Murder in the Blood Read Free Page B

drenched here once.’
    Abdi was another local who remembered Guy from years before. He handed round menus.
    â€˜He did. We took him into the kitchen.’ He beamed round the table. ‘Now, what would you like to drink?’
    It was just as they were paying their bill that Libby spotted Neal Parnham on his way back to the hotel.
    â€˜I’m going after him,’ she said, grabbing her bag and colliding with chairs.
    She caught up with him just before he reached the hotel.
    â€˜Mr Parnham!’ she panted. ‘Neal. Can I have a word?’
    He turned. ‘What about?’
    Libby frowned. ‘Well, what do you think?’ she said, breathing a little easier. ‘You told us you’d met the – er – body, and now the Jandarma want to talk to us again. Because of something you said. What did you say?’
    Neal Parnham’s face lengthened even more.
    â€˜I – oh. It’s so difficult when he doesn’t speak English.’
    â€˜Or you don’t speak Turkish. It’s their country,’ said Libby.
    Parnham looked at his feet. ‘Yes, of course. But he misunderstood – or Jimmy did. I said this man knew other English tourists in the village. The dead man, I mean.’
    â€˜And he thought you meant us? But you would have pointed us out, surely?’
    â€˜But I said I didn’t know who they were.’ Neal Parnham looked up. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve put you in a difficult position.’
    Libby sighed. ‘Oh, that’s all right. I see now how it happened. But how exactly did you come to meet him? Greta and Tom said they thought you knew someone in the village. It wasn’t him, was it?’
    â€˜Not – well, not exactly.’
    Libby noticed the others coming up behind. She took Neal’s arm. ‘Come on. Come in and have a drink with us. You look as though you could do with some company.’
    He looked round at the six smiling faces and seemed to relax. ‘That would be good, thank you.’
    Greta and Tom were sitting at a table with Lady Pink Hair and her bushy-moustached husband, who appeared to be taking no part in the conversation, merely looking as if he had a bad smell under his nose. Probably rising from his moustache, thought Libby.
    Greta raised a hand and smiled, but Libby was already shepherding her party to a table near the pool.
    â€˜Tell us where you met the dead man,’ said Fran, when they were settled in their seats and Peter and Harry had gone for drinks. ‘You have a friend in the village?’
    â€˜Yes. Well, someone I met here, actually.’ Neal sat back in his chair and took off his straw trilby. ‘Before you came.’
    â€˜How long have you been here?’ asked Libby.
    â€˜Three weeks. I’m on a sort of extended break.’ Neal looked up and smiled as Harry put a beer glass before him. ‘Thank you.’
    â€˜When are you going home?’ asked Libby. ‘Sorry if I’m being nosy …’
    â€˜She’s always nosy,’ said Ben. ‘Sorry.’
    Neal, now looking much more relaxed, smiled again. ‘Oh, I don’t mind. It was just so horrible being questioned and … well, when they showed me that photograph …’
    â€˜A shock,’ said Fran. ‘Of course it was. So you met him –?’
    â€˜Chap I met on the beach, Justin, has a house in the village. He invited me for lunch and dinner a couple of times, and introduced us.’
    â€˜And he’s an English resident?’
    â€˜Yes, there’s quite a little group of ex-pats here.’
    â€˜And he knows other visitors?’ said Guy.
    â€˜Oh, yes. They were talking about the regulars – the people who come back every year. I gather that those people do.’ Neal indicated Greta and Tom.
    â€˜And did they know the same people?’ asked Libby.
    â€˜Oh, there seem to be some who everyone knows. And they all have their particular