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

him about the note before he hung up. She could call back but she had a feeling he would then add two and two together and come up with the answer she feared. Because who else would leave a note on her pillow and then abscond late at night? It all pointed to Maureen.

Kate tried to think logically about the suspects. Who would, or would not, be able to climb up onto the roof and heave themselves up to her bedroom window?

Seymour Barker-Jones? He looked fit enough. He was known to be in the civil service but it was an open secret in the village that he was MI5, so it wasn’t beyond the bounds of imagination that such a James Bond-like stunt might appeal to him. And she’d told him about the list. She shouldn’t have done that, but had it really upset him? You could never really tell.

Then there was Dickie Payne. He was old, but he was slim and seemed to be in good health, so he could probably have managed it. It was only yesterday she’d spoken to him and he’d guessed that she suspected him. And why had he been listening outside the door when she was chatting to Clare? And where had he been for that hour at the time of Fenella’s murder?

What about Sandra Miller? Kate had also got on the wrong side of Sandra, but she couldn’t imagine the impetuous, quick-tempered Sandra mulling it over for hours. And yet…

It couldn’t be Billy Grey, now in custody through his own admission, an admission Kate didn’t believe for a minute. It was obvious – as far as Kate was concerned – that he was doing it out of guilt for the way he’d treated Maureen. And that left Maureen, of course. Kate must have been the only person in Tinworthy who’d been so convinced that Maureen was innocent. And it stood to reason that, if she had delivered that note, she’d probably have been on her way somewhere. Now Kate was full of doubt. One thing was for certain though: she had to find Maureen. She had to find her before the police did, to give her a chance to explain or to prove her innocence in some way – that’s if she was innocent.

And Kate was pretty certain she knew where to find her.

Kate tried to plan her day. She needed an excuse to pop into the medical centre on a day off but she reckoned it would be so manic in there on a Friday morning that no one would notice her. She’d say she had some paperwork to catch up on.

Angie had surfaced. ‘Morning,’ she said as she tottered in the door. ‘Is the kettle hot?’

Kate flicked the switch. ‘Good morning.’ She was thinking quickly. She decided she wouldn’t tell Angie about the note because she was bound to tell Luke, who was an unknown quantity, or more likely, she’d panic and insist on calling the police. No, no, no; not yet.

‘Angie,’ she said as the kettle came to the boil, ‘I’m thinking of going up to London today. Well, to Shirley’s in Windsor anyway, and hopefully I’ll be back tomorrow evening.’

‘What!’ Angie almost dropped her mug. ‘What on earth are you going up there for?’

‘I’ll tell you when I get back,’ Kate said.

‘Tell me now, for God’s sake!’

‘Just something I need to check on.’

‘C’mon, Kate, you’ll have to do better than that. What are you up to? Don’t tell me it’s something to do with this list of yours?’

‘Well, maybe. But I need you to be here on and off tomorrow, to look after Barney and take him for a walk. He can’t be on his own all day. And, after all, he is supposed to be your dog. I’ll give him a walk in a minute before I leave.’

Angie sipped her tea. ‘I’ll look after Barney tomorrow if you tell me where you’re going, and why. Come on – supposing you had an accident or something?’

Kate reconsidered. ‘OK then. I think Maureen’s gone up there. Woody’s just phoned to say she’s disappeared and I think I know where she’s gone.’

‘Oh no, not Maureen again!’

‘Yes, Maureen again. I think she’s up there and I intend to bring her back. Now don’t ask any more questions.’

‘Is this the wonderful Woody’s doing? Has he asked you to do this? If you tell him where you think she is then surely he could send some police there to get her? Why’s she done a runner anyway? Don’t you think that’s the act of a guilty woman?’

‘Believe me, it’ll be easier if I go myself, Angie. I’ll be back by tomorrow night.’

Angie refilled her mug. ‘You’re nuts. This is taking Super Sleuth Kate Palmer a bit too far! You’re not Miss Bloody Marple!’

‘Miss Marple or not, I’m going.’

Angie sighed. ‘OK, OK, I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘And please don’t tell Luke, or anyone, where I’m going. Please!’

‘OK, OK!’

‘Just one more thing, Angie. My window blew open sometime during the night; there must have been a gust of wind or something; it was cold and draughty when I woke up – so would you be kind enough to contact that locksmith next to the post office and ask him to come as soon as possible to replace the catch and install a lock of some kind? Monday, hopefully?’

‘It wasn’t windy last night. Wonder why it blew open?’

‘No idea. But would you do that, please?’

Kate drained her tea, made a quick phone call to her friend Shirley in Windsor and then dashed upstairs to pack an overnight bag before taking Barney for a half-hour walk.

She planned to be on her way by late morning.

Twenty-Two

As expected, the surgery was frantically busy. There was a queue of people at the reception desk and as Kate slipped in behind she called out to Denise, ‘Something I need to write up in my notes, I’ll just pop in and get them.’ Denise nodded, waved and carried on