Free 1 The Assassins' Village by Faith Mortimer Page B

after she’d spectacularly passed out at the beach. Now, what had caused that? She was rarely ever ill, and could only put it down to too much sun, coupled with too much cider, and the shock of what Bernard had told them about Leslie.
    Leslie. How that man’s name kept cropping up. It was not difficult to assess the antipathy he caused amongst their friends and neighbours. As for Diana, Leslie hadn’t given her any major cause for complaint just an annoyance on behalf of the others. There had been two minor irritations. Diana had found herself seated next to Leslie during a meeting to discuss the drama groups’ funds or, rather lack of them. Leslie was invited along, as he knew someone on the Arts Council, who might be persuaded to put in a good word for AMIS with an approach for some government funding. At first, Diana thought she’d imagined his thigh lightly pressed up against her as if by accident. As time went on, she shifted restlessly in her seat. Again she felt his leg, only this time with a little more applied pressure. With an amused chuckle to herself, she moved away on her seat as far as she could, and during the break switched to another chair. She was relieved when he had not attempted to follow her. The second time had been at a party. She remembered he had tried to kiss her. She put it down to him probably being a little drunk. Being cruel, she could say he was just a tad ridiculous, but surely just a harmless man old enough to be her father.
    An unexpected blare from her radio shocked her out of her daydream. One minute she had been sitting in relative silence, the next she almost jumped out of her chair as Dire Straits played their hit; Sultans of Swing .
    ‘What in the world?’ she said to herself as she gathered her wits and turned the volume down to something less harmful to her ears. How on earth had that happened? Was it a power surge? She’d mention it to Steve; he’d probably have some idea.
    Diana remembered something she’d thought about when she was lying wide-awake in bed. She had to write that into her story! The murder was brutal and she thought she could cover it up nicely with some great red-herrings. She turned the page of her notebook and jotted down the outlines, she knew just who she was going to bump off.
    Time was pressing now, she knew she’d better start getting herself organised. First, she needed a glass of water. Diana tidied away her manuscript; as she was very superstitious about letting others read her unfinished work, and hurried down the stairs. As she was passing through towards the kitchen she met her sister Elaine coming in the front door.
    ‘Phew! It’s amazingly hot!’ Elaine exclaimed, ‘Far too hot to sit outside painting really.’
    She removed a large straw sunhat from her head and shook out her short and damp blonde curly hair. Elaine had the usual smudge of paint on one of her cheeks and Diana was for moment reminded about Charles Kingsley’s “ The Water Babies.” Tom, the chimney sweep always had sooty smudges on his face and hands. Elaine set her easel and paint box down on the floor and wiped the sweat from her brow. ‘I don’t know how you do it. Sit out there for hours in all that heat. By the way you’ve got paint on your cheek again,’ she said giving her sister a cheeky grin.
    Elaine looked at her reflection in the hall mirror and pulled a face. Shorter than her sister Diana, but facially they were similar.
    She was staying with Diana and Steve. Originally she’d come out for a fortnight’s holiday, but bowled over by the amazing diverse scenery of the beautiful island, she had stayed. So far Elaine had painted a good number of canvases and had almost enough for another exhibition on her eventual return to the UK. Recently, Diana asked her sister just what her long term plans were. Elaine had been noncommittal; she had made a lot of new friends out here, both expatriate and some good female Cypriot ones. She’d recently received the