Read Murder at the Lighthouse: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 1) for Free Online Page B

toes pointed, arms in the air, delicate in a tiny version of her mother’s fringed skirt and full-sleeved blouse.
    Libby dragged her gaze from the dead child’s enchanting dimples, and looked at the wedding photo. So, that was Mickey. He loomed over Susie, heavy arm pulling her off balance, crumpling the puffed satin wedding dress. The bride gazed up at her new husband, adoring, while he smirked at the camera, stealing the moment like a spoilt child.
    Still, being self-centred and arrogant didn’t mean he was responsible for Susie’s lonely death. If Mickey was in Los Angeles on the day she died, he couldn’t have killed her. Libby hoped Max would take a good look at the man’s alibi. “Mrs Thomson, do you know how Annie Rose died?”
    “Oh, dear. I’m afraid the poor thing drowned.”
    Libby’s head spun. Perhaps Mrs Thomson was confused. “No, I mean Annie Rose, not Suzanne.”
    “That’s right. She fell in the swimming pool.” Mrs Thomson’s eyes were very bright. “They all have swimming pools, out in California. It’s so hot, you see. It broke Suzanne’s heart.” Her smile trembled. “We never had children, Eric and me. Suzanne was like a daughter. We’d been so happy for her, with her little girl, doing so well. Then, Annie Rose died. It was quite dreadful. Eric never got over it.”
    Libby’s stomach lurched. Had she jumped to conclusions? Maybe Susie had drowned herself, after all, still heartbroken, choosing to end her life as Annie Rose lost hers. Perhaps the police were right. She struggled for words. “How did you find out?”
    “They rang, from America. Mickey’s secretary, I think it was, said Suzanne was too upset to talk but she wanted us to know.” Mrs Thomson took out a tiny white handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “There, it still upsets me, dear. I’m sorry to make a fuss. You see, it all happened so far away. And now this…” She blew her nose again, pocketing the scrap of cotton. “Well, these things happen. I’ll make more coffee.”
    Mrs Thomson clattered in the kitchen. Libby flipped backwards through the pages of the album. She found a photo of a Christmas tree, piles of presents and rows of kids. They were about 11 or 12 years old, Libby guessed. The vicar beamed in the centre of the back row. She looked closer. There was Susie―Suzanne―in the front row, a brace running along her teeth.
    The tall, gangly boy standing beside Susie looked familiar. Yes. It was Max. Mrs Thomson returned, tray in hand, and leaned over Libby. “Look, there they all are. Most are still here, or hereabouts. There’s Maxwel, of course, and Benedict who’s married to Samantha. The one with the broken tooth is Alan - Alan Jenkins. Oh, look, there’s Angela…”
    She broke off as the doorbell rang. Libby jumped to her feet, glad of an excuse to avoid more coffee. Her insides were close to exploding. “Don’t worry, Mrs Thomson. I’ll open the door.”
    An elderly woman on the doorstep wrinkled her forehead, perplexed to find an unexpected stranger in her friend’s house. “Oh. Is Regina in?” A cake-shaped parcel, wrapped in tin foil, peeped from her basket. Libby ushered the newcomer in, made her excuses to Mrs Thomson, grabbed Bear’s lead and left them to their memories.
     

Bear Walk
    Libby gripped Bear’s collar, hauling him back as she unlocked the door. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with the cat. She shouted for Fuzzy, but as usual there was no response. That animal came only when she chose. She could be anywhere. Libby wasn’t about to leave Bear outside, digging up the tiny garden. She wanted that dog where she could see him.
    She shut the door to the sitting room. He wasn’t going in there, either. She took him into the kitchen. Maybe he needed feeding. What did dogs eat? Meat. There was beef in the fridge. A treat for the weekend. Reluctant, she cut it up and dropped it in an old bowl. Bear leaped on it with enthusiasm. Libby filled another bowl with