A Corpse in a Caravan (An Izzy Palmer Mystery Novella) by Benedict Brown

Author:Benedict Brown [Brown, Benedict]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Hawthorn Books
Published: 2020-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

Just a Friendly Chat

At eight o’clock, I was already there helping Malcolm with the hot dogs.

“That’s what I like to call community spirit,” he said when Debbie and Roger arrived, looking surprised to see me.

“I just didn’t want to be alone in the caravan any longer.” I kept my eyes on the tubes of pinky-brown meat bobbing up and down in the boiling water.

“Ahh, it must have been terrible for you, darling.”

That’s right, Debbie. And yet you’re the one who cried. Why was that?

“I mean, I know she and I didn’t get on, but I wouldn’t have wished what happened to her on anyone.” Her tan looked all the brighter in the gloom of the dingy kitchen. Roger stood behind his wife, grinning inanely and occasionally humming in agreement.

I’d already transported the fake Mrs Florence Gaskell to her usual place which meant only Anwar was still to join us. He showed up five minutes after we’d sat down to eat, full of his usual pep.

“This is bloody delicious, Izzy. Nobody told me you were a chef.”

“It’s only a hotdog.” Malcolm had failed to grasp Anwar’s sarcasm.

“I know, Mal. That’s why it’s funny.”

“It’s an old family recipe.” I gave Malcolm a teasing nudge so that he could feel included in our joke. “Been passed down through the generations. The secret is to heat the frankfurters before you eat them.”

“Wow. I’d never have thought of that.” Anwar’s great big laugh reverberated around the room but came to a sudden halt as Debbie lost her cool.

“I don’t know what you’re all so happy about at a time like this.” Her mouth and nose squished in together in the middle of her face. She looked like she was daring us to shout back at her.

No one took the bait. Florence began to whistle a happy tune and, with the last bite of his bread roll poked into his mouth, Malcolm stood up to play peacemaker.

“Okay everybody. Why don’t we start the quiz?” As there were no objections, he grabbed a box of trivia questions down from a shelf. “Anwar and Debbie can be team captains and I’ll have the final decision in the event of any disagreements. Mrs Florence Gaskell will be our timekeeper.”

The old lady smiled and brandished a stopwatch. It appeared her role was more ceremonial than anything as there was no particular time limit set for the questions. The rival captains eyed one another from opposite sides of the table. Roger and I would be dragged along with them to wherever this particular confrontation was headed.

“History round. Question number one.” Malcolm paused, his gaze flicking between the two teams. “Who is the only British king to be beheaded for treason?”

Debbie was the first to reply. “Henry the Somethingth!?”

Malcolm allowed a second of tension before answering. “That’s not what I have written here. I’m going to throw it over to Anwar and Izzy.”

We looked at each other and Anwar signalled for me to try. “Charles the First?”

“That is correct. One point to the A-team!”

And Dad said that choosing history at school would never be useful.

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