Murder and a Song (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 2) Read Online Free

plot.  Number 369 was registered to Harry Widmore
and three others.

                They
came across the crime scene where Daryl Hardy’s body had been found.  A cordon had been set up around the plot,
which included Hardy’s 4x4 and their two-person tent.  Two security guards from the private firm had
been assigned to make sure nobody crossed the tape.  They sat in deck chairs reading newspapers
and saluted as Pattie and the Constable walked past.

                Plot
369 was a large-sized plot.  The tent was
huge.  A white van with the back doors
open was parked beside it.  A young man
sat on the step drinking a beer.  Behind
him were piles of supplies, mainly coolers and crates of beer.  The tent itself was a four person setup, tall
enough to walk right into, with a central space and four adjoining rooms with
zip-up doors.

                Three
men in their thirties sat on patio furniture in the central space, surrounded
by heaps of junk that included coolers, a paraffin grill, a mini fridge, a
guitar, a small table and portable TV, laptops and other assorted gadgets.  It was not, as far as Pattie was concerned,
real camping, but then she hadn’t owned a tent for decades.  She tried to make a habit of not judging.

                One
of the men was asleep.  Someone had drawn
a cartoon moustache on his face with black marker pen.  He was wearing Mickey Mouse ears.  A ginger cat fussed around their legs.

                “My
name is Patricia Lansbury,” said Pattie, “and this is Constable Palmer.  We’d like to talk to Harry Widmore.”

                “That’s
me,” said one of the men.  He was wearing
shorts and a T-shirt and had a beer in his hand. “What’s this about?”

                “We’re
investigating the murder of a man in a nearby plot, just down there – Daryl
Hardy.”

                Harry
shrugged.

                “He
was the partner of a lady named Blossom Carter, who I believe you’ve met.”

                “Blossom?”
said Harry, putting his beer on the floor. “Yeah, I know her.  Oh yeah, Daryl.  I know who you mean now.  We were hanging out here yesterday.”

                Constable
Palmer raised her eyebrows. “You were hanging out all day but you didn’t know
his name?”

                Harry
shrugged. “We had the barbeque going, they looked in, we offered them a beer.  We just talked a bit and had a few
beers.  Nothing more to it, right guys?”

                The
sleeping fellow had woken up.  He and his
friend nodded.  One of them took a
Polaroid photo of his friend with the moustache and laughed.  They introduced themselves as James Farrell
and Toby Draper.

                “Sorry
about the Hardy guy, though?” said one, with all due sincerity.

                The
cat jumped up onto his lap and curled up to sleep.  The man, Toby, petted it absently.

                “Whose
is the cat?” asked Pattie.

                “Dunno,
she just wandered in here the other day. 
We let her eat some bacon bits and she hasn’t left yet.”

                “Actually,
it’s a tom – a male,” said Pattie. “Almost all ginger cats are.  The ginger colour is carried on the male’s X
chromosome, so unless both parents are ginger, the offspring won’t be.”

                “Huh.”

                “Mister
Widmore, could we please have a word outside?”

                “Sure.”

                As
he gathered himself, Pattie and Constable Palmer stood outside the tent and
talked discreetly.

                “They
act like they’re half their ages,” said the Constable, rolling her eyes. “Are
all people who go to festivals like this?”

                “I
doubt it, but then, I don’t have much evidence to go on…”