Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 Sue Nicholls (best short books to read TXT) 📖

Affronted, Kitty raised her voice half an octave. ‘It’s not a jolly, it’s an important assignment, and Sam is like a brother to me. He is not my lover.’

It made no difference what she said. She flirted and begged, reasoned and flounced, but the aging Editor was firm. ‘It’s a wild goose chase. If you want to go then talk to your bank manager.’

At her look of frustration, he conceded, ‘Tell you what: If the story turns out well, I’ll reimburse you.’

Well, that was something. She was in no doubt that the story would run, so she slapped twelve hundred pounds on her credit card and tried not to think about the interest.

Before they left, Sam made a phone call to the local police on the island and organised a meeting at their headquarters, on their second day.

Once on the plane, Kitty sat, squashed against the window by a sleeping Sam, and pulled the well-thumbed court transcript from her bag. She knew it by heart, but still she read it again. In his testimony, her father said he followed Fee and hid behind a bush to watch her sit on the ground and dangle her feet over the cliff edge. In the distance, Max exited the restaurant carrying two wine glasses and looked around, as though searching for his wife. When he noticed her at the top of the crag, he dropped the glasses and crept up behind her, empty-handed. She turned towards him, unbalancing her body, and with a shove, he sent her plunging onto the cruel rocks below. He must have seen his chance and acted on impulse.

For his part, Max told the court he was carrying two glasses of wine across the wide stretch of ground between the restaurant and the outcrop. He had taken a few steps, when Paul broke from the scrub and charged at Fee’s back. When she turned her head to see who was behind her, Paul’s palms crashed into her back, and she disappeared over the edge. Max dropped the glasses and rushed to the place where, on his knees, he was confronted by the distressing sight of Fee’s body splattered on the rocks below, washed back and forth by the waves. Staring down at her, he struggled at first to take in what had happened, and when he forced his eyes away, Paul had already run about two hundred yards and was crouched near the bushes, talking on his phone.

~~~

To Kitty’s relief, they landed with hardly a bounce. She stared out at the hot tarmac and the distant sea, recalling her first visit, all those years before.

In the airport concourse, they hefted their bags from the carousel and tramped outside into the shivering heat, in search of a cab.

‘Francaise? Alemande?’ demanded their driver.

‘English.’ Sam said.

‘OK. English is good,’ the driver returned.

He propelled his Toyota Corolla along well-maintained roads towards the south of the island. ‘You are here on holiday? Honeymoon maybe?’ He winked in the mirror, then, at the silence from behind, muttered an apology.

‘We’re here to work.’ Kitty told him. ‘Journalists - investigating a murder that occurred in the eighties.’

His eyes opened wider. ‘A murder? Was it not solved?’

‘Not to our satisfaction.’ Kitty glanced at Sam. ‘Maybe you remember it. The woman was here on her honeymoon. She was killed by her new husband.’

In the small rectangle of mirror, the eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Was that near here?’

‘To the south. Where we’re heading. There was a restaurant nearby, Le Chamarel?’

‘It is still there. I am familiar with it because it is owned by my in-laws - is that how you say it; the parents of my wife?’

‘Yes, your in-laws. Your English is very good.’

The eyes blinked at Kitty, and she pressed on, ‘How long have they owned the place?’

‘Forever.’ The corners of the eyes, crinkled. ‘My father-in-law’s father took it over from his father. A long history.’

‘Wow. Does your wife help there too?’

‘We have seven children. She has no time for such a thing.’

Sam broke in. ‘Seven children. You have your hands full. That’s a lot of taxi trips.’

The driver looked puzzled, and Sam explained, ‘I mean, you need to work hard to support your family.’

‘Ah.’ The driver, whose name according to his license on the dashboard, was Michel, nodded fast. ‘Yes. Many taxi trips.’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Yes, I work hard. Fortunately, there are a lot of tourists wanting lifts at all times of the day and night.’

There was a brief silence, and they watched the unexceptional scenery fly past, then Kitty persisted, ‘Do you remember the crime we’re talking about?’

‘I do, but not well. I was a teenager. I was more interested in cars and girls than what was happening on the island.’ He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes flicking to the road to negotiate a car and a lorry, then back to the mirror to look at Kitty. ‘I remember much agitation. I think my wife’s papa, Sebastien, will be able to tell you more about it.’

Kitty murmured to Sam, ‘Perhaps we should try Le Chamarel while we’re here.’ She raised her voice. ‘Do you think your father-in-law would meet with us some time?’

‘You can always find him at the restaurant. He is there day and night but go midmorning or late afternoon and he will be less busy.’

The taxi pulled up outside a guest house with a narrow, unadorned frontage and a door that opened straight onto the busy pavement. While Sam dragged their bags from the boot, Kitty dug in her wallet for the wad of currency she picked up at the airport. As she passed a note through the driver’s open window, she said, ‘Keep the change, Michel. You’ve been an immense help.’

The man beamed out at her. ‘I hope I can be of