Thursday, 18 September 2014


My luck was in because the Club Secretary, on his way from the bar to, presumably, his office, recognised me.
Kenneth Sibley Johnson approached me with a frown.  "Aren't you the woman who masqueraded as a police officer?"
"No.  I came here with DCI Kettle."
"Which gave everyone the impression that you were a police officer."
"I'm not responsible for people's thoughts, Mr. Johnson.  Impersonating a police officer is a criminal offence," I informed him.
"No matter."  He flapped his hand as if brushing away a long cobweb.  "You'd better come to my office.  You can't sit here.  You're not a member."
I resisted the bait and followed him into his office and went to look out of the window.
"What are you doing here, Mrs - er - . Sorry, I've forgotten your name."
Whether he had or not was a moot point.  I suspected he probably did remember and was trying a put-down.  That don't work with me.  I've been insulted by better than 'im.
"Miss Marjoribanks.  I'm neither married nor have I been neutered."  I do hate being called Ms.  Like calling the chairman or woman a chair.  A chair is a chair is a chair.  An inanimate object.  Wait a minute.  Hey, some chair people could be called that!
"Right, Miss Marjoribanks.  What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for someone who is playing golf."
"And who might that be?"
Snooty bugger.
"That Mr. Johnson is my business."
"No, Miss Marjoribanks it is my business.  Club members are entitled to privacy and to be protected from anyone who might have the intention of pestering them."
"I assume from that that you mean the press. Which I'm not, as I think you know.  The other inference is that I'm a whore and you think I'm here to pick up a man."  Bingo!  Was his face red.  "The only thing I will tell you is that I am here to meet a woman and, no, I'm not a lesbian."  His face flushed again.  "You could, of course, call DCI Kettle and tell him I'm here."
Now that really would be embarrassing for him.  You 'n' I know that David isn't slow on the uptake.
While he had been trying to insult me (and I've been insulted by the best) I'd been keeping an eye out for Stella.  Sure enough she hove into view with three other ladies.  Must have been a good game as they were chatting and laughing.
"Right, I'm off," and I left the office.  I had no intention of letting him know which of the four was my friend so I stood outside the front door until Stella spotted me.  She was about to leave the group but I waved her back and put a finger to my lips.  She got the message and I went round to the car park to wait.  Then my mobile rang.  "What's up with the secrecy, Cleo?"
"Club Secretary.  Tell you later.  I was going to chat with you here but p'raps we'd better meet somewhere else."

She named a nearby pub so I went there and waited for her.

Dirty Deeds in Downdene (as are all of my books) is available for Amazon Kindle
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