Small Town Christmas (Some Very English Murders Book 6)

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Small Town Christmas (Some Very English Murders Book 6) Page 7

by Issy Brooke


  “Well,” he said, “I’m off, and I’ll be taking the back streets to get home rather than run the risk of encountering the steamroller of the Fens again. Good luck.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Chapter Ten

  True to her word, the irritating Linda dropped off a folder full of images, notes and ideas. Penny listened to Linda give her a few more nuggets of unwelcome advice and managed to restrain herself from answering. She waved Linda away, and took the folder through to the kitchen to skim through it all.

  In principle, Penny was sympathetic to the idea of opening up the footpath. There were photocopies of articles and evidence, showing the background to the claim, and Penny had to agree that it seemed like an act of spite on Clive’s part that he had encouraged the utilities company to block the re-opening.

  If Linda was to be believed, of course. Penny reminded herself that she could hardly take Linda’s word for it. Furthermore, Linda’s callous dismissal of the death of her brother made Penny feel quite uneasy.

  She pushed it from her mind, for the moment; she certainly intended on passing all that information on to Cath, when she saw her friend the next time.

  * * * *

  Catching up with Cath would have to wait. On Sunday night, Penny went to the carol singing practice that was held at the high school out on the eastern side of town. It was called an “academy” now but Penny was unsure of what that meant, apart from they seemed to be sponsored by a large regional building company and had had a new, shiny logo designed for them.

  She was pleased that her voice held up well throughout the session. She could never claim to be the world’s best singer, but there was something wonderfully life-affirming about singing as part of a group, and it always made her feel a little bit taller.

  Afterwards, she spent a few minutes chatting with people. Ginni, the woman who ran the florist’s shop in town, asked if she was joining them all for a drink.

  “No,” Penny said ruefully. “I’m only just recovering from being ill. I’m not going to overdo it.”

  She waved her good byes, and headed out into the cold night. As usual, she had walked to the school. In spite of her claim to want to avoid overdoing things, she still took the longer way home, walking along the road that went north-east out of town. It had become a habit to extend her journey in this way.

  She was disappointed that there weren’t any stars above, but the low grey cloud did keep the air warmer than a clear night would have done. It was past nine o’clock, and being Sunday, the road was very quiet. She crunched along the pavement next to the silent road, her footsteps loud in the darkness. The streetlights were strung out at long intervals, and cast little pools of orange light that were like a necklace of amber jewels following the edge of the dark fields beyond.

  She walked briskly to keep warm. She was grateful for Drew’s gloves and hat all over again. She pulled the hat down over her ears.

  She could hear a car approaching from behind, though the sound of its engine was muffled by the hat. As it sped past, they beeped their horn, and she raised a hand in reply. It was most likely to be some of the other choristers, on their way home or to the pub.

  Another car came up from behind, its lights on full-beam to throw her own shadow large in front of her, and she half-turned, her hand already rising up to wave a greeting.

  And this action probably saved her life.

  The car did not slow down, and there was no friendly toot of their horn. All Penny had time to register was that it was red, glowing as it did under the nearest sodium street light. But she was half-dazzled by the blinding headlights, and she could not see who was driving. Then it was screaming towards her, and Penny stumbled backwards. Her foot caught in a clump of half-frozen grass and she tumbled onto her bottom, slipping and sliding as she twisted sideways. She ended up in the cold mud deep in the ditch that ran between the pavement and the field.

  The car had gone, screaming off into the night.

  Penny stayed where she was for a moment, breathing hard. She could hardly take it in. Had it really driven at her so deliberately?

  She couldn’t stay at the bottom of a ditch. She scrambled up, but cautiously, peeping out to check if the car had definitely driven away. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if it was still there, waiting for her to emerge.

  It had gone.

  She pulled herself back onto the verge, and looked down. There was enough light to see that the car’s wheels had churned up the frosty mud and grass.

  It had been deliberate. It looked that way to her.

  Penny felt sick. She stood and stared, and when she heard another car approach, even though it was from the opposite direction that the attacking car had gone in, she still nervously stepped back, ready to dive to safety.

  The car slowed, and Penny’s throat tightened.

  Ginni stuck her head out of the window. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh my goodness! Ginni! No, I’m not. I am so glad to see you.”

  “Really? Something must have happened. Get in.”

  As soon as Penny was safely ensconced in the passenger seat, she almost wanted to cry. She took a deep breath and clipped into the seat belt.

  “What were you doing?” Ginni asked. She kept the engine idling. “I saw you staring at the ground, then you jumped a mile in the air when you heard me coming. Have you dropped something? I can swing round to use the headlights to shine on the pavement.”

  “No, thank you, it’s fine. No, it’s not fine.” Penny pulled her hat from her head and ruffled at her hair with her hand. “I am sure that someone just tried to run me over.”

  “Never!” Ginni cried. “Who? Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know. But I was on the pavement, walking along, and a car came roaring towards me. I had to jump into the ditch. I was just looking at the marks the tyres left in the grass. It wasn’t my imagination.”

  “There are some crazy drunk drivers out at this time of the year,” Ginni said. “Did you see any details of the car at all?”

  “I think it was red, but that’s all.”

  “Where do you want to go?” Ginni put the car into gear. “I can take you up to the police station, if you like.”

  “I can’t put you to any trouble.”

  “It’s fine. I was just on my way to the petrol station, else I wouldn’t have come this way at all.”

  Penny thought about it. “No, please don’t bother. I can’t give them any real information.”

  “I’ll run you home, then. River Street?”

  “Please.”

  “I need to call for fuel first,” Ginni said apologetically. “I’m on red.”

  Ginni drove the short distance to the petrol station, and while she was filling up, Penny thought about the car.

  In her head, she was calling it an “attack.” Was it? It was most likely to have been a random drunk, as Ginni said.

  But what if it wasn’t? She couldn’t help recalling the conversation she’d had with Cath about the murder of Clive Holdsworth. Was it a one-off, or was there a killer on a spree in the area? She shivered.

  What about the suspects that were already lined up for the killing of Clive? If she assumed that the car had been deliberately targeting her, then did this make any of those suspects more – or less – likely to be guilty?

  She knew Jared had a red car, because she’d accepted a lift from him in the past. Haydn’s car had been outside the house that he was restoring. She called up a picture in her mind. Yes, it had been red.

  What about Linda? She didn’t know what colour her car was. Though why would Linda ask her to help with the flyers, and then attack her?

  That would be an elaborate bluff indeed, Penny thought. And therefore plausible.

  But if this attack was linked to the attack on Clive, then perhaps that meant there were other people involved.

  Or a suspect they hadn’t even considered yet.

  She felt queasy at the thought.

  Sh
e was deep in her circular and unproductive ruminations when Ginni returned. Ginni slung her handbag onto the back seat and said, “Sorry about that, Penny. Are you ready to go?”

  “No problem. Thanks. Ginni, do you know Linda Osmond well?”

  Ginni grimaced. She set off driving before she replied. “I do not know her socially. I know her through the Christmas Planning Committee, and she pops up on various things from time to time. She tries to get involved in the town business forum and all that, but she doesn’t qualify. She doesn’t own a business. Except she thinks she’s entitled to meddle in everyone else’s business.”

  “Ah. She does seem a bit of a busybody.”

  “Oh, yes. Very much so. And she thinks she knows best, and there’s simply no debating with her. I tend to avoid her, if I’m honest. I can be a little forceful myself, as you know. We do not mix well.”

  Penny smiled at the understatement. The difference between Ginni and Linda was simple; Ginni was self-aware, and a nice person. She said, “Do you happen to know what colour car she drives?”

  “What? Do you think she might have tried to run you over? I can’t think why. She’s much more direct that that. If she has a problem with you, she won’t hesitate in coming over and telling you so. Preferably in front of a large audience.”

  “I’m just speculating,” Penny said.

  “Hmm. It’s a red one, a nasty little sports car. It’s too young a car for a woman like that.”

  Ouch, thought Penny. “Do you mean one of those soft-top convertible types?”

  “Yes. She likes to cruise around with the top down in summer, all head scarf and big glasses, thinking she’s Audrey Hepburn or somebody. Was it a convertible that drove at you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so, because I didn’t see a black top to it, but who knows? What about Haydn – what do you know of him?”

  “Well, I’ve no idea about his car. He seems a bit of a sad case to me. He always looks like his washing machine and ironing board have broken. He’s slightly crumpled, I think. Anyway, he’s not really local, is he?”

  “The police are investigating him, didn’t you know?”

  “No, I didn’t. But I try not to follow gossip,” Ginni said loftily. After a pause, she added, “But why him?”

  “He had argued a lot with Clive. He used to work under him, and they did not get on.”

  “Everyone argued with Clive. Even I did, and I’m not a suspect. There must be more to it between them than that.”

  “Maybe,” Penny agreed.

  They drove down her street, and Ginni made an awkward fifteen-point turn at the end. It was a cul-de-sac, and rather narrow. She pulled up outside Penny’s house but before she got out, Penny said, “And finally, what do you know about Jared?”

  “The technie guy? He seems harmless enough but he needs a girlfriend to sort him out.”

  Penny smiled. “He’s trying,” she said. “Thank you for the lift.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You ought to tell the police, you know.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Penny spoke to Cath on the phone about the incident straight away. The following day, Monday, a community support officer and a police officer appeared at Penny’s door, took some details, and issued her with a crime reference number.

  “But that will probably be the end of it,” the officer said ruefully as Penny showed them out. “Oh, by the way, do you know PC Patel?”

  “We’ve met, yes,” Penny said. “Why?”

  “Oh, he said you were an amazing baker…” The police officer smiled hopefully and his eyes slid past her, towards the kitchen.

  “Goodness. Have you argued with him about something?”

  “Er … we had a misunderstanding about a parking space but it’s all blown over now.”

  “I’d suggest it hasn’t. I once gave him food poisoning,” Penny said. “Sorry.”

  Muttering, the officers left.

  * * * *

  Penny couldn’t get through to Drew so she left him a voicemail, downplaying the incident so he wouldn’t panic, and then she spent the day getting on with her Christmas orders from the website. To her delight, Drew turned up at her door unexpectedly that evening, clutching a handmade holly wreath for her door, a cake in a patterned tin, and a small gift-sized bottle of whisky.

  “Do you drink whisky?” he asked doubtfully as she led him to the kitchen.

  “I’ve never drunk it in my life,” she said. “Why did you buy it?”

  “I don’t know.” He placed all his gifts on the kitchen work counter. “I was in the shop, trying to think what to bring someone who had been nearly run over. My mind went blank. I just went into a buying frenzy. It will be nice in hot chocolate, maybe.”

  “I’ll try it. Thank you. Were you at The Acorns all day?”

  Drew sat down and Kali flopped down at his feet, leaning hard against his legs. He reached down to scratch her ears. “Yes. Destiny is still there, doing half a day. She seems to be settling down.”

  “That’s good to hear. She’ll be back full time at the High School after the holidays.”

  “She will be fine,” Drew said. “She’s not really cut out for school but we’re giving her ways to cope. So, tell me about the car! Your message was vague. You’ve spoken to the police, right?”

  “Yes, I have. But listen, I haven’t told my sister Ariadne.” Penny quickly outlined the events of the previous night.

  Drew’s expression was hard and angry as he listened. His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists. Penny felt an odd flutter in her stomach as she watched him transform into a protective caveman.

  But she didn’t really want him to launch into full-on superhero mode. She said, as she finished her recount, “It could easily have been an accident. The police said that to me. People lean down to grab their phones, or drop a cd, or whatever, and the car swerves. It could have been that. They might not have even known I was there.”

  “And do you believe that?” Drew said.

  “Maybe. I think it’s a possibility.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Or if it was deliberate, it is likely to have been mistaken identity.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Drew, please. Don’t look so worried.” She waved the bottle of whisky in the air. “Fancy a tipple?”

  “No,” he said, still very serious. He sighed. “Okay, at least you reported it. But please, we’ve got a killer on the loose, and now this … don’t go walking around at night on your own again.”

  She wanted to say, “You’re not the boss of me,” but she didn’t. It was nice to be cared about. Instead, she nodded. “You’re right.”

  He regarded her for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowed in contemplation. Eventually, he said, “You are special to me, you know.”

  She swallowed. “Yes. I mean, sorry, no, thank you. I mean, you are to me. Special, I mean. Oh, bother.”

  It broke the tension. “Now then,” he continued, finally smiling. “About this badger watching. Shall we try again? When are you free this week?”

  * * * *

  She decided not to take her camera out on the badger watching session. She felt it would be unnecessary clutter. She wanted to focus on the possibility of seeing the shy creatures, and also on the still-new joy of spending time with Drew.

  He collected her as darkness fell in the late afternoon. Once again, he spoke the caveats he’d mentioned before; the badgers might not be around, that if they were, it could be too dark, and so on.

  She didn’t mind. She was well wrapped up and had some portable hand-warmers in her pockets. The night was warm for the time of year, with no frost, and the sky was half-covered in light clouds. Even as full night fell, they could still see the shapes of the trees in the gloom.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as they tramped into the woods, their pace slowing as their feet had to do the seeing as much as their eyes did.

  “Yes, fine. Nice and war
m.”

  “I meant, about being out and about after that possible … attack.”

  “I thought we’d decided it was an accident.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “But I know what you mean,” she said. “And yes, I’m fine. I still can’t quite accept I’m a suspect in the murder case, though.”

  “You’re a minor one.”

  “By that token,” she said, “all of us are just minor suspects. No one stands out as obviously the one to have enough motive to have killed Clive.”

  Drew stopped suddenly and flung up his hand in warning. Quietly, he said, “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. It will probably turn out to be someone the police haven’t even considered. Don’t they say that it all comes down to love, money or power in the end?”

  “Clive was all about power.”

  “Maybe it will turn out to have been a spurned mistress or lover or something exciting like that.”

  Penny giggled but swallowed it. She reminded herself that a man was dead. “I hope it all gets sorted soon.”

  “Are you not tempted to step in and find the murderer this time?”

  “Always. But I have to admit that the police have technology and resources. All I have is a nosey nature and a mind that is prone to making leaps of fantasy.”

  Drew grabbed her in a hug for a moment and held her close. She leaned into him, and with her face pressed up against his chest, she said, “What’s this for?”

  He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. “I just want you to know that I really admire and appreciate your nosey nature and leaps of fantasy, that’s all. And your resilience and your openness to try new things.”

  She smiled though he couldn’t see it. “Thank you. Thank you for supporting me and being there for me.”

  They stayed still for a moment, lost in the thoughts and feelings that they shared.

  He released her. “But now … badgers. I think I hear some snuffling up ahead…”

  They went on, creeping into the darkness, and after two hours of crawling and waiting, she was at last rewarded with a distant sighting through some night-vision goggles of a badger’s retreating bottom.

 

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