Free Mondays are Murder by Tanya Landman Page A

friends, and not one of them knew me.”
    I was starting to get cross. “Isabella felt dreadful about what happened to you, she really did. I heard her! And she regretted marrying Mike. It was all a big mistake. You didn’t need to kill her!”
    “Oh, but I did. Just as I need to kill Mike. I’m saving him for last. But I want him to lose everyone first, just like I did. I want him to know exactly how it feels to have everything stripped away. But before that, there’s the question of how to despatch my dear little cousin Cathy.”
    “Cathy’s your cousin?” I couldn’t help feeling pleased that at least I’d guessed that bit right. “But Cathy wasn’t in South America! She had nothing to do with the accident.”
    “No,” he said. “But she was at Mike and Isabella’s wedding. She agreed to take the job here. She’s in love with Mike. Has been for years. That’s enough of a betrayal for me.” His mouth twisted into a leer. “And now, I’ll need to get rid of you too. Mike really shouldn’t let interfering little girls wander off on their own. You never know when they might slip, and this cliff-top path is so dangerous. One false step can lead to disaster. So easy to topple over the edge. Another tragic accident…”
    I had begun to back away and, as he made a lunge for me, I turned and ran. But my foot caught in a clump of heather and I tripped. Richard Robertson’s arms closed around me and a second later I was being hauled towards the edge of the cliff.

day of judgement
    When something hit Richard Robertson, crashing into him with such force that his legs were knocked from under him, I thought it was an enraged sheep. I hit the ground with a thud and rolled away, spinning beyond his reach. Scrambling to my feet, I started to run. But then I heard a familiar sound, and realized the thing that had launched itself at Richard wasn’t an animal at all. It was Graham. And Richard had got hold of him.
    Graham’s fists were pounding against his captor’s arms. “Get off! Get off me! Run, Poppy, run!”
    I could see at once that Graham didn’t stand any more chance against the lean, wiry climber than I did. Richard was half lifting, half dragging him towardsthe cliff edge, just as he’d done with me. They were already perilously close to the edge. Graham’s face was white, but still he shouted, “Run, Poppy!”
    I had no intention of running anywhere. But if I hurled myself at Richard the way Graham had done, I’d be in danger of knocking all three of us over the edge. Richard had his arms around Graham’s waist, and was lifting him off his feet. In a second, he’d launch him into the air, and Graham would plummet into the sea.
    As Richard began to swing Graham in a wide arc, I grabbed at Graham’s outstretched legs and leaned backwards, hanging on as if it were a lethal tug-of-war contest. But my slippers couldn’t get any grip on the wet grass. I tried digging my heels into the turf but I was sliding towards the edge. Richard was too strong. I’d slowed him a fraction, but that was all. With one determined lunge he would throw both of us into oblivion.
    A hideous grin, one mad laugh, and Richard swung Graham again. I didn’t let go, but I lost my footing, skidded off the muddy grass and started slipping over the cliff edge. Holding on desperately to Graham’s legs, I tried to find a foothold. There was nothing below me but air. I looked down and saw the hungry sea reaching up. Above me, Graham – who had been trying to escape Richard’s grip – was now clinging to him, frantic to hold on to whatever he could grab. Reaching up, he’d seized a handful of Richard’s hair and was clutching it as if our lives depended on it – which of course they did. With a cry of pain, Richard took a step back, then two, three more steps, trying to dislodge Graham’s fingers. I crunched hard against the cliff-face and was scraped painfully back on to solid land with each lurching pace Richard took. As