Free Small Town Secrets (Some Very English Murders Book 2) by Issy Brooke Page B

gastro-pub that lay at the southern end of the bypass. She’d eaten there
once, with Drew; it was all tiny portions and strangely-shaped plates. Quite
nice though, in a restrained and somewhat overpriced way. As a rule, she
avoided eating at places that served things in “jus” instead of gravy.
    “Turn right down the track by the blasted oak,” she’d been
told. “We’re raiding an Anderson shelter tonight.”
    She didn’t like the word “raid” but she couldn’t miss out.
She walked quickly, shivering in spite of the hot flush that was making her
back sticky with anxiety.
    There were only a few street lights on the main road. She
cursed her own stupidity for not bringing a head torch. She dug out her phone
and found the “flashlight” app. The passing vehicles meant she didn’t need the
extra light yet, but she was grateful for it once she found the old oak tree
which she hoped counted as the “blasted oak” and turned along the rough track.
It was wide enough for one car, but it wasn’t tarmac. She prayed that she was
on the right path.
    She strained her eyes up ahead. It was full dark now, as it
was only early summer and the very long days and short nights were yet to come.
The sky above was deep velvet blue-black, with sparkling stars and a few wispy
white clouds scudding like tattered rags high above. The hedges either side of
the track were solid black shapes and if she let her imagination have free
rein, she could easily see hunched shapes and clawing hands there. She clamped
down on her waking daydream. No. Don’t get carried away, she instructed
herself. I’m on a mission, remember?
    There was a sound. She stopped dead, and let her phone’s
light fade. Was that a twig cracking? Was that a voice? Something moved, up
ahead.
    She had to go on. She hadn’t come this far just to turn
tail and run away.
    These people could hold the key to Warren’s demise, she
reminded herself. Or at least, they could offer insight into a part of his
character that the rest of Upper Glenfield had no idea about.
    Her mouth was uncomfortably dry but she walked forwards, as
decisively as she could.
    Lights flared and she recoiled, throwing her hands in front
of her face. “Whoa!”
    “Penny?” said a low, male voice.
    “Yeah. Don’t point that thing at me.”
    The beam lowered to the floor. Off to one side, a circular
lantern was turned on, illuminating the area with more helpful and less
dazzling light. She could now see two figures, both male, standing about ten
feet in front of her. Both had close-fitting hats pulled low, and they were
standing with their feet apart in a mock-security-guard sort of stance.
    “Hi, guys,” she said as brightly as she could. Like it was perfectly
normal to be wandering around in the dark with strange men. “Blue? Lee?”
    The taller man on the left raised his gloved hand. “I’m
Blue. That’s Lee.”
    Lee waved.
    “Are you in charge?” she said.
    “I’m the leader,” Lee said. “But there are others. We’re
more of a collective, really.”
    “So you’re not really the leader, are you?” Blue mocked,
and swore affectionately.
    Lee shrugged. “I set it up, though. And I allowed the rest
of you to be equal with me. Consider it a benign dictatorship, then. I am a
benevolent dictator.”
    “It’s like our current government,” Blue muttered. “The
illusion of democracy, nothing more. The oppression of the common man, the…”
    “Oh, do shut up.”
    “Yes, master,” Blue said, and Lee swiped a back-handed
play-blow across his friend’s chest.
    “Sorry about my comrade, ” Lee said. “I liked your
photos. What’s your set-up?”
    “Er …” She fumbled in her camera bag. “I’m really new to
it. I mean, until last week I just had a point-and-shoot.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with that. We all start somewhere. Did
you read the health and safety rules in the ‘files’ section of the group?” Lee
asked.
    “Ah. No, sorry, I didn’t.” She hadn’t