Death at Rainbow Cottage by Jo Allen

Author:Jo Allen [Allen, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Becca Reid, bending down to place a bowl of cat food beside the back door, knew immediately who was at the door. Jude’s taste in cars was expensive and distinctive, and she’d learned to recognise the throaty roar of his Mercedes as it hummed through the village of Wasby when he came to visit his mother. Then the doorbell rang and Holmes confirmed Jude’s arrival, interrupting his lunge in towards his supper and performing some particularly improbable contortion to slide around her ankles and head to the front door.

Becca followed his grey shadow into the hall. Animals always knew, and the treacherous Holmes had always seemed to regard himself as Jude’s cat rather than hers. Though common sense warned her to avoid her ex for the sake of her heart, she continually fell into the trap of engaging with him in the hope that the persistent tension between them would subside. It never quite worked out like that, and even if their best efforts to be polite fooled other people, the low level tussle they engaged in was profoundly unsatisfying.

It was as well they weren’t still together. ‘Jude.’ She snapped the door open more smartly than she’d intended and Holmes shot through it with a chirp of ecstasy and rubbed round Jude’s ankles.

‘You don’t want to be out on a night like this, old lad.’ He bent and picked the cat up. ‘Sorry to bother you, Becca. I was passing, and wondered if I could have a word.’

‘Of course.’ She stepped aside to let him in. ‘You know where to go.’

Still carrying Holmes, he headed through to the living room and sat down, stretching his legs out towards the fire she’d just lit. Holmes, on his lap, set about settling, kneading with claws out. ‘Busy today?’

‘Yes. And you must be, too.’ The two murders that had rocked the town were his problem. He’d be worrying at them, digging for information, turning every stone to see what lay beneath. This wouldn’t be a social visit. ‘Coffee?’

‘No, thanks. I won’t stay long. I wanted to ask you if you knew Gracie Pepper.’

‘Yes. I work out of the hospital. But you know that. She worked in the elderly care ward.’ He would know that, too. ‘She hadn’t been here long but she made an impact. She was very…’ She paused to search for a word that fully encompassed Gracie’s love of life, and failed. ‘Bubbly.’

He nodded, his expression sombre. ‘I’ve just been up in Carlisle. At the post-mortem.’

She tried to read his expression. There had been so much talk. How much of the truth would he tell her? ‘Did she suffer?’

‘No.’ He rubbed behind Holmes’s ears, frowning. ‘Off the record, of course, but it was fairly straightforward. One knife wound, just next to the heart. Not instant, but very quick. If that makes it any easier to think about.’

‘We’re all so shocked. She was just so…so alive.’ Ten years of nursing, most of it as a district nurse calling in on the

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