Free Murder on the Levels: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 2) by Frances Evesham Page A

chocolates.
    She groaned. What if it was just one flavour? The lemon meringue, perhaps? She’d had one of those. Kevin ate several. Head thumping, Libby sank on to a stool. She tried to concentrate, through rising panic. Come on, you’re supposed to be an investigator.
    She had an idea. To rule out the chocolates as the source of poison, she needed to know who’d eaten which flavour. What’s more, she had to find out before the police decided the chocolates were to blame.
    One part of Libby’s brain was shouting at her, telling her not to be irrational, but it was too late. She was sweating, her heart hammering. It wasn’t just about the police finding out, any more, or what might happen to her. She had to know it wasn’t her fault. She needed to be sure she hadn’t killed those two men.
    If only Max was here, she could talk to him. It would be all right. He’d find a way to prove it wasn’t her fault. But, Max was away. There was no one else.
    Wait. Simon Logan had been in the shop, had eaten chocolates, and hadn’t died. Libby could find out which ones he’d sampled. He was so calm and in control. Even the thought of speaking to him made Libby feel better. He’d know what to do. Why hadn’t she thought of him before? He’d made it clear he liked her.
    How could she get in touch? Mandy would know. Mandy knew everybody. It took Libby three attempts to dial the numbers on the phone, her fingers shook so much. As Mandy answered, Libby gabbled, “Simon Logan, he was in the bakery with the cycle club. Do you know where he lives.”
    “Ooh, Mrs F. You do fancy him, after all. I knew it. I said he was perfect for you.”
    “No, I don’t fancy him.” Was that strictly true? “Stop giggling, Mandy, this is important. I need to speak to him.”
    “Well, that’s easy. He’s here.”
    “Here? Where are you?”
    “I told you. I’m with Steve at his aunt’s house, rehearsing for the concert. Her room’s got good acoustics, apparently, whatever that means. Simon’s here too. He plays the violin.”
    “I’m on my way.”
    ***
    Angela lived in a small village, just outside Exham. The Citroen crunched up the gravel entrance and Angela waved from the window. “So glad you’ve come. Yes, let Bear come in. He’s very well-behaved.” She took off her spectacles and peered at Libby’s face. “You’re rather pale.”
    “I’m fine, thanks. Still tired, that’s all.”
    Angela patted her hand. “We wanted to get on with our rehearsal as soon as we could. Let me introduce you to everyone. You know Mandy and my nephew, Steve, don’t you?” Steve winked. “Marina’s here, of course, although she doesn’t play an instrument.” Marina never missed a social occasion. “And here’s Chesterton Wendlebury. Have you met?”
    Libby’s hand was engulfed in Chesterton Wendlebury’s warm grasp. “Delighted to meet you again, dear lady.”
    Angela explained, “Chester plays the cello. And here’s Alice Ackerman, a friend of Steve’s from Wells, who’s helping us out on the viola.”
    Alice wore a very low-cut red T-shirt, skin-tight jeans and a winsome expression, and Steve was standing very close to her. Libby glanced at Mandy. Arms folded across her chest, eyes narrowed, she held Steve’s friend, Alice, in a steely glare.
    Libby extracted her hand from Chesterton Wendlebury’s, “I’m sorry to interrupt you all.”
    His voice boomed. “Quite all right, my dear. We needed a breather.”
    Angela steered Libby to the back of the room. “Have a cup of tea while we finish, then we’ll all have a glass of wine.”
    Libby whispered. “I had a visit from the police, just now.”
    “No wonder you’re looking pale. Was it Ian Smith? He’s always been a bully. No wonder he’s still only a constable.”
    Desperate to talk to Simon, Libby had no option but to wait and listen to the rehearsal. The players stopped from time to time, to repeat a phrase or correct a mistake, and Chesterton called a complete halt