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

Fergal relinquished his catering duties and sat down opposite Angie while Kate finished off making everyone’s tea and managed to unearth a few custard creams.

‘Oh no,’ he replied, ‘I sell maps and postcards and things. Tourist stuff, you know? And I’d just come out from a couple of your shops when this woman lands at my feet!’ More gales of laughter. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘she’d got it in her head that I might be some sort of killer and then of course I remembered that this was the place where they had those murders. I had to practically strip to let her see I wasn’t carrying any knives or anything.’

‘I fell for him in a big way!’ Angie was beaming. ‘And you practically had to carry me home, didn’t you, Fergal?’

‘Oh, I did indeed. She said I was worth a cup of tea but, because she couldn’t stand up for long, I’d have to make it myself.’

Having established that Fergal took milk and sugar, Kate delivered the tea and wondered how to make her exit. She remained standing and said, ‘So have you come all the way from Ireland?’

‘Oh goodness no! I’m working for a company in Plymouth. Just looking around for new stockists.’

‘Including Lower Tinworthy?’ Kate asked as she passed him a custard cream.

‘Well, I’d not been here before so I thought it was time I familiarised myself with the area and any likely stockists. I’ve got a couple of them interested, so it’s been a good day, and I’ll be back.’ He grinned at Angie.

‘You’ve been very kind.’ Kate said, ‘Would you like to stay for supper? It’s nothing fancy, just chilli.’

‘Oh, I love chilli,’ said Fergal, ‘but I’ve to meet our district manager at seven tonight back in Plymouth so I should really be on my way soon. And my car’s still down in the car park. But I tell you what, I could come back at the weekend. How about Saturday, Angela? We could go out for a meal if you fancied it? And you too,’ he added hurriedly, turning to Kate.

‘That’s kind of you, Fergal, but I have plans for Saturday,’ she said. She didn’t have plans for Saturday, not yet anyway, but these two seemed smitten with each other already and she had no intention of playing gooseberry.

He then talked nonstop about his job, the maps, guide books and the postcards, the flat he was buying in the Barbican area and, not least, the ex-wife who’d taken all his money and gone off to the States with a man half her age.

‘Well, it’s been grand talking to you,’ he summed up as he drained his tea and bade them both a cheery goodbye. As Kate showed him to the door he said quietly, ‘Not a word now about the pub the other night! No need for Angela to know!’

Then, loudly: ‘See you Saturday, then!’ And he was gone.

‘You certainly know how to pick them,’ Kate said as she came back into the room. ‘Just make sure this one doesn’t have you flogging his postcards for him, and without pay.’

‘Oh, don’t start lecturing me,’ said Angie, getting to her feet and heading towards the gin.

‘I thought you couldn’t put any weight on that ankle?’

‘Ah well, it’s not that bad really, but I just fancied leaning against him as we tottered up the lane. And he’s very tasty, don’t you think?’

Kate collapsed into the chair. ‘You can pour me one while you’re at it. It’s been quite a day, Angela.’

And the worst might be yet to come, she thought.

She finished the gin in three swallows, striving to find some Dutch courage.

Angie looked at her in amazement. ‘You don’t normally drink like that – what’s wrong with you?’

‘I’m just feeling tense and needed something to calm my nerves,’ Kate replied. ‘I’m going to take Barney for a walk.’

‘There’s no need to take him; he’s already had a walk with me. And it’s vile out there – bucketing rain and misty.’

Kate ignored her, donning her hooded raincoat and wellington boots. ‘Could I borrow your anti-attack spray?’ she asked.

‘Kate, what is this? Where the hell are you going?’

‘I told you – I’m taking Barney for a walk, and I need to get out for a bit as well.’

Ignoring Angie’s protestations, she pocketed the spray and then, attaching Barney’s lead, she set off. She looked at her watch. It was five thirty. Seymour was usually near the bench at about six o’clock. She had time. She was certain he’d be there.

As she crossed the bridge, she had that eerie feeling of the hairs rising on her skin that told her she was being followed. She looked round but the sea mist had descended lower so she could only see a few yards behind. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere on her own, that she’d been told to stay where there were people around, but even though there were so many visitors everywhere, Kate was confident that the only other person who would brave the cliffs today, in this weather, would be Seymour.

The low cloud had obscured any sea view and only the grey waves crashing against the black rocks immediately underneath were visible and audible. The slope was slippery in places and she had to take care not to skid, wishing she’d worn her walking boots. Even as she climbed up the cliff path she still had that slightly eerie feeling that there was someone following, which was ridiculous on a day like this. Even though her common sense told her otherwise, the feeling was growing, now exacerbated by a cold sensation at the back of her neck. She kept walking, increasingly unwilling to look round, telling herself that she’d seen one too many TV dramas. The imagination could play countless tricks.

Barney continued to run around hither and thither but hadn’t yet been joined by any other dogs. Nevertheless, she was beginning to feel a little afraid. This was,