The Measby Murder Enquiry (25 page)

“Must be love,” said Roy. “You should try it, Gus.”

Gus looked at him and frowned. “Am I missing something?” he asked, seeing the grin on Roy’s face. And Ivy, too, was smiling broadly, and held out her left hand for inspection.

“You two?” Gus asked, scarcely believing what he saw on Ivy’s ring finger. “You’ve been and gone and done it! So he’s popped the question, Ivy?”

Ivy nodded, and said if anybody asked her, she would say that was obvious.

 

 

DEIRDRE WAS WAITING for them, and had set out coffee in the drawing room, thinking that after yesterday’s festivities the old ones might not manage the stairs. But when she saw them coming up the drive, Ivy striding along with her stick, Roy doing a three point turn to park his vehicle and Gus standing smiling at them, Whippy at his side, she picked up the tray and took it up to the Enquire Within office.

Gus sat in his usual chair and waited until the others were settled. Then he said that he knew he had to give them an explanation for his absence, but he hoped they would bear with him if there had to be gaps. “But first,” he said, “Ivy has much more interesting news for us. Go on, Ivy—or you, Roy!”

Then Deirdre insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, and they were suitably mellow when the business of the meeting got going.

“Why?” said Deirdre. “Why can’t you tell us the whole truth, Gus? After all, I think we three went through a nasty time, and you owe it to us.”

Gus did not answer but looked down at his shoes, as if considering the matter. Ivy broke the silence.

“Now wait a minute, Deirdre,” she said. “We know Gus was taken against his will and kept a prisoner for a while. We know money was demanded, and we don’t know whether it was paid. And now he has come back, all in one piece. That must have cost something, even if not money. Don’t you think we should leave him alone to get over his ordeal? He’ll tell us, all in good time. Isn’t that right, Gus?”

He looked at her gratefully. “Absolutely right, Ivy. But I can give you a brief account of what happened. I walked away from my prison. I got out once, and they caught me before I could get away. But then the next thing that happened was that one of my captors appeared and gave me a warning. I think it was a real warning, not an empty one. I was to be freed, provided that I made no attempt to trace them, nor gave anyone information which might lead to their discovery.” He stopped and looked around at their solemn faces. There was no comment, and they waited for him to continue.

“More importantly,” he carried on, “I was to make sure Enquire Within gave up all attempts to find out about demands made on Alwen Jones. For the sake of the safety of us
all
, I must keep my promise. If this does not satisfy the other members of Enquire Within, I shall be willing to resign and leave the decisions to you.”

Max had actually put it more bluntly. “Forget it, forget the whole business, Halfhide. Stick to lost dogs and missing cats, or else you’ll regret it, all four of you.” He had gone on to say he personally wished he’d never set eyes on Gus, but the boss—whose name he did not reveal—set up the whole kidnap thing to find out if Enquire Within was onto them. To go to all that trouble, Gus had thought, Max and company must be involved in something big.

But now there was a chorus of “No, no, don’t resign!” and Ivy suggested that with a tactful approach and Gus’s agreement, and bearing in mind Alwen had been mentioned and was obviously involved in something much more serious than they had thought, they should continue to keep her and her problems in mind. “And at the same time,” she added, not entirely convinced that there was any real danger to Enquire Within, “we can get on with the case of the old man in Measby and hear what Deirdre discovered on her visit there.”

Gus sighed and said he, too, was reluctant to knuckle under to a blackmailer’s threats, but added that he thought Deirdre going on her own to Measby had been a bit rash, hadn’t it?

“Of course not,” said Deirdre. “I was sick of waiting around with no word from you, and as it happened, I had a real stroke of luck.” She told him about the For Sale notice in the shop window, and how the shopkeeper introduced her to his boss, who was handling the sale. “She showed me round the actual cottage where the man died,” she said, and shivered at the remembrance. “She didn’t seem at all anxious to sell, fortunately. More keen to put me off.”

“It was all a bit strange, Gus,” she continued. “This woman, Doris May Osborne, was clearly well-heeled. She had all the signs of wealth. Designer clothes, great haircut, expensive scent—same as mine, actually—and when we parted, she grudgingly said that she lived at Measby Manor, behind the trees of what looked like extensive parkland.”

“She might have lured the squire into marriage. It does happen,” said Ivy, looking pointedly at Deirdre.

“Maybe she’d been a kitchen maid and the lord of the manor seduced her?” Gus offered.

“All right, all right,” said Deirdre. “That’s quite enough of that. But I think it is odd, anyway. Honestly, Gus, that cottage was a wreck, a stinking wreck. Wouldn’t you think that if it had belonged to the manor estate they’d have smartened it up a bit before putting it on the market?”

“Was there any furniture left in there? Nothing to see as evidence of a brutal murder, I suppose?” Roy liked a gruesome story, and the idea of Deirdre confronted with the scene of the crime was promising.

“More to the point,” said Gus seriously, “did she say anything about the old man’s death? Or didn’t you talk about it?”

“I asked, but she didn’t say anything much more and never once mentioned the word murder. She didn’t seem to think it was very important. I tell you, Gus, it was really odd.”

Roy had not had his question answered, and he persisted. “Was there any furniture, Deirdre? Any interesting clues?”

Deirdre reached across for her handbag. She unzipped it, and brought out the foxed and crumbling gambling book. “Not much furniture,” she said, “only a few sticks. But I stole this. I don’t suppose it’s important.”

Gus almost snatched it from her. “Oh, yes it is!” he said. “This is a very important find, Deirdre. I am ashamed to say I am no stranger to this particular book. It is an illustrated account of all the ways of cheating at gambling, ostensibly to open the eyes of those who are being cheated. Everything a serious gambler should know.”

“How is that important, though?” Ivy said, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell.

“Well, think back, Ivy. Money in all its glorious guises. Investment, gambling, extortion, whatever you like to call it. And all preying on old, vulnerable people. Maybe like the old man who died. Could mean revenge, and you can take it from me, the world of gambling is full of cheated people out for revenge.”

Deirdre had begun to see a glimmer of light. “Maybe like Alwen? Has she been one of these vulnerable victims? I do wish you could be more forthcoming, Gus.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there,” Gus said quickly, and changed the subject. He asked more questions about Doris May Osborne, and said he thought Deirdre had done very well. “We might have a return visit to that interesting village,” he said. “But this time, I go with you. Now, who wants this book? The very sight of it gives me the creeps.”

“I’ll have it,” said Ivy. “Might help me beat our newest recruit at pontoon.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Gus’s face, and he said quickly, “Goodness, look at the time. If we’ve nothing more to discuss at the moment, I must be off to the shop before it closes. Come on, Whippy girl, let’s be making tracks. Oh, and Ivy, I must tell you again how pleased I am about you and Roy. It’s the best news I’ve had for a long time. Bye, Deirdre, thanks for coffee.”

After he had left, there was an uncomfortable silence. Then Ivy said that it was quite possible that Gus did not know anything more about Alwen Jones, but as this was part of their investigation, perhaps they should carry on for a bit without him and plan what they would do next in that direction.

“Excellent,” said Roy.

“If I’m right,” said Deirdre, “when Gus sees how determined we three are to continue our enquiring, he will not be able to keep away from joining the team.”

“Thank you for that, Deirdre,” said Ivy. “And now who’s for one more cup of coffee?”

“WHERE DO YOU think you’re going?” said Bronwen, staring at Trevor. He was wearing a loud check sports jacket that she had not seen before. Clearly new, then. Added to that, he was carrying a new leather briefcase, stuffed with papers, and was accompanied by a strong smell of aftershave.

“Out,” he said. “I’ve got a meeting with an important client. He can only manage this evening, in the County Hotel.”

“And I’m expected to believe that, am I? And what about the new jacket and briefcase? I suppose you think now that Mother intends to put right some financial problems, you can spend, spend, spend, just as before? Well, you can’t, Trevor my lad. I haven’t had an extra penny direct, and what little I have left in my bank account is staying there. So you can just go and get changed and come back down and watch telly with me. Her at the County Hotel will just have to have a meeting by herself, won’t she.”

Trevor’s face was an angry scarlet, and his developing boozer’s nose took on a distinctly purple hue. “Don’t you speak to me like that!” he said, but saw that she was smiling triumphantly and knew that he had lost.

“I have to make a call, then, to cancel the meeting. Probably lost us a good client with your stupid suspicions!” he added, but Bronwen merely turned up the sound on the telly and settled comfortably in her armchair.

“No need to use your mobile,” she said over her shoulder, as he put his hand in his pocket. “You can use the phone over there. Then I can enjoy your feeble excuses.”

 

 

IN BRONWEN’S SISTER’S house, the atmosphere was very different. Her children were safely tucked up in bed, and she and her mild husband Clive were listening to opera on the radio. Clive was absorbed in the latest choice from their reading group, and Bethan leafed through a catalogue of French children’s clothes, much cheaper than the English equivalents, and with, as sister Bronwen would say, a certain je ne sais quoi. She had tidied up the scattered toys and put them in a big yellow box in the corner of the living room, and now she and Clive sat side by side on a sofa that had seen better days, with threadbare patches covered over with a cheerful tartan throw.

Bethan closed the catalogue, and said hesitantly that if Clive could have a pause from reading for a bit, she would really like to talk something over with him.

“Of course, chump. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s Mother. I had a call from Mrs. Spurling at Springfields this afternoon. She said she was a little worried about her. Nothing serious, she said, but she had been very quiet lately and seemed rather solitary.”

“What about her card-playing friends?” Clive said. He had a small, pointed beard and had a habit of pulling it gently when puzzled. When his small son had asked why Daddy had hair on his face, he answered that it made up for losing it on his head, and for the moment that seemed to satisfy. The truth was that long ago a disillusioned girlfriend had said he had a weak chin, so he had taken action.

“I thought she was really happy with Ivy Beasley?” he continued. “Settled down well, we thought.”

“Yes, well, that has cooled down a little. This deterioration is very recent, Mrs. Spurling said. But she thought that perhaps if we all went to see her as soon as possible it would cheer her up. She felt quite sure there was nothing wrong physically. It was depression, she feared, and this could be very debilitating.”

“Right! That’s easy enough. I’ll take tomorrow afternoon off, and we’ll all go. The boys will surely lighten things up.”

“What about the garden centre?”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m owed a couple of days, so that’ll be no problem. I’ll go in early and leave at lunchtime. I can give the kids their jobs for the day, and Caroline will supervise the work.”

Clive was in charge of a garden centre outside Thornwell. It was part of a workbridge setup for people with learning and physical disabilities, and under his management it had become a valuable resource for the young people, and also financially successful, which endeared it to the local authority under whose umbrella it existed.

Satisfied with the plan, Bethan found her own book, and with the music turned down so as not to disturb the boys, they relaxed.

 

 

NEXT MORNING, GUS turned up at Tawny Wings soon after nine and asked Deirdre if she fancied a run over to Measby to have another look at the cottage. She was still in her dressing gown and said she wished he had given her a little notice, but if he would wait in the sitting room, she would shower and be happy to go with him. Then she had second thoughts. She had been right about his change of heart, but what about his promise, and if he’d been warned off, was it safe for him to go?