So Bad a Death by June Wright Read Free Book Online Page A

love to know exactly—” she began.
    I shook my head. “Nothing doing.”
    â€œAnd you married the policeman who solved the case! How terribly romantic. You must lead an exciting life.”
    â€œQuite humdrum,” I assured her. “Am I really bidden to the Community Centre?”
    Connie was easy to divert. “My dear, I insist. The other lasses will be thrilled to meet you. We are a frightfully enthusiastic organization. Lectures, art classes, dramatics. We foster a spirit of culture in Middleburn, you know. Such fun!”
    â€œIt sounds hilarious,” I said, as Connie swept me along to a large hall set back from the street and surrounded by lawns and trees.
    â€œDoes the Squire own this too?” I asked, observing the letter H wrought in stone above the main door.
    â€œMaggie, you can’t turn round in Middleburn without bumping into Mr Holland. Sometimes it is positively terrifying. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if he comes to put pressure on you. I can see his idea, of course.”
    â€œWhat idea?”
    â€œWait and see,” Connie said mysteriously. “Just remember I warned you. Now, are we ready? Leave Tony out here with the other children. He will be well looked after.”
    There was a considerable amount of noise issuing forth from the hall. Connie sailed in, nodding and smiling as she led me past rows of knitting women and up a short flight of steps to the stage. I faced a battery of critical feminine eyes as the chatter broke off abruptly. Connie made straight for the executives’ table, dragging me by the hand.
    â€œBrenda, I am most fearfully sorry for being late. I met an old friend. Mrs Gurney, Maggie,” and I was introduced to the president of the Community Centre, who surveyed me with a sympathetic twinkle in her friendly gaze.
    â€œConnie, must you?” I murmured, as she reached over and rang the handbell on the president’s table.
    â€œGirls,” she announced to the room at large. “An asset to Middleburn. May I introduce Mrs—Maggie, what is your name again?”
    â€œMatheson,” I muttered, looking around for a way of escape. I noticed a girl sitting at the end of the official table. Her head was bent, but she looked familiar.
    â€œMaggie, our secretary.” I bowed to a stolid-looking woman in horn-rimmed glasses. She took them off, nodded and replaced them on the bridge of her nose. “And Mrs Holland at the end of the table.”
    Yvonne Holland was gazing at me intensely now. She looked smaller and thinner when seated. Her hand plucked at the buttons of her mustard tweed jacket.
    â€œBrenda,” Connie ran on. “Maggie must give us a lecture on crime. She knows such a lot about murders and things. Her husband, you know. I do think it most romantic to be married to a super-sleuth. Does he carry a gun, Maggie?”
    Mrs Gurney said: “Connie, do make the tea. We are all dying of thirst. Sit down and relax, Mrs Matheson. We really are nice people.”
    â€œI felt like a Christian thrown to the lions,” I declared, sitting angle-wise so that I could see Yvonne Holland. She had recognized me.
    â€œWill you really give us a talk on crime?” Mrs Gurney asked, her eyes dancing.
    â€œCertainly not.”
    â€œSuch a pity. A lot of scope for murders here.”
    I said with feeling: “Connie never knew how close to death she was.”
    â€œOh, dear!” Brenda Gurney ejaculated suddenly. “I’m afraid you’re in for something.”
    â€œWhat now?” I asked in resignation.
    â€œOur dramatic coach, Mrs Parkes. I saw Connie talking to her. Bear up. All for Middleburn culture, you know. Hullo, Marion, wherefore art thou?”
    A stout female, clad in a sort of Grecian tunic, took up a position in front of me.
    â€œPlease don’t abuse Shakespeare, Brenda,” she admonished in a sonorous voice. “I find it in very poor taste. If you