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Nova

“I call this emergency meeting of the St. Tredock Community Book Club to order,” Phyllis said, rapping her knuckle on the desk.

“Hang on a sec, who put her in charge?” Arthur grumbled.

“Technically, Nova’s our chair, so she should start the meeting,” Ash said.

“Can you all stop arguing, please!”

Nova looked at the ragtag group in front of her. Phyllis had clearly come straight from bed, as she was wearing an old-fashioned nightie under her coat and her hair was held in place by curlers. Arthur’s weathered face was still red and puffy from all the crying he’d done during his confession earlier, and Ash was tapping away on his phone, his teenage brow furrowed in concentration. When Nova had set up this book club, it never occurred to her that one day she’d be holding a late-night meeting with this motley crew. But then again, it never occurred to her that one day they’d be investigating a murder either.

“Are you sure your theory’s right?” Ash asked, looking up from his phone. “It just seems so unlikely.”

“I know it does, but how else do you explain all this?” Nova signaled to the evidence laid out on the desk in front of them.

“It’s all very well knowing who did it, but how are we going to prove it?” Arthur said. “This lot doesn’t mean anything unless we can get a confession, and that’s hardly likely to happen.”

Nova glanced at Phyllis, who had gone quiet. Too quiet. “You’ve got a plan, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” the older woman said indignantly.

“Let me guess; is it inspired by an Agatha Christie novel?” Ash asked.

“Haven’t I said all along that she’d have the answer?” Phyllis said. “Now, Nova, how would you feel about having a couple of extra guests at your wedding?”

Nova swallowed; in all the drama of the past hour, she’d barely thought about the fact she was getting married in little more than twelve hours’ time. Assuming the wedding went ahead and she wasn’t arrested before then, of course.

“Craig’s parents have invited most of the village to the church, so I suppose a few more guests won’t make any difference.”

“Excellent!” Phyllis turned to Arthur and Ash. “I hope you’ve both got clean suits, because tomorrow we’re going to catch a criminal: Miss Marple style.”