Page 11 of A Very Bookish Murder (Ally McKinley Mystery #3)
NINE
The board was actually the back of a still-life painting positioned on the wall behind the kitchen table.
The painting was on a large square piece of wood, and featured an attractive mix of oranges, lemons and grapes, which Ally’s grandmother had, many years before, brought back from Italy, presumably from a holiday.
In her previous life as a researcher for a TV company in Edinburgh, Ally had found it very helpful to have a board on the wall on which to stick her findings, and eliminate the ones she no longer wanted or needed, using Post-its.
She’d found this method helpful in many ways since, and now, when the painting was removed from the wall and placed face down on the table, the plain wood back provided a good flat surface on which to mount Ally’s suspects.
To do this it was necessary to tack on a piece of paper, draw a large circle and treat it as a clock, in the middle of which was the victim’s name.
The chief suspect would then feature at the very top, at twelve o’clock, and the next most likely would be placed at eleven o’clock and one o’clock, whereas the least likely would be at the bottom, at six o’clock.
She didn’t actually write the numbers down but could visualise them.
So, after Morag had departed the following morning, Ally took the painting down from the wall, turned it over, laid it on the table, and got out the paper and the Post-its.
Having drawn the circle – tracing round a dinner plate – and secured it to the board, she then had to think about who her suspects were.
Firstly, she wrote Jodi’s name in the centre. Without a doubt, the main suspect had to be Della Moran, so Ally wrote ‘Della’ on her first Post-it and placed it at the top, at the imaginary twelve o’clock.
Since Hamish’s revelations about Penelope, Ally could hardly ignore the possibility of her ability to get rid of someone in her way, but she’d invited Jodi along to feature in the writers’ retreat so what on earth would be her motive?
Unless it was specifically to get the opportunity to murder Jodi?
They’d been at university at the same time as each other, so who knew what may have happened between them then, or what hatred or resentment may have lingered?
And what about Joyce? Joyce had admitted openly that she didn’t much like Jodi and that Jodi might have stolen one of her ideas too.
It made Ally wonder why Joyce had come on the course at all if that was how she felt about Jodi – was it possible that Joyce could have had an ulterior motive?
So maybe she should add Joyce to the board, at eleven o’clock perhaps?
And pop Penelope on at one o’clock? She had to begin somewhere .
Then there was Brigitte. Why had Brigitte been poking around in Jodi’s room?
Was she just checking it out for her husband’s arrival, or was she specifically looking for that diary?
Had she torn out that page of the diary which noted her meeting with Jodi, and, if so, why?
And what could the meeting possibly have been about that Brigitte felt the need to destroy any evidence of it?
Brigitte was certainly a suspect, so perhaps she should be placed at three o’clock?
Or should she be placed nearer the top? No, she’d put her at three o’clock, though she’d need to study her closely.
The beauty of this method was that she could then hang the painting back up on the wall and no one – especially her suspects – would know what lurked on the back!
However, there were seven suspects in all, all of whom admitted to visiting the ladies’ room in the period before Jodi’s death, and she really had to get to know them better if she was going to be any help at all to Detective Inspector Amir Kandahar.
The opportunity came when her four guests got back that evening. Brigitte was very excited because her husband was due to arrive the next afternoon.
It was Penelope, as usual, who, when they all congregated in the hall, said to Ally, ‘We have all been having a chat and we’ve decided to go ahead with our writing until Saturday, as planned.
Not that we’d probably be able to leave anyway since we’re all under suspicion,’ she added.
‘We’ll need to find out about that. But,’ she continued, ‘we hear that the funeral is likely to be around here somewhere, and I think, out of respect, we should attend that.’
‘We’ve all paid good money for this week,’ Joyce put in, ‘so why should we waste a couple of days?’
‘And so we wondered if you’d like to come down and give us a little talk tomorrow afternoon?’ said Millie.
‘ Me ?’ Ally was astounded. ‘I don’t know anything about writing!’
‘Perhaps not, but you must have had some interesting experiences in your life,’ Penelope said firmly, ‘which could give us inspiration for our stories.’
‘But I’m not at all interesting…’ Ally began.
‘Yes, you are !’ Penelope boomed. ‘You left Edinburgh to come up here to open a guest house, and you weren’t in your first flush of youth, were you?’
‘No, but?—’
‘No buts!’ ordered Joyce. ‘Just a chat about how you came here and what you had to do to get this place up and running.’
‘Maybe I should wait here tomorrow until after my husband will arrive,’ Brigitte said.
‘Just phone him and tell him to come to the Craigmonie,’ Millie suggested.
‘But—’ Brigitte began, interrupted by a forceful Penelope.
‘That’s settled then,’ Penelope roared. ‘You’ll give us a little talk tomorrow afternoon, Ally. Three o’clock in the Garden Room at the Craigmonie!’
No one argued.
‘What did you talk about today?’ Ally asked as they all fussed Flora, who had come bounding out of the kitchen.
‘It was Joyce’s turn today,’ Brigitte said, ‘and ask us what we don’t know about libraries !’
‘Libraries?’ Ally asked.
‘Yes, I was a librarian,’ Joyce said, ‘right up until I retired a couple of years back.’ She paused. ‘Graham and I never had children, you see, so I always worked.’
‘You must be an expert on books then,’ Ally remarked.
‘She was chief librarian,’ Penelope added in her usual loud fashion, ‘so she knows a good book when she sees it!’
‘Did the job make you think that you could perhaps write too?’ Ally asked, turning to Joyce.
Joyce nodded. ‘I’d always written essays and things, and then I began to write short stories, mainly about pioneering women and older women.
I only sent some to Jodi for editorial advice, and I still say she copied a couple of my ideas.
It’s interesting that I was not the only one.
Anyway, I’m exhausted and ready for bed. ’
There were general murmurs of agreement, and the women headed upstairs.
And so Ally found herself standing in front of the group of twelve women at three o’clock the next afternoon. It wasn’t as scary as she’d thought because they were all really friendly and asked lots of questions, which made it very informal.
They were particularly interested to know about Ally’s life as a TV researcher.
‘I had to keep finding out about stuff, and it had to be accurate, of course. One minute it might be to get the background of some celebrity or politician who was about to be interviewed, which could be pretty boring unless you came across some naughty incidents! Then, if it was a costume drama, say, I’d have to help the wardrobe department research the clothing, or help the props department on the interiors.
Every day was different, and I loved it.
The trouble is,’ Ally admitted, ‘it’s made me very nosy! ’
There followed the usual questions:
‘Did you get to meet lots of famous people?’
‘Did you get to travel?’
‘Oh yes, I met a few – mainly politicians – and, before we relied on the internet for everything, I did have to travel occasionally. Usually to London but once to Avignon, in the South of France, and once to Milan.’ Ally thought fondly of her long-past trips.
‘What made you want to buy The Auld Malthouse?’ they asked.
‘It was just an old storehouse for the malt they made the whisky from, unused and unloved, and no one else seemed interested in buying it,’ Ally replied.
‘When did you first see it?’
‘When I was on holiday.’
‘How did your family react?’
‘Well,’ said Ally, ‘they thought I’d gone completely bonkers!
I was sixty-six then, and it took a couple of years to buy it and convert the building and so, not unreasonably I suppose, they thought that at that age I should be sitting in my senior’s apartment knitting and doing crosswords!
’ Ally went on to tell them about the village in general, about some of the characters, their attitude to incomers and their love of gossip.
‘And you met a man !’ prompted Joyce.
Ally could feel herself blushing. ‘I had a puppy, you see, and I had to take her to the vet for her jabs, and he was on duty. I’d expected to see his son, who is the official vet round here, but he was delivering a calf or something and so his father was dragged out of retirement to stand in for him.
’ Ally paused, then added truthfully, ‘Lucky for me!’
‘Wow!’ exclaimed Della. ‘New home! New life! New man!’
‘Something like that,’ Ally agreed.
‘There’s going to be a mass immigration of single women up to Locharran now!’ joked Millie.
Just then, the tea trolley arrived and everyone rushed to help themselves to refreshments. Standing a little to the side of the group and balancing a cup and saucer in one hand, Ally found herself next to the woman from Cornwall.
‘Morwenna, isn’t it?’ she asked.
Morwenna nodded. ‘That’s me. Morwenna Davies.’
‘Such a lovely Cornish name,’ Ally remarked.