Kennedy 03 - Where Petals Fall Read Free

hair, had owned a thriving health and fitness centre.
    ‘There must be differences,’ she insisted.
    ‘Yeah?’ Max didn’t look convinced.
    ‘Had coins been put on her eyes?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Despite the heat of the day, Jill felt chilled. If she’d made a mistake and The Undertaker was still alive –
    ‘What else have you got?’ she asked.
    ‘Not a lot yet. Someone had thrown up about three yards away from the body,’ he told her, ‘and we don’t think it was the victim. She was dead before she got there.’
    ‘The killer? Surely not.’
    ‘Perhaps he’d eaten a dodgy prawn,’ Max replied. ‘Although I expect it’s more likely to be the person who found her. Not a pretty sight.’
    ‘Who was that?’
    ‘We don’t know. Someone made an anonymous call. It sounded like a young kid.’ He tossed his cigarette butt into the hedge. A thin spiral of smoke appeared, and Jill wondered if she would have to phone the fire service. Then he emptied his mug and got to his feet. ‘I’ll have to go.’ He reached for her hand and absently stroked her fingers. ‘Sorry about last night.’
    ‘It’s OK,’ she replied, grudgingly.
    ‘I’ll call in later this evening, shall I?’ he asked.
    ‘If you like.’
    He dropped a brief, rare kiss on her forehead – an apology perhaps – and strode off.
    He was the other side of her lawn when she called out, ‘Eddie Marshall is dead, Max!’
    ‘Is he?’ And he was out of sight.
    A cloud passed in front of the sun, causing Jill to shiver again. Edward Marshall was dead. The fact that his body had never been found had no bearing on that at all. He had to be dead.

Chapter Three
    Mowing the lawn was hard work and, when it was done, Jill vowed to keep on top of it. If she kept the grass short, it was much easier. For one thing, she didn’t have the job of raking up the clippings and that was more exhausting than cutting the stuff in the first place.
    ‘Coo-ee!’
    Jill emerged from her shed to see the owner of that voice, Ella Gardner, walking around the back of her cottage.
    ‘You should keep your doors locked,’ Ella greeted her, ‘until they’ve found the lowlife responsible for this spate of burglaries.’
    ‘I should, Ella.’ Jill was still breathing hard.
    ‘Mind,’ Ella sighed, ‘there are few that do in Kelton. We’ve never had a need to until now.’
    Ella took the fact that four houses in Kelton Bridge had been burgled as a personal affront. The unknown burglar or burglars were breaking in during broad daylight – no small achievement given the prying nature of local residents – when the occupants were on holiday. How they came by their information was a mystery. Only one of the victims had booked their holiday online, and two of the victims didn’t even have an internet connection, so they weren’t after a computer hacker.
    ‘You look worn out, girl,’ Ella noted belatedly, and Jill laughed.
    ‘I am. I’ve mown the lawn,’ she explained, ‘and now I’m going to sit under the lilac tree with a well-deserved glass of something cold. Will you join me, Ella, and make it worthwhile opening a bottle?’
    ‘I’m delivering the church magazines,’ Ella replied, flicking through the handful she was carrying. ‘I’m sure it grieves them to let a cantankerous old atheist like me do it, but as Joan’s done her ankle in, they don’t have much choice.’
    Jill laughed. ‘Was that a yes or a no?’
    ‘Go on then. Thanks, Jill. Having the magazines delivered by a drunken cantankerous old atheist could well be a first for the village.’
    Ella was a great one for walking, and was often seen striding round the village at a cracking pace. Yet, dressed in cream-coloured linen trousers, and loose sleeveless pink top, she was managing to look cool. Jill, in desperate need of a shower, and wearing an old pair of cut-off jeans, felt like a tramp by comparison.
    Jill had been friends with Ella almost from the moment she’d moved to Kelton Bridge. Ella,