Small Town Secrets (Some Very English Murders Book 2) (2 page)

“Oh yes!” Lucy squealed, back in her upbeat mood once more.
Penny had never seen her low or upset for more than a few seconds. “You’re
seeing that lovely Drew, aren’t you?”

“No. We’re friends.”

“Good friends!”

“Just friends,” Penny insisted. “We are both awfully busy.
On the other hand, yes, I will concede we are going out for a meal tonight.”

“Oh! Oh! You’re going red! How sweet!”

Penny was sure that she was not blushing, at least, not
until Lucy pointed it out to her. Then she felt her cheeks burn. For no reason
at all.
No reason,
she insisted in her head. Not at all.

A customer sidled up to the counter, embarrassed in that
wonderfully British way that she was asking to inconvenience the staff by requesting
to be served. Penny was grateful for the release.

* * * *

When the shop closed up for the evening, Penny helped cash
up and then went to find her own dog, Kali. Kali had been a rescue dog,
resident at the dogs’ home, when Penny had moved to Upper Glenfield. It wasn’t
exactly love at first sight. Kali’s behaviour when she saw other dogs –
notably, the “I want to kill you for daring to exist” reaction – had sorely
tested Penny. But, helped by Drew, and a knowledgeable man in the local walking
group, she had been able to recognise Kali’s reactions as born out of fear, not
aggression.

Unfortunately, both fear and aggression looked the same in
a large, heavy Rottweiler. Rolling eyes? Bared teeth? Thrashing tail? Foaming
mouth? Check.

These days, however, Kali was able to tolerate being near
other dogs. She’d even made a few doggy friends at the dogs’ home, and shared a
large run with them while Penny volunteered in the shop.

Penny collected her, fussed her, and strapped her into her
head-collar. It was a mile of walking to get back to her little cottage on
River Street, but the air was cooling slightly and it was going to be a
pleasant journey past the fields of ripening crops. Rapeseed or mustard? She
had no idea. It smelled a little unpleasant, whatever it was.

Kali trotted alongside, happy to be on her way home. She
knew her dinner was waiting at the end, but she also knew she couldn’t get away
with pulling at the lead any more. Penny would simply stop. So they moved along
nicely, and Penny allowed herself to sink into a happy daydream about what she
was going to wear for the meal with Drew that evening.

Until her mobile phone rang.

She stopped, asking Kali to wait as she fished around in
her tote bag – a linen one, covered with colourful stencilled designs of her
own creation. “Hi, Drew! I’m just on my way home. How are you? Did the course
go all right today?”

“It was going fine, but I had to finish early,” he said.

“Oh. Are you okay?” She imagined he might have been taken
ill. The meal didn’t matter, she decided.

“Yes. I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel the meal
tonight.”

“Why? What’s happened?” she asked in concern. “Are you
sick?”

“No, I’m not ill. I’m fine. It’s just that … I can’t make
it.”

The meal suddenly
did
matter. “Oh really,” she said,
flatly, waiting for an explanation.

“I don’t know if I am allowed to tell you,” he said. “I
will make it up to you–”

She sucked in a deep breath and channelled her inner
Valkyrie. “Tell me,” she pronounced in a leaden tone.

“Er.”

“
Tell me
.”

“The police need my help. Warren Martin has been found
dead.”

As soon as he had imparted that shocking information, Drew
had to finish the conversation, explaining that the police were waiting for
him.

Penny was horrified. She stared at Kali, who cocked her
head, expecting a command and then a treat.

“We’ve got to get to Drew!” she told the dog. “Come on!”

Kali willingly broke into a run, in spite of having been
active all day. She panted as she laboured alongside and Penny realised she had
to slow down. Hot weather and a thick black coat didn’t make a happy
combination for a Rottie.

As they jogged, Penny thought about Warren. Drew had used
the phrase “found dead” but she couldn’t help but interpret that as “murdered.”
Maybe it was because of her history. She’d only lived in Upper Glenfield for
three weeks before she had discovered a murder victim herself, and taken it on
as a personal duty to find the killer – much to the annoyance of the local
constabulary.

Although Warren had been a deeply unpleasant individual, he
didn’t deserve to die. Well, who did? Poor Warren. Did he have family? As far
as she could tell, he barely had friends. She hadn’t even realised he went to
the camera club until that day, when Nina had alluded to her father and Warren
being in disagreement.

It was him! Nina’s father! Yes, it was all solved already.
Case closed.

Penny picked up the pace as she left the countryside and
entered the small agricultural town of Upper Glenfield. Drew’s house was along
a narrow road past the Spinney, a stand of trees by the river. As she left the
main road and turned into the smaller road that led to his row of houses, she
saw the police car approaching her. She waved frantically at it, and it slowed
down as it came alongside her. She peered in, and saw Drew in the back seat.

“Have you been arrested?” she babbled in horror.

“No! I told you, the police need my help.”

The police officer driving the car made a tutting sound.
“You shouldn’t have told her anything. I know this one. You’re the Londoner,
aren’t you? The David Hart case?”

“Yes.” The Londoner? Well, she reflected, they could be
calling her “the mad southerner with the crazy dog” still. Things were
improving.

“I’m sorry,” Drew said, leaning forward to peep between the
two front seats. He was an ex-blacksmith, broad-shouldered and rugged with
piercing eyes. “About the meal, and about telling you anything, and all that.
I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“But why do the police want to talk to you?” Penny cried in
frustration.

“Because … uh … officer?”

The police officer driving the car sighed dramatically.
“Because a
person
has been found in an unusual location and Mr Harker is
a specialist in the knowledge that we might find very useful. That is, if we
can get there in time while the evidence is still intact,” he added pointedly.

Drew sat back and shrugged apologetically.

The car pulled away, and Penny had no choice but to stamp
home, feeling left out.

* * * *

Penny’s cottage was in the middle of a terrace along a
dead-end street. The long, low houses were built from a warm yellow stone that
came from a local quarry. They glowed richly in the low sun. Lincolnshire, she
was discovering, had far more sky than anywhere else she’d ever been. The
clouds and the light and the shapes and the colours were a changing landscape
with as much power to stir the soul as a panoramic mountain range. And at
night, the great dark bowl of sky was untouched by orange light pollution. The
stars made a silver ceiling of slowly spinning pinpricks, dazzling in their
number.

Alas, she was feeling far from poetic as she unlocked her
door and released Kali, who skittered down the hallway and into the kitchen at
the back, where she would sit by her food bowl and await her dinner. Penny
kicked off her sandals and rubbed her hot feet. She was decidedly out of sorts.

“I was looking forward to that meal,” she told Kali as she
walked into the kitchen, relishing the feeling of cool lino against her bare
skin. “Now what? Oh, you don’t care as long as you get your kibble, do you?”

Kali didn’t shrug, exactly, but Penny shook her head.
“Thanks for the sympathy, dog. Okay. Let’s get you fed, then.”

While Kali chomped on her dry food, Penny dragged a pizza
out of her freezer and put the oven on to warm up. Her kitchen table was
covered in drawings and sketches. When she wasn’t volunteering at the dogs’
home, she was attending craft fairs and selling her designs.

It was all a far cry from her decades of focussed
career-building in the not-so-glamourous world of television production. She’d
taken early retirement when she had realised the stress and constant pressure
was turning her into someone that she didn’t like. Her blood pressure and her
doctor were both warning her to make changes. Eventually, she did, and now she
was relaxing in the Lincolnshire countryside.

Mostly. Apart from the dead farmer she found when walking
her dog, and the threats she’d received from the murderer, and all those
things. Well, it could have happened anywhere.

And now, the strangely cut-throat world of craft fairs,
where she had quickly discovered she was very much at the bottom of the pile.

She pushed that aside. It would take time to be accepted on
the small and closed circuit, she told herself. Patience.

There was no space at her table to eat, so when the pizza
was ready, she took it through to the cosy, square living room and balanced a
tray on her knees. She was about to tuck in, decadently refusing to use a knife
and fork – she was alone, and it was pizza, yet she still felt slightly naughty
– when her mobile phone began to ring again.

She resolved to ignore it until she saw from the caller
display that it was Cath.

Detective Constable Cath Pritchard, to give her the full
title. She was calling from her personal phone, so Penny had to assume she was
calling as a friend, not on work related business. She put the tray to one side
on the sofa beside her, and grabbed the phone.

“Hi, Cath!” Penny said. She was hoping that Cath was
calling to let her in on all the gossip – namely, what on earth was going on
with Warren, and why had Drew been hauled in to help out.

“Hi, Penny. So, how are you?” Cath asked. It sounded as if
some kind of war was going on in the background. Either she was in the custody
suite of Lincoln police station, or she was at home with her husband and two
children. The situations were pretty similar.

“I’m fine…” Penny said. Cath wasn’t usually so polite and
restrained when calling as a friend. “And yourself?”

“Good, good.”

There was an awkward silence. Well, I’m not going to be the
one to ask, Penny thought. Three seconds later, she broke under pressure. “Tell
me about Warren!” she blurted.

Ugh, I am an idiot, she thought.

“Penny, I’m just calling to tell you not to be an idiot,”
Cath said.

Bother.

“All I did was go to see Drew when the police were taking
him off!” Penny said in protest.

“That’s all you’ve done
so far.
I thought I’d give
you a quick call before all the gossipers get onto the case. Yes, Warren has
been found dead. But it is nothing to do with you.”

“I never thought it was!” Penny said. “What, am I a suspect
or something?”

“No, of course not. I’m just warning … no, that’s unfair.
I’m simply advising you to leave all the investigation to the police.”

“Yes, of course.”

“No poking and no meddling.”

“No. I never dreamed of it,” Penny said, and she was being
totally honest.

“Really?”

“I resent this!” Penny said. “I had no intention of getting
involved in any way at all. I didn’t find the body this time, did I? It’s
nothing to do with me.”

“We thought that you might take it upon yourself to look
into it,” Cath said.

We? They are talking about me? Penny’s hand tightened on
the phone. “Well, I won’t. You don’t need to worry. I’ll leave it completely to
you.
And Drew,”
she added.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it! Hey, we should do lunch again
sometime.”

“We should,” Penny said mulishly, refusing to concede any
more than that.

Cath rang off, and left Penny staring angrily at her
cooling pizza. Why did people jump to such conclusions? She felt like she was
getting told off for something she hadn’t done. It wasn’t fair.

* * * *

Sunday dawned bright and clear, and Penny knew it was going
to be another hot day. She resisted the urge to eat ice-cream for breakfast,
and after a quick bowl of sensible, grown-up and unsatisfying muesli, she took
Kali out for a walk.

They had barely got to the end of her road, River Street,
before the first person had stopped her to talk about the news that was buzzing
all over town: Warren’s death.

“Have you heard?” said the woman who would have been a foot
shorter were it not for her impressive black beehive. Agatha ran the
hairdressing salon in town, and was responsible for the succession of colours
that Penny sported in her hair. At the moment, she was various shades of red
and orange. She had asked for “vibrant and flame-like” and Agatha had certainly
delivered.

“Have I heard about what?” Penny asked, just in case it was
a different topic of gossip.

“Warren!” Agatha exclaimed. “Warren, found dead, eh?”

“Ah yes. I did hear that last night. Do you know where he was
found? I didn’t think he ever left the mini-market. Was it there?”

Agatha sucked in her cheeks. “Oh, no, apparently he was
lying out in the middle of nowhere, in a shed! Shocking, isn’t it, eh?”

“Deeply sad.” Penny meant it.

“But the thing is,” Agatha went on, “what about the list of
suspects, eh? Eh?”

“What list of suspects?”

“That’s the point!” Agatha said. “Pretty much every woman
in Upper Glenfield had a reason to want to do him in!”

Penny shook her head. “Ah, no, that’s not fair. Well …
okay, yes it is. He was a bit hard work. But if we women went around killing
everyone who flirted with us when we didn’t want it, they’d need to build some
huge prisons to contain us all.”

“It was probably some kind of assignation that went wrong.”