A Body in Seaview Grange by Dee MacDonald (jenna bush book club TXT) 📗

Kate was struck by how callous he was about the woman who must have brought him up even if she hadn’t been the ideal stepmother. ‘I’m only browsing,’ she said. ‘I shall probably leave it now until the spring.’

‘Don’t leave it too long,’ said David Courtney. ‘I’m expecting to close down here shortly and move the business to better premises.’

‘Oh?’ Kate was surprised. ‘Why is that?’

‘Too much competition round here, and I’m thinking of going in for classic cars.’

Kate glanced at the big shiny showrooms on either side.

‘This has been most interesting,’ she said truthfully, ‘but I really haven’t decided what to do yet.’

David Courtney nodded and wandered back towards the office.

Kate, pleased that she’d taken the trouble to stop off, got into her Fiat Punto and headed home. This piece of research had at least appeared to confirm that David Courtney expected to inherit some money. He plainly needed funds – funds that Edina undoubtedly had.

The first thing Kate saw as she drove up to Lavender Cottage was Fergal’s grubby old black BMW parked alongside Angie’s car in front of their garage. As far as she was aware Angie wasn’t expecting him today but, if there was one thing you could be certain about with Fergal, it was his unpredictability. And, if nothing else, it should put a smile on her sister’s face.

She found the two of them huddled over a mountain of brochures on the coffee table in the sitting room.

‘Oh hi, Kate!’ Fergal glanced up as Kate came in.

‘Good afternoon, Fergal, and to what do we owe the pleasure?’

He beamed. ‘Well, I was just stocking up in the gift shops in Boscastle and I thought to myself now that I’m up here on the north coast why don’t I just pop in to see the lovely Angela?’

The lovely Angela glanced at Kate’s carrier bags and asked, ‘What have you been buying?’

‘Oh, just a couple of jumpers,’ Kate said, sitting down wearily.

‘Now how about I make you a cup of tea?’ Fergal asked, getting to his feet.

‘Well, that’s very decent of you, Fergal,’ Kate said.

As Fergal filled the kettle, humming away to himself, Angie leaned forward and whispered, ‘Fergal wants to stay here tonight – you don’t mind, do you?’

‘Yes, that’s OK,’ Kate replied. ‘You’re a big girl now. Just don’t keep me awake half the night.’

Angie grinned. ‘As if.’

Kate wasn’t sure if she minded or not. When she was with Woody she always slept at his house, partly out of consideration for Angie, and partly because she liked to be alone with him. Why Angie didn’t sleep at Fergal’s now and again was a moot point. Did Fergal really have a flat in Plymouth’s Barbican?

‘What are you looking at there?’ Kate asked, indicating the brochures.

‘Oh, just some travel stuff. Didn’t I tell you we fancied being away for Christmas?’ Angie asked casually.

Kate’s spirits plunged as she imagined herself spending Christmas here on her own – first Woody, now Angie.

‘Where are you thinking of going?’ she asked when she regained her composure.

‘Somewhere hot,’ Angie said. ‘Don’t think we can stretch to the Maldives or the Seychelles though, so we’ll probably settle for Lanzarote.’

‘Oh,’ Kate remarked, ‘won’t these trips be all the more expensive over Christmas?’

Angie nodded. ‘There’s some special deals though. Why are you looking like that? Aren’t you spending Christmas with Wonderboy?’

‘Woody plans to be in America,’ Kate said, gazing out at the sea and the thousands of miles that would separate them.

‘Oh well, at least you’ll have the dog for company,’ Angie said dismissively.

Fergal carefully navigated the steps up from the kitchen with a mug of tea in each hand, one for Kate, one for Angie. Kate found him very likeable, very humorous, but somewhat enigmatic because there was something about the Irishman that didn’t quite add up. Perhaps she should be investigating Fergal rather than the possible murder of an old opera singer.

Meanwhile Fergal, back with his brochures, was saying, ‘How about Barbados, Angela? There’s a friend of my brother who lives out there, so he might be a useful contact.’

‘That would be more expensive than the Canaries, though,’ Angie said.

‘But we only need to put down the deposit now,’ Fergal went on.

‘What were you planning to use for money?’ Angie asked a little sharply.

‘Well, I’ll have the money by Christmas, for sure,’ said Fergal. ‘I’m just a bit short at the moment but I’ll have enough for the deposit by the end of the month.’

‘These offers could be gone by then,’ Angie said. ‘But don’t worry because I can handle the deposits.’

‘You’re a saint, Angela, that’s what you are,’ said Fergal.

You’re a mug, Angie, that’s what you are, thought Kate, as she noticed a flicker of doubt cross her sister’s face. Then she thought about the prospect of Christmas here alone with the dog. She might be welcome up in Scotland with Tom, Jane and the new baby, but she’d only just been, for goodness’ sake, so it might not endear her overmuch to her daughter-in-law. Her other son, Jack, lived in Brisbane, so no chance of popping out there for a few days. And, if Angie was away, and she managed to get time off to go anywhere, then what about Barney? He’d have to go into kennels. More worry, more expense. She’d need to work something out in the three months before Christmas.

Sixteen

Kate was still mulling over holidays, dogs and kennels the next day as she walked Barney up onto Penhallion cliff. She passed a couple of hikers in their sturdy boots and many-pocketed rucksacks on her way but then, as she headed towards the seat where she normally rested to get her breath back, she saw him. A tall, dark, caped figure, topped with a wide-brimmed black hat, was heading in her direction.

For a moment it reminded her of the advertisements for Sandeman port and the black-caped figures which dotted many an Iberian hillside. Or, worse, Count Dracula! The man from Transylvania! She told