Excerpt from the book called The Frisby Waterless Murders
Knowles turned right and headed along the B road to Peatling Astley via Willoughby Magna with its thirteenth century St Michael’s church and two pubs, the King William IV and The Railway. Outside the village hall Knowles stopped to read the notices for the Zumba keep fit classes and for a ‘Metafit’ exercise class, which sounded vaguely interesting as he was looking for another form of exercise once or twice a week. There was also a poster for a ukelele cabaret on Saturday night. Knowles thought he would give that a miss.
There was a steep hill between Willoughby Magna and Peatling Astley. At the top was the Black Hill Hotel, set back from the road in its own grounds, a popular place for winter getaways. The hotel was cut off by snowdrifts every winter. Part of the appeal was that the hotel didn’t have good mobile phone coverage and the police often had to evacuate people as their families were worried about them. Regular visitors knew the kitchen and bar were well stocked and were content to stay, regardless of what their families wanted. Knowles smiled as he remembered the previous winter when he’d tramped through the snow to reach the hotel only to find none of the residents wanted to be rescued. He left just as dinner was being served and had wanted to stay himself, but duty called.
Knowles drew into the car park at the Apple Tree Inn at two minutes to 11 a.m. and waited. He knew roughly whom he was looking for and sure enough a man carrying a fishing rod appeared from along the river path at precisely 11 a.m. and headed through the front door of the pub. Knowles gave him a couple of minutes and headed in to the Apple Tree Inn.
Harold Trimble had placed his rod by the door and had retired to a table by the window to drink his pint of bitter. Knowles ordered a half of bitter and walked over to Mr Trimble’s table.
“It’s Mr Trimble isn’t it?” said Knowles in his friendliest tone not knowing what to expect in return.
“Sorry, have we met, do I know you?”
“We nearly met yesterday, I have just been to see your sister-in-law, Maudie, my name is Knowles, Detective Inspector Colin Knowles and I have a couple of questions for you regarding a recent incident at the Frisby Waterless Fishing Club, where I believe you were pushed into the river by the recently departed Major Harkness?”
“That is unfortunately correct; the Major did do that in a fit of rage after I had accused him of fiddling the books to the tune of 20 pounds.”
Knowles sat down realising that Mr Trimble was not going to ask him to do so.
“And what made you think there was 20 pounds missing?”
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 