A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (22 page)

“Oh, and Mr. Bishop,” said Bethan, “we’re going to be needing your boots. We’d like to run a few tests.”

“Speaking of tests,” said Penny, reaching into her coat pocket and handing her a small bag, “I expect you’ll want to run a test on these, too.”

She inclined her head in the direction of Bishop as Bethan opened the bag and peered at crumpled-up tissues, the blood on the tissues dried and brown.

Forty-four

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi, Bethan.” Penny listened for a few moments. “He did? I was right? But worse? Yes, please, come right over. About an hour? Okay, see you then.”

Penny laid out a coffee tray and then switched on the television. But she was unable to focus, so she switched it off and picked up her laptop and checked her e-mail. She scrolled through a few messages, deleted a few, then closed the lid.

She checked her watch for the third time and sighed. And then, after what seemed like ages, came a knock on the door.

“Finally.” She took Bethan’s coat and led her into the sitting room.

“I’ve just made some coffee. Won’t be a minute.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Penny placed the coffeepot on the tray and carried it through to the sitting room.

“So tell me,” Penny said when they were seated. “Tell me. What happened?”

“At first Bishop was cocky, very sure of himself, grinning, chewing gum, sitting comfortably.” Bethan leaned back in the sofa and crossed her legs in a relaxed, casual posture. “But the DCI jumped right in. After the preliminaries were over—you know, we’d told him the room is wired for sound and video, everything is being recorded, you’re not under arrest, you have the right to have a solicitor present—after all that and Bishop was all yeah, yeah … well then, DCI hit him with it. His first question caught Bishop off guard, and at that point I think he knew he was in big trouble.”

“What did he ask?”

“He asked him the question you raised. Why didn’t Bishop go to his daughter’s birthday party?”

“And the reason he didn’t go, of course, was because he was too busy killing and burying Ashlee.”

“Right, but he didn’t do it alone.”

“No?”

“No. And this is where it goes really bad. He and the uncle, Tu’, killed her.”

“But why would Tu’ kill his own niece?”

“Because”—Bethan took a deep breath—“because she was pregnant.”

“Why would he care about that? Was it a family honour type of thing? I can see that Bishop would care—he was the father, wasn’t he?” Bethan nodded.

“The DNA isn’t done yet, but we expect it will show that he was, and even he’s pretty sure that he was. He’s not denying it.”

“So I can see that Bishop wouldn’t want his wife to find out, but why Uncle Tu’?”

“Because his sister, Mai, wanted out of the business. Once she’d got used to the idea, she rather liked the idea of becoming a grandmother. It changed everything for her. Now that she was going to be a grandmother, she didn’t want any part of the business. But Tu’ needed her because she was looking after the money laundering from the grow op. So when Ashlee was killed, he said, ‘Well now that you’re not going to be a grandmother anymore, you won’t be backing out, will you?’

“It was quite chilling, really. And she was really conflicted, apparently. Her grief for her daughter and her loyalty to her brother.”

She took a sip of coffee and picked up a biscuit.

“So this is what Bishop says, is it?”

“Yes, but Birmingham police will be re-interviewing Mai and Tu’ based on this information.”

“And Dilys?”

“He met her in the woods and tried to strangle her because she knew about the pregnancy, and then strung her up to make it look like she hanged herself.”

“That’s really gruesome.”

“It’s a lot to think about, isn’t it?”

Penny nodded. “It is. And something that’s been bothering me is why the drug gang would think this town a good place to set up a grow op.”

“Ty Brith Hall was isolated and private enough that they felt secure. They had everything reinforced so no one could enter. If they’d had too much security, that might have got them noticed, so they tried to keep everything low key. People are often surprised that drug gangs would invest so much money in converting rental property, but the profits far outweigh the setup costs. The gang were also likely counting on the overly politically correct times we live in. If anyone had complained about them, they would have just cried racism. You wouldn’t believe the things people get away with by playing the racism card.”

She glanced at her watch, sighed, and stood up.

“Sorry, got to go. Hope all this won’t keep you awake tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.”

Forty-five

The air was fresh, with an unexpected, earthy warmth as Penny and Trixxi walked up the road that led to Ty Brith Hall. In the cheerful manner of her Labrador breed, Trixxi bounded eagerly from one side of the road to the other, sniffing the familiar scents of what would always be her home.

As they reached the top of the road, just before it widened into the graveled area that led to the front door, a tall man with one hand raised came striding toward them. As he got closer, revealing dark hair, intense blue eyes, and a strong mouth set in a broad smile, Trixxi broke into a run. When she reached him, tail wagging hard, he bent down to stroke her and then stood up and offered his hand to Penny.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Emyr. You’re looking well, all things considered.”

He shrugged. “We’ll get it all repaired. The damage was extensive, but the structure itself is solid and it stood up well to the abuse—from the grow op and the police assault. It’s mostly wiring and interior work.”

They walked on together for a few steps, and then Emyr stopped and turned to Penny.

“Thanks so much for bringing her back. I realized it had been a mistake to leave her here but didn’t know how to ask you if I could…”

“That’s all right, Emyr, honestly. It was Gwennie who suggested that now you’re back it might be a good idea for Trixxi to come home, too. But we were happy to look after her for you. She’s a lovely dog.”

“I’m hoping you’ll let me give you something that might take her place,” said Emyr. “After the fire we found a mother cat with her kitten huddled up in the back garden. The mother had been quite badly singed, but Jones the vet expects her to be okay. She’d probably been living in the stable and managed to escape with just the one kitten.”

Penny winced.

“Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

With Trixxi leading the way, they made their way around to the back of the house. Penny paused to admire the dolphin-shaped door knocker as Emyr opened the door. She stepped inside and walked down the kitchen corridor that had so recently been her means of escape.

In the kitchen, cuddled together in a towel-lined box in front of the Aga were a black-and-white cat and her kitten. The mother’s paws were wrapped in bright pink bandaging and the fur on her ears was gone, revealing raw, blistered skin. “I have to put cream on them twice a day,” Emyr said, bending over and scooping up her kitten.

He placed the kitten in Penny’s arms. His milky blue eyes tried to focus on her face and he meowed softly. Penny rubbed his round, downy head with her chin. His fur was a soft dove grey and his tiny paws were white, as was a small, roughly heart-shaped patch on his chest.

“Oh, I don’t want to put him down,” Penny exclaimed, as the kitten nuzzled into her neck, his tiny, sharp claws catching on her jacket.

“Well, maybe you don’t have to. I was wondering if you’d like to have him. I can’t think of anyone who could give him a better home.”

“I’ve never really thought about having a cat before, but maybe it’s time I did get one.” She smiled at him. “Thank you, Emyr, I’d love to have him.” She gently detached his claws from her jacket and handed him back to Emyr.

“He’s not quite ready to leave his mum, but when he is, I’ll bring him round to you.”

“And in the meantime, I can get in kitten supplies.”

“I was just about to put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks. I had one already this morning.”

“Well, thanks so much for bringing Trixxi back. May I offer you a ride home?”

“Thank you, Emyr, but no. If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk down to have a look at the cottages and I’ll make my way home from there.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Have you had a chance to think about what you’re going to do with the cottages? They’re all empty now, aren’t they?”

Emyr nodded. “I’ll be applying for planning permission to do them up as holiday lets.”

“Oh, that makes sense. There’s wonderful walking around here and I’m sure you’ll have no trouble renting them out.”

Penny decided to ask the question that had been bothering everyone.

“Emyr, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but at Christmas Gwennie said Ty Brith Hall had been sold, and it turned out the Vietnamese people were only renting it. What happened there?”

“Sure you won’t change your mind about that coffee?” Emyr filled the kettle and gestured toward a chair.

“At Christmas it looked like the sale was safe, but my solicitor had concerns about the buyers’ financing. He thought they were putting up too much cash and got suspicious. So we put in some conditions to try to stall the sale until the money could be investigated. On the solicitor’s advice, I agreed the Vietnamese family could rent the property until we got the sale sorted. It’s too big to just lie empty.”

He shook his head. “I’m just so glad my father wasn’t around to see the big mess I made of everything.”

“You’ll put it right,” Penny said. “I think your dad would be proud of you. He’d know you did your best with the information you had.”

He gave her a grateful smile.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, Emyr, speaking of your dad.” Penny told him about Dilys, who was recovering in hospital and had nowhere to go when she was discharged. “I know the cottage was given to Pawl to live in, but I wondered if you would consider letting her stay on in the cottage for a bit, if it’s going to be empty for a while anyway. She might even be able to pay rent. Victoria and I are after the formula for her amazing hand cream, and of course we’ll be paying her for it.”

Emyr thought for a moment and then nodded. “I guess that would be all right. She can stay there for now, and maybe we can sort out something more permanent later.”

After thanking him, Penny looked at her watch and then stood up.

“I must be off.”

She gave Trixxi a good-bye pat and turned to go before Emyr could see her tears.

“Come and see us anytime. We’ll be here. And thanks again for looking after her.”

*   *   *

The sound of hammering grew louder as she approached the burned-out stable. The gaping hole, rimmed with black in the side of the building, had been covered with plastic sheeting. As she drew nearer, a workman waved her on. “Sorry, love,” he said, “it’s too dangerous. You can’t come closer without protective gear.” She waved in reply and continued on her way. The ground on each side of the path, still littered with dead brown leaves from the previous year, would soon be covered in a magical carpet of bluebells.

*   *   *

She passed the tree where Dilys had been found but could not bring herself to look at it.

She thought about Ashlee, so desperate to be loved, to belong. “It doesn’t feel like home here,” she had said.

But as Penny stopped for a moment to revel in the view of the snow-capped mountains, sometimes so cold and harsh and sometimes, as in this moment, magnificent as they shimmered in iridescent sunlight, this place felt like home to her.

This is where I belong, where my life is, and where the people I love are, she thought. She touched the delicate gold and red earring on her right ear. When Gareth had apologized for not getting her anything except flowers for Valentine’s Day, she had laughed and told him that actually he had got her something else. When she told him about the earrings she had ordered at the local jeweler’s, he had smiled and told her he was only too happy to give them to her.

“But let’s call them a St. Dwynwen’s gift,” he had said, referring to Wales’s patron saint of love and friendship.

She reached the end of the path and, inhaling sharply, slowly raised a hand to cover her mouth.

The end cottage, the one where Pawl and Dilys had lived, was transformed. The window box that a few weeks ago had seemed to be filled with nothing but dirt was now bursting with bright yellow daffodils, their trumpets waving gently in the light breeze. She remembered Dilys describing the box as all that remained of Pawl’s gardening world. Acres of achingly beautiful gardens reduced over time to one window box on a grace and favour cottage. But as she stood there, appreciating the flowers in the window box as joyful, exuberant harbingers of spring, she was overcome by the meaningful splendor and brilliant simplicity of what Pawl had accomplished. He had done what he could and he’d done what he’d loved doing, just on a smaller scale, until the end. Most of us would wish that for ourselves and should be so lucky.

After one last, long look at the daffodils, drinking in their bright beauty and knowing the image and the memories would stay with her for a very long time, she raised her face to the warmth of the strengthening sun and turned toward home.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my editor, Toni Plummer, at St. Martin’s Press and my literary agent, Dominick Abel.

In Wales, I’m grateful to Eirlys Owen for translation help, Sylvia and Peter Jones for their inspiring photographs and travelogues, and PC Chris Jones of North Wales Police Service for his advice and suggestions served up with nice cups of tea.

In Toronto, Madeleine Matte, Marlene Gaudet, and Carol Putt provided insightful comments that helped shape the manuscript.

I was delighted when author Hannah Dennison offered to read the manuscript. Penny has her to thank for that lovely Italian handbag Victoria brought back from Florence.