Small Town Shock (Some Very English Murders Book 1) by Issy Brooke Page B

unashamed
curiosity. Cath did a brief introduction, missing out exactly how they’d met
under awkward circumstances, and everyone chorused hello.
    The beehive woman, who was revealed to be the local
hairdresser and called Agatha, patted the spare seat next to her on the
three-seater. “Now then, come here, my love. I have seen you before, haven’t I?
Eh?”
    “Yes. I think I interrupted your conversation. In the
mini-market?”
    “That’s right! I remember. I saw you again but you were
talking to Warren. Or at least, he was talking to you.”
    Penny bit her lip. In a small town like this, she didn’t
want to speak badly of a man who might turn out to be someone’s uncle or
brother or secret crush. “Yes. He’s quite a … determined sort of man.”
    Agatha howled with laughter, and announced to the whole
group, “You hear that? You hear what she said, eh? Warren’s a determined sort
of man!” She turned back to Penny and patted her on the knee as if Penny were
five years old. “Now you listen to me, my love. He’s a horrible pest of a man
who doesn’t understand ‘no’ and I am sure he means no harm but don’t you encourage
him, you hear.”
    “I wasn’t encouraging him at all!”
    Someone else said, “Yeah, Agatha, that’s not fair. A woman
only has to be breathing to encourage Warren.”
    “I did tell him no. Anyway, it’s not all bad. Warren is the
reason I’m here, to be honest,” Penny confessed. Cath was standing close by and
she grinned.
    “Yes, he was coming after both of us, wasn’t he?” she said.
“We evaded him pretty well.”
    “Yes. I was avoiding him which is why I kept on asking you
about this party,” Penny said.
    “You wouldn’t have come if Warren hadn’t been pursuing you?”
Cath raised an eyebrow in mock indignation.
    “Well … it’s not something I’ve ever done before.”
    “There’s always a first time!” Agatha gurgled, making it
sound like a filthy joke, and everyone laughed.
    Cath began to set out some interesting and innovative new
plastic kitchen products while the rest of the women continued to drink and
chat. Some of the items looked frighteningly similar to the things Penny had
seen at the more “adult” party she’d unwillingly attended. She didn’t like to
ask what the long thin yellow thing, with the spiral on the end, was designed
to do.
    Instead, Penny said to Agatha, “Speaking of unpleasant men,
and I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but can you tell me more about David
Hart, that farmer who was … found dead? Was he ever married at all?”
    “No, he never married, but he had his share of lovers!”
Agatha said. “Isn’t that right? What about that latest floozy on his arm–”
    “Now, Agatha, that’s not fair. I liked Mary,” someone said.
    “Mary!” Agatha snorted. “Her. Huh. No better than she
should be, that one!”
    It was a curious phrase that Penny thought she understood
without really making sense of it. “Did he really have a lot of … lovers?”
    “I don’t know,” Cath said. “I actually think it’s a lot of
gossip with not a lot of truth. He had a few girlfriends from time to time, but
honestly, he wasn’t parading up and down the High Street with them. He kept
himself to himself, mostly. Everything else is mere speculation.” She spoke
firmly and warningly.
    Agatha sucked at her teeth. “Maybe. But he was seeing Mary, most recently. That’s true, isn’t it? That Mary Radcliffe from
along North Road. All jingly bracelets. She thinks she’s something but she’s
not. Eh!”
    Someone with a little more heart and feeling said, “I
wonder how she’s taking it? His death, I mean. They might not have been married
but even so. It must be hard.”
    There was a moment of respectful silence, and even Agatha
looked abashed. “True, true. A difficult situation for anyone, under the
circumstances. I wonder how he died …” Agatha petered out but looked
quizzically at Cath, who shook her head.
    “No. No