Murder at the Laurels Read Online Free PDF

‘Guy said to say goodbye.’
    â€˜Oh, right. Yes, thanks, Tony, we’ll have a mushroom stroganoff and a chilli jacket. And I’ll have a mineral water.’ Libby smiled winningly.
    Tony raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll shout when they’re ready, your highness.’
    â€˜Mineral water?’ queried Fran.
    â€˜I’m driving us back to Steeple Martin, aren’t I?’ Libby lit another cigarette. ‘Never believe I was trying to give up, would you? Right, so what was this about a dream?’
    Fran told her. Trying to describe the feeling it had engendered defeated her, and the story dribbled to an inconclusive finish.
    â€˜Well,’ said Libby after a pause. ‘Normally I’d say it was just a dream brought on by something you’ve seen on television, but as you can describe it in such graphic detail, I suppose it must be one of your famous moments.’ She squinted at Fran through a haze of smoke.
    Fran fidgeted. ‘Don’t call them that. Anyway, I don’t have them any more.’
    â€˜It seems that you do.’ Libby stubbed her cigarette out. ‘Was that Tony’s dulcet call just then? Come on. Let’s get our food.’

Chapter Four
    S TEEPLE M ARTIN LAY SNUGLY in a shallow valley a few miles from Canterbury. A busy little stream skittered over a stony bed parallel with the main street, before turning sharply to the right on its way to join the River Stour.
    â€˜You’re in your usual room,’ said Libby, as she let them in. ‘Can you take yourself up? I’ll make us some tea.’
    Fran climbed the steep, narrow stairs and turned left at the top. Just in time, she remembered to duck as she stepped down into Libby’s little spare room and promptly tripped over the aggressive rug that lay in wait by the bed. Rubbing her leg, she went to the window.
    The view from this room soothed her. She looked up the lane to where it petered out at the edge of the woods bordering The Manor lands, and wondered whether Ben was still living there with his parents, and what had gone wrong between him and Libby.
    â€˜Fran? I’ve made the tea. Are you coming down?’ Libby shouted up the stairs.
    Libby’s colourful and voluminous apparel was indistinguishable from the various blankets and shawls disguising the shortcomings of the cane sofa on which she was curled up.
    â€˜This place is in a time warp,’ said Fran, collapsing into an armchair similarly disguised. ‘It’s like a village in a Golden Age detective story.’
    â€˜We like it that way.’ Libby leaned over to hand Fran a mug.
    â€˜Doesn’t it make everyone a bit narrow-minded?’
    â€˜Why should it? Just because we all choose to live somewhere beautiful doesn’t mean that we aren’t exactly the same as everyone else.’
    â€˜Only richer.’
    Libby laughed. ‘Not necessarily. I’m not. I just happened to sell a large house. There’s a lot of people like that. Mind you, if I hadn’t had to give Derek his share I would have been able to afford something a bit bigger.’
    â€˜And a lot of local people have to leave because they can’t afford to buy.’
    â€˜Well, yes,’ Libby conceded. ‘And we do have a lot of weekenders.’
    â€˜There you are then.’ Fran nodded wisely. ‘You’re all a lot of nimbys.’
    â€˜I think I should be offended by that,’ said Libby. ‘But I can’t be bothered. Now, tell me all about Charles and Aunt Eleanor.’
    â€˜I’ve told you, Charles told me about Aunt Eleanor, then she died and I came down anyway. And had the dream.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Libby, extracting a packet of cigarettes from somewhere inside the sofa, ‘but who exactly is Aunt Eleanor? And cousin Charles, come to that.’
    â€˜OK, well, Aunt Eleanor married my father’s brother, Frank, just after my father died. When I was little, we