‘I was a truck driver in the army, by the way. Logistics Corps,’ he said. ‘Not a sniper or anything, before you ask.’
She swivelled round to look up at him. ‘Why are you telling me that?’
He sniffed. ‘I know we’re all under suspicion.’
Midge stood up straight, ignoring the creaking in her knee.
‘Even you,’ he said.
She nodded, thrusting her free hand into her pocket for warmth.
‘Did you know Rendell before, in the police?’ he asked.
Midge pushed a deep hole into the snow with her cane and wiggled it around, compacting the particles into ice. ‘Yes.’
‘Oh!’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘He was my first sergeant, when I left training college.’
Before Harold could ask her anything more, a loud shout rang out from the direction of the hall.
‘What the hell?’ said Harold, his jaw dropping.
Noah was standing on the steps of the house, shouting a warning to them. Rona, carrying something in her arms, came charging towards them, her pink hair flying out behind her.
It all happened so fast that Midge struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.
Rona was holding a rifle. To Midge’s horror, the pop star pulled the gun up to her shoulder and aimed it directly at them.
Chapter53
The explosion was so loud and so overwhelming that it took Midge several seconds to work out whether she had been injured.
It appeared that both she and Harold were still standing upright.
Rona, however, was not.
‘It bloody misfired!’ shouted Harold, pointing.
‘Rona!’ screamed Noah, sliding over the snow to reach her.
With more relief than she was expecting, Midge watched as Rona suddenly sat up, a smattering of soot on her face. ‘What the hell just happened?’
‘Why did you try to shoot us?’ shouted Harold across the lawn.
‘Did I get the bugger?’ Rona pointed behind them, wincing as she moved her shoulder, her words slurred. ‘There was a bloody great puma – sneaking out the bushes.’
‘That was a fox,’ said Harold.
Noah was standing over Rona, trying to help her up. Midge and Harold approached more slowly. Midge hooked a soggy arm underneath Rona’s elbow and hauled her upwards, clumps of snow dropping from her back.
Snatching the old rifle up from the ground, Harold checked its magazine was now empty. ‘I can’t bloody believe it had a round in it. Something must have jammed it for it to misfire like that,’ he said. ‘She’s lucky. It could have blown her head off.’ He paused, sniffing the air. ‘Is she drunk?’
‘I may have had one teensy-weensy drink to calm my nerves,’ giggled Rona.
‘And decided to start shooting everyone?’ shouted Harold.
‘I’m an expert shot, actually!’ insisted Rona, standing up. ‘I’ve taken lessons. One of you must have blocked my view.’ She brushed snow off herself, grinning at them all. ‘What a bloody rush, eh?’
