Murder on the Levels: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 2) by Frances Evesham Read Free Book Online Page B

attending with Henry?”
    Marina swallowed a large mouthful of red wine. “My husband and Chester are friends, and Henry does Chester’s legal work. He has business interests in the area.”
    “Looks like his interests extend beyond business.”
    “Don’t be crude, darling.” Marina pouted. “Chester just happens to ride at the same place. Henry knows all about it, of course.”
    “Of course he does.” Henry, a slight, balding solicitor with an air of perpetual worry, never disagreed with his wife about anything.
    Marina pulled out a selection of the pins that had secured her hair under her riding hat. “That’s better. Anyway, you didn’t come all the way out here by accident, did you? I know you, Libby Forest. You’re on the trail of the poisoner.” She shook her hair loose, raking her hands through the apricot waves. “I do hope it doesn’t turn out to be that teenager lodging with you. She’s such a pathetic little thing. So pale and gloomy-looking. She might have forgotten to wash her hands after taking drugs, or something.”
    “Mandy doesn’t take drugs. Well, not in my house, anyway.”
    Marina sighed, theatrically, took a pair of silver earrings from her bag and slipped them with ease into pierced ears. “You’ll be getting a reputation as a collector of lame dogs, if you’re not careful. Like Bear, and Max Ramshore.”
    “Max is no lame dog.”
    “Well, not exactly I suppose. Still, he’ll let you down, believe me. Don’t trust him, or Joe.”
    If Libby wasn’t careful, Marina would be spreading gossip about her. “Max is hardly more than an acquaintance of mine, I promise you.”
    “Exactly.” Marina beamed, triumphant. “Just like Chester and me.”
    Libby gave up. The food arrived and she took a deep breath of garlic and parmesan cheese. “Mmm. This pasta smells good. Do you often come here?”
    “Sometimes.” Libby would be willing to bet Chesterton Wendlebury had intended to join Marina for lunch today. What was really going on between them? Not that it was any of Libby’s business.
    She swallowed a delicious mouthful. “You told me something about Kevin Batty.”
    Marina tucked in to ham, egg and chips with enthusiasm. So much for trying to get fit. “He was a frightful man.”
    “You said he was a client of Henry’s.”
    “Did I? Oops.” Marina touched a finger to her lips. “Silly me. I’m not supposed to talk about Henry’s work, but it’s so difficult to remember what I’m not supposed to know.”
    “Tell me about Kevin, anyway. It could be important. The poor man’s dead, so I don’t think client privilege counts any more.”
    Was that true? Libby had no idea, but Marina was satisfied. “Henry deals with corporate law, mostly. Firms who want to merge or take each other over. Utterly boring.” She waved a fork in the air.
    “He was writing contracts for a London company planning to buy land in Bridgwater. The land they wanted belonged to Kevin’s father. He used it for plant nurseries, but they were hopelessly full of weeds.” Marina’s eyes glinted. “Kevin’s father used to drink.” She drained her own glass, not seeing the irony. “Six large bottles of cider a day, that’s what I heard. No wonder he let the land go to ruin.”
    “Kevin didn’t run the business?”
    “Not then. He was just his dad’s messenger boy, lounging around, drinking, and spending all night in the clubs in Bristol. Until he found the company was offering mega cash for the land. Kevin jumped at it and tried to persuade his dad to sell. They had a flaming argument and Kevin’s father had a stroke.”
    Marina lined up her knife and fork on the empty plate and looked round. “Where’s the waitress? I think I deserve pudding, don’t you?” A harassed girl with a pony tail scurried across the room, eager to please. Marina scanned the laminated list, ordered spotted dick, and turned back to Libby. “Now, where was I?”
    “Mr Batty’s stroke.”
    “Oh, yes. It