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

At half past four, feeling a little tense, she knocked on the door of Flat 1.

‘Come in, Nurse,’ said Hetty as she opened the door.

‘Please – call me Kate.’ She took a deep breath.

Hetty led the way into an immaculate lounge decorated, like the Potter sisters’, with lots of chintz. She also appeared to have a passion for Lladró figurines, of which there were many, all positioned centrally on highly polished side tables.

‘Sit down, my dear,’ said Hetty, ‘and I’ll just get the kettle on for some coffee.’

Kate settled herself in an armchair adorned with orange and gold chrysanthemums. As Hetty scuttled in and out of the kitchen, Kate was able to study her properly for the first time. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, Kate reckoned, with short white hair, no make-up, and clad in a sensible pink twin-set and tweed skirt, beneath which were a pair of surprisingly sturdy little legs encased in dark brown stockings, and on her feet some sensible lace-up brogues.

‘Here we are,’ Hetty said, laying down a tray on the mahogany coffee table.

Kate noted she was not wearing a wedding ring and wondered if she’d ever been married.

As Hetty poured coffee into the dainty china cups she said, ‘I’ll let you help yourself to milk and sugar.’

Kate hadn’t balanced a china cup and saucer for a long time and it felt strange to be drinking coffee out of anything other than a mug.

‘I want to talk to you about my dear friend Edina,’ Hetty went on. ‘You’ll have heard all sorts of rubbish from the others.’ She nodded towards the door. ‘But they didn’t know her like I did. She was my dearest friend.’

‘You must be very sad,’ Kate said.

Hetty nodded. ‘I shall never forgive myself for being away while poor Edina was so very ill, but I had to be with my dear sister. She has terminal cancer, you see. I’ve been going up to Bournemouth as often as I can.’

‘That’s very understandable,’ Kate murmured as she sipped her coffee and placed the cup very carefully back onto the saucer.

‘I shall lose my sister soon as well,’ Hetty sighed, removing a white lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing her eyes, ‘but at least that’s expected. This’ – she pointed at the ceiling to what was Edina’s flat upstairs – ‘has come completely out of the blue.’

‘Have you lived here long, Miss Patterson?’

‘You may call me Hetty. I’ve lived here ever since the house was converted into flats, five, six years ago. I was headmistress at a girls’ school near Bodmin, you know, and I bought a little cottage when I retired. But this is much more manageable and I don’t have to worry about maintenance or cleaning. I moved in shortly after Edina did and we became friends straight away.’

An unlikely pair, thought Kate, studying prim little Hetty in her twinset and thick stockings and comparing her to the dramatic and flamboyant Edina with her kaftan and her jangling jewellery.

Hetty was gazing out the window. ‘She had the most beautiful voice, you know. Beautiful! But what do these ignorant people know?’ She nodded towards the door again. ‘Always complaining, and one of them’ – here she leaned forward – ‘poisoned my friend Edina.’ She paused to let this sink in. ‘I believe it was you who alerted the police. Well, the sooner they make an arrest the better.’

‘I hardly dare ask,’ Kate said, ‘but do you have any idea who might have done it?’

‘As far as I can see there are three likely suspects. There’s that horrible Ollie Pratt who was always hanging around, ingratiating himself, with that ugly, jealous wife of his. I wouldn’t put it past her. And that ghastly author upstairs with those menacing eyes! Have you met him yet?’ Here Kate nodded. ‘Well, you might have come to your own conclusion. And then there’s Sharon Starkey, who’s the only person who’d be likely to drape the vacuum cleaner flex across the stairs or whatever she did. Poor Edina broke her ankle but I feel sure she was meant to break her neck.’

Hetty was breathing heavily.

‘What about the stepson who everyone says wanted money from her?’ Kate couldn’t resist asking, and waited with interest for Hetty’s response.

‘A charming man! I grant you he has some money problems but he would never do such a thing. Never!’

Kate wondered how she could be so sure. He hadn’t appeared to be particularly charming as far as she was concerned.

‘Just because they used to row about money occasionally doesn’t mean that he was planning to kill her,’ Hetty continued. ‘But these people out there are looking for someone to blame to protect themselves. You mark my words, look no further than Gloria Pratt, or Sharon Starkey, or Cornelius Crow. You tell your detective friend that when you next see him.’

Kate was taken aback. ‘My detective friend?’

‘Yes, that American, whatever his name is.’

‘Hetty, my American detective friend has retired from the police force and is not involved in this inquiry. And I have no influence on this case whatsoever,’ Kate added, ‘but I have no doubt that the police will solve it all in their own good time.’

‘I salute your optimism,’ Hetty said curtly.

Kate decided it was time to escape. ‘Well, that was delicious coffee but I should be on my way, Hetty.’

‘I wanted to ask you if you have any idea when there’s likely to be a funeral?’ Hetty asked as they both got to their feet.

‘No idea at all,’ Kate replied. ‘You must check with the police or maybe Edina’s stepson if she hasn’t any near relatives.’

Hetty sniffed as she opened the door. ‘Well, thank you for calling in. It’s been interesting meeting you.’

Was it interesting? Kate pondered their conversation as she walked back to her car. Hetty had seemed adamant that David Courtney wasn’t involved so, yes, that was interesting. Had Kate misjudged him? After all, she didn’t really know the man. Perhaps she’d been too harsh.

There was