Witness at the Wedding , livre ebook

Canongate Books - Simon Brett

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

150 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

'King of the witty village mystery' Telegraph'Simon Brett writes stunning detective stories' JILLY COOPER'Crime writing just like in the good old days, and perfect entertainment' GuardianIt's time to celebrate in Fethering Village, as Carole's son is getting married to a wonderful girl, albeit one with rather odd parents. Not only do they have no interest in the wedding preparations, but the mere thought of talking about the event frightens them beyond words. When the bride's father is found murdered, Carole and Jude fear the bride-to-be is the killer's next target. They must unravel the bride's family's past before the killer makes another deadly move . . . and before the wedding festivities become completely funereal.

Informations

Publié par	Canongate Books
Date de parution	06 juin 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781786897909
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0240€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Simon Brett worked as a producer in radio and television before taking up writing full-time. He was awarded an OBE in the 2016 New Year’s Honours ‘for services to literature’ and also was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. In 2014 he won the CWA’s prestigious Diamond Dagger for an outstanding body of work. simonbrett.com

Also by Simon Brett
The Fethering Mysteries The Body on the Beach Death on the Downs The Torso in the Town Murder in the Museum The Hanging in the Hotel The Stabbing in the Stables Death Under the Dryer Blood at the Bookies The Poisoning in the Pub The Shooting in the Shop Bones Under the Beach Hut Guns in the Gallery Corpse on the Court The Strangling on the Stage The Tomb in Turkey The Killing in the Cafe The Liar in The Library
The Charles Paris Theatrical Series Dead Room Farce A Decent Interval The Cinderella Killer
The Mrs Pargeter Mysteries Mrs Pargeter’s Point of Honour Mrs Pargeter’s Principle Mrs Pargeter’s Public Relations

First published in Great Britain, the USA and Canada in 2019 by Black Thorn, an imprint of Canongate Books Ltd, 14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE
This digital edition first published in 2019 by Black Thorn, an imprint of Canongate Books
First published in 2005 by Macmillan Publishers Ltd, Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
blackthornbooks.com
Copyright © Simon Brett, 2005
The moral right of the author has been asserted
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidentsare either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 78689 790 9

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One

To Jack, with thanks for a really good idea (which sadly didn’t make it into the book)
Chapter One
‘Oh, I didn’t tell you there’s a history of murder in my fiancée’s family, did I?’
The speaker was Stephen, Carole Seddon’s son, and as soon as he’d said the words, she wished he hadn’t. Everything had been going well up until that point. Carole was entertaining Stephen and Gaby on her own ground, over lunch in the Crown and Anchor pub in Fethering, and discussion of the wedding arrangements had been harmonious, even at times exciting.
But Gaby hadn’t liked the mention of murder. The bubbliness of her personality had been instantly punctured, and she looked pained as she turned to her fiancé and said, ‘You’re exaggerating. I don’t think local gossip qualifies as a "history of murder".’
To give him his due, he did back off very quickly, aware that he had crossed a threshold into forbidden territory. Carole was again surprised by her son’s sensitivity. In Gaby’s company Stephen displayed sides of his personality whose existence his mother had never suspected . . . or, Carole thought ruefully, had never taken the trouble to explore. She still didn’t ever feel quite at ease with her son, still a little guilty for her lack of instinctive maternal feelings, for her part in the break-up of the marriage to his father David.
And as she looked across at him, she was again struck by how like Stephen was to a distorted image from her own mirror. He had the same earnest and potentially cold pale blue eyes, which peered through similar rimless glasses. Though not yet as uniformly grey as her own, his hair had a patina of silver over it. His relationship with Gaby had considerably lightened his personality, but there had always been hanging about Stephen an aura of the middle-aged. Though only in his early thirties, he looked older.
‘More drinks,’ Carole announced, mainly to break the mood. Stephen demurred; he was driving and he’d had the half of bitter he’d rationed himself. This proper caution only served to reinforce his middle-aged image. But Gaby said she’d join Carole in another glass of Chilean Chardonnay.
The moment she moved to the bar, Carole was aware of the two heads in the alcove behind her drawing closer, of the whispered remonstrance from Gaby to Stephen. She must have been berating him further for mentioning the subject of murder. Carole felt intrigued, but knew that this was not the moment to probe further. An opportunity might arise to find out more, or it might not. Carole wouldn’t be that bothered either way. With Gaby Martin about to become a fixture in her life, there would be plenty of time to find out about her family background.
She ordered two glasses of wine from Ted Crisp, the Crown and Anchor’s landlord, scruffy of beard and matted of hair. He was an ex-stand-up comedian and – perhaps more unlikely – one of Carole’s very few ex-lovers. The mutual consent by which the relationship had ended seemed now to have developed into a mutual agreement that no mention should ever be made of the incident by either of its participants.
‘Nice day, isn’t it?’ Carole observed.
Ted did not take issue with this uncontroversial assertion. ‘Yes, really get the smell of the sea with the windows open.’
‘Have you still never been on the beach, Ted?’
He shook his shaggy head in mock-fear. ‘Ooh, no. Not my element, the sea. I’m a city bloke, really.’
‘Yes, but you have been living on the South Coast for some years now and the beach is less than a hundred yards away.’
‘No, not for me. I find it easier to pretend the sea’s not there.’ He leant forward conspiratorially over the bar. ‘That way I’m not at risk from mermaids.’
‘What?’
‘They’re well known for luring men to their deaths.’
‘I thought those were sirens.’
‘Mermaids do it too. I should know. Had a girlfriend who was a mermaid once. Beautiful. Her vital statistics were thirty-eight – twenty-four – and a large cod.’
Carole winced. ‘What a loss you were to the stand-up circuit, Ted.’
He chuckled, then nodded across to the well-rounded, bubble-haired figure leaning in towards Stephen. ‘That’s the famous fiancée, is it?’ He had not been behind the bar when they arrived, so no introductions had been made.
Carole confirmed that it was indeed the famous fiancée.
‘Looks as if she’s a good thing for Stephen,’ Ted observed.
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’ve seen you having lunch in here with him a few times over the years. Conversation seems to be flowing a bit more freely with the fiancée around.’
Carole neither confirmed nor denied this, but she knew it was true. The days when Stephen had come down to Fethering and picked up his mother from her house, High Tor, for dutiful lunches had never been particularly relaxing for either of them. He had always taken refuge in talking about his work, which made Carole feel guilty because she had so little understanding of what he did, and could feign so little interest in it. Gaby’s appearance on the scene had certainly freed up the conversational logjam. Even without the reliable stand-by of the wedding, there never seemed to be a lack of topics for discussion when Gaby was present.
Murmuring some all-purpose response to Ted Crisp, Carole crossed back to the table. The momentary dissension between the engaged couple had evidently been smoothed over, but the firmness with which Stephen embarked on a new topic of conversation showed that Gaby’s family history was not about to be probed further.
‘We’ve absolutely decided that we’re going to get married down here.’
‘Down here?’
‘Yes, Mother. In Fethering.’
Carole still winced inwardly at the formality of that ‘Mother’ – particularly as she couldn’t forget that Stephen called his father ‘Dad’.
‘But surely Gaby’s parents – I mean, it is traditional for the bride to be married where she grew up.’ Carole looked at Gaby, who shrugged.
‘Well, I wasn’t brought up in Harlow, which is where they live now. And in fact I do have a West Sussex connection.’
‘Oh?’
‘My mother went to school in Worthing. I wasn’t born down here, but I think she’d only just moved out of the area. I don’t know. Mum’s always a bit vague about that period of her life.’
‘Fine. So it’ll be Worthing rather than Harlow.’ Carole hoped the relief didn’t show in her voice. Her middle-class sensibilities would have been troubled by the idea of her son being married in Essex. Hard to disguise that kind of thing. People viewing the wedding photographs would be bound to ask where the event had happened. And, of course, it’d be on the marriage certificate for perpetuity. The genteel folk of West Sussex did not hold the county of Essex in the highest esteem.
‘Yes. Besides . . .’ Gaby paused, as though uncertain whether she should proceed with the sentence. She made up her mind and went on, ‘The fact is, Carole, that my parents aren’t really . . . Well, it’s going to be easier all round if Stephen and I make most of the arrangements.’
Carole didn’t say anything, but her disquiet communicated itself, so Gaby hastened to correct any false impression. ‘It’s not that they aren’t happy about Stephen and me getting married. They’re absolutely delighted. I