“Without a doubt. All that supposed anger at Michael, her shock when we told her he’d been at our book club; it was all an act. She may not have committed the murder herself, but she definitely knew what Michael was up to. And my bet is that Cynthia knows exactly where he is now, and she intends to join him as soon as the police are looking the other way.”
“Perhaps she was involved in the theft too?” Arthur said. “Maybethey’re serial thieves who target community centers up and down the country? And then Michael’s mother discovered what they were up to and threatened to tell the police, so he killed her to keep her quiet!”
“I suppose that’s one possible explanation,” Phyllis said, trying not to sound impressed. Perhaps the old farmer wasn’t as stupid as he looked?
“Oh my God, listen to you both!” Nova said from the front seat. “Cynthia isn’t some master criminal, she’s a woman whose life has fallen apart in the past forty-eight hours. As will mine if I don’t get back to the community center before my lunch break ends in fifteen minutes.”
“The next question is: What are Cynthia and Michael going to do now?” Phyllis said, ignoring Nova. “My guess is they’ll try and leave the country with their ill-gotten gains. So, I propose we take turns to stake out this house, so we can follow Cynthia when she goes to join Michael.”
“Phyllis, are you joking?” Nova exploded. “If Michael’s mother really was murdered, then you have to stay out of this and leave it to the police.”
Phyllis let out an exaggerated sigh. “Have you never read a murder mystery? The British police never manage to solve a crime without the help of an amateur detective.”
“Yes, but this is the real world, not St Mary Mead. The police will be using all their resources to find Michael, so please just leave this to the experts.”
“Then what about the missing money?” Phyllis demanded. “Now there’s a murder to solve, do you think the police are going to care about a few thousand stolen pounds? And what does that mean for the community center? I know the place is in financial trouble, Berylwas always complaining about it, so shouldn’t you be doing everything you can to help the community center?”
Phyllis could see her words had hit home as Nova went quiet, clearly mulling it over. Then she blinked and shook her head.
“This isn’t some murder mystery game, Phyllis. This is a real police investigation, and we have to stay the hell out of it. Now let’s get back.”
She started the engine, and the car pulled forward. As it did, Phyllis glanced back at number eight. Was it her imagination or did she see the downstairs curtain twitch? She pictured Cynthia inside on the phone to Michael, telling him about her visit from the members of the St. Tredock Community Book Club.That damn old woman is onto us, Cynthia would tell him, and Michael would curse.I thought she was just a doddery old bird, but clearly I underestimated her.
Phyllis smiled to herself and stroked Craddock’s wrinkled head.Just you wait, Michael and Cynthia Watkins. Miss Hudson has only just begun.
Chapter Nine
Nova
I t was gone two by the time Nova got back to the community center, and she was late for her afternoon shift. But as she ran in through the front door, she crashed into a tall, broad-shouldered figure clutching an oversized potted plant.
“No running in the community center!” shouted a deep, booming voice. “Oh, it’syou.”
Nova’s heart sank as she saw her predecessor, Beryl, blocking the corridor. Although she’d been fired five months ago, the woman still found excuses to visit several times a week. On Wednesday, she’d come to retrieve a large box of tea bags and had proceeded to spend an hour sitting at Nova’s desk, counting the tea bags individually to make sure none had been used in her absence.
“Hi, Beryl.” Nova tried to dodge past the woman, but she stood with her legs astride.
“I came to rescue Stephen.” Beryl indicated the yucca plant in her arms.
“Ah, is that yours? I’ve been trying to revive it.”
“Kill him, more like,” Beryl muttered. “Sandy told me about the stolen money.”
“Yeah, it’s been a nightmare but—”
“Do you have any idea how long it took us to raise that? It’s not like London down here; we don’t just gethandedmoney on a plate.”
From further along the corridor, Nova heard a raised voice coming from the office. For once, it didn’t sound like Sandy.
“I’d better get down there, it sounds like something’s going on.”
Beryl didn’t move. “The whole of St. Tredock pulled together to raise that money, and we won’t forget whose fault its theft was.”
“Beryl, I need to get past,please.”
For a moment, the woman stayed where she was, glaring down at Nova. Then she slowly and deliberately stepped aside. Nova squeezed past her and hurried along the corridor. As she got nearer to the office, the voices inside grew louder.
“I have this afternoon slot on a permanent booking and have done for years.” Nova recognized the rich baritone of Serge, the yoga instructor who ran a session from the center every Friday.
