The Bullet That Missed (Thursday Murder Club, #3)(84)

‘Go on, then,’ says Patrice. ‘Teachers don’t see medals very often.’

Andrew Everton reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small velvet pouch. He opens a drawstring and pulls out the gold medal inside.

‘Worth a few bob on eBay, that,’ says Patrice. She squeezes Chris’s hand.

Across from them are two empty chairs. Donna is bringing Bogdan. She had to come clean in the end. Polish cinema indeed. Patrice has yet to meet him, but she has just seen photos, and, as far as Chris is concerned, is a little too enthusiastic.

Bogdan is making Donna very happy though, and that is Chris’s only concern.

Patrice kisses him. ‘You excited?’

‘Never won anything before,’ says Chris.

‘My heart?’ says Patrice.

‘I can’t put your heart in my downstairs loo to show off to visitors, can I?’ says Chris. ‘You excited about meeting Bogdan?’

‘Oh my God,’ says Patrice. ‘So excited.’

Again, a little over-enthusiastic. Chris suspects that Bogdan would be a tough stepson-in-law to match. A lot of weddings needed before that happened though. Well, two weddings. Stop thinking about weddings, Chris. Say something to impress Andrew Everton.

‘I haven’t had a Toblerone for three months now.’

‘Is that so,’ says Andrew Everton. Jesus, Chris.

The compère, a comedian Chris has seen on TV, Josh something, kicks things off with a monologue. He’s very funny, ripping into everyone, and dealing with the drunken heckles that come his way. Chris sees Donna making her way through the side door of the Grand Ballroom. She is alone. Uh oh. Both he and Patrice watch as she makes her way over, and sits, her face like a cliff in a dark storm. An empty chair beside her.

‘No Bogdan?’ asks Chris.

‘Elizabeth needed him,’ says Donna.

Well, quite a theme was developing.

Was something going on they didn’t know about?





Part Three




* * *





CATCH UP ON ALL THE NEWS





70


Joyce





I am in Staffordshire. We all are, pretty much. Everyone who needs to be, at least.

Elizabeth and Stephen are here: they are down the hallway, though they haven’t emerged yet this morning. Ron and Pauline are in the East Wing. This house has wings. Ibrahim drove them, and he is staying at the gatehouse at the end of the drive.

Henrik is here, naturally, it is his house. It’s like Downton Abbey, but with a pinball machine, and a hot tub.

Mike Waghorn is also here. I suggested he join us for a brandy in the library last night, but he wanted an early night as we have given him a job to do today. He is taking it seriously.

In the end it was just me and Ibrahim, sitting up, drinking and chatting. He is feeling very perky because he has cracked the identity of ‘Carron Whitehead’. He worked it out in the car on the way up here. When he told me, I double-checked and triple-checked, but he was quite right.

He really can be very clever. I’m still taking credit for ‘Michael Gullis’ though. That’s what really cracked the case.

I told Joanna I had worked it out and she said, ‘Well done’ and sounded like she meant it. There was even a thumbs-up emoji.

As for ‘Robert Brown Msc’, we are still none the wiser, but it doesn’t matter so much now. I’m sure we will work it out sooner or later.

Stephen had been given a guided tour of the library when he arrived. He looked like a boy, eyes wide, smile even wider. The years dropped away from him.

Viktor is having breakfast in his room, and making notes for later. Interesting to see how he plans these things out. Andrew Everton is on his way up too. It was the Kent Police Awards last night and he couldn’t miss it. They were giving Chris and Donna a commendation. I saw it on Donna’s Instagram. I think Bogdan should probably have been with her, but he had to drive Elizabeth and Stephen up here. I wonder if Donna minded? No one else seems to have spotted they are dating, but Pauline and I had a quiet gossip about it earlier. Donna certainly wasn’t smiling in the photographs.

One person who isn’t here is Fiona Clemence, but that’s not to say she isn’t involved.

Alan has stayed at home.

I make that sound as if it was his choice, as if he had a few things he wanted to catch up on. If we are all up here in Staffordshire, who is looking after him, you ask?

There is a new resident in the village. He is called Mervyn, and he is Welsh. I have always had a soft spot for the Welsh. He used to be the headmaster of a school. You can tell that too. Strict but fair. Grey hair, dark moustache, you know the look. Don’t mind if I do. I have shown him to Pauline at a distance and got a thumbs-up. I thought Pauline might have got a little upset about the way I questioned her at our afternoon tea, but not a bit of it. I suppose she just wanted the truth to come out as much as the rest of us.

Now, Mervyn has a Cairn Terrier called Rosie, and we bumped into each other a couple of days ago on a walk. Alan sniffed around Rosie and, I daresay if Alan were asked, he’d tell you I sniffed around Mervyn too. Long story short, we got chatting, and the same afternoon I dropped around a cherry Bakewell for him, just to say welcome to the village. Mervyn is going to feed and walk Alan while I’m gone. I told him I would be very grateful, and he gave me a little smile.