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

insensitive. I simply cannot work out why you think she’s so saintly when she had just as much motive as he had to see off both Fenella and Kevin.’

Kate didn’t bother to answer. But, deep down, she’d been thinking along similar lines. Perhaps the husband had reappeared purely to help Maureen dispose of Fenella and Kevin?

Could they be in it together?

She needed to clear her head and to get out into the fresh air. ‘Come on, Barney!’ she yelled and the dog, who’d been fast asleep in front of the stove, leaped to his feet, tail wagging manically.

Off they set, down to the river, across the bridge and up towards the coastal path. There was a path on the south side too, above Lavender Cottage, but it was stony, steep and with rough steps cut into the rock that could be hazardous. All in all, Kate had decided early on that the north side was the better bet.

Kate hadn’t seen Seymour the last couple of times she’d walked up there, and there was no sign of him today, so she sat on the seat and gazed out to sea. There were no tankers on the horizon, only one small fishing boat, bobbing up and down on the waves. Kate sat for around fifteen minutes, thinking deeply about whether Seymour should be on her list.

Seymour Barker-Jones was an enigmatic character, no doubt about that. She wondered if the rumours she’d heard about him being with MI5 were true; she could well believe it because he was such a difficult person to read.

He had looked sad when she’d seen him last so surely he’d had deep feelings for his wife even if he wasn’t around very much? Surely at some time he must have loved Fenella? Though had anybody really loved Fenella? With the string of affairs she’d had it was clear she was searching for something. Perhaps the reason Fenella had had all these affairs was to compensate for her husband never being around? That’s what Kate would like to think, though of course life was rarely that simple.

Kate felt sorry for the woman, who appeared to have had people queuing up to finish her off.

And now Billy Grey had admitted to the crimes. Was Maureen involved? Could she be guilty of aiding and abetting on either or both of the killings? Kate’s gut feeling was that she was not. And what about Billy’s family in London? Had he come back on the tenth anniversary of Lucy’s death – immediately after Kevin’s release from prison – just to murder him and Fenella? He had confessed to being the killer. And yet…

Then Kate wondered if she was on the wrong track altogether. What about Sandra Miller? There was no doubt whatsoever that you wouldn’t want to cross that woman. She seemed a volatile and unpredictable character who might well have had reason to kill Fenella. But Kevin?

Kate continued to mull it over as she walked back down the hill towards home.

Angie – who for some reason was all dolled up this evening – offered Kate a gin and tonic the moment she walked through the door.

As she handed her the glass she said, ‘I’ve been thinking about your list. Is Maureen’s husband the guilty one? I’m still not sure that we haven’t got a serial killer around, which is what I said in the first place.’

‘But,’ Kate said, ‘if this serial killer of yours is looking for any passing female to plunge a knife into, then why did he kill Kevin by bashing him on the side of his head and then drowning him?’

‘Well, maybe one of the Greys killed Kevin.’

‘Why are you suddenly being so helpful and why are you all dressed up?’

‘Actually, I’m off out, so don’t wait up.’

Kate glanced at her watch. Six thirty. ‘Are you planning five hours at the pub?’

‘No, I’m off on a date with lovely Luke of The Gallery fame. He’s going to show me his art collection, take me out for a meal and we may end up at The Gull for a nightcap later. And your jaw just dropped to the floor!’

Kate was astounded. ‘Luke? How long has this little affair been going on then?’

‘It isn’t an affair. Not yet. But you must admit he’s quite fanciable. Don’t tell me he’s on your bloody list!’

‘Of course he’s not on my list! But, I mean, isn’t he a little young for you, Angie?’

‘You’re as young as you feel.’ Angie replied airily, applying lipstick and surveying herself with some satisfaction in her handbag mirror. ‘See you later!’

And she was gone.

Kate sat down to ponder this piece of news. She knew of course that Angie had met Luke several times in the pub, and that she was hopeful he would display some of her artwork in The Gallery. But going out on a date with a guy who looked young enough to be her son? Perhaps he was older than he looked. And these things didn’t seem to bother Angie so good luck to her!

Kate didn’t hear Angie return from her date as she’d gone to bed early. For no accountable reason she found herself wide awake at four o’clock. She listened to Angie’s snoring through the wall as sleep continued to elude her and finally, at six, she gave up and went downstairs to make a cup of tea.

Although she was curious to know how her sister had got on with Luke, she knew Angie would be unlikely to surface before mid-morning. Had he been persuaded to display and stock her canvases? Kate knew little about modern art and had never failed to be surprised at the prices some of these weird and wonderful abstract squiggles achieved. Perhaps she was underestimating Angie? Nevertheless, Kate couldn’t visualise any of them adorning the walls of the cottage and fortunately Angie had never suggested such a thing. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, Kate thought.

As she popped bread into the toaster she thought of Woody.