A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (21 page)

“Hello, may I help you?” A woman emerged from a small work area at the back of the shop.

“Oh, good morning. I’m here about a pair of earrings.”

“Would you like us to make you a pair? Bogdan”—she tilted her head toward the man hunched over a workbench in the back—“does beautiful work.”

“I know he does.” Penny smiled. “He made me a beautiful snowflake brooch last year.” Bogdan looked up from his bench, and recognizing Penny, he gave her a little wave.

“No, I want to ask you about a pair that I’m pretty sure were bought here. She reached into her bag for her notebook and, picking up a pen from the counter, quickly sketched the earring she had seen in the locked room at Ty Brith Hall, the mate to the one that had been found on Ashlee’s body.

“It was shaped like this, and the stone here was purple. There was a little hook, silver, I think it was.”

“I vaguely remember something like that but I think you should speak to Bogdan. If he made it, he’ll know all about it.”

She exchanged a few words with the jeweler, and he stood up, glanced at Penny, and then strode out into the shop. “Miss Brannigan. What may I do for you today? Another brooch, perhaps? Or has that policeman of yours got something else in mind?” He smiled at her.

“No, nothing like that, thanks.” She hesitated, and then, seeing her opportunity, began again. “Well, yes, actually, there is something I’d like. My policeman friend would have come himself, but he’s very busy so he suggested I should speak to you myself.

“You see, I saw a pair of earrings on a woman in the supermarket. They looked like this.” She pointed to the sketch on the counter. “They were so exquisite I thought perhaps you might have made them.” The Polish jeweler beamed. “Yes, I did make them. Isn’t that wonderful that you can recognize my work!”

“Yes”—Penny hurried on—“and now, you see, I would like a similar pair, if you don’t think the lady who owns this pair would mind too much.” The jeweler ran his hand over his chin. “I’d like mine in a different colour, of course,” Penny continued. “Ah, red, we thought, yes, red.”

“Of course,” said the jeweler. “Red for St. Valentine’s. How nice.”

“And the lady you made this pair for, you don’t think she’d mind?”

“Mrs. Bishop? No, I don’t think she’ll mind. I will make them slightly different. Won’t be exactly the same. Do you like gold or silver?”

“Gold, I think, please. Now Mrs. Bishop—”

“Well, Mr. Bishop, he bought them. But when a gentleman buys jewelry, I learned a long time ago not to ask questions, and should I happen to see the gentleman at a social event or somewhere with his wife, I would never mention the jewelry. Especially if she was not wearing it.”

“That sounds like a very smart policy,” Penny said. “You just never know these days, do you?”

The jeweler laughed. “These or any other days.”

“Now, Mrs. Bishop, is that the Mrs. Bishop who lives in Rosemary Lane, I wonder,” Penny said innocently.

“No, actually, Penny, she lives just down the river from your Spa. Just a little farther down. The large house with the window overlooking the river.”

“Oh! I know that house. I’ve often admired it from the tea shop across the river. How interesting.” She picked up her notebook with the sketch of the earring in it and prepared to depart.

“You don’t need to leave your phone number. I have it on file with my notes from the brooch.”

“What? Oh, sorry, yes. For the earrings. Of course you do. Well, thank you.”

Forty-one

Penny walked past the Spa and continued along the path that followed the River Conwy. A strong wind pushed at her back, once or twice almost causing her to stumble. But she kept on and in a few moments arrived at the Bishops’ house. The glassed-in front of the building faced the river, but the entrance was at the rear of the house, a few metres from the path.

She knocked on the door and stood back. A few minutes later, the door was opened by a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. She was thin, with shoulder-length blond hair. She wore jeans and a loose sweater. Her face was drawn and tired looking.

“Mrs. Bishop? I know you’ll think this is very strange, and you don’t know me, but I need to talk to you.”

The woman frowned.

“Please. It’s important.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Penny Brannigan. I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“Before I say anything I need to know if your husband’s at home. If he is, I’ll leave. If he’s not, please, may I come in? It’s terribly important.”

The woman hesitated. “He’s out at the moment. What’s all this about?”

“I’ve got a story to tell you. It’s about an earring. And if it’s true, which I think it is, you may be in great danger.”

The woman stepped aside. “Come in.”

*   *   *

She led Penny to a spacious, comfortable sitting room that overlooked the river, and gestured to a sofa covered in a yellow floral pattern with hummingbirds. The room was light and the sofa suited it.

From somewhere in the house Penny could hear the sound of the television playing. A children’s program, she thought, judging by the music. Her eyes slid over to a photo on top of a small side table. A little girl with blond hair smiled out of a silver frame.

“Your daughter?” she asked. The woman nodded. “Please, just say what you’ve come to say, although I must say you look a little older than his usual type.” She let out an unhappy little noise that might have been meant as a light laugh. “Oh, yes, I know all about them, if that’s what you’ve come to tell me.” She looked at Penny again. “Or perhaps you’ve come about your daughter.”

“No,” said Penny. “Not my daughter. But someone’s daughter. A murdered daughter. A girl who left behind an earring that your husband had given her. I found it stuck in the floorboards of the room where she was killed. And I think she left it there to tell us who killed her.” The woman’s hand had risen to cover her mouth. “Your husband. And I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but this young woman was pregnant and I think the DNA will prove that it was your husband’s baby.”

The woman’s eyes closed for a moment. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?” Penny said. “About the baby, I mean. Not about the other.”

The woman shook her head slowly.

“I know this is a terrible shock to you, but can you think back to a time in early January when your husband behaved oddly? Was there a time when he should have been here and he wasn’t? Or did he do laundry at an odd time? Late at night, maybe?”

“He missed our daughter’s birthday,” the woman said, almost to herself. “He promised to be here, but he wasn’t. Wouldn’t miss it for anything, he said, but then, of course, he did. Said he had to work. And he did do a laundry when he came in. I did think it odd at the time, but I forgot about it.”

“You need to speak to the police right now,” Penny said. “I can’t tell you how urgent this is. If your husband thinks you suspect something, well, who knows what he might do? For your daughter’s sake, you have to leave now. Where is she? Let’s get her and we’ll go.”

But before the woman could respond, the distinctive sound of a key entering the lock in the front door, the tumblers falling into place, and the door opening froze the two women where they stood.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!”

Forty-two

Bruno Bishop entered the sitting room, and after a quick glance at his wife, he fixed his eyes on Penny. “Who’s this, then?” he asked.

“Have we met? I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“Bruno ah, this is…”

“I’m Penny Brannigan,” Penny said brightly, digging in her handbag. “I’m the owner of the Llanelen Spa and I’ve come to let your wife know that she’s the winner of our Valentine’s Day spa day special. She’s won a half day at the Spa, including a manicure and pedicure.” She drew her lips up in what she hoped was something that would look like a sincere smile and not a frightened grimace and handed the man a business card.

“In fact, I was just about to suggest that we might head over there right now and get started.” Penny picked up the woman’s hand and looked at her fingernails.”Oh, dear me, it looks as if I got here just in time. Well, we’ll soon have those nails sorted out. Now then, where’s your coat and we’ll be off, shall we?”

“Now wait just a minute,” said Bruno. “You’re not going anywhere.” He turned to his wife. “Who’s going to look after Miranda?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? She’s coming with us. When we learned Mrs. Bishop had a daughter we made it a mother and daughter prize. We have the most adorable pink pearly polish that Miranda will just love.” Penny cocked her head. “Where is she, by the way?”

“I’ll get her.” The woman exchanged a subtle glance with Penny and left the room. A moment later, the television music stopped and the woman reentered the room, leading a small girl by the hand.

“Hello, Miranda,” Penny said. “I’ve come to take you and Mummy to the Spa for a manicure. Won’t that be lovely?”

The girl looked up at her mother.

“What’s a maniker, Mummy?”

“It means we’re going to get our nails done, poppet. Penny has a lovely pink just right for you.” The girl looked at her fingernails and frowned.

“Well,” said Penny, edging toward the door and keeping up the smiling pretence, “nice to meet you, Bruno.”

The two women, with the little girl between them, made their way into the hall. The woman took a small pink jacket off a hook and handed it to Penny, who helped Miranda into it. While she was doing this, the woman put on her own coat. With a glance back at the sitting room, where Bruno was standing staring at them with a puzzled look on his face, they turned to go.

“If anything happens,” said Penny in a low voice, “you and Miranda run for it. Go to the Spa and call the police. You’ll be safe there.” The woman nodded.

“Wait a minute.” They turned toward the voice.

“You forgot this.” Bruno held out the woman’s handbag.

She took it from him, and they opened the door and stepped out into the crisp, cold air. With a quick glance at each other, they both grabbed one of Miranda’s hands and, with her between them, walked down the river path. Neither looked back.

“Gonna get a maniker, Mummy.”

“Yes, darling, you are.”

*   *   *

Penny pulled open the door to the Spa, and with a glance over her shoulder, she stepped aside so the woman and her daughter could enter.

“Rhian,” said Penny to the receptionist as she ushered the two ahead of her, “lock the door behind us and then ring 999. Ask for Bethan Morgan or Gareth Davies. Don’t let anyone in except the police. Don’t ask any questions. Just do it.” Startled, Rhian rose from her seat and was obviously going to say something, but by then the trio had disappeared into the manicure room. Penny was just about to close the door when Mrs. Lloyd emerged from the hairdressing salon, her hair in curlers. “What’s going on? Everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Lloyd. Please go back into the hair salon.”

*   *   *

In the manicure room, a startled Eirlys turned around as Penny ushered in the woman and little girl. “Eirlys, this is … oh, I’ve just realized, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Emily,” she said. “Emily Bishop.” She gave a wan smile. “Yes, like the character on
Coronation Street.
”

“What’s going on?” asked Eirlys. “What is it?”

“Eirlys, I’m just going to step outside. You stay here with Emily, and why don’t you show Miranda all the lovely nail polishes and she can choose a colour she likes. With Mum’s approval, of course.”

Penny stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her. She looked to her right, where an ashen-faced Rhian was standing beside her desk. At that moment Mrs. Lloyd emerged again from the hair salon, her hands folded beneath the animal-print haircutting cape fastened around her neck.

“Penny! There’s something going on here, and I insist that you tell me what it is.”

“I can’t go into it right now, Mrs. Lloyd, but the police are on their way. Should be here any minute.”

“Is the front door locked?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, so we are in lockdown, are we?” She gave an excited little squeak. “I must call my niece, Morwyn.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Mrs. Lloyd. We don’t need a reporter here now. I really don’t want you to do that.”

“Oh, but you do, Penny, you do. You can’t buy this kind of publicity.”

“She’s right. You can’t.”

Penny swung around to see Emily Bishop behind her. Before she could respond, there came a scream and then the sound of breaking glass. And then silence.

Forty-three

Bruno Bishop walked down the hall toward his wife, ignoring Rhian’s shouts that the police were on their way. Mrs. Lloyd had scurried back into the hair salon and closed the door, leaving Penny and Emily Bishop staring down the hall at Bruno.

Why haven’t the police arrived yet? Penny thought. I hope Mrs. Lloyd will know enough to ring them again and let them know the situation just got worse.

“What do you want?” she asked Bishop.

“I want my wife and daughter, and then we’re getting out of here.”

Emily took a step toward him. “We’re not going anywhere and certainly not with a toe-rag like you. Now go back to the reception area and sit down and shut up. Leave us alone.” She tipped her head in the direction of the manicure room door. “Miranda’s in there and I don’t want you upsetting her.”

As she finished speaking, Sergeant Bethan Morgan and PC Chris Jones entered the Spa, and as Rhian pointed the way, they walked down the hall. Penny’s knees turned to jelly at the sight of them.

“Mr. Bishop, did you break that window?” Bethan got out her notebook.

“Yeah, I did,” Bishop replied.

“Well, then, we’ll be taking you down to the station, and we’d like you to come with us, Mrs. Bishop.”

“What about my daughter?”

“We’ll make sure she’s cared for.”

At that moment the door to the manicure salon opened and Miranda ran out, holding her hands in front of her.

“Daddy,” she cried, “look at my maniker!”

As Bishop turned and lowered his head to examine his daughter’s hands, Penny leaned into Bethan and whispered a few urgent words. She flicked a finger in the direction of his footwear and then straightened up.