Murder in the Manuscripts by Lee Williamson

Author:Lee Williamson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vivienne Lee Fraser

thirteen

Maggie

The shop bell tinkles as Clara returns with lunch. As she places the food on the table, Marple moves from her usual spot underneath and sniffs the bags. When she realises there is nothing for her, she returns and has a gnaw on her chew toy.

“Penny wants to come with us tomorrow,” Clara says as she passes me a coffee.

I chuckle. “Well, what perfect timing. While you and she were chatting, the hospital rang. The specialist is not well, and they’ve had to move his clinic to Monday.”

Clara drags a seat closer to the table and sits down. “Can we still make that?”

“It’s not like we have a choice. Anyway, I’ve texted Paul to let him know—I don’t think he has any exams that day, so he should be fine to cover the shop. Do you have any reason why Monday won’t work for you? I can find another driver if you have commitments.”

Clara shakes her head, her black bob swinging across her face. “I should be okay. In fact, I should be able to get things to my clients earlier than planned.”

“Excellent, so we have the same plan, it’s just happening a few days later.”

Clara is opening the bag of cheese rolls when the doorbell rattles violently. I turn to see what the commotion is about, only to find Bevan Richardson storming towards me, his face a picture of fury.

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” I ask, wondering what he’s on about.

“I believe you have a murder board set up for Lawrence Hope, and you’ve dragged Nene into another one of your schemes—as if you didn’t cause enough damage last time you interfered with a police investigation.”

My stomach clenches, and suddenly the smell of melted cheese emanating from the table isn’t quite so appetising. Bevan stops in front of me, making the most of his height by looming there, waiting for an answer. I wish I could stand up and loom back. Oh well, I’ll have to make my displeasure felt another way.

“It’s a crime board, not a murder board,” I say.

Clara steps between Bevan and me, hands on hips, positively glowering. “Are you always this rude?”

Bevan looks from Clara, to me, and then back again. “Wh—what?”

“Oh, and I left off condescending.”

You go, Clara!

“Oh my god, she’s dragged you into this madness too,” Bevan counters, obviously taking the line that attack is the best form of defence—something I’d admire under different circumstances.

Clara doesn’t budge an inch. “You’ve barged in here, guns blazing, like some second-rate bully-boy demanding information. Is that how they teach you to treat the public at police college in New Zealand?”

From my seat, I watch a range of emotions cross Bevan’s face as he takes in the diminutive form of my niece calling him out. He finally settles on confusion as Clara continues her attack.

“If you think your strong-arm tactics are going to have us cowering in the corner, you can think again. I’ve a good mind to make a complaint to your superior.”

Okay, time to put Bevan out of his misery.

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