Free The Corpse on the Court by Simon Brett

sure we’ll find out in time.’
    â€˜And indeed when he got there. Does Lockleigh House have security cameras, because if it does, then there’d be a record of—’
    â€˜It doesn’t have security cameras.’
    â€˜Isn’t that rather unusual? For a big place like that?’
    â€˜It doesn’t have security cameras because, being an old people’s home, there’s someone on duty all the time. Also a lot of the residents suffer from insomnia. Only an extremely stupid burglar is going to break into a place like that.’
    â€˜But if there’s someone on duty all the time, then they might have seen when Reggie’s car arrived and—’
    Again the hands were raised. ‘Jude, Jude. I really don’t want to talk about this either. I’ve just lost a very close friend. I need a bit of time to get used to that idea.’
    For a moment, to her surprise, Jude wished Carole was with her. Her neighbour would have had no inhibitions about picking through the details of an unexplained death.
    But then she looked across at Piers and was overcome by a wave of sympathy. She could see from his face that he really was suffering. Though he erected defences of humour, referring to the ‘poor old bugger’, asking which chase Reggie had died on, the death had affected him profoundly. Jude reached across and placed her plump hand on his thin one. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.
    â€˜Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘How was the Old Boys’ doubles?’
    â€˜Fascinating. I really did get more of a feeling of the game from watching them. They don’t move about much, but they hit the ball beautifully.’
    â€˜They were all pretty good players in their time.’
    â€˜And how old are they?’
    â€˜Oh, I’m not sure that it’s polite to ask that. Still, you reckon you’ve now got an idea of the rules now?’
    â€˜I get some of it. The bit that still doesn’t make any sense is why they change ends.’
    â€˜But I told you about that. It’s to do with the chases. When two chases are laid, or only one if the score has reached—’
    It was Jude’s turn to raise her hands. ‘Please, Piers, please. We’ve established there are subjects you don’t want to talk about at the moment. Well, I’ve got one too – and it’s the rules of real tennis.’
    He grinned. ‘Very well.’ He looked up towards the pub door to see the entrance of four elderly gentlemen. ‘Ah, here come the Old Boys themselves. Maybe you’ll take being taught the rules better from them . . .?’
    â€˜I doubt it,’ said Jude.
    She knew the other three elderly gentlemen who entered because Wally Edgington-Bewley had introduced them with punctilious politeness in the dedans before they had started playing. Their names were Rod Farrar, Jonty Westmacott and Tom Ruthven. They all wore a kind of uniform of variegated cardigans and brightly-coloured corduroys.
    â€˜My turn to buy the drinks,’ said Tom Ruthven.
    â€˜I’ll have—’ Jonty Westmacott began.
    â€˜I know what you’ll have . . . unless you’ve changed the habits of eleven years. I know what you’ll all have.’
    â€˜Do you mind if we join you?’ asked Wally Edgington-Bewley, edging towards the table near the fire.
    Piers flicked a quick look at Jude, but she nodded assent. She was rather fascinated by the geriatric foursome and was pleased to see them draw comfortable chairs up to the table.
    â€˜Oh, incidentally, you left this,’ said Wally Edgington-Bewley, holding out a fat envelope towards her.
    â€˜Sorry?’
    â€˜Copy of my book. I said I’d leave it for you in the club room.’
    â€˜Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot, what with . . .’ Seeing a negative head-shake from Piers, she didn’t mention Reggie Playfair, just concluded: ‘One thing and