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

‘She does that every time,’ Sandra growled, her dark eyes blazing. ‘She should be banned from pub quizzes. Of course she’s thick as two short planks, otherwise she wouldn’t need to be cheating, would she?’

Finally, everyone quietened down and Roger resumed the questions. The next section was about sport, which caused much grief at Table Four since none of them were very clued-up about which team had won which cup in which league in 2000, or who’d won the men’s doubles at Wimbledon in 2017. And Sandra was only concentrating on glaring at Dora Wally.

At the end of each round of questions the answers were passed to the next table for marking. Table Four marked Table Three’s answers, Table Five marked Table Four’s, and so on, before the papers were handed back.

At the end of the general knowledge round Sandra was on her feet again. ‘You’ve marked us as having six out of ten, and we had seven!’ she shouted at Table Five.

‘Sorry,’ someone at Table Five said.

‘I notice you’re not apologising, Dora Wally,’ Sandra said loudly. ‘And I expect you did the marking.’

‘Now, now,’ Roger called out, ‘I’ve adjusted the scores on the blackboard here, ladies. Let’s all calm down! Now, IT’S TIME FOR A BREAK! Refill your glasses, folks, and we’ll start again in fifteen minutes. OK?’

There was much scuffling of chairs and a general rush towards the bar.

‘God, I’m gasping for a smoke,’ Sandra said. ‘If you hear any screaming it’ll be me murdering someone!’ She guffawed as she got up from the table and headed outside. Was she referring to Dora Wally, or the murder of Fenella? Kate wondered briefly.

Angie joined the surge towards the bar, leaving Kate and Sue at the table.

‘Sorry about the dramatics,’ Sue said. ‘Sandra’s got a bit of a temper. But Dora Wally really does cheat. She’s been caught at it several times and she’s been banned from some places.’

‘Well, I’m finding it very entertaining,’ Kate said with a grin. ‘Have you known Sandra long?’

‘We were at school together,’ Sue said. ‘Sandra was always a bit of a rebel. She was very popular with the boys though, and she probably could have married anyone but’ – here she lowered her voice – ‘Ed Miller got her pregnant. Still, she did all right for herself because that hotel’s a real money-spinner. And, hey, your sister’s a bit of a brainbox, isn’t she?’

‘No one’s more surprised than me,’ Kate said. ‘She does read a lot though, and it plainly pays off.’

At this point Angie returned with the drinks, and Sandra appeared clutching another pint of cider and brushing cigarette ash off her jumper.

As Sandra tackled her drink she said, ‘She was always a cow, that Dora Wally.’ She nodded towards Table Five. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Have you seen those eyebrows? Would you believe she paid a fortune to have those things tattooed on?’

Angie almost choked on her gin. ‘She had them tattooed on like that?’

‘It’s the thing at the moment,’ Sue said, ‘but I think the tattooist must have got carried away!’

‘Serve her bloody right!’ added Sandra with feeling. ‘Two more black marks against her!’

Kate had no idea if the unfortunate Dora Wally was the epitome of awfulness that Sandra had made her out to be, but she was certainly aware of the violent streak in Sandra’s nature.

And Sandra wasn’t finished yet. She leaned across the table and whispered to Kate and Angie, ‘Even when she was in school Dora Wally would drop her knickers for anyone and everyone.’

‘Oh,’ Kate said politely, wondering if Dora had dropped them for the French chef. Was that why Sandra hated her so much?

‘Almost as bad as bloody Fenella Barker-Jones,’ Sandra summed up, just as the second half of the quiz was about to begin.

There were no further incidents. At the end of the quiz Table Four had scored one point more than Table Five, much to Kate’s relief, as she could imagine a battle taking place otherwise. They were positioned somewhere in the middle in the final tally.

‘At least we didn’t come last,’ Sue said as she put on her coat. ‘Thank you both for coming along. Perhaps we can do this another time? We’re very impressed with your knowledge, Angie. And you too, Kate,’ she added. Kate made a non-committal noise. If nothing else this evening she had learned that a female moose is a cow, that Mammolo was a red wine grape, that a bombardon was a musical instrument and that Pictures at an Exhibition was a piece of music written by Mussorgsky. And that Sandra Miller was a fiery lady who, Kate suspected, could quite possibly stick a knife into someone she disliked.

As they got into the car Angie said, ‘Do they ever have any normal events round here? I mean where nobody gets knifed or comes close to having a stand-up fight? Pub quizzes used to be respectable events, did they not?’

‘They did,’ Kate agreed, still seeing the fury in Sandra Miller’s eyes.

She was another one who would be remaining on The List.

Thirteen

Kate worried about how Maureen was coping since being hauled into the police station. Gossip spread like wildfire in a place like Tinworthy and no doubt tongues would be wagging wherever she went. As she tried to work out what excuse she could make to visit her someone knocked on the door, which set the dog off into hysterical barking.

The tall skinny lad who’d arrived on the doorstep of Lavender Cottage didn’t look much older than sixteen.

He held out an ID card in a bony hand. ‘Jordan Jarvis,’ he said, ‘from the Cornish Courier.’

Kate had seen some members of the press hanging around in the lane and approaching her when she got into her car, but this was the first time that somebody had actually come to the door.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I don’t…’

‘Please!’ he begged. There was something about the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down above his black polo neck