Free Murder at the Lighthouse: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 1) by Frances Evesham Page B

face wore the slightly anxious look of a middle-aged man, whose mirror proves his youth is disappearing fast. He led her inside. “Max rang to say you’d be coming.” So it was Max who gave the game away. Annoying man. She’d lost the element of surprise. “Anyway,” Guy shrugged. “Susie was all over the local news. I thought I’d hear something from Exham. When’s the funeral?
    Was the man upset? Libby couldn’t tell. The pupils of his eyes were big and dark. He pushed wire-rimmed glasses further up a long nose, and waved at a selection of wines and spirits on a breakfast bar. “Drink?”
    The huge, airy kitchen was clean and, unlike Guy himself, at the cutting edge of modern design. Libby flicked her gaze round the room, finding no sign of a wife or children among the uncompromising shine of black granite and glassy smooth white paint. She shook her head. “I’m driving, but I’d love a coffee.”
    “Ah. Good choice.” A wannabe barista? Guy clattered around the huge, gleaming chrome of the coffee machine with milk jugs and coffee. Libby hid a smile. Whatever had happened to Kenco and hot water?
    The coffee, when it arrived at last, was perfect. “So, you found Susie on the beach. That’s sad. Not quite the dramatic end I’d expect of her. She’d have preferred something outrageous, like a mistimed bungee jump.” When he smiled, he showed beautiful white teeth. They must be the result of the band’s success in America. “The drink, was it?”
    There was no reason to hide the truth. “In fact, she had been drinking, but it looks more like murder.”
    That caught the man’s attention. He blinked. “Seriously?”
    Libby pressed on, glad to have dented his calm surface. Now, maybe he’d forget any prepared speeches. “There are a few suspects. I imagine the police will visit you, soon.”
    A flash of consciousness, a widening of the eyes, told Libby she’d hit a nerve. He glanced around the kitchen, and she realised what had seemed odd about him. His gaze vague, eyes dark, behaviour too casual. The man was stoned. Libby wondered where he kept the drugs. “Excuse me.” He stepped outside the kitchen, into the hall, and called up the stairs. “Alvin?”
    “Yeah. What is it?” A younger man, in his twenties, hair longer, mussed up, sleeveless t-shirt showing muscled arms, leaned over the banisters.
    “Clean things up, will you?”
    The younger man frowned, puzzled for a moment, then his brow cleared. “Right. OK.”
    Libby gulped down the coffee. She had to get her questions out before he cut their conversation short. He’d want time to clear the house of incriminating drug paraphernalia. “I just wanted to find out about Susie. What happened after all those albums, when she came back to Exham, and why? Those sorts of things.”
    He shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Didn’t know she was here. The band broke up, years ago, and we all lost touch. We made a bit of money. I had enough to buy this place.” He looked around the kitchen, beaming. “Bought a house for my mother, as well. She’s in a care home, now, but she had a good few years.”
    “What about Susie’s marriage?”
    The smile faded. He shrugged. “Usual showbiz thing. Mickey found a newer, younger model. You know: longer legs, blonder hair. Anyway, Susie lost her spark when…”
    He stopped, licked his lips and shot a sideways glance at Libby. She let the pause go on as she rinsed her cup and dried it, but Guy showed no sign of telling her any more details. She’d have to prompt. “OK. I know about the little girl that died. Annie.”
    “Annie Rose, yeah. Cute little thing.” The lines on Guy’s face softened. Libby glimpsed a warmer, kinder man somewhere under the surface. “Broke Susie’s heart when little Annie died.”
    “And Mickey’s too?”
    “What? Oh, yeah, of course. He was upset. We all were. That’s when Susie said she couldn’t go on. We tried to talk her out of it, but who could blame her? Something like