Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven (16 page)

L
ois had started the day optimistically, having a peaceful conversation with Gran about weekend shopping and final preparations for the jewellery party. As she made phone calls necessary to the smooth working of New Brooms, she was determined to put Gloria Prentise out of her mind for the moment. She had not forgotten that she had more or less promised to find out the results of the Fountain postmortem, but she had other things to think about. She hoped that Gloria would have the sense to do the same. Almost the last thing she had said was that Donald’s will would be read shortly, and she had ways of finding out what was in it. She would let Lois know, she said, if it contained anything of interest.

“Meanwhile, there is the jewellery party to think about, you and Joan, to take place tomorrow. Dot Nimmo was asking about it.”

“It’s time that Nimmo woman learned to mind her own business! She sticks her nose in everywhere, and it’s time you got rid of her.”

“That’s my business, Mum,” said Lois. “Dot is a very useful member of the New Brooms team. Anyway, she’d heard that this party was to be one of several. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is. But it is not the first of any particular number. It might be a one and only, depending on how it goes. If we have any stuff left over, we shall donate it to the hospice shop.”

“And where is this party to be held?”

“In the village reading room.”

“This village?”

“Of course. And if you’ve finished with the Spanish inquisition, I’ll go and get on. I’m putting notices around the village. We don’t want huge crowds. It’s just a fun thing for me and Joan to do.”

“Right,” said Lois. “I presume you won’t turn down an offer of help. I’m free on Saturday, all day.”

Gran sniffed. “Naturally, we shall welcome any offers of help. Josie has already said she’d come down after the shop shuts. We shall open to the public from two o’clock in the afternoon until six o’clock in the evening.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier, Mum?”

“Because you would have tried to stop us. Too late now, so you’d better come with good grace and help us have an enjoyable afternoon.”

*   *   *

Feeling a little chastened, Lois decided to walk down to Stone House, and have a chat with her sometime assistant, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones. It was just possible she might have heard something about Aurora from her friends in high places. The old lady had been an active magistrate in her time and still had a keen interest in any ferretin’ that Lois might be involved in.

“Good morning!” said a firm voice from the garden at the front of the house. “Just having an argument with a thorny rose. But I’m winning, and shall be with you in two ticks.”

“Here, let me help,” said Lois, struggling to hold back a stem with brutal thorns. “There you are, all free and unwounded. I wonder if you are able to spare me a couple of minutes for a small chat?”

“With pleasure, my dear,” said Mrs. T-J, straightening her tangled hair. “Come on indoors. A small sloe gin might be a good idea. What do you think?”

The house was calm and cool, and Lois felt immediately more relaxed. After chatting about village matters for a while, she brought up the subject of Aurora’s disappearance.

“I am trying very hard to help find what has happened to her. She is a good friend, and I am fond of her daughter, who is trying to carry on the bakery by herself. It is so unlike Aurora to have done such a thing deliberately, without letting Milly know, and I reckon she is lost somewhere with her memory knocked sideways by Donald’s death.”

“Great Scott!” Mrs. T-J opened her eyes wide. “That nice woman who has the bakery at Brigham? I heard something about it, but thought she must have turned up by now.”

“No, I am afraid not. I wondered if you have any idea how we might find her?”

“Dogs,” said Mrs. T-J, without turning a hair.

“I beg your pardon?” said Lois.

“Dogs. Sniffer dogs. Excellent for finding missing people and things.”

Lois stared at her. Had she flipped her lid, the dear old thing?

“I am quite serious, Lois. If her daughter has something with her mother’s scent on it, we can make a start at once. No time to lose, before the scent grows cold.”

“When do you suggest?”

“This afternoon. Pick me up around two o’clock. Ring up the daughter and get her to sort out some nice smelly things.”

“And the dog? My Jemima would be useless. And anyway, surely the police will have done all that?”

“The dog I am talking about has beaten every dog in the county at finding and fetching. And even if the police have been there, it won’t hurt to make sure. No, let us give it a try. If no luck, then there will be no harm done. And Milly will be reassured that something is still being done to find her mother. Oh yes, I have a friend who has just the animal we need. I’ll have him here by two. Now, off you go, my dear. We have work to do.”

W
hen Lois, Mrs. T-J and dog Henry arrived in Brigham, they could see at once that Milly had the shop door open and was standing at the entrance.

“I’ll take Henry to lift his leg in the meadow for ten minutes,” said Mrs. T-J, “while you prepare the girl and smooth the way for what may be a fruitless exercise. But worth trying!”

As Lois watched the pair walking over past the millpond and into the meadow, she remembered the awful day when she and Aurora had walked so cheerfully, looking forward to their drink in the hotel and Jemima enjoying chasing pigeons into flight from the low brick wall surrounding the entrance to the bar. And then the waterwheel and its sad burden appearing in front of them in the restaurant. She shook herself, and walked to where Milly stood, waving.

“Hi, Milly! Glad to see you’re still open.”

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Meade. Come on in and have the one free loaf left.”

“Free? Are you sure? Is it stale bread?”

“No, I made it myself as a trial, and it has turned out really well. I cut one loaf in half to make sure, and it is fine. Here, let me wrap it for you, and then we’ll go and have a coffee. I can’t say customers are exactly queuing up. ‘Missing Mother’ story has gone cold, I suppose. Do you have any news? Inspector Cowgill checked in here this morning, but he didn’t have anything new to say. Officially confident, though.”

Lois shook her head and said she would love a coffee, but she was on a Tollervey-Jones errand, and had to get back more or less straightaway.

“As I said on the phone, we are to go on a Sherlock Holmes–type hunt, bearing some intimate garment of Aurora’s, and accompanied by a sniffer dog. She seems very confident, and sometimes she is right. So do you mind?”

“Of course not! Why didn’t we think of that?” She smiled a wobbly smile, and disappeared upstairs.

When Mrs. T-J returned, she instructed Milly to go off somewhere within reach. “Why not go and call on a friend? Come back in an hour or so, and don’t worry; we shan’t disturb your mother’s personal things. Off you go now.”

Milly set off reluctantly, leaving the two standing in the shop. When she was out of sight, they began work. Lois was full of admiration with the way Mrs. T-J seemed to know exactly how to handle Henry. Nose to the ground after a good sniff, he went from place to place, tail wagging. Then out of the bedroom and downstairs, picking up scents all the way. Finally they ended up in the shop, and Mrs. T-J said nothing unexpected had happened. Naturally, scents of Aurora were everywhere. Then she opened the door, and led Henry out into the road.

He immediately turned around and headed back into the shop.

“No, no lad, come along, this way. We’ll go over to Aurora’s car. Come along, this way, Henry!”

Henry refused to move. He sat down by the shop door, a mutinous expression on his face.

“Now what?” said Lois. “Why won’t he follow her scent to the car, or to anywhere else outside? She must have gone somewhere.”

“Unless she was lifted up and carried. Don’t mention that to Milly, but it begins to look like the most likely explanation. I’ll let Henry off the lead and see where he takes us.”

The dog pottered about the shop for a few minutes, sniffing in all corners, then he returned to the bakehouse and sat down by the oven.

“For heaven’s sake!” said Lois. “He’s found himself a nice warm billet and given up. Look at his face! He looks very pleased with himself. I think that’s it, isn’t? We’d better get him back in my van and wait for Milly to come home.”

“He’ll do no harm there, Lois. Let him stay. We’ll keep an eye on him.”

They sat chatting for a while, until they heard the shop-door bell, and Lois went to see who was there. It was Milly back again, and she was told that Henry had failed. She nodded. “I thought so,” she said. “I can’t see how he could pick up a single scent from all the others around since Mum went missing. Never mind, it was worth a try. Where is he now?”

In the bakehouse, Henry was still sitting in guarding mode beside the oven, and when Milly approached to give him a stroke, he growled at her, baring his teeth with his ears back.

“Henry!” said Mrs. T-J. “This is Milly, a friend. Come along; we’ll put him in the van and be on our way. Thank you, dear, for being so accommodating. We shall keep in touch, eh, Lois? Goodbye now.”

*   *   *

“Wasn’t that rather odd?” said Lois, as they drove back to Farnden. “I mean, Henry had picked up the scent so obviously going in all the places where Aurora would have been.”

Mrs. T-J glanced into the back of the van, where Henry had dozed off, unaware that he had been a disappointment. He had an old gardening glove of Aurora’s, the only thing that would get him into Lois’s van.

“Where did Milly get that glove from?” Mrs. T-J asked Lois.

“From a pair on a high shelf in the kitchen. He does seem specially attached to it. Perhaps we should have given Henry more time?”

“Not sure, Lois,” Mrs. T-J said. “I suppose it is possible there were too many traces. But it is odd that he wouldn’t budge from the bakehouse. We must think some more. Now, if you could drop me outside the shop, I must pick up a few odds and ends from Josie. I’ll take Henry, and return him to his owner. She may have other suggestions.”

B
ack home in Farnden, Lois had offered to take Gran and Joan into town in the van to collect the jewellery for the party, but admitted that the single extra seat in the back was very uncomfortable, and so she agreed to go with Gran in Joan’s car. Joan was a careful driver, and although Lois longed to put her foot on the accelerator on long stretches of dual carriageway, she settled in the back of the Rover and thought about Aurora.

Milly had been so disappointed that Henry had given them no pointers to the direction Aurora might have gone. But remembering the big oven where he sat down on guard, something was wrong there, thought Lois, as they cruised at thirty miles an hour along the empty road leading into Tresham.

“Now, Joan, it’s first left after the lights. Or is it right? No, it’s second on the left and then sharp right,” said Gran.

Lois cleared her throat. “Don’t think so, Mum. It’s next left; then halfway down is the jeweller’s shop. You can’t miss it. It’s got a large old clock hanging outside.”

“That’s what I said,” protested Gran.

Fortunately, Joan knew exactly where it was, and pulled up smoothly under the clock. “Here we are, then, Elsie. Out you get.”

“Is it safe to leave the car out here?” said Gran.

“Oh yes. Mr. Trinder has everything alarmed, being as it is a jeweller’s,” said Lois.

The three were welcomed in, and invited into a room at the back of the shop, where the jewellery ordered had been laid out for inspection on a large dining table covered with green baize.

“Gosh! That all looks very lovely,” said Lois dutifully.

Actually, she thought that Mum and Joan had chosen very well. “I wouldn’t mind that silver star brooch myself. How much is it, Mother?”

“Oh, we haven’t worked out prices yet,” said Gran. “I am going round to Joan’s this evening to sort it all out. We reckon on a one-third profit. What do you think, Mrs. Trinder? This is just for fun, and making a little bit on the side. Nothing like the pyramid wallahs.”

After they had packed the jewellery carefully, and handed over a card to pay for it, Gran and Mrs. Trinder had a nostalgic chat about the days when Gran and family had lived in town. Then Lois led the way out of the shop and into a darkening twilight.

The car was parked on the wrong side of the road, and Lois walked round to open the rear passenger-side door.

“Lois!” shouted Joan, as she was about to get in to drive them home. “Lois, look out! Car coming fast behind you!”

“Lois!” shrieked Gran. “Watch out! Come back here!”

Too late to move, Lois flattened herself against the car and covered her ears. A terrible squeal of brakes caused her to press herself even harder as the whine of an engine out of control reached her.

Then it was gone, with much revving of the engine and angry hooting.

“Oh my God, what a wicked thing to do. Are you all right, Lois?” said Gran.

*   *   *

Lois was not all right, but she made a big effort and said she had caught sight of the driver. “One of Tresham’s finest, I reckon! That gang of louts always around the Purple Dog. Out of control. He’ll kill somebody, sure as eggs is eggs. If he doesn’t kill himself first.”

“Let’s get home, Joan. I’ve had enough for one day,” said Gran. “Thank God we don’t live in Tresham anymore. At least we can walk down the street in Farnden without being mown down. Or can we?”

Lois knew her mother was thinking about her own narrow escape in the dark night so recently. “Real bad luck, Mum. But we shall be fine now, shan’t we, Joan? We’ll get Derek to give us a restoring cup of tea, and then we’ll look at your lovely jewellery. Very well chosen, you two,” she added, hoping to change the subject.

As Lois and the two others walked into the kitchen at Meade House, they found Derek talking to a tall man with his back to them. He turned, and Lois said flatly, “Inspector. How did you know?”

Derek held up his hand. “Not yet, Lois. Not until we’re all safely settled in Gran’s warm kitchen with a glass of something in front of you.”

The first thing Cowgill said was that they had picked up the young idiot. He was doing one hundred miles an hour along the straight stretch out of Tresham. Drunk and belligerent.

“Did Mr. Trinder tell you, Inspector, what had happened?” said Joan.

“Yes, they called us as soon as you had gone. Fortunately, John Trinder has a photographic memory, and knew the number plate. Car stolen, of course.”

After that, Joan shook her head, refusing the whisky, saying she had to drive on home. “Only round the corner, I know, but we all had the fright of our lives, and if I’m driving even a short distance, I shall not touch a drop.”

Not bound by Joan’s vow of temperance, the rest sipped and gulped and felt a whole lot better afterwards. Lois realised they must all be suffering from shock, and asked her mother to make cups of tea all round. “Plenty of sugar, too, please,” she added.

They each gave their own account of what they had seen, ending with Gran, who took a deep breath and said, “I think I’ve seen him before.”

“What? What do you mean, Mum?”

“Like what I said. I’m fairly certain it was the young fool who sent me flying into the field down the road, and you rescued me.”

Inspector Cowgill frowned. “Could you see him clearly that night? I thought there was a lot of spray as he came towards you. It must have been difficult to see inside the car.”

“Yes, it was. But I remembered at once that he had his hair done in a funny kind of hairdo brushed up. All the lads have it now. It’s the latest fashion.”

“In that case, how can you be sure it’s the same chap?”

“Well, I am. But if you want to be sure, Inspector, maybe you could show me a photo of the youth you caught up with, and I can tell you if it’s the same.”