Preface to Murder by M Morris (funny books to read txt) 📕

Jake’s orange Subaru screeched to a halt in the road just as Bridget was leaving the cottage. Jake and Ffion jumped out. ‘Any sign of them, ma’am?’ asked Jake.

‘They’re not here. But I think I know where they might be.’

She turned to give instructions to the two officers. ‘You two stay here. Call me if anything happens. The suspect is a woman in her late fifties with long grey hair, probably wearing a wool coat. A sixty-year-old man will be with her. Oh, and probably a dog too.’

‘Come on,’ she said to Jake and Ffion. ‘I hope you don’t mind getting muddy.’

*

‘It was the death threat that gave me the idea,’ said Annabel. ‘After I read Diane’s book, I was so angry that I went straight round to her house to confront her. But before I could say anything, she showed me the letter she’d received and asked me what she should do about it. It was almost like a sign from above. That’s when I decided how I was going to pay back Diane for what she’d done to me.’

‘But it was you who advised her to call the police.’

‘Yes. Because that was the sensible course of action, wasn’t it? Good old Annabel, always dependable, always doing the right thing. But this time I decided to do something completely unexpected.’

Ian didn’t need to ask what Annabel had done. He understood, and his blood ran cold. As cold as the rain that was now falling steadily, making the sodden field even muddier than it already was. Oscar returned once more, bedraggled and forlorn, tail no longer wagging. He dropped the soggy tennis ball at Annabel’s feet, but even he didn’t seem to expect any more fun and games. They were the only walkers left in the field. Everyone else had gone home when it first started to rain. Ian wanted to get away too. He wanted to run as fast as he could away from his sister-in-law but he seemed to be frozen in this godforsaken mud bath of a field, the rain pouring down his face.

‘The keys,’ he whispered. ‘You didn’t lose them at all.’

‘No,’ said Annabel. ‘I used them to get into Diane’s house. Then I put them in your kitchen and told you I’d lost them.’

‘You planned everything,’ muttered Ian.

‘Yes.’ She thrust her hand into one of the over-sized pockets in her coat and started to rummage around. What the hell did she keep in there apart from muddy tennis balls and doggie poop bags?

He didn’t have long to wait before he found out.

‘Oh my God,’ he cried. ‘Annabel. What are you doing?’

‘Putting things right.’ She unscrewed the protective cap from the syringe she now held, revealing the sharp needle beneath. The syringe was filled with some kind of pale liquid. She looked up at him. ‘Diane betrayed me, Ian. But she couldn’t have done it without your complicity. Even John tricked me, although he never meant me any harm. Now they’re both dead. So that just leaves you, doesn’t it?’

36

Bridget turned sharply into the field and swore loudly as her feet skidded in the mud, depositing her on her bottom. It didn’t hurt much – she was well padded in that area – but it didn’t do much for her dignity. How was she going to look, making an arrest with her backside caked in muck?

Jake reached down to help her back to her feet.

‘I’m all right,’ she said, wiping her muddy palms on her trousers. ‘Now let’s find them.’

The field was quite large, but virtually empty, so it didn’t take long to spot two figures standing at the far end next to a line of trees. A small dog was running around them, sniffing the ground, as if looking for somewhere to do his business. What was the dog’s name? Ah, yes. Oscar.

Ffion was already making strides across the field. ‘Go with her,’ Bridget instructed Jake. ‘Don’t wait for me.’

Jake set off and Bridget did her best to keep up in the rain which was coming down harder than ever. The field was becoming a quagmire.

*

Ffion was well used to running across Port Meadow in all weathers and was quite capable of making her way across a muddy field. By the time she was halfway to the distant corner where Annabel and Ian were talking, Bridget and Jake had fallen some distance behind. She turned to see them scrabbling around in the mud.

It looked like it was going to be up to her to make the arrest. No matter. Since she was the one who had found the truth buried in Stolen in Sorrento it seemed only fair that the collar should be hers. She approached Ian from behind, keeping Annabel clearly in view.

‘Police!’ she shouted.

Through the rain, she could see that Annabel held something in her right hand. An object made from metal and plastic. She realised what it was and called out a warning to Ian, but he seemed frozen in place, unable to move. ‘Run!’ she shouted, but it was only Annabel who moved.

*

Rain ran down Ian’s face, seeping through his clothes, and drenching him to the skin. The water was falling in torrents, collecting in ever-widening pools of water on the sodden ground. He felt like he was standing in a lake. His smart shoes were sinking deeper into the mud with every passing second. He tried to lift one foot, but the mud sucked at him, holding him fast like the roots of a tree.

Annabel advanced towards him, those damned walking shoes of hers ideal for these conditions. She squelched across the grass, the needlepoint of the hypodermic syringe drawing closer with every step.

‘Annabel,’ he said, but quickly fell silent. The words he ought to have said to