Free Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall by Hannah Dennison Page A

“Having a real celebrity will make a difference.”
    â€œWell—I’m not exactly sure I want to use—”
    â€œI don’t mind admitting I was wrong—”
    â€œStan said you wouldn’t want to be a part of it but I knew you would.” Doreen gave Stan a nod of triumph and held out her hand to her husband. “You owe me ten quid.”
    â€œAlright, alright,” said Stan. “Now, you’d better make sure Iris is coming.”
    â€œI’ll give her a quick call.” I had a sudden thought. “Do you have someone staying here called Valentine Prince-Avery?”
    â€œYou’re damn right we do,” said Doreen grimly. “I wanted to turn him away but Stan said beggars can’t be choosers. We need the business.”
    â€œHe’s only doing his job, luv,” said Stan. “I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes tonight. Poor bugger’s going to get it in the neck. That’s the point of the meeting. Put him on the spot.”
    I thought it strange that Valentine hadn’t mentioned this to me on the phone earlier. Now I was in an awkward position. Having a casual drink with “the enemy” was probably not a good idea.
    â€œExcuse me a minute.” I brandished my mobile. “I’m just going to give Mum a quick call and see where she has gotten to.”
    â€œI’ll get you a gin and tonic,” said Stan. “On the house.”
    I slipped through the archway and into the Snug. The two tables and bench seat were empty but a small wood-burning stove made the tiny room feel cozy and I could quite understand why it had earned its name.
    Mum was obviously working since she didn’t answer even though I knew the phone in her office was just inches away from her typewriter. I dug out Valentine’s business card and called him, again.
    â€œIt’s Kat,” I said upon hearing his voice. “I’m downstairs. Did you know there was a protest meeting tonight?”
    â€œNo,” said Valentine. “The date was suddenly changed for no reason. I feel like I’m about to be thrown to the lions. Is that awful woman in the purple coat downstairs with her shotgun?”
    â€œNo. Joyce isn’t feeling well,” I said. “But Patty her daughter is here. She’s working in the kitchen.”
    â€œSo she’ll have access to knives?”
    I laughed.
    â€œLook, are you still up for a quick drink?” said Valentine. “I need some Dutch courage.”
    â€œWhere? Definitely not down here.”
    â€œDo you mind coming up to my room?” said Valentine. “I smuggled in some wine.” Sensing my hesitation, he added, “I’ve got the only suite. All very aboveboard.”
    â€œWell…”
    â€œYou can sneak up the back staircase through the Snug,” said Valentine. “No one will see you.”
    I remembered that Stan had a drink waiting for me on the counter. “Okay. I’ll be five minutes.”
    I reentered the bar just as the front door opened letting in a rush of cold air and Eric Pugsley, who looked relatively smart for a change in a tweed jacket over his jeans. Without his trademark beanie hat, Eric’s eyebrows looked more unruly than usual.
    To my surprise Angela Parks followed Eric in. She was dressed like an old-fashioned servant on her afternoon off in a mid-calf-length dark gray duster with dainty button boots and a cloche hat.
    â€œEric’s got a new lady friend already,” said Doreen with a scowl. “Poor Vera’s not long in the grave and he’s off cavorting. Although—” She took in Angela’s appearance. “She doesn’t look his type. Men! They just can’t stand to be alone.”
    â€œHer name is Angela Parks,” I said. “She’s the new housekeeper cum parlor maid cum scullery maid, whatever they’re called these days.”
    â€œMaid-of-all-work, a skivvy,