Read Slated for Death for Free Online Page B

handsome police officer and for a brief time those feelings had teetered on the brink of becoming something more, something deeper. And then, as sometimes happens, the romance had stalled and on her part, flamed out. Whatever it takes to turn feelings of friendship into romantic love just wasn’t there and she wasn’t the kind of woman who could pretend to feel something she didn’t. She’d agonized over her feelings, but in the end, stayed true to herself. You don’t want to marry someone if you have to talk yourself into it, she told herself. She had been honest with him and hoped he didn’t feel she’d messed him about.
    She handed over the brown envelope Glenda had dropped off the day before. “There was just sheet music in it,” she said. “Victoria asked if you could return it to her as soon as possible because she needs it for the concert.”
    Bethan tucked the envelope under her arm and took out her notebook.
    â€œHow did Glenda seem?” asked Bethan. “Agitated, upset?”
    Penny gave a little shrug. “No, she seemed fine. Normal.”
    Bethan asked her what time Glenda had left and if she’d said anything Penny found unusual or interesting.
    â€œNot really. Said she had a couple more places to go and errands to run. I think she was dropping off those envelopes for other performers.”
    â€œRight, well, get in touch if you think of anything else,” Davies said, with a knowing look. “Or if you hear anything else. Or think of anything else that might help us.”
    â€œI will. What happens next?”
    â€œWe’ll pursue the usual lines of inquiry. Talk to people, check out CCTV footage, look at her phone records—the usual things. I have a feeling that our killer was either very lucky or very clever.”
    â€œOr,” said Penny, “maybe a bit of both.”

 
    Eight
    â€œFlorence,” said Mrs. Lloyd the next afternoon, “these biscuits are absolutely delicious. What are they called? And where did you get them?” She held up the little shell-shaped shortbread biscuit. “And more importantly, can you get some more?”
    â€œThey’re called Aberffraw.” Florence spelled it out. “I’m probably not pronouncing it correctly. Anyway, they’re made on Anglesey. They’re a little dearer than our usual biscuits, but as we like to support local businesses I thought we’d give them a try. Thought they’d be just the thing with your afternoon cup of tea.”
    â€œIndeed they are! Where did you get them in case I want to pick some up when I’m out?”
    â€œI got them a few days ago when I was in Llandudno at that fancy food place. The shop where they have all the special jams and strange cooking utensils you’d use once a year, if at all.”
    â€œOh, right. Well, maybe I’ll pick up some more the next time I’m in town. That’ll be tomorrow, I expect.”
    Mrs. Lloyd popped the rest of the biscuit into her mouth and then looked thoughtfully at her friend. The two had been living together for over a year. Although Florence was technically a lodger, Mrs. Lloyd thought of her as a lady’s companion and Florence, who had been eking out a mean retirement in a Liverpool bedsit, was grateful to live in a large, comfortable house. The two rubbed along together well enough, with Mrs. Lloyd’s waistline enjoying all the benefits of Florence’s cooking and baking skills.
    â€œI’ve been thinking, Florence,” Mrs. Lloyd said thoughtfully. “Someone said to me the other day that I must have seen a lot of change in the town over the years. And I have. I’ve heard lots of interesting things, too. When you’re stood behind the counter in the post office you hear the most amazing things. People either forget you’re there or don’t realize you have ears. They take no notice. And that’s just while they’re