Murder at the Lighthouse: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 1) by Frances Evesham Read Free Book Online

water and set it down near the food.
    The builder, Samantha’s husband, arrived, built like a footballer. He considered the bathroom. “These avocado suites were put in during the 70s,” he said. “Don’t see them around very often, these days.” He laughed, twinkling at Libby.
    She grinned back. “I can’t wait to get rid of the tiles.”
    “It’ll take me a week,” he announced, once he’d measured the room. “I’ll email the quote.” He swallowed Libby’s last brownie in one bite, and left.
    Head teeming with plans for her spa bathroom, Libby climbed the stairs to the study, opened her laptop and pulled up a list of a hundred and twenty emails. Most were junk. A long page from her daughter tempted her, but she moved on. Ali would ring if there was a problem. This was a news bulletin. She’d enjoy it later.
    Ah, there it was. Max had checked in, as promised. Staying in luxury in Hollywood, he gloated. Contacted Mickey’s company and got an appointment to see him this afternoon. Told them I was an old friend of Susie’s and it was personal and urgent. Will let you know what happens.
    Libby snorted. Luxury in Hollywood would mean five star glamour. Flowers in the room, champagne on ice. Libby’s family holidays had been camping in Scotland or a week in a chilly holiday cottage or, when the kids were teenagers, caravan holidays in France. Trevor never wasted money.
    Libby closed the laptop, retrieved Bear from the kitchen, wiped up the water he’d splashed on the floor and set off, anorak hood firmly in place against the weather. The wind and rain grew stronger every moment. It was going to be a rough afternoon, and probably a stormy night. Summer seemed a very long time ago.
    She turned away from the beach, heading for the fields, hoping Bear didn’t chase sheep. Once there, she found a stick and threw it. Bear charged away, fur flying, grasped it in his teeth with hardly a pause, raced back and laid it triumphantly at her feet. Libby laughed aloud, pulled his ears and threw the stick again. Fuzzy would never dream of such undignified behaviour.
    “Oi. You.” The voice came from behind. “What the devil d’you think you’re doing?”
    A short, squat man wearing a waxed jacket and flat cap appeared at Libby’s side. “We’re not doing any harm.” How dare he shout at her? This was a public footpath.
    Oh. No. Now Libby thought about it, she realised it wasn’t. She’d left the path some way behind. Still, there weren’t any crops here to be trampled, and no sheep or cows. She’d brazen it out. The man’s face was very red, his nose enormous and lumpy. Drinks too much.
    “That dog’s not on a lead. I could shoot him.” The man’s eyes were small. He narrowed them into angry slits.
    “You haven’t got a gun.”
    “Didn’t say I was gonna shoot, did I? But I could.”
    They summed each other up. Libby stood as tall as her five foot four inches allowed and glared, hiding triumph as the man’s gaze dropped. “What you doin’ with Bear?”
    “You know him, then?”
    “’Course I know him.” He called out, “Hey, Bear.” The dog raced over to lick his hand, happy to transfer his allegiance from Libby.
    “Oh. Well, I’m walking him for Max.”
    “Ah. Max.” He drew the word out. The grin was insulting. “Friend of yours, is he?”
    “Not really. I’m a dog-walker. I’m just helping out Mrs Thomson while Max is away.”
    The man nodded, the smile even broader. “Gone far, has he?”
    About to tell him to mind his own business, Libby stopped. Instead, she tried her best smile, head on one side, eyelashes fluttering. “He’s very busy. I’ve no idea what he does all the time.”
    The man laughed. “Max has his fingers poking into all sorts of pies. You be careful, now, a nice lady like you.” His eyes travelled up and down Libby’s body.
    Glad of the shapeless anorak, Libby tried another tack. “Do you live around here?”
    “Over yonder, t’other side of the hill. Want