| Free online crime by Rob Hopcott: Holiday to Murder Chapter 4. |
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Chapter 4 Alice waited to see if the shopkeeper would explain why she would be afraid to stay at the house but she was now concentrating on getting the provisions. "The house hardly seems lived in," Alice said, probing gently. "There are no clothes or anything else personal." "You might find all her clothes stored away in one of the bedrooms waiting for the next jumble sale. They went to the jumble once but there were no takers so they were just stored. People say she left no instructions about what to do with them. She hadn't been there long. Her husband was killed in a road accident. That's how she got it - but not for long, as it turned out." The proprietor of the shop smiled bleakly. The thought seemed to give her some strange satisfaction. "What sort of a person was she?" "It's not for me to say, my dear. She'd pop in occasionally to collect some provisions, just as you have, but I didn't see much of her apart from that. She liked to spend a lot of her time up at the village pub. She was quite popular there. She was more for the company of men than the ladies, as you might say." The disapproving look was back. Alice thanked her and wandered back to her house by the river. As soon as she got back, she made a beeline for the smallest bedroom. A few minutes later, tears flooded into her blue eyes as she stared down at the picture of her old school friend. She had a page in the photo album all by itself. The other pages had family pictures but none included Estelle. She was not as young as Alice remembered but she was still a beauty. Brown hair, medium length and pulled back to a ponytail. She wore a short white blouse with a small red necklace and jeans. She was standing in a field, smiling, as if she had been caught by surprise. In her hand was a riding hat. Alice packed the things away and went downstairs to make herself the cup of tea. She needed time to think. Her emotions were confused. Furthermore, she was not sure what she should do next. If she asked too many questions, the locals would soon clam up. Yet the circumstances of her friends' death seemed strange. The indifferent way Estelle's belongings had been treated was odd. For her friends life with its warmth and vitality to end in this cold house seemed wrong and Alice believed wrongs should be put right. Although she now had provisions enough to make a dinner for herself, Alice decided to visit the pub for her evening meal. Perhaps there were still things to discover there. When she pushed open the door of the local inn, she found it bustling. A group of young men were playing darts in the corner with much bantering. "You want to take up bungee jumping, Alec. It might make your arms long enough to get your double." "And you'd probably push me off without a rope - because you can't stand the competition. Admit it Burt, I've got you scared." "Scared, got me scared? I'm only scared when you're throwing the darts and that's when I'm standing behind you." As Alice moved forward towards the bar they noticed her and stopped to check her out, glancing at each other with wolfish appreciation. Alice had expressly decided not to dress up. She'd spent some time in front of the mirror and finally decided to wear a plain blue summer dress with straps and a cardigan that she thought was quite casual and ordinary. The young men clearly thought otherwise. It made Alice feel hot and bothered so she gave them an 'I'm married and not available' cold stare which sent them back to their darts. There was a stool by the bar and Alice climbed onto it. The barman from earlier in the day was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was a plumpish woman with a head of curly black hair, a red blouse that was straining at its buttons and a tight black skirt. She was drying some wine glasses and contributing raucously to the general banter. "May I have a glass of dry white wine please?" said Alice timidly. The glass of wine appeared in front of her smoothly and efficiently. "It is no longer Ladies' Day then," she said with a confiding smile. "My husband Fred's been having you on, has he? He likes to have a joke with newcomers. He likes to make them win their spurs. If he keeps giving you a hard time, just say you'll tell Ruby - that should scare him." There was general laughter. "So he made it up about Ladies' Day?" "Well not exactly. The person who invented the Ladies' Day doesn't come here any more. You could say she drinks at another bar now." Ruby laughed again and several others at the bar laughed too. It was a knowing unpleasant laugh and the others seem to share the joke. "Whereabouts do you think that would be, Ruby," said one old man. "And what would the bar look like, I wonder?" "I'd say it'd be a bar well warmed by log fires. I should think there would be a bit of dancing and mayhem. And probably a swishing of a few pointed tails too." "I doubt if she'll not be sitting on a cloud playing a harp," someone said and there was a general titter. "You shouldn't talk about the departed like that," said a woman who was dressed in a smart black suit as if she had just come from the magistrates court. She sipped delicately at her vodka and blackcurrant and looked disapproving but amused. "I don't reckon she'd mind," said another, "she'd have wanted us to have a laugh." "May I ask who you are talking about, "said Alice. "There used to be somebody who came the here regularly," Ruby, the barmaid, explained. "She was the heart and soul of the party and a bit popular with the men." "Not so popular in the end, though," this was from a middle-aged woman with a small glass of sherry in front of her. "Somebody wanted rid of her. It was on the local paper - murdered she was." Alice felt the colour rising in her face. To find her friend with such a reputation was very disconcerting. She sipped her dry white wine quietly lost in thoughts and memories of the past. "May I join you?" Alice turned and saw one of the dart players in front of her. He was a young man in his mid '20s with short dark hair and a gaunt face. There were haunted shadows in his eyes but his mouth was formed into a forced smile of welcome. |
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| Free online crime by Rob Hopcott: Holiday to Murder Chapter 4. |