A Body in the Village Hall by Dee MacDonald (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

‘No, I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’

‘Perhaps he just wanted to say he was sorry?’

‘Well, he’s ten years too late,’ Maureen snapped.

‘Yes, Maureen, it’s been ten years, and now,’ Kate said gently, ‘perhaps you need to move on.’

‘Move on? Where on earth would I move on to?’ Maureen asked, blowing her nose.

‘You’re a young woman. You’re what? Forty-two?’

‘Forty-three.’

‘Perhaps you should think about getting a job?’

‘What would I do? I’m too old to start something new.’

‘No, you’re not, Maureen. Just for a start there’s lots of seasonal jobs coming up, isn’t there? How about working in a shop or a café or something?’

‘I used to do a bit of cleaning sometimes,’ Maureen said. ‘That’s all I’m good for.’

‘Well, all the guesthouses and self-catering places in the Tinworthy villages must be screaming out for cleaners for the summer. It would be some extra cash.’ She wanted to add, ‘to pay for some heat’.

‘Yeah, well.’ Maureen patted Barney’s head. ‘Nice dog.’

‘Yes, he’s a lovely dog. Have you ever thought about getting one?’

Maureen snorted. ‘I’ve got a cat so I don’t need a ruddy dog. But you’re determined to sort me out, aren’t you?’

‘Only because I think you’re worth sorting out. And you need to get out of here.’

‘That’s what everyone says.’

‘Perhaps everyone’s right,’ Kate said, getting to her feet. ‘I’d best be home before it gets dark. Thanks for the tea.’

Maureen got up slowly, hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Would you like to see Lucy’s room?’

‘Yes, I’d like that very much.’ Kate had a feeling about what she was likely to find as she followed Maureen up the stairs and into the pink-walled bedroom. She saw rose-patterned curtains, a duvet cover patterned with cute puppies, shelves full of soft toys and dolls, and a pair of small fluffy pink slippers.

‘She liked pink,’ Maureen said.

‘She certainly did,’ Kate agreed, feeling distinctly moist-eyed as she turned towards the door. It was the little pair of slippers that had got to her, the fur flattened where Lucy’s feet had once rested. She gazed at the room for a moment, then turned to walk down the stairs where she attached the lead to Barney’s collar and headed towards the front door.

‘Promise me you’ll get in touch with me anytime you need to,’ Kate said, fishing in her bag and producing a card. ‘Here’s my address and phone numbers. Promise?’

‘I promise,’ Maureen said and – for the first time – Kate deciphered a trace of a smile on her face.

As she walked home, Kate thought about Maureen. She’d made a tiny bit of headway and it felt as if Maureen was beginning to trust her. It was a good feeling. But Kate couldn’t really understand why the husband had come back on the scene after so many years. And she couldn’t understand why Maureen wouldn’t allow Kevin to show her the proof he claimed to have. There were still so many unanswered questions. And then Kate thought about the little pair of pink slippers and the bedroom, which was now a shrine. She decided she must try to think of something else because she was becoming obsessed with Maureen’s problems.

Tomorrow she’d get her own bedroom painted.

Seven

The following morning Kate painted three walls of her bedroom while Angie rolled her sleeves up for once and prepared Sunday lunch. As she sat down to eat at around two o’clock, she decided the fourth wall could wait until the next day. It was the tricky one anyway, with fiddly parts, nooks, crannies and alcoves, and the bit around the window that wouldn’t close properly.

After lunch she relaxed on the sofa in the kitchen and glanced at the Sunday papers. There was that headline again:

Still no arrest for Cornish village killer!

It went on to say that Detective Inspector Forrest had confirmed that their only suspect so far had been released from custody.

By five o’clock Kate decided she needed some fresh air; she needed to get away from the smell of paint, and the dog was begging for a walk.

‘Fancy a stroll along the beach?’ she suggested to Angie.

‘It’s getting late,’ Angie protested. ‘I’ll just stay home and maybe have a little nightcap later.’

‘Haven’t you had enough today? You drank three-quarters of the bottle of Merlot at lunchtime,’ Kate snapped, feeling irritated.

‘I have a strong constitution,’ Angie replied, looking back at the magazine she was reading.

‘Well, I’m going to have a wander along the beach,’ Kate said, donning her coat and pulling on her boots.

As she and Barney approached the shore she could see no one around except for some dedicated surfers still out at sea. As the clocks had just gone forward that day, the sun still had another hour before it dipped beneath the horizon, casting a mixture of copper and mauve as it sank. Kate wanted to sit somewhere quiet to fully take it in; it was so beautiful. She plonked herself on a rock and stared out at the Atlantic, relaxing as she listened to the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach. The tide was coming in and in another half hour or so the rock she was sitting on would be completely submerged. Then she noticed some of the surfers coming out of the water, and one wetsuit-clad figure was heading in her direction.

‘Mrs Palmer, I believe?’ said a man’s voice with an American accent.

Kate found herself looking into a pair of warm brown eyes. ‘Detective Inspector Forrest, I presume?’ she replied.

‘Correct!’ he said. ‘Except I get called Woody when I’m not on duty. And what brings you to the beach on this Sunday evening?’

‘The dog needed a walk and I needed some fresh air,’ she said. She wanted to add ‘and I have an alcoholic sister who’s driving me nuts’ but didn’t. He sat down on a rock a couple of feet away and laid his surfboard on the sand. The wetsuit showed his toned figure to advantage and she wanted to