Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven (10 page)

“C
owgill first,” Lois said to herself, as she drove into the car park at the back of the police station. She went quickly through to reception and came face-to-face with her son-in-law, Matthew.

“Lois!” he said. “Hello, Mother-in-Law. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. How’s Josie?”

“Very well, and looking forward to seeing you when you next call in to the shop. Are you here to see me, or the inspector?”

“Inspector Cowgill,” said Lois, “who is coming down the stairs at this very moment. Nice to see you, Matthew.”

After a few more pleasantries were exchanged, Lois followed Cowgill to his office. “I don’t have much time,” she said, as he held a chair for her. She had done some rapid thinking in her car, and decided to consider further whether she should tell him the sensitive information Dot had produced. Aurora had never hinted at such goings-on. It certainly increased the possibility of Donald having strangled his mistress in the hotel. He wouldn’t have been the first man to find it necessary to get rid of an embarrassing association.

“Lovely as it is to see you, my Lois, do you have anything new and relevant to tell me? You’re looking puzzled this morning.”

Oh hell, she thought. “Well, I have just been to see Dot Nimmo, and she has told me the most extraordinary story about that woman who was strangled. She was apparently called Sylvia Fountain, which I’m sure you already know, but also she was a longtime mistress of Donald Black. Do you want the details?”

He nodded slowly. “That confirms it, then. We know she was selling his jewellery on the side, but could not trace any evidence that she had held parties. Not that sort, anyway.”

A silence fell, whilst he looked at her, smiling fondly.

“Go on, then,” she said.

“Tell me more,” he said. “I have every respect for Dot Nimmo as a source of information, and you are much more likely to receive her confidences than I am. The Nimmos and the police are at permanent loggerheads.”

“I can’t believe it is as bad as that,” Lois said. “Surely Tresham is a gang-free town? And from what I hear, the great days of the fearsome Nimmo gang are almost over.”

“Almost,” agreed Cowgill. “But there is a resurgence. A female whose name is Prentise. A cousin and big pal of Sylvia Fountain, and, I suspect, is behind several quite serious operations lately.”

“Prentise? Sounds familiar. Does she have a Christian name?”

“Gloria. Flaming red hair. Some say glorious, but experts say it is all out of a bottle. She keeps a low profile, and so far we have not managed to pin anything on her. But we bide our time, Lois. As you know.”

“Not any further forward, then, in the case of Donald Black? Could it be a revenge killing? Avenging the death of Sylvia? Hey, there could be a connection here!”

Cowgill raised his eyebrows. “Where?”

“Water,” said Lois. “Sylvia
Fountain
and, in Donald’s case, death by
drowning
.”

Another silence. Then Cowgill frowned. “Are you serious, Lois?”

She stood up, laughing. “Of course not,” she said. “Now, I must be going. Keep in touch.”

Then she was gone, and he sat shaking his head and smiling. She was like a ray of sunshine in his somber day. How wonderful it would be if she brought sunlight to him every day of the week!

L
ois was in her office, facing a small heap of paper to be gone through before coffee time. She had for many months now handed over the New Brooms wages, and other items of administration which did not need her, to Hazel in the office in Tresham.

The papers in front of her were confidential reports from her cleaning staff, and others from herself on potential clients who might need a follow-up. She began on the former, and was pleased with how smoothly everything seemed to be running. She loved especially the ones from Dot, which always had a humorous story or two to raise a smile.

Only one client was not yet signed up, and this was over at Fletching. Lois had been to call on the woman, who had grilled her thoroughly. After this, with no offers of cups of tea or general chat, Lois had left, convinced that this one was a no-go. But then yesterday there had been a message left for her, asking for another visit. Lois had begun to believe the woman was planning to set up a rival business, having learned all the details from New Brooms. It was a possibility.

She picked up the phone and dialled the Fletching number.

“Good morning, this is New Brooms. Lois Meade speaking. You left a message for me?”

The woman sounded much more friendly, and said she had decided to go ahead, and could Lois call in and they would discuss starting dates, et cetera.

Looking at the cleaning schedules, there seemed to be a spot for Floss to have time free. Mrs. Tolervey-Jones, unofficial assistant to Lois, and at present recovering from a serious illness, had insisted on retaining Floss as her New Brooms cleaner after she had moved from Farnden Hall to the Stone House in the village, but her hours had been cut. Mrs. T-J—as she was known by the cleaning girls—and Floss had always been a sympathetic pair, and Floss, keen on riding, regularly exercised the old mare that Mrs. T-J could not bear to sell. It lived a contented life in a small stable and coach house, disused for many years, that she had spruced up at the bottom of her garden.

Lois picked up her phone again, and dialled Floss. “Morning, all well?”

“Fine, thanks. About to go home. I’ve finished Mrs. T-J. Can I help?”

“Could you call in? I have another client for you. That is, if you can fit her in. I see you have Friday morning free at the moment. You can? Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, and we’ll go over to Fletching. I will introduce you, explain what’s to be done, and then you can start next week. Okay?”

*   *   *

As Lois worked through the last of the reports, Gran stuck her head round the door and said she was going down to the shop, and then on to see Joan. Back in time to get lunch. Lois watched from her window as her mother walked briskly down the drive and disappeared. She’s certainly got a spring in her step this morning, thought Lois. Ah well, Aurora had promised she would let her know what Gran and Joan were up to.

After she had tidied up her office, she set off upstairs to collect some washing and make sure Derek had not forgotten to change his vest. As she passed her mother’s bedroom, she saw the door was open and a strong wind had got up and was blowing the curtains about. She walked in, closed the window, and was about to leave when she saw the wardrobe door was not quite shut and a large bag had been stuffed inside.

“What the hell is that?” she said aloud, and pulled the bag out so that she could push it in more tidily and shut the door. It was a strong canvas bag with a logo of a chrysanthemum flower entwining through a capital letter B. With great strength of character, knowing how furious her mother would be if she opened it, she returned it to its place in the wardrobe and shut the door.

The logo haunted her until Gran returned, and then, as Derek asked over his pudding if Lois knew how Aurora was doing, she knew what it was. Brigham Luxury Jewellery. So Elsie and Joan had got as far as a starter pack! And that would have been bought and paid for.

“Oh, all right, I think,” she answered Derek. “Back in harness. With the bakery, anyway. I expect she has a lot of thinking to do before she can restart the jewellery business. What do you think, Mum?”

Gran went pink, cleared her throat and said there was more pudding if anyone wanted seconds.

F
loss was already parked outside Briar House when Lois arrived next morning. Lois beckoned to her to come and sit with her for a few minutes, while she briefed her on what they knew so far on the new client.

“I don’t know her Christian name,” said Floss, “but I remember she donated to charity the proceeds of opening her garden one year.”

As they walked up the short drive to the house, Lois looked around and said it was certainly a lovely garden. “She must be loaded to hire a gardener to do all of this. Looks like it’s been trimmed with manicure scissors!”

“What’s her name, Mrs. M? I’d better know it, if I’m going to work here.”

“Um, hang on. I’m showing my age, Floss, when I can’t remember names! No, I’ve got it. Mrs. Diana Prentise. I knew I’d heard it somewhere before! She’s lived here some while now, but originates from Tresham. Very pleasant on the phone, the second time she rang. Ah, I think someone’s coming.”

They were given coffee, and invited to sit in a long, low-ceilinged room, where heavy black beams supported the ceiling like the backbones of a flatfish.

Lois opened the conversation, and then handed it over to Floss. Mrs. Prentise offered to show them over the house, and it was when they were ushered into a pink, overfrilled bedroom that Lois remembered where she had heard the name previously. Gloria Prentise, of course.

“Do you have a daughter?” she said. “This is such a lovely girl’s room.”

“It was my daughter’s, a long time ago now. But she occasionally spends the odd night or two here and likes me to keep the room as it was.”

Lois looked at her more closely. Her hair was a uniform grey, with no signs of having once been red. She was neat and expensively dressed, guessed Lois. That kind of muted elegance costs money. Perhaps she had been on the game until retirement, with her daughter following in her footsteps?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from Floss. She and Mrs. Prentise had gone on ahead, so Lois caught up and asked what had been so funny.

“That black furry monkey!” said Floss, pointing out of the window at a rose-covered brick wall in the garden. “It’s a toy, look, see how it is holding on to a stem with its hands and dangling its feet below.” She laughed again, and Mrs. Prentise smiled. “My daughter calls him Black Jack! Don’t ask me why. He stays out there, come rain or come shine, without deteriorating. Now, you go downstairs first, Floss. I am so old now that I often trip up.”

Lois followed behind the other two, and wondered at the warped sense of humour that could hang like a biblical criminal on a rosy crucifix, an innocent toy. Still, it had amused Floss, so she supposed it wasn’t all bad.

Lois answered a few more questions about cleaning schedules, and added details of New Brooms prices. Mrs. Prentise waved that aside, saying she was glad to be able to support her old age in the manner to which she had been accustomed.

Lucky you! Lois was beginning to dislike this smug old woman, and then unbidden a thought came into her head. Wouldn’t she be a likely candidate for one of Gran and Joan’s jewellery parties? Then she remembered she thoroughly disapproved of those, and somewhat abruptly ushered Floss out of the front door, saying that, if convenient, New Brooms would start in a week’s time.

“You didn’t like her, Mrs. M, did you?” said Floss, as they drove away.

“I don’t have to like the clients, and nor do you, Flossie dear,” said Lois. “We just go in and do a job as well as possible, and that’s it. I’ll say what I always say, as you know; be on your guard and report back to me anything untoward that is said or heard by you whilst you are working there.”

Floss frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say it quite so seriously before. Do you know something about Mrs. Prentise that perhaps I should know, too?”

“We have a week before you start. Then you’ll either be fine there, or withdrawn.”

Then Lois changed the subject, and asked Floss how her parents were, and had she decided where to go on holiday this year?

*   *   *

“I shall be going round to Joan’s this afternoon,” said Gran, as she dished up shepherd’s pie for lunch. Derek had come home, as he was working nearby, and he was half listening to Gran when Lois suddenly blurted out that if Gran and Joan did not stop this nonsense she would have to do something about it.

“For heaven’s sake, Lois,” he said. “Your mother and Joan can do what they like with their own money, so long as nobody gets hurt in the process.”

“That’s exactly it,” said Lois, remembering the starter pack in Gran’s wardrobe. “I have this nagging feeling that not only them but other suckers might get hurt! Anyway, I am going to see Aurora this afternoon, so I shall ask her what exactly is happening with the jewellery scam.”

Gran stood up, crashing her chair backward. “Lois Weedon!” she said loudly. “It is not a scam! It is, as Derek says, my money. I like the idea of running a little business on the side, and you can trust me not to break the law, for God’s sake! And as for Aurora Black, you should remember that she is mourning a partner, and the last thing she needs is you going in there insulting her husband’s profession!”

“Profession? I don’t call it a profession running a dodgy business like he did.”

“It is
not
dodgy!” shouted Gran. “And I’ll thank you to mind your own business for once!”

Gran walked towards the door. “And you keep away from that inspector! I’ll not put up with it; so there!”

Derek rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. “God save us,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” Lois was still steaming.

“I said, God preserve me from women. That’s all. Now, are you going to make us a cup of coffee before I get back to work to keep us all with a roof over our heads?”