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

‘Surprised,’ Kate replied. ‘It certainly isn’t how I imagined life would be here.’

‘Did you ever have to deal with murders up in London?’ he asked.

‘I did occasionally have to deal with stabbings and knife crimes from time to time when I worked in Accident and Emergency,’ she said. ‘We patched people up as well as we could and sometimes they recovered, sometimes they didn’t. You just have to cope with it.’

‘Wow!’ he exclaimed admiringly. ‘Haven’t you had an exciting life!’

‘Just the average life of a nurse,’ Kate said. She’d never considered her life to be particularly exciting, but she was amused and a little flattered by this young man’s interest and enthusiasm.

‘So,’ he said, ‘do you have any idea who the murderer might be?’

‘None at all,’ she replied truthfully, thinking of The List and how she’d not yet felt like crossing any of the names off.

He asked her a few questions about her marital status – had she children, grandchildren?

‘Well, I’d better leave you in peace now,’ he said finally, stowing away his notebook and her pen into his bag. ‘Thanks ever so much for the chat and for the tea, Mrs Palmer. I’ll make sure you get a copy of the Cornish Courier.’

‘Good luck, Jordan,’ Kate said as she shepherded him out the door, wondering what on earth she’d let herself in for.

Fourteen

The following day Woody phoned. For a few heart-stopping moments Kate wondered if he’d heard that she’d been talking to the press and was about to chastise her.

‘Maureen Grey’s off the hook for the moment,’ he said.

‘Thank God for that. Why?’

‘Because her husband, Billy, walked into the police station yesterday and confessed to committing both murders.’

Kate was dumbstruck for a moment. ‘He did?’

‘He did. So now he’s been charged and is in detention.’

‘Oh, Woody, I’m so relieved Maureen’s no longer a suspect. But do you really think he did it?’

‘Well, he confessed, so we have no option but to believe him.’

‘But why are you calling me and telling me this?’ Kate asked.

‘Because Maureen Grey has been with us at the police station today and she’s asked if you would be kind enough to come and pick her up. We’ve offered her a police car to take her home but, for some reason, she wants you.’

‘Of course I’ll come to collect her!’ Kate felt flattered that Maureen had finally come to trust her. ‘You must be relieved you’ve got the killer.’

‘Yes,’ Woody replied, not sounding altogether convinced. ‘Though Maureen’s still not to leave the area, I know you’re fond of her and I think she’s probably rather short of friends at the moment.’

‘Oh, poor Maureen!’

‘Yeah, I thought you’d want to know.’

‘Thanks, Woody. I’ll be there shortly to pick her up.’

Maureen stood, waif-like, with a small bag on the ground beside her, outside the entrance to the police station. Kate’s heart lurched. This poor woman!

‘Oh, Maureen,’ she said, as she parked the car, got out and opened the passenger door. ‘I’m so glad you’re not a suspect anymore.’

Maureen sniffed as she got into the car. ‘Well, it’s thanks to you telling that detective about me and Kevin in the churchyard that made them think it was me.’

‘I’m sorry, Maureen. But I felt it was relevant at the time.’

‘Did you now?’ Maureen said. ‘Anyway, can you stop at the next petrol station so I can get some milk for my tea?’

‘Of course I can.’

Kate drove on, aware that Maureen wasn’t in a conversational mood. They stopped for milk and then drove on in companionable silence for the remainder of the short journey to St Petroc’s Road.

Maureen pursed her lips as she opened the door. ‘You’d better come in then,’ she said ungraciously, ‘but I don’t want any lectures from you.’

‘I don’t lecture,’ Kate protested, ‘and if I sound as if I do then I’m sorry.’

She followed Maureen into the living room where she stooped to put on the electric fire. A piece of cream-coloured knitting had been abandoned on one of the fireside chairs.

‘What’s this you’re knitting?’ Kate asked as she held up the length of cable stitching.

‘A jumper,’ Maureen said as she filled up the kettle.

‘For yourself?’

‘No.’ Maureen volunteered no further information which made Kate wonder if it could possibly be for the husband. She decided not to ask.

‘Wish I could knit like this,’ she said instead.

Maureen came back into the room. ‘Sit down,’ she said, indicating the other chair. Then she picked up the knitting, sat down opposite, and resumed knitting at top speed, as if she’d only placed it down a few minutes ago.

‘Did you know, Maureen? Did you know he’d killed Fenella and Kevin?’

‘No,’ Maureen said as she got up again to make the tea, ‘because I don’t think he did.’

‘What? Why do you say that?’ Kate was becoming increasingly confused. Had she heard correctly?

‘How do I know that you won’t tell everything I say to that detective friend of yours?’

‘I won’t!’ How did Maureen know she was friendly with Woody? Kate was nevertheless torn between her wish to help Woody solve the case and keeping Maureen’s trust. She decided instantly she had to keep Maureen’s trust. ‘Honestly, I promise,’ she added. ‘But, Maureen, I’m very confused. The last time I sat in here you were telling me how awful your husband was and that you’d shut the door in his face.’

‘I did,’ Maureen agreed, handing Kate a mug of very strong tea. ‘I did shut the door in his face. After ten bloody years what did he expect? That I’d give him a hug and say, “Welcome home!” Are you kidding?’

‘No, but you must have let him in at some point. According to all reports he has been living here.’

‘Yes,’ said Maureen. She sipped her tea and picked up the knitting yet again. ‘I did let him in after he broke down. He broke down on the doorstep, would you believe. There were curtains twitching all the way down the road so I couldn’t have all that going on