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

‘You’ve been following me.’ Kate was beginning to feel sick in the pit of her stomach.

‘Yes, I’ve been following you ever since I saw you parked in Higher Tinworthy. Watching. Couldn’t believe my luck, you coming up here on a day like this. Now there’s just you and me, in the mist. So easy to fall over the edge in this weather, happens all the time. Afterwards they’ll probably petition to erect a fence.’

‘Afterwards?’

‘After you accidentally fall over the edge.’

Kate began to feel real terror. This woman was mad; she was also younger and probably stronger. She was definitely going to have to make a run for it this time.

Sandra seemed to sense what she was about to do and Kate felt something sharp piercing her coat and tickling her ribs.

‘Don’t try anything clever, Kate. I really don’t want to cut you up. Such a messy business.’

Barney seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere, becoming restless and running to and fro as if to say, ‘Come on, we need to go!’ Oh Barney, Kate thought, will you be able to find your way home? Will she kill you too? For the first time her eyes brimmed with tears. Was this to be her last day on earth? There was little chance of escape now with this knife touching her skin, but she had to try something. At least play for time.

‘Why did you kill them, Sandra?’ She had difficulty speaking; her mouth was so dry that her lips were sticking to her teeth.

‘Even you must know that that cow has been having it off with my husband for a very long time.’

‘But why wait until now to get your revenge?’

‘I waited for Kevin Barry to come out of prison because I knew he’d be the main suspect. Then I heard Billy Grey was back on the scene, and it was coming up to the ten-year anniversary of Lucy’s death. It was a good time.’

‘But why Kevin? What had he done to upset you?’

‘He saw me killing Fenella, the bastard. He’d come out for a fag, saw me going round from the front door of the hall to the kitchen door, and followed me. He saw everything. Then he said he’d get rid of the apron and gloves for me because I couldn’t risk putting them in the bin and certainly not shoving them in my bag in case we got searched. Kevin said he’d burn them for me but the bastard kept them and then of course he wanted money to keep quiet. But he wasn’t going to be getting any of mine. And now, Kate Palmer, it’s your turn.’

‘So why kill her in the village hall of all places?’ Kate tried to keep her voice from wobbling but she knew only too well that her fate was sealed now that Sandra had confessed to the murders. She twisted a little and immediately felt the knife penetrate her skin. She desperately needed to play for more time.

Sandra gave a snort. ‘I’d have finished her off at home. Ida Tilley goes to bed early so that wouldn’t have been a problem. But Seymour had suddenly come back.’ She paused. ‘That night at the WI was deadly – I was bored witless listening to that old crone rabbiting on about her bloody vegetables, so I went out front for a fag and then had a wander round to the kitchen door to see who was in there. And there was Fenella slicing her sodding cake! I decided I might as well give her a hand; she insisted I put on an apron and gloves. I’m allergic to them gloves they’ve got there and when I refused do you know what she said to me? She said, “You smell like a filthy ashtray!” So I blew my smoky breath in her face and said, “When it comes to filth you’re the expert.”’

Sandra turned round to Kate and narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you know what she said then?’

Kate shook her head.

‘She said, “I think of myself as a therapist, darling, helping those unfortunate enough to get little satisfaction from their frumpy wives.” It was the way she said “darling” in that posh voice of hers – that’s when I saw red. I’m not frumpy and I’m bloody good in bed! Fenella laid the knife down then, so I put the bloody gloves on, picked it up and stabbed her with it. Job done!’

Kate looked round in desperation but the mist had descended again so, even in the unlikely event of anyone being around, they probably couldn’t be seen. She could shout, but Sandra would probably silence her with the knife.

For the moment she had to let Sandra think she’d already accepted her fate and had no intention of escaping – in the hope she wouldn’t push that knife any further in. She could already feel the pain and the dampness of the blood seeping through her sweater. Kate thought of her two sons. She was probably never going to see them again, and what would they think about their mother being murdered on a Cornish clifftop? She thought of Angie then; would Angie stay on in Lavender Cottage by herself? And she thought of Woody, and how she’d disobeyed all his warnings. Deep down, she’d hoped that they might have had some sort of future together. But now…

Sandra said, ‘So we’ve had our little chat, Kate Palmer – can we just get on with it?’

She placed her left arm round Kate’s shoulders and continued holding the knife against her ribs with her right hand, slowly getting to her feet and taking Kate with her.

It was now or never.

Kate, with every ounce of strength she could summon, managed to shove Sandra away, fumbling in her pocket to locate the anti-attack spray. She pulled it out and aimed it at Sandra’s face but immediately Sandra knocked it out of her hand.

Kate began to run