Bunburry--Drop Dead, Gorgeous by Helena Marchmont

Author:Helena Marchmont [Helena Marchmont]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2019-06-11T11:59:07+00:00

8. The Suspect List

“A locked-room mystery,” said Liz slowly. “It’s a theme in detective fiction where there’s some clever outcome, but there have been a number of real-life cases that have never been solved.”

They sat in silence, pondering this.

“So how is it a locked-room mystery?” asked Marge.

“The front door was locked, Debbie told me there was no other door, and nobody else was there,” said Alfie.

Marge peered at him through her spectacles. “Debbie told you? You didn’t check?”

Did Marge seriously suspect Debbie? “I didn’t check it out myself, but Emma did,” Alfie said. “I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have overlooked a concealed exit or a hiding murderer.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” said Liz. “My great-niece is thorough. Unlike that dreadful sergeant she has to work with.”

Alfie had gathered long ago that Sergeant Harold Wilson was one of the laziest officers in the country and that the policing in Bunburry and its surrounding area was almost entirely down to Constable Hollis. But Liz was much more indignant about the unequal division of labour than Emma was.

“Oh, and I meant to ask,” Liz continued with studied casualness. “Betty Thorndike. Is she your girlfriend or not?”

“What? Betty?” Alfie felt his colour rise. He was certain that Liz and Marge had hopes of him pairing up with Emma. And he was equally certain that Emma would be utterly appalled by the thought. When Edith started joking that Betty was his girlfriend, he had initially capitalised on it in the hope that Liz and Marge would back off. But he thought he had subsequently come clean and told them the truth.

“Yes, Betty,” said Marge in quite a firm tone.

“No,” said Alfie, flustered. “No, she’s not.”

“It’s just,” said Liz, “that when I spoke to Emma this morning, she said she had spotted you and Betty going to Betty’s cottage late last night. And you seemed quite friendly.”

Had Emma seen the kiss? Was there no privacy in this wretched village? He found himself yearning for the anonymity of London where he could kiss the entire chorus line of the latest West End musical and nobody would know or care.

“No, I was just – we’d had a goodbye meal at Rakesh’s and I walked her home – I didn’t go in or anything.”

Why had he said that? He sounded like a guilty teenager. He was a grown man, entitled to do anything if he wanted.

“So, where’s she off to this time?” said Marge. “She doesn’t seem to have told anyone.”

“No,” agreed Alfie, grateful that this gave him the opportunity to prove there was no special relationship between the Englishman and the American. “No, she didn’t tell me either. I’ve no idea where she’s gone or even how long she’ll be away.”

“Probably visiting her family in the States,” said Liz.

Alfie shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think she gets on very well with her mother. You know, Elisabeth Thorndike.”

Liz and Marge stared at him open-mouthed. Alfie felt like punching the air in triumph. For once, he knew something about someone in Bunburry that they didn’t.

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