Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall by Hannah Dennison Page A

fund.”
    â€œA fighting fund for Fred!” Doreen echoed as she made her way to the front holding the duck—wings flapping—amidst the sound of ragged cheers. “And we’ll start right now.”
    Stan appeared with the collection bucket and it was passed around. Pockets were emptied and wallets pulled out. I put in ten pounds. Even Angela put in a fiver. Patty, however, got up and headed in the direction of the ladies’ loo.
    Patty’s exit prompted everyone to head to the bar. The meeting was over. I said my good-byes to Ginny and we exchanged phone numbers.
    â€œI know you must get this all the time,” said Ginny shyly. “But I’m one of your biggest fans.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “And I’ll see what I can do about a camera crew.”
    â€œWe’ll meet in a month,” Eric shouted, trying to make his voice heard above scraping chairs and excited chatter.
    Benedict joined me. “Thank you for your support,” he said. “I believe Lavinia and I will be meeting your mother tomorrow morning at the Carriage House?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œPity about that Prince-Avery fellow,” said Benedict. “I must say I was a bit disappointed that he scuttled off like that. I had been looking forward to a bit of a fight.”
    I noticed Muriel from the post office knock back a schooner of sherry and recalled Valentine’s suspicions of theft. “Do you think Mr. Prince-Avery’s presentation materials really were stolen?”
    â€œTake a look around,” said Benedict. “What do you think?”
    â€œThe placards still made it though.” I hadn’t thought to ask Valentine exactly how so many boards got shipped to Devon and where they had been delivered.
    â€œPlacards?” Benedict frowned. “What sort of placards?”
    â€œI saw ten,” I told him. “There could be more. They said HS 3 CROSSING FROM HERE and are staked out in the two fields near Hopton’s Crest leading down to Cavalier Copse.”
    â€œThat’s the perfect photo opportunity,” said Benedict. “We could have you standing next to one of them looking angry.”
    â€œAlright.” I felt so conflicted. On the one hand, of course, I wanted to lend my support, but to be practically spearheading the campaign was definitely not what I had wanted.
    Angela bobbed up from nowhere. “Hello!” She beamed. It would seem that she’d gotten over her earlier mishap with Sir Maurice’s chair. “Sorry for interrupting but I need to ask Kat something.”
    â€œNot at all,” said Benedict. “Excuse me, I am being summoned by the hordes.”
    â€œDo you mind if I cadge a lift back with you,” she said. “Eric’s not ready to leave and I’m really tired. I’ve got to be up at five tomorrow to blacken the grates.”
    â€œYou do know it’s the twenty-first century,” I teased.
    Angela reddened. “I like doing them. Really.”
    We fought our way through the throng to the front door but were stopped by Doreen who still had Fred tucked under her arm.
    â€œPatty asked me if you wouldn’t mind running her home,” she said. “It’s not out of your way and Stan’s tied up at the bar.”
    â€œOf course,” I said.
    â€œPatty!” yelled Doreen. “Kat will take you.”
    Patty trudged over clutching her string bag that was now jammed full of canned produce, boxes of crackers, and a foil container.
    â€œNow, just pop the oven on at four hundred degrees and give that pie about twenty-five minutes,” said Doreen to Patty. “Tell Joyce I’m sorry she wasn’t feeling very well. I’ll call you tomorrow if Stan isn’t able to come and pick you up. You really need to get your phone fixed, luv.”
    Patty simply scowled, grunted something inaudible, and barged her way out of the front door.
    â€œRemember to hand