be Mr Definitely-Not-Right and she’d been extremely lucky that George, her long-suffering husband, had taken her back. And now here she was, at nearly sixty years of age, still hoping to be swept off her size-seven feet.

Woody arrived, looking immaculate in a crisp white shirt under a pale blue cashmere sweater and dark trousers, at precisely two minutes after seven. His silver BMW appeared to have been polished up for the occasion, and he’d obviously gone to some length to present himself and his car in the best possible light.

‘As I told you we need to get right away from Tinworthy,’ he said. ‘I could do without bumping into anyone from round here.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Kate said as she got into the passenger seat and noted that he’d had the inside of the car valeted as well. Was he always so neat and tidy or was this purely for her benefit?

As they drove off he asked, ‘I’ve booked The Edge of the Moor. Do you know it?’

‘No,’ Kate replied, ‘but I’ve heard it mentioned, and the comments always seem to be favourable.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘It’s one of the few places where I can guarantee getting a great steak.’ He glanced at her sideways. ‘And now you’re going to tell me you’re vegetarian!’

Kate laughed. ‘No, I’m not, although I must admit I eat a lot less red meat these days. But I do love my Sunday roast.’ She’d starved herself since breakfast-time and hoped he couldn’t hear her tummy rumbling. ‘I think I might just manage a steak as well,’ she added. Understatement of the year, she thought, I could eat the whole animal right now.

They chatted about the Cornish weather, the lack of trains to their part of the North Cornish coast and