The Ullswater Undertaking by Rebecca Tope (read dune .TXT) 📕

her fault if she’s so ordinary. Anybody would be compared to you and Ben.’

‘Me? I’m as ordinary as they come.’

Bonnie merely laughed at that.

‘Sorry I went to see Ben without you. I remember when Melanie got upset because she always seemed to be left out of the most interesting bits of the murder investigations. It just seemed to work out that way, but I was always sorry about it.’

‘Don’t worry – I’m not going to be left out. I’ll make him tell me every detail this evening.’ Bonnie’s eyes sparkled. ‘And there’ll be a whole lot more by then, anyway. I’ll be more up to speed than you.’

Simmy didn’t doubt it. A lot could happen between lunch and dinner, in her experience.

Christopher had a lot to tell her when she phoned him. ‘They didn’t reveal any details, obviously, but reading between the lines, it looks as if poor Jo was killed somewhere around midnight on Sunday. She’s got a cat, and I guess somebody saw her letting it out – something like that. They wanted every little fact about Fabian, going back umpteen years, trying to figure out the connections. I ended up telling them practically everything he told us Sunday night. Uncle Richmond – the lot. I have to admit they were quite clever about it. Caught on a lot faster than I expected.’

‘Were they friendly? I mean – they don’t think you did it, do they?’

‘God, Sim – you don’t mince your words, do you? There’s certainly no evidence against me, is there? Luckily, they seem to have cottoned on to my links with the Moxon man, through you, which gives me a bit of kudos. At least they were careful not to be too unpleasant.’

‘Kudos,’ Simmy repeated thoughtfully. ‘Haven’t you got that anyway? Prominent local figure with respectable credentials and so forth.’

Christopher laughed. ‘I’m not sure selling second-hand junk counts as respectable. They’ve all seen Lovejoy, don’t forget. They’ve got a very warped idea about what goes on at auctions.’

‘I saw Ben,’ she interrupted. ‘Helen was thrilled with the baby. But her arthritis is terrible now. She can hardly move, poor thing.’

‘Oh dear. She’s not very old, is she?’

‘Not at all. It’s awful bad luck.’

‘So – what time will you be home? I’m back already. Should I go and get some shopping?’

‘Good idea. Get lots of meat for the freezer. I feel horribly carnivorous. Is Humphrey there?’

‘He is. They’ve made brilliant progress already today. We’ve got a corridor halfway along the upstairs landing now. It looks great.’

‘Gosh! I should be back by three. I’m excited to see what they’ve done.’

She heard a knocking sound coming down the phone. ‘What’s that?’

‘Somebody at the door. Bloody hell – it’s Fabian back again. What does he want?’

Simmy didn’t like to think and said nothing. Christopher went on, ‘He doesn’t look very happy. I can see him through the window.’

Simmy struggled with visions of the man wielding a knife in his rage at her fiancé. Because, whatever her good sense told her, and the apparently impossible logistics, she found herself perfectly able to view him as a murderer. ‘Don’t let him in,’ she said urgently.

‘Too late. He’s just walked through the door.’

Simmy was sitting in her car outside her parents’ home as she spoke to Christopher. Beck View was a large handsome house with five bedrooms and an adequate garden, situated on the main road running down to Bowness. The Baddeley clock tower, which marked the boundary between Windermere and Bowness could be seen from the front gate, not many yards away. She remained gazing blankly at the traffic, reminding herself that Christopher could not possibly be in any danger. There were two burly builders upstairs who would fly to his defence if necessary. And Fabian was undeniably weedy. There really was nothing to worry about, even if the beastly man did look cross and marched into someone else’s house without invitation. She unloaded the baby yet again and carried him into the house, forcing herself to concentrate on her parents and set aside any worries about her fiancé.

Lunch with Angie and Russell was generous and Simmy ate well. ‘Eating for two,’ said Russell, with a smile. ‘Got to keep up your strength.’

‘Two clichés in two seconds,’ said his wife, raising her eyebrows. ‘That’s your ration for the day.’ Both the Straws were very resistant to popular idiom and general misuse of language. They would never say ‘hopefully’ to mean anything other than ‘optimistically’. They avoided ‘devastated’ and used ‘seated’ where everyone else said ‘sat’. Russell was by far the more pedantic, but Angie entirely approved of the basic principle.

Simmy let her thoughts settle comfortably on the family chit-chat, encouraging tales about B&B guests, their dogs and fatuous demands – and avoiding any mention of a killing in Keswick or an unwanted visitor in Hartsop. Russell’s latest anecdote was about a man who insisted on being told the precise provenance of every item of food, including the teabags. ‘I thought it was very rude,’ said Angie.

And then, with a faint feeling of reluctance, Simmy told them of the decision to arrange a wedding. ‘Very small,’ she added firmly.

‘Good,’ said Russell. ‘Do we have to get you a present?’

Chapter Eight

She was back in Hartsop before three, having left her parents with all the work that she had helped with throughout the previous year. The fact of her baby excused her now. She had no idea what she would find when she got home but persuaded herself that it would be nothing nasty. Presumably Christopher would be there, most likely having managed to send Fabian packing. She supposed the builders were still on site. He might, however, be needed by Oliver or the police. Much depended on what had taken place between him and Fabian.

What she did not expect was a note, left conspicuously on the kitchen table, which said: Gone up to Ullswater with Fabian. Shouldn’t be long.

‘What?’ she said aloud. She looked at Robin, asleep in his seat. ‘What’s