Page 29 of A Very Bookish Murder (Ally McKinley Mystery #3)
‘Yes, I bloody well do! And if it wasn’t her, then it must have been Della,’ bellowed Penelope, looking around.
‘I can’t imagine any of us would do such things!
I still think the police were extremely premature in permitting that Della woman to go, just because some bloke in the bar saw her at a distance. Bloody ridiculous!’
‘He had probably had a few drinks anyway,’ Brigitte added for good measure, draining her glass. ‘My God, I enjoyed that! But I must not get into the habit of drinking the alcohol at lunchtime.’
‘But you’re French !’ Penelope reminded her. ‘I thought the French drink all day.’
‘No, they do not!’ Brigitte snapped. ‘They drink with their food or for special occasions.’
‘This is a special occasion,’ Millie said, ‘because this time tomorrow we’ll all have packed up and be ready to leave.’
‘After we’ve been to that damned funeral,’ said Penelope.
Ally decided she should enlighten them about Rigby.
‘We all need to act with decorum tomorrow,’ she said, looking around, ‘because Jodi Jones turned out to be the long-lost sister of Detective Inspector Rigby, the gentleman who had the cardiac arrest at the hotel after Jodi was discovered. Which was probably due to finding out that she was his sister.’
There were exclamations of horror all around.
‘That poor man!’ Penelope said. ‘How awful! I think I’m going to need another G Brigitte sported an off-the-shoulder red sweater and black leggings; Morwenna was actually wearing a dress, a blue woollen one, and Millie arrived wearing a white jumper and a vividly patterned floral skirt.
George appeared briefly, gave Brigitte a quick peck on the cheek and announced to all and sundry, ‘I’m off for some Italian nosh and a few beers.
I might even join you for coffee later!’
‘Off we go then!’ bawled Penelope in her usual bossy manner, leading the way.
Despite being damp, it wasn’t actually raining, so plastic macs were hastily folded up and squeezed into their bags, ‘Just in case the heavens open up later,’ Millie said.
On the walk down to the Craigmonie, Millie asked, ‘Does anyone know what happens at humanist funerals?’
‘I haven’t a clue,’ Penelope admitted, ‘but it probably involves dancing or chanting or something.’
‘Oh, surely not,’ said Morwenna. ‘Anyway, I haven’t brought any funereal clothes with me, so I’ll just have to wear my beige mac.’
‘I shall wear this dark-blue coat,’ said Brigitte, ‘because I’m mainly concerned with keeping warm.’
‘I shall wear a hat,’ Millie announced.
‘A hat !’ the others exclaimed.
‘I always wear a hat to a funeral,’ Millie said, ‘out of respect. It’s what I was brought up to do.’
‘You brought a hat with you?’ Morwenna asked.
‘No,’ said Millie. ‘I went to Inverness and bought one.’
‘Why on earth would you do that?’ Penelope asked, stopping in her tracks.
‘I told you why,’ Millie repeated. ‘Out of respect.’
By this time they’d arrived at the hotel and the subject of what to wear was discontinued. As Ally followed them into the restaurant, she wondered if she’d been too generous with the gin earlier and that it hadn’t loosened things up too much…