Read Online A Nice Class of Corpse by Simon Brett - Free Book Online Page B

mini-roller-coaster known as the Mouse Run gave the edifice the unfinished look of a building site. Mrs Mendlingham continued straight ahead, past the sad fairy-tale turrets of the Giant Slide.
    Mrs Pargeter was intrigued. Her reconnaissance of Littlehampton two days before had been thorough and, as far as she could remember, Mrs Mendlingham appeared to be walking into a dead end, a little corner between the beach and the river.
    Suddenly the plum-coloured figure was no longer visible.
    Mrs Pargeter did not increase her pace. There was nowhere Mrs Mendlingham could have gone, except into one of the sea-front shelters.
    These concrete structures were designed to keep the wind off the bench seats inside them, and on days when the wind was less blustery and erratic, perhaps they did. That morning they seemed only to attract little eddies of cold air, providing a home for the small hurricanes of the sea front. In one or two of them Mrs Pargeter saw old people propped in the corners, faces purple with cold between their scarves and hats, but showing rigid determination to get away for a little while from the four walls of their homes (or their Homes).
    Mrs Mendlingham was not sitting in the first group of shelters, but there were some others further on, with glass partitions, which faced over the river rather than the sea. As she rounded the corner of one of these, Mrs Pargeter saw the plum-coloured figure she was seeking. Mrs Mendlingham was hunched against the end wall of the shelter. One hand in a fingerless woollen glove held a hard-covered black notebook, while the other wrote in it at great speed.
    'Good morning.'
    The old wild eyes darted up sharply at Mrs Pargeter's words, and in one movement, almost too quick to be seen, the notebook and pen were concealed under the folds of the plum-coloured coat.
    'Good morning,' said Mrs Mendlingham. There was a slyness in her voice, the tone of someone congratulating herself on a successful deception.
    'Do you mind if I join you?'
    Mrs Mendlingham's expression was not welcoming, but she voiced no objection as Mrs Pargeter sat on to the bench and swaddled herself in the mink coat.
    In front of them the Arun flowed murkily. The tide was going out. A small fishing dinghy with an outboard motor swept past, tide-assisted, as if it were a power boat. The cold wind swirled and eddied around them.
    'You come out here to write?' asked Mrs Pargeter.
    Again the old face filled with suspicion and cunning. 'What if I do?'
    'Difficult to get privacy at the Devereux, I find. Even after my brief stay.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'It's the sort of place where everything you do seems to be observed.'
    This didn't prompt any reaction, so Mrs Pargeter made her point even clearer. 'Last night I was seen going into Mrs Selsby's room.'
    There was a sly smile from Mrs Mendlingham. 'Yes.'
    'An unlikely time to be awake . . .'
    'I don't sleep well these days.'
    'No. No, it does seem more difficult as one gets older, doesn't it? Do you have anything to help you sleep?'
    Mrs Mendlingham snorted dismissively. 'The doctor gives me pills. They work for a little while. But after two or three hours I wake again.'
    Mrs Pargeter nodded. 'Every night?'
    'Most nights.'
    'How did you come to see me last night? I didn't see you.'
    'I heard footsteps and just opened my door a little.'
    'Yes, of course, you're on the first floor, aren't you?' Mrs Pargeter paused before continuing, gently, 'And I suppose you'd do that any night . . . If you happened to be awake, and hear footsteps, you'd open your door a little to see who it was . . . ?'
    'I expect I would, yes,' replied Mrs Mendlingham, unguarded.
    Mrs Pargeter suddenly made her enquiry less languid. 'Two nights ago, the night Mrs Selsby died, I heard a commotion and a little cry on the first-floor landing. What did you see that night?'
    The old lady looked shocked. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before replying. 'I saw nothing that night. I didn't hear anything. I