Small Town Christmas (Some Very English Murders Book 6) (9 page)

In principle, Penny was
sympathetic to the idea of opening up the footpath. There were photocopies of
articles and evidence, showing the background to the claim, and Penny had to
agree that it seemed like an act of spite on Clive’s part that he had
encouraged the utilities company to block the re-opening.

If Linda was to be believed,
of course. Penny reminded herself that she could hardly take Linda’s word for
it. Furthermore, Linda’s callous dismissal of the death of her brother made
Penny feel quite uneasy.

She pushed it from her mind,
for the moment; she certainly intended on passing all that information on to
Cath, when she saw her friend the next time.

* * * *

Catching up with Cath would
have to wait. On Sunday night, Penny went to the carol singing practice that
was held at the high school out on the eastern side of town. It was called an
“academy” now but Penny was unsure of what that meant, apart from they seemed
to be sponsored by a large regional building company and had had a new, shiny
logo designed for them.

She was pleased that her
voice held up well throughout the session. She could never claim to be the
world’s best singer, but there was something wonderfully life-affirming about
singing as part of a group, and it always made her feel a little bit taller.

Afterwards, she spent a few
minutes chatting with people. Ginni, the woman who ran the florist’s shop in
town, asked if she was joining them all for a drink.

“No,” Penny said ruefully.
“I’m only just recovering from being ill. I’m not going to overdo it.”

She waved her good byes, and
headed out into the cold night. As usual, she had walked to the school. In
spite of her claim to want to avoid overdoing things, she still took the longer
way home, walking along the road that went north-east out of town. It had
become a habit to extend her journey in this way.

She was disappointed that
there weren’t any stars above, but the low grey cloud did keep the air warmer
than a clear night would have done. It was past nine o’clock, and being Sunday,
the road was very quiet. She crunched along the pavement next to the silent
road, her footsteps loud in the darkness. The streetlights were strung out at
long intervals, and cast little pools of orange light that were like a necklace
of amber jewels following the edge of the dark fields beyond.

She walked briskly to keep
warm. She was grateful for Drew’s gloves and hat all over again. She pulled the
hat down over her ears.

She could hear a car approaching
from behind, though the sound of its engine was muffled by the hat. As it sped
past, they beeped their horn, and she raised a hand in reply. It was most
likely to be some of the other choristers, on their way home or to the pub.

Another car came up from
behind, its lights on full-beam to throw her own shadow large in front of her,
and she half-turned, her hand already rising up to wave a greeting.

And this action probably
saved her life.

The car did not slow down,
and there was no friendly toot of their horn. All Penny had time to register
was that it was red, glowing as it did under the nearest sodium street light.
But she was half-dazzled by the blinding headlights, and she could not see who
was driving. Then it was screaming towards her, and Penny stumbled backwards.
Her foot caught in a clump of half-frozen grass and she tumbled onto her
bottom, slipping and sliding as she twisted sideways. She ended up in the cold
mud deep in the ditch that ran between the pavement and the field.

The car had gone, screaming
off into the night.

Penny stayed where she was
for a moment, breathing hard. She could hardly take it in. Had it really driven
at her so deliberately?

She couldn’t stay at the
bottom of a ditch. She scrambled up, but cautiously, peeping out to check if
the car had definitely driven away. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if it was
still there, waiting for her to emerge.

It had gone.

She pulled herself back onto
the verge, and looked down. There was enough light to see that the car’s wheels
had churned up the frosty mud and grass.

It had been deliberate. It
looked that way to her.

Penny felt sick. She stood
and stared, and when she heard another car approach, even though it was from
the opposite direction that the attacking car had gone in, she still nervously
stepped back, ready to dive to safety.

The car slowed, and Penny’s
throat tightened.

Ginni stuck her head out of
the window. “Are you all right?”

“Oh my goodness! Ginni! No,
I’m not. I am so glad to see you.”

“Really? Something must have
happened. Get in.”

As soon as Penny was safely
ensconced in the passenger seat, she almost wanted to cry. She took a deep
breath and clipped into the seat belt.

“What were you doing?” Ginni
asked. She kept the engine idling. “I saw you staring at the ground, then you
jumped a mile in the air when you heard me coming. Have you dropped something?
I can swing round to use the headlights to shine on the pavement.”

“No, thank you, it’s fine.
No, it’s not fine.” Penny pulled her hat from her head and ruffled at her hair
with her hand. “I am sure that someone just tried to run me over.”

“Never!” Ginni cried. “Who?
Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. But I was on
the pavement, walking along, and a car came roaring towards me. I had to jump
into the ditch. I was just looking at the marks the tyres left in the grass. It
wasn’t my imagination.”

“There are some crazy drunk
drivers out at this time of the year,” Ginni said. “Did you see any details of
the car at all?”

“I think it was red, but
that’s all.”

“Where do you want to go?”
Ginni put the car into gear. “I can take you up to the police station, if you
like.”

“I can’t put you to any
trouble.”

“It’s fine. I was just on my
way to the petrol station, else I wouldn’t have come this way at all.”

Penny thought about it. “No,
please don’t bother. I can’t give them any real information.”

“I’ll run you home, then.
River Street?”

“Please.”

“I need to call for fuel
first,” Ginni said apologetically. “I’m on red.”

Ginni drove the short
distance to the petrol station, and while she was filling up, Penny thought
about the car.

In her head, she was calling
it an “attack.” Was it? It was most likely to have been a random drunk, as Ginni
said.

But what if it wasn’t? She
couldn’t help recalling the conversation she’d had with Cath about the murder
of Clive Holdsworth. Was it a one-off, or was there a killer on a spree in the
area? She shivered.

What about the suspects that
were already lined up for the killing of Clive? If she assumed that the car had
been deliberately targeting her, then did this make any of those suspects more
– or less – likely to be guilty?

She knew Jared had a red
car, because she’d accepted a lift from him in the past. Haydn’s car had been
outside the house that he was restoring. She called up a picture in her mind.
Yes, it had been red.

What about Linda? She didn’t
know what colour her car was. Though why would Linda ask her to help with the
flyers, and then attack her?

That would be an
elaborate bluff indeed
, Penny
thought.
And therefore plausible.

But if this attack was
linked to the attack on Clive, then perhaps that meant there were other people
involved.

Or a suspect they hadn’t
even considered yet.

She felt queasy at the
thought.

She was deep in her circular
and unproductive ruminations when Ginni returned. Ginni slung her handbag onto
the back seat and said, “Sorry about that, Penny. Are you ready to go?”

“No problem. Thanks. Ginni, do
you know Linda Osmond well?”

Ginni grimaced. She set off
driving before she replied. “I do not know her socially. I know her through the
Christmas Planning Committee, and she pops up on various things from time to
time. She tries to get involved in the town business forum and all that, but
she doesn’t qualify. She doesn’t own a business. Except she thinks she’s
entitled to meddle in everyone else’s business.”

“Ah. She does seem a bit of
a busybody.”

“Oh, yes. Very much so. And
she thinks she knows best, and there’s simply no debating with her. I tend to
avoid her, if I’m honest. I can be a little forceful myself, as you know. We do
not mix well.”

Penny smiled at the
understatement. The difference between Ginni and Linda was simple; Ginni was
self-aware, and a nice person. She said, “Do you happen to know what colour car
she drives?”

“What? Do you think she
might have tried to run you over? I can’t think why. She’s much more direct
that that. If she has a problem with you, she won’t hesitate in coming over and
telling you so. Preferably in front of a large audience.”

“I’m just speculating,”
Penny said.

“Hmm. It’s a red one, a
nasty little sports car. It’s too young a car for a woman like that.”

Ouch,
thought Penny. “Do you mean one of those soft-top
convertible types?”

“Yes. She likes to cruise
around with the top down in summer, all head scarf and big glasses, thinking
she’s Audrey Hepburn or somebody. Was it a convertible that drove at you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think
so, because I didn’t see a black top to it, but who knows? What about Haydn –
what do you know of him?”

“Well, I’ve no idea about
his car. He seems a bit of a sad case to me. He always looks like his washing
machine and ironing board have broken. He’s slightly crumpled, I think. Anyway,
he’s not really local, is he?”

“The police are
investigating him, didn’t you know?”

“No, I didn’t. But I try not
to follow gossip,” Ginni said loftily. After a pause, she added, “But why him?”

“He had argued a lot with
Clive. He used to work under him, and they did not get on.”

“Everyone argued with Clive.
Even I did, and I’m not a suspect. There must be more to it between them than
that.”

“Maybe,” Penny agreed.

They drove down her street,
and Ginni made an awkward fifteen-point turn at the end. It was a cul-de-sac,
and rather narrow. She pulled up outside Penny’s house but before she got out, Penny
said, “And finally, what do you know about Jared?”

“The technie guy? He seems
harmless enough but he needs a girlfriend to sort him out.”

Penny smiled. “He’s trying,”
she said. “Thank you for the lift.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?
You ought to tell the police, you know.”

“I will, I promise.”

Penny spoke to Cath on the phone about the incident
straight away. The following day, Monday, a community support officer and a
police officer appeared at Penny’s door, took some details, and issued her with
a crime reference number.

“But that will probably be the end of it,” the officer said
ruefully as Penny showed them out. “Oh, by the way, do you know PC Patel?”

“We’ve met, yes,” Penny said. “Why?”

“Oh, he said you were an amazing baker…” The police officer
smiled hopefully and his eyes slid past her, towards the kitchen.

“Goodness. Have you argued with him about something?”

“Er … we had a misunderstanding about a parking space but
it’s all blown over now.”

“I’d suggest it hasn’t. I once gave him food poisoning,”
Penny said. “Sorry.”

Muttering, the officers left.

* * * *

Penny couldn’t get through to Drew so she left him a
voicemail, downplaying the incident so he wouldn’t panic, and then she spent
the day getting on with her Christmas orders from the website. To her delight,
Drew turned up at her door unexpectedly that evening, clutching a handmade
holly wreath for her door, a cake in a patterned tin, and a small gift-sized
bottle of whisky.

“Do you drink whisky?” he asked doubtfully as she led him
to the kitchen.

“I’ve never drunk it in my life,” she said. “Why did you
buy it?”

“I don’t know.” He placed all his gifts on the kitchen work
counter. “I was in the shop, trying to think what to bring someone who had been
nearly run over. My mind went blank. I just went into a buying frenzy. It will
be nice in hot chocolate, maybe.”

“I’ll try it. Thank you. Were you at The Acorns all day?”

Drew sat down and Kali flopped down at his feet, leaning
hard against his legs. He reached down to scratch her ears. “Yes. Destiny is
still there, doing half a day. She seems to be settling down.”

“That’s good to hear. She’ll be back full time at the High
School after the holidays.”

“She will be fine,” Drew said. “She’s not really cut out
for school but we’re giving her ways to cope. So, tell me about the car! Your
message was vague. You’ve spoken to the police, right?”