Deadly Stuff Read Online Free Page A

carefully made-up greenish hazel eyes.
    ‘Afraid so,’ the man said. Then, spotting Jenny over his companion’s shoulder, he smiled tentatively.
    Jenny, taking up the invitation, moved closer.
    ‘Hello. How was dinner?’ she asked, getting straight to the point.
    The blonde woman started a little, her gaze going up, and up, until it met Jenny’s own, and a brief look of consternation crossed her face. Like a lot of small women, she seemed a little at a loss how to react to someone of Jenny’s stature.
    ‘Dinner was actually surprisingly good,’ the woman said uncertainly. ‘At these conferences, you come to expect fairly standard fare. You know, overcooked chicken and bland veggies. But for once, the hype in the brochures matched up to the reality.’
    Jenny grinned. ‘Music to my ears. I cooked it.’ She held outher hand. ‘Jenny Starling, I’m the cook for the summer here at St Bede’s.’
    ‘Oh! Right. Vicki Voight. I’m the treasurer of our little band of brothers, for my sins.’ She smiled widely, but her eyes, Jenny noticed, looked genuinely strained.
    Jenny shook hands. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
    ‘And this is James Raye.’
    Jenny’s hand took his and held it a moment longer. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said. And meant it. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Which, of course, didn’t necessarily mean much nowadays, but was at least an auspicious start. As was the unmistakable look of interest in those pansy-brown eyes of his.
    ‘Likewise. Very much so,’ he said, somewhat clumsily. ‘And the dinner, by the way, was superb. The scallops were a triumph.’
    Jenny, who rather liked a bit of tongue-tied shyness in a good-looking man, smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘Most people scorn flattery. But I’ve nothing against it, personally.’
    James Raye laughed. ‘I’ll remember that.’
    Jenny felt rather than saw Vicki Voight stir impatiently beside her, and she wondered if they were a couple. If so, she needed to back off.
    ‘Is your husband here, Mrs Voight?’ she asked pleasantly.
    ‘Geoff? Good grief, no. He wouldn’t be seen dead at one of our conferences.’
    ‘Good thing too,’ James said. ‘Or else one of this lot would have him stuffed and mounted before he knew what had hit him.’
    Jenny chuckled, whilst Vicki gave him a playful swipe on his arm. ‘Don’t forget, you’re one of this lot too,’ she admonished.
    ‘Don’t remind me. How exactly did you persuade me to take up this hobby anyway?’ James asked, giving Vicki an arch look.
    ‘You were bored out of your mind, and at a loss after the divorce. Don’t try and deny it. You jumped at the chance to getout and about and meet new people.’
    Jenny’s ears pricked. Recently divorced, hmmm?
    ‘That might be so, but I’m still not sure it’s for me,’ he said. ‘So far, I haven’t been exactly wowing my fellow taxidermists. My domestic cat was somewhat less than a triumph.’
    Jenny blinked. OK. Best not go there.
    ‘Oh it takes practice. Years of it, if Maurice is to be believed,’ Vicki reassured him. ‘You should have seen my first efforts. But I swear that man thinks that he’s the only one who can stuff a tiger.’
    Jenny blinked again.
    ‘One of the local wild-life parks is expecting one of their oldest tigers to die soon, and the science department of a university in Cumbria is making noises about buying it and preserving it as a teaching aid for conservation,’ James explained, seeing her expression. ‘If they keep being poached in the wild like they are, a dead stuffed tiger is probably the only one the next generation is ever likely to see,’ he added grimly.
    ‘James is a bit of an eco-warrior,’ Vicki explained, a shade drily.
    Jenny nodded. He probably knew her mother, then. She was probably out somewhere camped in a forest and saving some trees from a bypass. ‘And will Maurice get the commission?’ she asked curiously.
    ‘Oh, The Greater Ribble has been approached, along with one or two