A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (11 page)

“I expect he would.” Penny led Trixxi over to Pawl and he reached out his arms to the dog as she approached. Trixxi wagged her tail, sniffed at his knee, then raised her dark brown eyes to Penny, seeking direction.

“Hello, Pawl,” said Penny. “This is Trixxi. She was born here at Ty Brith.” Pawl smiled at the dog. “Trixxi,” he repeated. “Trixxi, hmm, born here.” As Pawl began to stroke her shiny black fur, Trixxi turned back toward him and he ran his hands gently down the length of her. His large hands were lined with heavy blue veins and showed the final effects of long summers spent working outdoors. Trixxi seemed to be enjoying the attention as he continued patting her. “Water?” he asked. “Trixxi?”

“That’s a good idea,” Penny said. “I’m sure she’d love a drink.”

“I’ll get it,” said Dilys. “Just let me finish up here.” Trixxi yawned and sank slowly to the floor at Pawl’s feet. Pawl picked up a watch from the table beside him and examined it. He turned it over and ran his fingers down the strap. He pinched his lips together and set the watch back down on the table. Penny was unsure if she should offer to help him put it on. Before she could do or say anything, Dilys came over to them, carrying a deeply crackled pudding basin which she set down on the floor near Trixxi. Trixxi got to her feet and began to drink. As she did, Pawl pointed at her. “Nelly,” he said, with a hopeful smile. “No, that’s not Nelly,” Dilys told him. “That’s Trixxi.” She turned to Penny. “He thinks she’s Nelly from long ago and who can blame him? They all look the same to me, those black Labs.”

She walked over to her worktable under the window and picked up a small packet, which she held out to Penny.

“Here you go, then.”

Penny took the packet from her. “I didn’t really want to come here, you know,” she said. “But I found the valerian really helped me sleep. I’m worried, though, that I might become dependent on it.”

“It’s all natural,” said Dilys. “It won’t hurt you.”

Penny handed her a ten-pound note. “I hope you’ll accept this,” she said. “I hope that’s enough. I wasn’t sure how to handle the money aspect. If it costs more, please let me know.”

Dilys took it and tucked it in her pocket. “Most welcome. We just have our small pensions.”

“I was wondering about that,” said Penny. “It’s good that the new owners have let you stay on here. For a peppercorn rent, I hope.”

“New owners? What new owners?”

“The people who bought the Hall from Emyr Gruffydd. They’ve let you stay on, have they?”

“Them?” She made a little moue of disgust. “They don’t own the property. They rent it. Mr. Emyr himself came to tell us we’d be allowed to stay on. He told them that’s the way it would be, and it’s written into the rental agreement that Pawl and I can live here as long as we like.”

She shifted uneasily and glanced toward the Hall. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was really Mr. Emyr’s father, Mr. Rhys that would be, who decided we’d be allowed to live in the cottage for Pawl’s lifetime. He was a wonderful man, he was. Very fair to the people who worked for him, and he valued their loyalty. He treated everyone well.” She sighed. “People have no idea what it was like back then. We were one big happy family here at Ty Brith Hall. And so self-sufficient. Just about everything that needed doing we did for ourselves. We raised all our own animals, grew all our own fruits and vegetables, made all our own wine and beer. There was even a dairy where they turned milk and cream into beautiful cheeses.”

“So what about the other cottages in the terrace?” asked Penny. “Does anyone still live in any of them? Do you have any neighbours, in case you need anything?”

Dilys shook her head. “No, we’re all right as we are.” She inclined her head in the direction of the main house. “They keep themselves to themselves and so do we, and that’s the way we like it.

“Sometimes Pawl thinks he hears someone moving about next door, but he’s just thinking about the old days. He can remember things from long ago but has no memory of the present. He won’t even remember you were here.”

“But all things considered you’re managing all right, are you? Is there anything you need?”

“What’s with all this social worker talk?” Dilys stiffened and Penny realized she’d asked too many questions.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just want to help, if I can.”

“We don’t need your help, thanks all the same.” Dilys folded her arms to indicate that the conversation was over.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry. I’ll just get Trixxi and we’ll be on our way.”

As Penny picked up her lead, Trixxi got to her feet and trotted over to the door. Dilys placed his old plaid blanket over Pawl’s knees, told him she was going out for a bit and that he was to stay where he was and not get into any bother.

He smiled up at her and then picked up the watch. He turned it over in his hands as if he’d never seen it before.

“Juliette gave him that watch,” Dilys said in a low voice. “He treasures it, but he can’t remember why. I don’t think he even knows what it is or what it’s for, but he has a great attachment to it.”

“That’s interesting,” said Penny. “He remembers that it’s precious to him—that it has significance in his life—but he can’t remember why.”

“Exactly,” said Dilys as she slung a leather carrier bag over her shoulder and pulled the door shut behind them.

“If you’ve got a moment,” said Penny when they were outside, “I’d like to have a closer look at the cottages.” She stepped back to take in the three houses, solidly built of grey stone, each one joined to its neighbour by the side walls. The houses seemed the same, except …

“The houses on each end are slightly bigger,” Dilys said, interrupting Penny’s thought. “Pawl was given an end one when he became head gardener and the one at the other end”—she gestured toward it—“that was where the cook and her husband lived. He was a carpenter. Did odd jobs about the place. The rest of the staff lived in the main house or above the stables. A few lived out.”

Penny swept her eyes one last time across the cottages’ façade, admiring their symmetry and strength. “I’d like to come back and paint the cottages,” she said, adding, “Yours is the only one that has a window box.”

“Yes,” said Dilys. “Pawl used to be in charge of all the gardens on the estate. The rose garden, vegetables, orchard, cutting garden, everything. Mysterious, beautiful things happen in gardens, he used to say. He saw every tomato as a miracle. Now”—she gestured at the wooden box filled with nothing but dirt on the ledge outside the sitting room window—“that’s his garden.”

She shrugged, then hoisted the strap of her leather carrier bag across the other shoulder so it crossed over her body.

“I wanted to ask you about your hands,” Penny said. “I couldn’t help but notice how youthful they look. I wondered what you’ve done to take care of them.”

Dilys glanced down at her hands, now covered in gloves. “Well, first, I never let the sun on them. Even in summer I wear gloves. And then, of course, I’ve used my special hand cream for decades. I make it myself.”

“I wonder if I could buy some of that,” Penny began, but Dilys held up her hand.

“I must be off. I can’t leave Pawl on his own for too long and I’ve got some hedgerows that need seeing to.”

She nodded at Penny and then set off across the fields, the wind snatching at the hem of her overcoat.

Twenty-two

“I want to go back and paint the cottages,” Penny said to Gareth that evening. “Dilys seemed fine with it. Do you think I need to ask Mai?”

“I don’t see why,” Davies replied. “Dilys and Pawl apparently have the right to occupy the cottage, and you would be on the property with their permission so that seems in order.”

“You know,” said Penny, “there’s something very strange going on with that property business. Gwennie took a phone call at Christmas—right here in my cottage—from Emyr telling her Ty Brith Hall had been sold. So was someone lying? Did Emyr lie about selling the property? Or was Mai lying about buying the property? I’m pretty sure she told Mrs. Lloyd and me that they had bought Ty Brith Hall, but now Dilys says they’re renting it. That seems a strange kind of thing to lie about. I wonder why Mai wouldn’t just say they’re renting it?”

Davies shook his head. “I don’t know. And maybe she doesn’t know, either.”

Penny gave him a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, there could be any number of reasons. Maybe Mai thinks they bought the property because that’s what she was told, but her brother didn’t actually buy it.” He shrugged. “Or maybe he couldn’t get the financing and was too embarrassed to tell the family. Maybe he changed his mind at the last minute. Maybe they have another property that hasn’t sold. Or maybe, between the time Emyr told Gwennie the property had been sold and they actually took possession of the property, the deal fell through. It happens.”

“Will you look into it?”

Davies considered the question.

“I don’t think so. I can’t see how the fact that they don’t own Ty Brith could have any relevance to the murder of the daughter.”

“You haven’t mentioned the murder for a few days. Anything new there?” How’s that coming along?”

“Not very well. Typically, you have evidence; you have witnesses. We don’t have much of either, and we still haven’t established a motive. The brother wasn’t very helpful and the mother insisted on having a solicitor present when we interviewed the young lad, the brother, Tyler. He may know more than he’s telling us. Or he may be protecting someone.”

“Who?”

“Ah, well, if we knew the answer to that, we’d be much further on in the investigation.”

“But if he’s protecting someone, doesn’t that mean…?”

“Yes, it means it’s a close-to-home murder. But we’ve known that from the beginning.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because whoever killed her, knew her.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because the extent of her injuries tell us that whoever killed her was close to her and killed her in a fit of rage. This wasn’t a random killing.”

“What do you think happened?”

Davies pinched his lips together.

“We have some holdbacks that we’re not releasing because they’re things only the killer could know. We want to save a few details that might be revealed in a confession.” He pulled her closer to him. “And no, I’m not going to tell you what they are.” He smiled at her. “Especially not you. Not this time. The less you know, the better. And you promised me you’d leave this case well alone, did you not?”

“Yes, I did,” admitted Penny, adding to herself, but we didn’t say anything about Victoria, did we?

He was just about to say something when loud, urgent knocking on the door startled them.

“You’re not expecting anyone, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I wonder who it is.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Shall I open it?”

Penny nodded. A moment later the rector burst through the door, his hat in his hand. “Oh, this is a bit of luck finding you both here.” He was out of breath and paused for a moment to catch it.

“Shall I take your coat?” Penny asked, holding out her hand.

He shook his head.

“No, I’m not staying. I’ve got to get home to Bronwyn, in case the kidnappers call.”

“Kidnappers?” Davies looked startled.

“Dognappers. Our Robbie was taken this morning just before lunch. We rang you lot”—he gestured at Davies—“but the duty officer just said they’d take down the details and keep an eye out.” He looked at Penny. “We want more than that, so Bronwyn suggested I should ask you to see if you could find him.”

“I don’t know what I could do,” said Penny. “Of course, I want to help, but…”

“You’ve got to find him.” The rector looked beseechingly from one to the other, his agitation and distress very close to the surface. “Bronwyn is that upset, she can’t even drink a cup of tea. She blames herself, you see. She was busy with her newsletter so she let Robbie out into the garden on his own, and when she went out later, he was gone.” He held up his hands. “Vanished.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of photographs. “I printed these off so you can show them around. We’ll be putting posters up around the town tomorrow in case someone’s found him.”

Penny and Davies each accepted a photo. “I must get back. Bronwyn hasn’t stopped crying all afternoon. It’s terrible to see. I try to comfort her, but there’s only one thing for it and that’s to get Robbie home as quick as we can.”

He looked from one to the other again, his kind face a mask of fear and grief.

“We’ll do our best, Thomas,” Davies said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll do our best. You go home to Bronwyn now and leave it to us.”

“That’s the first time I ever heard you call him by his first name,” Penny said when the rector had gone. “It sounded so right.”

Twenty-three

“It was heartbreaking,” Penny said to Victoria the next morning. “I’m sure he was missing Robbie, too, but he was hurting so badly for his wife. And just before he arrived, I’d been feeling a bit hurt because Gareth isn’t telling me everything he knows about Ashlee’s murder. He knows things he’s not telling me.”

“Of course he knows things he’s not telling you,” Victoria replied. “He’s the senior officer on a murder investigation.”

“I know that, but I was a bit hurt when he wouldn’t tell me the details of how Ashlee died.”

“Hurt? Or put out? You saw real hurt and pain with the rector. Anyway, I’m sure Gareth has a very good reason. Or reasons,” said Victoria as she turned to a spreadsheet on her computer. She pointed at the screen.

“Oh, there’s something I wanted to mention to you. Most of the business is running really well. Hair, facials, massages are all bringing in what we projected. But the manicure salon”—she moved the cursor down a few lines, and then turned to face Penny—“takings are definitely down since the nail bar opened. It seems to be hurting our business. Can you think of anything we could do there to bring in more customers?”

“We’re continuing to focus on our core group of customers, the more mature woman,” Penny said stiffly. “And Eirlys is offering what she calls nail art to the younger set, and her friends can’t get enough of it. The manicures take longer, but we can charge much more for them.”