Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven (22 page)

“I
’ll just nip into the ladies’ room,” said Aurora, “while you take Jeems to the car. And then I’ll meet you back at the bakery, so’s you can pick up your bread. Shan’t be two ticks.”

Jeems protested about being shut up in the car, whining in a heartbreaking howl. It took Lois several minutes to placate her with a couple of biscuits and a promise that she would be back directly.

Aurora, meanwhile, was in the ladies’ room glad of the hotel amenities, which she often used instead of her own, upstairs and very chilly in wintertime. Now she came out into the backyard, surrounded by a high brick wall, only to find her way barred by a small, weaselly-looking character with his cap pulled down over his eyes.

“Excuse me,” she said politely. “I need to come out this way to get to my bakery shop.”

He didn’t answer, and remained standing in her way. She was about to turn and go back into the hotel to find another exit, when he spoke.

“I seen ’im. I saw ’im the day he went into the water. An’ I saw several other things. It’d be worth your while to help me out with a tenner, and I could forget what I saw happen then.”

Aurora stared at him. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said. “If you don’t go away and leave me alone, I shall call for the police. There’s always one patrols round here about now.”

“You’ll regret it, Mrs. Black. But I am always up the road in the hostel. You can find me there.”

Aurora was growing angry. “I have no intention of finding you again, ever. So get out of my way, and let me pass! My friend is waiting, and she’s got a very bad-tempered terrier.”

“Ha! It’ll take more than a bloody dog to scare me. Anyway, I’ve said what I got to say, and I’ll wait for you to contact me. Up the road. The White House hostel, for tramps like me.”

He vanished quickly, so quickly that Aurora did not see where he went, but it certainly wasn’t the gate in the wall, where she went quickly and found Lois waiting for her.

“Who was that funny little man?” Lois asked. “He passed me, going like a bat out of hell, muttering to himself.”

“Oh, poor little so-and-so. It was probably one of the alkies from the hostel at the top of the road. Most of them have rotted their brains with drinking. Poor souls. People round here have tried to get them moved somewhere else, but the authorities have refused. I sometimes give them a bun and a cup of coffee if they are sitting on the pond wall. They are always polite and grateful, but this one had rather alarmingly claimed to have seen Donald fall. He was insinuating nasty things, and I don’t intend to worry about him and his lies.”

Not worrying will not be that easy with the nasty piece of work who challenged me just now, Aurora thought to herself. I shall have to be careful to stay out of his way. I do hope he wasn’t told to clear off by Donald that morning. Donald was one of the people trying to get rid of the residents of the White House, which he said gave the area a bad name. Weaselly man was so sure I would have something to hide, the idiot. I didn’t give him money, though. I’ve never given any of them money. The staff up there did not encourage it.

She realised Lois had said something to her but she had no idea what. She was shaking and felt she wanted to tell Lois about the nastiness of the man’s sudden unexpected threat. Lois was duly sympathetic, and said all the right comforting things.

But “Odd,” Lois said to Jeems, who had settled on her bed in the back of the van. “Very odd indeed.”

*   *   *

Milly had risen late, but when she saw her mother and Lois Meade with a dog over the meadows, she decided to tidy the bakery and put the stale loaves under the counter in plastic bags. They were fine for the ducks, and several families came out regularly on Sunday afternoons with children who loved to feed the birds. It had been Milly’s idea to sell stale bread for a few pennies, and she enjoyed talking to the young families. She loved the babies especially, and was hoping to specialise in paediatrics when she went back to the hospital.

“Hi Mum,” she said now, as Aurora came into the bakehouse. “Did you have a nice morning with Mrs. Meade?”

Aurora nodded. “Yes, we had a lovely time. There was a slight hitch when we came back. Lois went to put Jeems in the car, and I went to the loo in the hotel, like I often do. Then when I came out, there was this little man in a tweed cap waiting for me. Tried blackmail! Some trumped-up story about your father and the Mill. I sent him packing, not very kindly, I’m afraid. Never give in to blackmail, Milly, and if he accosts you, walk right past him.”

“Was he from the White House?” said Milly.

“He said so. I’ve never seen him before. They have quite a quick turnover up there. Some of those far-gone residents don’t last long, poor things.”

“Well, never mind about the inhabitants of the White House; why don’t we treat ourselves and have lunch in the bar restaurant over the road?”

“Good idea,” said Aurora. “A couple more glasses of cider, and I shall be anybody’s!”

Milly laughed, but covered her surprise at her mother’s answer. She looked at her, her cheeks pink and eyes sparkling at the idea of being anybody’s. Of course, Milly thought, her mother was a relatively young woman, and very attractive in her efficient way. Extraordinary, really, that she could not remember a single occasion when her father had made any affectionate gestures, or even gave any indication that he still fancied her.

But then again, Aurora was very cool. Pleasant and fond of her only child. But cool. That couldn’t be said for her father with other women. Some of those who came over from the hotel to buy bread were all over him, and he clearly enjoyed it!

So where does that leave me? Milly thought. A bit of Mum’s inherited genes, I expect. Best not to think too much about it.

T
oday was Monday, and Lois sat in her office preparing for the midday meeting of her team. She found she was moving the same piece of paper from one side of her desk to another, while her mind was on other things.

Yesterday’s walk with Aurora and her story of the tramp’s attempt to blackmail her had alarmed Lois. It could have been a weak attempt to grab a small amount of money for drink, or the weasel might have been after bigger rewards. Aurora seemed to be taking it reasonably lightly, but when she handed Lois an extra free loaf only just out of date, her hands were shaking.

The obvious thing was for either Aurora herself, or Lois on her behalf, to inform Inspector Cowgill. It would be easy enough for the inspector to visit the White House with Aurora and identify the weasel. A Monday morning was perhaps not a good idea, but maybe after the team meeting, she would give him a ring and judge his reaction. She supposed the police were well acquainted with the residents of the White House, mainly concerned with petty crime. But occasionally, surely, they must have had to investigate more serious matters. And what was this one? Something to do with the death of Aurora’s husband, Donald, and of his fancy woman in the hotel? A witness?

Lois picked up her phone and dialled Aurora.

“Hi, Lois! How are you this morning? That was a lovely walk we had yesterday. Thank you so much for winkling me out to take dear little Jeems across the meadows.”

“Yes, it was fun. Except for your encounter with a threatening, weaselly man. That is partly why I am ringing. How would you feel about telling Cowgill what you’ve told me? He could probably give the nasty unfortunate a stern warning and tell him to keep out of your way. What do you think?”

Aurora’s voice changed. “No, Lois. I don’t need that,” she said in a bright, firm tone. “Those men in the White House have enough to put up with, usually to do with the killer diet of the down-and-out. And I have good relations with the people at the White House. They trust me, and I would not lose that for all the tea in China. I will deal with it; don’t worry. And in my own way. But thanks for your concern.”

Lois was taken aback. She had not previously heard Aurora speaking in such a stern voice, and she couldn’t think of anything to persuade her to accept help. They talked of mundane everyday things, and finally Lois said she had to go to prepare for her team meeting.

“And I don’t have to ask you,” said Aurora, “not to mention all that stuff about my assignation with a weasel! I am quite serious about this, and I know that I can trust you.”

Lois shrugged. She could see Dot Nimmo approaching up the garden path. “Hardly an assignation,” she said, and signed off.

*   *   *

The meeting began with Lois calling the gossips to order. “Quiet, you lot,” she said, smiling. “Let’s have complaints first of all. Any dissatisfied customers? You first, Dot.”

Dot smiled blandly. “All my clients are more than satisfied,” she said.

“And you, Floss? How are you coping with Mrs. Prentise?”

“Not bad. She is a bit stuffy sometimes, but spends most of her life on the telephone to her friends. At least, I suppose they are friends. One of them seems to be that Aurora Black. Very chummy, they are.”

“Bearing in mind that one of our basic rules is never to eavesdrop deliberately on clients’ private conversations, was there anything else you could not help hearing? Anything of interest to this meeting?”

Floss could hear the encouragement in Lois’s voice, and shook her head. “Only that they were gossiping in reception in the hotel. The cleaners, I mean. Discussing Joan and Gran’s next jewellery party in the hotel.”

“
What
did you say? Another jewellery party?” said Lois.

“Yes, they were all excited about it. Should do well.”

“There was one other thing,” added Floss. “You know that Gloria? The one with the fancy bedroom in her mother’s house? Well, her name was mentioned more than once. Seems she has been interviewed by the police a couple of times recently. I thought you’d be interested, Mrs. M.”

“Thanks, Floss. Now, remind me to have a word with my mother. Jewellery parties indeed! But let’s change the subject. As you know, I am most anxious to find out who pushed Donald Black into the water. If he
was
pushed. He could have fallen or, most unlikely, jumped. It has been a very distressing time for my friend Aurora, and it would be good to have the whole thing cleared up. Thank you for your input, Dot and Floss. Now let’s get on. Andrew, anything to report?”

Andrew said that his two jobs, redecorating the hotel and occasional cleaning when the staff was extra busy, were turning out to be very interesting. “Bearing in mind,” he said, with a small smile, “that we never deliberately eavesdrop on clients’ conversations, it is sometimes difficult for me to avoid that. Sometimes I think I’m invisible with a paintbrush in my hand. Unfortunately, I don’t know many of the hotel’s visitors. There’s constant coming and going, of course. What’s more, I am not particularly interested in them, unless something stands out from the norm.”

“I used to love ’im,” said Dot.

“Who?” Andrew frowned.

“Norm. Little Norm. Norman Wisdom, o’course. He was great on the telly!”

“On which note,” said Lois. “I hereby close the meeting.”

W
hen they had all gone, Gran came in with a question. “What was so funny? I could hear them laughing from up the garden in among the bean sticks!”

“It was your favourite person made us laugh, Mum. Dot Nimmo can be very funny at times. Anyway, are we having runners for lunch? Lamb chops and runner beans. Very restoring. What would we do without you?”

“Very well, I should think.”

“Forget it, Mum. Now, I have to go into town this afternoon. An appointment at three. And before you ask, yes, it is to see the inspector.”

“Thanks for telling us,” said Gran sourly. “Lunch is nearly ready, you’ll be pleased to know, and Derek is coming up the drive.”

*   *   *

Lois returned Aurora’s call and invited her to come to tea at about five o’clock. Hot buttered toast and honey, she said, and Aurora cheered up immediately.

“And best not to mention parties, Mum,” Lois said, alerting Gran to the guest for tea.

“All right. But if she mentions it first, I’ll offer her a job.”

“Mum! What do you mean? You told me the Prentise party was the last, and now I hear you’re fixing up one with the Mill House Hotel!”

“Did I say that?” said Gran. “Well, you never know, do you, how things will turn out? After all, when we moved here from Tresham, you had no intention of ferretin’. Too much to do with three children, if I remember rightly. Anyway, eat your lunch. You won’t want to keep the inspector waiting.”

Derek came in, shaking his head and saying it was a gale blowing out there, with rain like bullets. “Do you have to go out, Lois?” he said, sitting down at the table. “And are we allowed to know where you are going?”

“To see Cowgill. He wants to ask me some questions.”

“Surely he could come here? I mean, what’s the use of having a policeman in the family if you can’t pull a few strings?”

“I also have to collect my shoes from the menders. Is that a good-enough reason? Now, I’m off. Thanks for lunch, Mum. See you later.”

She kissed Derek on the top of his head, collected her handbag and keys and left.

*   *   *

Tresham was busy, and the heavy rain had caused clashes of umbrellas. The police-station car park was full, and Lois found a place on the other side of the street. Then she put her head down and ran through the storm to the station entrance, where the door was thrust open, almost crashing into her face.

“Gloria! Be careful! Hi, don’t go!” But Gloria had disappeared into the crowds.

“Good day, Mrs. Meade,” said the desk sergeant, “though it isn’t, is it? The inspector is expecting you.” His wide smile was teasing, and he gestured up the stone stairs.

“Ah, Lois, my dear. Come and sit down. Are you wet? It is a shocking day. Come here and let me help you take off those wet shoes.”

“No chance!” said Lois. “Nice try, though. Now, I don’t have much time, so shall we make a start?”

Cowgill contented himself with taking out a large, white folded handkerchief and drying the rain from her face, then kissing her lightly on her cold, rosy cheek.

“Right, then shall I begin?” said Lois. “You have not yet given me the result of the postmortem on Sylvia Fountain. I’ve been mugging up on such things, and it sounds as if the results are divulged only to a close member of the family. Not me, for instance. But my colleague, Gloria Prentise, was a cousin of Sylvia, and from what she has told me, they were more like sisters. Gloria is very upset at Sylvia’s horrible death. She swears she is as interested in finding her murderer as I am, but for a different reason. I am concerned only with an attempt to help my friend Aurora Black.”

“Whose husband was Sylvia Fountain’s lover. I should have thought Gloria would rejoice in getting rid of Donald Black.”

“That might be part of it, but I think she feels the whole sordid business needs to be finalised. I don’t know what finalised would mean in Prentise circles, though I do know I wouldn’t want to be at the rough end of what they consider justice. Now, we want to know the results of the postmortem, as they could well help us to avoid more violence. Revenge killings, an’ that. Will you confirm Gloria is close family, and talk to her?”

Cowgill sighed. “I had looked forward to an afternoon with my lovely Lois, but now all I have to tell you is that I gave Gloria the postmortem results before you arrived. You must have seen her leaving.”

“Yes, I did, and she did not stop. Oh my Lord, Cowgill! We have to catch her right away to make her stop. Depends what the results were, of course, but if it gave Gloria some really important clues as to who killed Sylvia, I hate to think what she or her family might do. Gloria is an odd person, and not one I would necessarily trust, but we have a pretty fragile truce between us, and I might be able to stop her doing anything silly.”

“Stop what exactly?”

“Stop her before she finds the answer to her search, or thinks she has found the person, and possibly decides to avenge poor strangled Sylvia there and then.”

Cowgill stood up. “My dear Lois, aren’t you getting a little fanciful? Though I agree that Gloria Prentise was certainly very angry about something, and muttered that she had to get to Brigham straightaway. Mm, well, you’re not usually wrong, so come on, my dear,” he said, reaching for her wet coat. “I’ll order the car, and we’ll go back to Long Farnden so that you can change into dry clothes.”

“No time. Let’s go straight to Brigham. We may be in time, and I’ll never speak to you again if we aren’t. All my efforts to help Aurora will be in vain.”

“Now you’re verging on the melodramatic! What on earth are you expecting? Pistols at dawn? We have plenty of time, if so.”

“Not so sure about that. And don’t come the
humph
ing detective with me. I’ll go on my own if you’d rather. C’mon.”