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

Woody was going to take her out to lunch in Padstow. He’d phoned Rick Stein’s tentatively at nine o’clock to be told that there had been a cancellation and a table for two was available.

‘We’re going to have a nice lunch,’ he told Kate, ‘and we are not going to talk about anybody at Seaview Grange. You OK with that?’

‘I’m OK with that,’ Kate agreed.

‘You may talk about the weather, baseball, football, world politics, anything you like, but I do not want to hear a word about those people.’

As they drove towards Padstow Kate tried hard to clear her mind. Woody played some soothing music. Slowly, slowly, she began to relax. She glanced across at Woody and reminded herself how very lucky she was that this special man had become fond of her. She was no beauty, but she considered herself to be reasonably intelligent and she did care about people. She certainly cared about Woody. Very much.

When they were seated in The Seafood Restaurant and began studying the wonderful menu she realised that she had completely forgotten Seaview Grange and its residents for the moment. The food was amazing, the wine was marvellous, which Kate particularly appreciated since she drank three-quarters of the bottle because Woody was driving.

Padstow was busy as always, although the summer visitors had gone home. They wandered around the harbour and admired the boats, ate ice cream and visited a couple of shops and galleries. It wasn’t until they were nearly home that Kate began to think about Seaview Grange and The List again.

She was obviously incapable of getting the place out of her mind for more than a few hours. The delicious fish she’d just eaten, infused with such lovely flavours, made her think again of the different kind of infusion that had been put into Edina’s food. The syringe had to be the key to the mystery. The killer had to have access to syringes and, according to her research in the medical notes, the only resident of Seaview who had easy access to anything like a syringe was Gloria Pratt, but she used an insulin pen which was loaded with cartridges. Would it be possible to reload any empty cartridge with a solution of crushed-up digoxin? Possible, but very difficult. And probably irrelevant as it was possible these days for anyone to buy syringes online.

Where would the killer have hidden a syringe or syringes? He or she must have been wily to use such a method of killing so they could well have found some improbable spot to hide them. But where? Would they have just discarded them on the beach and hoped the sea would take them away? No, she thought, someone that cunning would be more careful. But where then would they hide them? And what opportunity could she have to take a look?

She decided to phone Sharon. Kate felt that she was the one person at Seaview that she could trust. And, on top of that, she did have access to everyone’s apartment.

‘Hi, Sharon, could I ask you to do something for me?’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘When you’re cleaning the apartments can you keep your eyes peeled for anything unusual? Syringes, for example? Particularly syringes.’

‘Syringes?’ Sharon sounded mystified. ‘I don’t suppose the person’s very likely to be leaving evidence like that around.’

‘You’re right, but have a look anyway.’

‘I will,’ Sharon said.

Reverend Edgar Ellis was pretty much back to normal health and looking considerably more cheerful when Kate popped in on Monday to check on him.

‘I’m fine, really,’ he assured Kate. ‘And Sharon’s been keeping any eye on me.’

‘Good, I’ll be off then,’ Kate said, as she left him reading the Tinworthy Gazette. She wondered briefly about the organist up in Little Barrington; had she given birth to Edgar’s child? Was Edgar a father? Difficult to imagine.

As she descended the stairs she saw Sharon polishing the table in the hallway.

‘He’s made a really speedy recovery,’ Sharon said.

‘Yes, he has,’ Kate agreed, ‘but have you recovered? Recovered from the stress of finding these comatose residents?’

Sharon laughed. ‘Yes, I have. I’m ready for the next one, whoever that may be!’

Kate grimaced. ‘Dear God, don’t say that!’

‘Well, you never know! Fancy a coffee?’

Kate glanced at her watch. ‘A quick one would be lovely.’

She followed Sharon back to The Stables, waving at Stan, who was digging a flower bed at the far end of the garden, on the way.

As Sharon topped up the water in her red kettle and settled it on the Aga she said, ‘I’m determined to find out who’s guilty of Edina’s poisoning, if only to get them all to stop pointing at me. I have my suspicions but’ – she tapped her lips – ‘I’m sayin’ nothin’ yet.’

‘I’ll be in suspense for the next few days then,’ Kate said truthfully, accepting a mug of coffee.

Sharon then chatted about her daughter in Canada, and Kate chatted about her sons in Scotland and Australia. And about becoming a grandmother for the first time.

‘Calum Fraser Palmer,’ she said proudly, then smiled to herself, thinking of Woody. At least they hadn’t saddled the poor infant with a name like Winston Churchill Palmer or Benjamin Disraeli Palmer. Heaven forbid.

And as Kate headed home she wondered if Sharon would have any success in finding the syringe. Bearing in mind she had access to all their flats and all their lives, she just might come up with something.

Twenty-Two

Kate didn’t have to wait long. The following day, at exactly eleven o’clock – she would forever have this time imprinted in her brain – Sharon phoned.

‘How’s your detective work going?’ Kate asked.

‘I can’t talk for long. I’m at the top of the stairs in the middle of my cleaning. Listen, Kate’ – Sharon sounded anxious – ‘while I’ve been cleaning the flats and having a little snoop around, I’ve discovered a syringe and you won’t believe whose flat I found it in.’

‘Wow!’ Kate took a deep breath. ‘Tell me whose flat it is!’

Sharon didn’t reply.

‘Sharon, whose