The case of the LAUGHING CORPSE

A village hall mystery doesn't quite go to plan

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Our friends Wendy and Iain live in a village on the other side of the woods just down the road from us. As I might have mentioned once or twice, they own a modest manor house but the rest of the village is also so posh that estate agents order in glossy holiday brochures every time a property goes on the market.

The village hall looks as if it was inspired by Blenheim Palace. It has a kitchen about the size of our house, and there is a stage with proper lighting and a safety curtain and everything. I mention all this because Mr Dear and I are sitting at a table in this opulent village hall with Wendy and Iain, and waiting impatiently for somebody to be murdered.

Wendy won four tickets at a village fete over the summer to a Murder Mystery Night, and invited us as her Plus Two. She has provided a picnic in a proper Fortnum & Mason hamper, which she found in a spare room at the house. Of course she did.

So we have little beef Wellingtons, little pork pies, something that looks like coronation chicken, something that might be pâté, and some raspberries and cream. All we had to do was bring prosecco.

If Enid Blyton's Famous Five had survived into adulthood, I imagine this is what they would be eating most nights.