Murder at the Old Abbey by Pippa McCathie

Author:Pippa McCathie [McCathie, Pippa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: THE BOOK FOLKS best-selling British crime fiction publishers
Published: 2019-05-19T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

It was a bright morning and Mike was very pleased with himself. Things were going well, in spite of the police interfering with his business activities. No way was he going to let them get anywhere with that.

He grinned to himself, thinking back to his conversation the day before. He prided himself on being a good judge of character and he’d got it right this time. He’d laid down his conditions: regular but reasonable payments – it was never a good idea to push too hard – but he’d made sure his terms had been clearly understood. There was no doubt in his mind this target could wriggle out of paying up – there was too much at stake. And if there was any sign of it, he’d come down hard. He grinned again at the thought.

Carrying his golf clubs over his shoulder, and jingling the car keys in his hand, he made his way to the Porsche, and patted the bonnet. A round of golf at Celtic Manor was just what he needed; perhaps he could do some networking. It had been a good idea to take out that short term membership. He slung the clubs in the boot and set off. As he drove through the gateway, he gave the stone dragons the finger. Ostentatious crap. If this bloody family thought they were going to get the better of him, they had another think coming. First, another good strong cup of coffee at the pub, which he wouldn’t be paying for – that weakling, Garan, always gave in to a bit of pressure – and then he’d be on his way. As usual he drove at speed, down the lane from the Abbey to Castellgwyn, and screeched to a halt in the pub car park.

It was just after he got onto the motorway, half an hour later, that he began to feel sleepy and wondered why. It hadn’t been a heavy night and that poor sod hadn’t retaliated when he hit him. Mike flexed his fingers and grinned; that had been a good punch, it would teach the bugger a lesson. Then he frowned, shook his head. He was finding it hard to concentrate. What the hell? The car in front seemed to be accelerating then slowing, accelerating then slowing. God, the driver had to be some kind of dickhead. A moment later his vision became blurred and he shook his head again, trying to clear the fog, but it was no good. The Porsche seemed to be swerving to the left of its own accord. He heard a clamour of hooting and came to just long enough to see the tailgate of the juggernaut in front bearing down on him.

* * *

Anjali and Fabia were both working in the dining room, Anjali on her laptop, Fabia on a drawing pad. A companionable silence had reigned for some time, but it was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

“That’ll probably be Megan,” Fabia said.

Anjali looked up. “I think I’ll keep out of the way, if that’s okay with you.

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