Read Murder on the Tor: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 3) for Free Online

him?”
    Max’s eyes glittered. “We need to learn a bit more about those beads. Miss Bakewell said they came from an excavation, and I’m tempted to believe that part of the story. The dig must be documented.”
    “I know how we can find out more about Somerset’s past.”
    Max closed his eyes for a beat, and groaned. “Oh no. Definitely not. I’m not going anywhere near the local history society. I’ve been there once, and that was more than enough. Those women terrify me.”
    “It’s the best place to start. They know absolutely everything about Somerset.”
    He was shaking his head. “When Marina Sellworthy gives me the once-over I feel like a grubby and unimportant fossil from Kilve beach, and the rest of your history society friends are some of the biggest gossips in the West Country.”
    “What do you have to hide, apart from your double life? Are you telling me you can pull the wool over the eyes of international criminals, but you’re too chicken to face the history society?”
    “That’s about right. A man can only withstand so much.”
    “OK, I’ll talk to them. There’s a meeting in a couple of days, and I still provide the cakes.” Libby gathered up the photos. “That was Marina’s fault, by the way. She nabbed me about a week after I arrived, almost as though she was lying in wait. She persuaded me it would provide good advertising for my business. She can be very persuasive, and once I’d agreed it got harder to back out.”
    “What flavour are you offering this time?”
    “Cardamom and ginger. Tempted?”
    Max grimaced. “Sounds good, but not great enough to get me in that room. You might save me a slice, but I’ll leave the society to you. I’ll do some internet searches, and we can compare notes. First, though, we’d better return the photos Miss Bakewell left behind.”
    Max stopped talking. She’d seen that look on his face before. “Max? What are you cooking up?”
    He took the pile of photos from Libby’s hands. “There’s no hurry. We’ll hand these prints over to John Williams’ estate in a couple of days, but first, let’s have another look at them. Maybe we’ll see why they mattered so much to Miss Bakewell. I don’t buy the historically valuable ancient beads story. It’s not as if the police were on her trail for stealing them forty years ago.”
    “You’re right. She kept glancing at the photos while we were talking, as though she saw something she didn’t want us to notice. I don’t suppose it will hurt to keep them a while.”
    “Joe told me John Williams was single and lived alone, so there’s no wife or kids wanting the photos for sentimental reasons.”
    The hall had emptied, visitors at last persuaded to leave, to embellish their stories at home. Max slipped the pictures inside his jacket. “We can’t study these photos properly here. Let’s hold on to them for a day or so. Are you free tomorrow?”
    “It depends how Mandy got on this afternoon. I had to send her to Jumbles with the chocolate samples. They’ve talked about stocking our products, but if the meeting went horribly wrong I might need to build bridges.”
    “That girl could sell nuts to Brazil, if she set her mind to it. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when the Jumbles staff see her tattoos. Isn’t it an old-fashioned business?”
    “That’s what bothers me, though their marketing girl sounded younger than I’d expected. I’d better get back home and prepare for the worst. Fingers crossed, see you tomorrow.”
    ***
    Libby walked into the kitchen and her jaw dropped. “Is that really you?” Mandy had brushed her hair until it shone. A demure hair band held the long side out of her eyes and hid most of the shaved area. She’d dabbed a subtle hint of pink blusher on her cheeks and removed most of the facial nuts and bolts, leaving only two or three earrings in each ear. Even the skull tattoo had disappeared; a fake, as Libby suspected. She recognised the pink silk shirt