Page 23 - WaitingForMurder

that Mum was looking for when she finds out the results. They’re mysteries, but really slow mysteries. I’m hoping that Newspaper Woman and her bodies might be more productive. But I don’t even know exactly where Newspaper Woman lives. Or her name or anything. I suppose I could go and
look around the village.
Ten bongs.
And the quarter bong.
Perhaps I should go towards the village? Perhaps
Florence’s forgotten. Perhaps she’s really flaky.
I’m dithering when she comes running towards me over the dam, her sandals slapping the stone and her hair bouncing. Alongside her bounds a small dog that barrels into my legs and starts sniffing my
feet and then looks up at me expectantly.
“Sorry, sorry – late because of the washing-up,
which was Emma’s fault.”
“S’fine. Hello, dog,” I say, putting my hand out. The dog ignores the hand; it’s definitely more
interested in feet. I don’t really understand dogs.
“Emma’s gone on the bus to town with Adam.
Tony, our uncle, says it’s a holiday romance – it
won’t last. How was your night? How were the
Waiting for Murder by Fleur Hitchcock Uncorrected Sample
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