Murder at the Lighthouse: An Exham on Sea Cosy Mystery (Exham on Sea Cosy Crime Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

an entanglement. Not now, as she started to build the life she’d always wanted.
    The linen shift dress was elegant, and a shade of pale rose that brought colour to her cheeks, but it creased too much, and anyway, the neckline was too low. She tossed it on the bed. This wasn’t a date.
    She tried a silk dress with a high waist and flared skirt that made her look girly. “Mutton dressed as lamb ,” she told Fuzzy, who rolled on the linen dress, covering it with ginger and white hairs.
    Libby shooed the cat away and pulled out a pair of black evening trousers, matching them with a white shirt. There, that didn’t give out any awkward signals. It was neat and business-like, but the trousers were well cut and the subtle embroidery, like damask, made them chic enough for evening. A silver chain round her neck, a heavy silver cuff on her wrist, and a squirt of scent completed her preparation, just in time. The bell rang as she left the room.
    He was early. Libby ran downstairs, stomach fluttering, took a breath and opened the door. Mandy, hair wildly backcombed into an unruly bird’s nest, rested a foot on the doorstep as if poised for retreat. In one hand, she hefted an unwieldy backpack with a black t-shirt spilling out of the top. The other hand was at her mouth, teeth tearing at a black-painted fingernail. She dropped the hand long enough to whisper, “Did you mean it? Can I really come to stay?”
    “Of course you can stay.” Mandy staggered into the hallway and Libby took the bag. “Good heavens, whatever have you got in there?”
    Mandy made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sniff. “My laptop. And some books.”
    Books? Mandy? “Well, you’re welcome to stay. Does your Mum know you’re here?”
    “I didn’t tell her.” Mandy’s fingernail was back in her mouth. She looked like a frightened child.
    “You should let her know. Won’t she worry?”
    “I’ll ring her later. Dad won’t be back tonight. He’s going out drinking with his old mates and staying over at the Watson’s place.” Maybe Samantha would keep an eye on Mandy’s father: help him stay out of trouble. Libby would ask Max about Mandy’s dad, this evening. He’d know what to do. His son was a police officer.
    Mandy, gaining confidence once the front door closed, perched on a stool in the kitchen, gazing round the room, eyes wide. “Wow. What a place, Mrs Forest.”
    “Call me Libby. Now, I have to go out this evening, but the bed’s made up in the spare room. I won’t be late. Make yourself at home and help yourself to anything you can find.”
    Mandy was scooping walnut brownies from a tin when Max arrived. “Don’t worry about me.” She looked from Libby to Max and back, the hint of a smile on her face. She’d be on Facebook before Libby and Max were out of the drive. By tomorrow, everyone in town would know they’d been out for dinner.
    Max drove a comfortable, well-used Range Rover. Bear lay in the back, greeting Libby with a bark. “Hello to you, too,” she said, pulling his ears.
    Max raised his eyebrows. “Hope you don’t mind if Bear comes too. He likes the White House.”
    The restaurant was by the river, a string of tables lining the bank. There was an autumn chill. Good job she’d brought a jacket. Libby rejected Max’s polite invitation to eat inside. Bear made himself at home, disappearing into the reeds on the river bank, searching for a succession of sticks for Max to throw.
    “If you grew up in Exham, you must know just about everybody in town.” Libby had spent all her life, until now, in West London. “I meet a new person one day, like Mandy at the bakery, and next day I drop into the newsagent and find her mother works there. It’s like a spider’s web.”
    “It’s useful. If you need a job done, you can always find a friend or relative of someone you know, who can help.”
    “I need someone to renovate my bathroom. Any ideas?”
    He tapped his fingers on the table. “There’s always Bert,