Murder in the Blood Read Free Page A

Sorry.’
    â€˜Things have changed a lot in the past few years,’ said a comfortably built elderly woman with pink hair. ‘We’ve been coming for over ten years and things are very different.’
    â€˜So,’ said Libby, determined to bring the conversation back to the dead Englishman, ‘no one except Mr Parnham there recognised him?’
    There was a mass shaking of heads.
    â€˜We don’t know anyone except a few bar and hotel owners,’ said the pink-haired lady. ‘And we don’t go far.’
    â€˜We go in to the market,’ said Greta, ‘and we have a drink in the village, sometimes with Sally.’
    â€˜Do you hire a car?’ asked Ben.
    â€˜Oh, no, dear. We have a taxi,’ said Greta. ‘We use them to go to the river restaurants, too.’
    â€˜River restaurants? Libby turned to Guy. ‘You haven’t told us about them?’
    â€˜I don’t think I ever went there,’ said Guy.
    â€˜Oh, there was only the one when you came here,’ said Tom. ‘There are three now. Lovely places.’
    â€˜We’ll go tomorrow,’ said Peter. ‘Harry’s very keen on trying as many different restaurants as he can.’
    â€˜Really?’ Greta looked interested. ‘You like food, then?’
    â€˜I’m a chef,’ said Harry, with a grin. Several of the other people leant forward. ‘I have a Mexican vegetarian restaurant called The Pink Geranium.’
    â€˜Nearly vegetarian,’ said Libby.
    â€˜Yes, petal, nearly.’
    â€˜How, nearly?’ asked the pink lady’s husband, a short, bushy-moustached individual.
    â€˜I branched out,’ said Harry. ‘I now do a selection of non-vegetarian dishes in a separate kitchen.’
    â€˜Why separate?’ asked Bushy Moustache.
    â€˜You can’t cook meat – or even prepare it – in a veggie kitchen, dear,’ explained his wife.
    â€˜Bloody nonsense,’ said Bushy Moustache, and buried his face in his beer glass.
    Mr Parnham left the table with the Jandarma officers and approached the group by the bar.
    â€˜Everything all right?’ asked Guy.
    Parnham frowned.
    â€˜I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘You see, I’d met him.’

Chapter Three
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Did you know him?’
    The questions seemed to distress Mr Parnham.
    â€˜I – I don’t know. Do excuse me.’ He gave an odd little bow and walked swiftly away from the bar towards the beach.
    â€˜Oh, dear,’ said Libby. ‘We upset him.’
    â€˜Let’s go and find dinner,’ said Harry. ‘It’s really nothing to do with us, is it?’
    The group stood up and said goodbye to their fellow guests, but as they stepped out on to the beach road, the senior Jandarma officer came up behind them with Jimmy trailing in his wake.
    â€˜He says he will want to talk to you again,’ said Jimmy. ‘Something Mr Parnham said.’
    The officer gave a curt nod and strode past them to his blue van. His two cohorts scampered after him.
    â€˜What’s Mr Parnham’s other name?’ asked Fran.
    â€˜Neal, I think. This is the first time he’s been here.’ Jimmy turned back to the bar. ‘I shall see you later.’
    â€˜And what could Neal Parnham have said about us that would make the Jandarma want to speak to us again?’ said Libby, watching the blue van turn round at the end of the bay to make its way back along the road and out of the village.
    â€˜Next time we see him we’ll ask him,’ said Ben. ‘Come on woman. I’m starving.’
    Fifty yards from the hotel, Abdi’s tiny courtyard restaurant just about had room to fit them in.
    â€˜You eat outside everywhere here, don’t you?’ said Libby, sniffing appetising smells wafting from the kitchen at the back.
    â€˜Except when it rains,’ said Guy. ‘I remember getting