DEATH AT THE DOG SHOW an absolutely gripping cozy mystery filled with twists and turns by PETER BOLAND

Author:PETER BOLAND [BOLAND, PETER]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books cozy crime thriller, mystery and suspense
Published: 2023-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

Next morning, Fiona opened up the shop for the day and found an envelope waiting for her on the doormat. She picked it up and went inside, shutting the door behind her. Switching on the shop lights for a better look, she turned it over in her hands. Plain and white, it bore a sticky label printed with her name in Helvetica. There was no sign of a postmark, leading her to deduce that this had been hand delivered, not posted.

She was about to run her fingers under the flap when the hairs on her neck stood up. She had the peculiar feeling she was being watched. Sure enough, she glanced up to see that a small crowd had gathered by the door. She recognised the woman waving vigorously through the window.

Malorie Granger let herself in, even though the shop’s sign was still turned to closed. The full complement of the dog club committee trooped in after her: Kenneth Prendiville, club secretary, David Harper, treasurer, and Delia Hawkins, vice chair. They had all left their dogs at home. This must be serious.

Simon Le Bon waddled up to them, tail wagging, nose sniffing keenly, sensing the smell of other dogs on the committee members’ clothes. They ignored him. This must be very serious indeed, and Fiona guessed that it was no accident they’d showed up en masse when she was alone, outnumbered and perhaps a little docile first thing in the morning. The dog club committee equivalent of a police dawn raid.

“Mind if we barge in?” Malorie blurted.

Fiona slipped the unopened envelope in her pocket. “Looks like you already have. Can I make you all a cup of tea?”

“Oh, yes please,” Kenneth Prendiville said eagerly. “I’m parched.”

Malorie shot him a look that wiped the ratty smile off his face. “This is not a social jolly, Kenneth. We’re here on club business.”

“May I have the floor?” David Harper stepped forward.

Malorie moved to the side to let him pass. “The committee recognises this was your idea. You have the floor, David.”

This was all too formal for Fiona, especially this early in the day. They were in her shop and on her time, not in one of their pompous meetings at the community centre. “No one’s taking any floors or recognising anything until I’ve had my cup of tea. Now, does anyone else want one?”

Two hands gingerly rose, belonging to Kenneth Prendiville and Delia Hawkins.

Malorie caved in too. “Oh, might as well then.”

David Harper’s mouth downturned further at being interrupted, not that Fiona had ever seen it upturned. Last time she’d encountered the club treasurer he’d thrown his toys out of the pram when they’d asked for a copy of the show’s entry forms. Had he been hiding something or was he just being a pompous arse? Right now, he was clearly miffed at being upstaged by the offer of tea. He really shouldn’t have been — everything stops for tea, without exception.

After boiling the kettle and placing steaming cups in their hands,

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