Then there was Ollie Pratt’s wife, Gloria. Neither Ollie nor Gloria had struck her as being likely opera enthusiasts, but Ollie had obviously been converted. There was no way that elegant, cultured Edina was likely to have fancied Ollie, but she, like many ladies living on their own, would have been grateful for someone to do odd jobs. As his reward she would have introduced him to the beauty of operatic music as opposed to rewarding him by any other method and he might have become besotted, not only with Edina herself, but by the world she’d inhabited and the music he’d never troubled to listen to before. This could have made Gloria jealous – her husband in a world of which she was not a part and unable to appreciate. She may well have felt like doing away with Edina but how could she have carried the boxes into the flat and doctored the meals without Ollie seeing her? However, Kate remembered from her notes that Gloria was a diabetic so she would have had syringes available. And Kate also knew, from all the whodunnits she’d read and watched, that poison was more likely to be a woman’s weapon of choice.
So that left the Potter twins: two old ladies with no apparent motive other than they hadn’t got the flat they’d wanted. There was also Hetty. Should she remove these three from The List and concentrate on the Starkeys, who were an unknown quantity? Firstly, there was Sharon who had, after all, been suspected of tripping Edina down the stairs. And what about Stan himself; perhaps he’d aided and abetted his wife to position the cord across the top of the stairs? Perhaps it had been his idea in the first place? All credible. They certainly had the means and the opportunity but what possible motive could they have?
Still top of the list as far as Kate was concerned was David Courtney. She needed to do some investigating there. In fact, now that the weather was turning a little cooler, she really needed a couple of new sweaters and there was nowhere in Tinworthy selling anything other than the dreaded crop-tops and pussy-pelmets. Where shopping was concerned the choices were always Exeter, Plymouth or Truro and, on this occasion, Kate decided it would be a good idea to head for Exeter. Exeter would fit the bill not only for sweaters, but to take a look at Courtney & Son Motors.
Fifteen
It had been a successful day, Kate reckoned, as she finally headed home from Exeter. She’d found two sweaters that she liked, in itself a miracle, in the right size and at the right price, which was even more of a miracle. As she drove out from the city centre she turned into the enormous Marsh Barton Trading Estate where the Courtney garage was situated. After getting totally lost twice, and ending up in three different cul-de-sacs, she’d almost given up before she finally located Courtney & Son, a shabby one-storey building with a selection of second-hand cars outside. It was wedged between two large, shiny main dealerships for brand-new cars, which was unfortunate to say the least, since its shabbiness was emphasised by its glamorous neighbours.
Kate wondered if she dared look, on the pretence of searching for a second-hand car, but was afraid David Courtney might come out and recognise her. It was surely worth a try, though, since there was no reason why she wouldn’t be looking for a used car. Everyone knew nurses were not well paid and so it would be a normal thing to do.
Kate hesitated for only a moment then decided to get out and browse. After all what was the point of coming all this way and then not investigating properly? She wandered along the lines of cars, feigning interest in a five-year-old Ford Focus and an eight-year-old Honda Civic, all the time keeping an eye on the shabby-looking office. Eventually the door opened and out sauntered David Courtney in jeans and a leather jacket. He stopped outside the door and lit a cigarette.
‘Need any help?’ he asked without enthusiasm as he strolled across to where she was standing. Then, running his fingers along the roof of the Ford, said, ‘Hang on a minute, don’t I know you?’
‘We met at Seaview Grange, I seem to recall,’ Kate said casually. ‘I’m just browsing, trying to get an idea of what it might cost for me to change my car.’
After several deep drags on his cigarette he asked, ‘What car have you got?’
‘Oh, a Fiat Punto,’ Kate replied.
He sniffed. ‘Nice car, we could do part-exchange.’
‘Well, I haven’t decided yet whether to keep it or sell it,’ Kate said hastily, ‘but I thought this looked like a good place to look for a bargain.’
He took another deep drag of his cigarette and, tilting back his head, blew the smoke skyward. ‘Don’t you live in Tinworthy?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Kate said. ‘I was shopping in Exeter and this is on my way home.’
He narrowed his eyes and ground out the cigarette under the heel of his shoe. ‘I remember you now; you were the nurse who visited my stepmother when she had her leg in plaster and I’ve seen you around a few times since. They told me she’s been poisoned.’
‘Yes, I had heard,’ Kate replied.
‘She was a tight-fisted old bitch,’ he said, ‘but it wasn’t me who poisoned her. The police haven’t wasted any time in sniffing around here and I told them – she upset a lot of people so they’d be spoilt for choice. Just for starters Old Crow next door hated her guts. Mind you, he had to listen to her screeching away every day. And Gloria Pratt’s an evil cow – wouldn’t put it past her. Your surgery hasn’t come out of this smelling of roses either.’
Kate decided to ignore his insinuation. ‘I’m sure they’ll soon find the killer,’ she said without conviction.
‘In the
