Read Murder on the Levels: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 2) for Free Online Page B

shaken up Exham, that’s for sure.”
    Libby drained the last drop of cream from her mug and wiped froth off her lips. “And upset a few people.”
    Angela piled their cups on a tray. “I’ve decided not to waste any more time. I’m starting a series of concerts.”
    Libby shooed away a couple of hopeful pigeons. “Sounds exciting. If you’ve got time, let me cook you lunch, and you can tell me more. Mandy’s out and my daughter’s flying visit is over.”
    Angela beamed. “That would be wonderful.”
    ***
    Libby tossed a salad, flipped mushroom omelettes and poured chilled white wine into two large glasses. Angela rooted in her giant tote handbag and pulled out a thick file. “I wanted to show you this. Geoff died ten years ago, but I only found this the other day, when I was up in the loft. I’ve been carrying it around, wondering what to do. Now, I know.”
    She laid the papers on the table. Libby leaned forward. “Manuscript paper?”
    “Some of Geoff’s music. I had a call from his old agent the other day. First time I’d heard from him for years. He wants to do a memorial concert, ten years after Geoff died, using Geoff’s old friends. I said no, of course. I’d have to persuade people to join in, organise rehearsals, help with the arrangements for the concert. It all seemed too much bother.”
    She grinned. “I changed my mind. I used to manage Geoff, when we were younger. I dealt with his travel, venues, schedules, everything. Why shouldn’t I do it now? I’ve decided to put on concerts, use them to raise money for charity.”
    Angela looked ten years younger. She rustled the manuscript paper. “I thought I’d start with this quintet. It hasn’t been played in public often. It was one of the last things Geoff wrote. We were about to perform it, the day he ran his car off the road.”
    “Wow. That’s some undertaking.”
    “I’ve already got the performers to agree. Geoff’s sister’s coming, she’s a violinist, I still play the violin a bit, and Geoff’s nephew will play clarinet. Geoff would have liked that. It’s all on track.”
    “When’s the concert?”
    “In a few weeks. Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Angela frowned, suddenly anxious.
    “Of course you are. It’s a wonderful idea.” Libby flicked through the papers on the table, one finger following the lines of notes, wishing she could read music and hear the melody in her head.
    She tried to figure out the directions scribbled above the lines. Allegretto. Diminuendo. “I wish I knew what all these Italian words mean.” Her finger stopped moving. “That’s funny.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Look. On the last few pages, the handwriting’s different. I can’t make things out at all.”
    Angela balanced the reading glasses on her nose and squinted at the manuscript. “I see what you mean. I hadn’t noticed, before. How very odd. Geoff was meticulous. His notation was always neat and tidy.”
    She flicked from one page to another. “Wait.” Her brow cleared. “I remember now. Geoff must have been working on this, when he sprained his wrist, skiing. Look, see how shaky that crotchet is?”
    Libby hardly knew a crotchet from a croquet mallet, but even she could see the composer had struggled to write legibly. Angela shuffled the pages into a neat pile. “I never let anyone perform the music again. I thought it had some sort of a curse on it. You know, because Geoff died. I can see now, I was being silly. We’re going to have a wonderful concert, and we’ll play this piece for Geoff.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Poached eggs
    The mornings seemed very empty, now the bakery was closed. Libby perched on a kitchen stool, breakfast mug in hand, while Mandy rotated marmalade, chocolate spread and peanut butter, munching one slice of toast after another. “It’s weird,” she said. “It was such a pain, having to wake up at the crack of dawn. I thought I hated it, but now I kind of, like, miss