Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven (2 page)

G
ran, standing at the Rayburn and testing a cake with a skewer, saw Lois and Douglas go by the window and waved, delighted to see her grandson.

“Give your old gran a kiss then,” she said, as they came into the kitchen. Douglas gave her an affectionate hug, and sat down at the large table.

“You staying for lunch, boy?” she said.

The three sat around the table and talked of family concerns for a while, and then Lois asked if Douglas had heard anything about the woman found dead in bed at the Mill House Hotel.

“Only what you mentioned in Josie’s shop,” Douglas said, and Gran shook her head.

Lois showed them the newspaper, and Gran tut-tutted. “Sounds like a crime of passion,” she said. “Or she could have forgotten to take her pills,” she added. “I know if I were sleeping in a strange bed, which, God forbid, I would be out of my usual routine and probably even forget to wash me face.”

The phone rang, and Lois jumped up quickly to answer it in her office. New Brooms was a busy concern, and with six cleaners and at least forty regular clients, the office was a hive of activity.

*   *   *

“Hello? Who’s that?”

“Inspector Cowgill for you, Mrs. Meade. Just putting you through.”

“Lois, my dear, how are you this bright day?”

“Fine, thanks. What do you want?”

Cowgill resisted the impulse to tell her that she was the thing he wanted most in the world, and said that he had a new case which might interest her. He would appreciate her help.

“That poor woman found dead in bed in the Mill House Hotel?”

“Exactly,” said Cowgill. “It’s not as bald and straightforward as it seemed at first. Could I call and have a talk?”

“Police business?”

“Of course, Lois dear. I’ll be with you at five.”

Lois put down the phone and smiled. Good old Cowgill. He was semiretired, but seemed to do as much as he always had. He had a terrific reputation with the force, and they were happy to keep him on. His nephew, Matthew, was rising through the ranks, but Cowgill was careful to avoid any suspicion of nepotism.

Back in the kitchen, where Gran had made coffee, Lois said it had been a New Brooms call, and she would be having a visitor this afternoon. She hoped to get to the front door before Gran, but it was a forlorn hope.

“A new client?” said Douglas.

“What visitor?” asked Gran.

“Oh, all right then. Not New Brooms. It’s Inspector Cowgill, wanting to talk about that woman dead in bed at the Mill House Hotel. Now, let’s change the subject. How’s the tiddlers, Dougie?”

“Fine, Mum. They’re good little chaps, and Susie knows how to handle them.”

“Love ’em and leave ’em alone; that was my policy,” said Gran.

“Mum! It was ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child,’ if I remember rightly!” said Lois.

“Must be off now,” said Douglas, sensing an argument. “Let me know, Mum, if you need an assistant.”

“She already has one, though God alone knows why she has to choose a batty old woman. Mrs. Tollervey-Jones, of all people!”

“I’m already used to batty old women,” said Lois with a smile, and added she would see Douglas to his car and give her small white terrier, Jemima (aka Jeems), a bit of a walk.

*   *   *

“Hello, Uncle Hunter! How can I help you?” Josie greeted Matthew’s inspector uncle with a peck on the cheek. “Business call, or an afternoon off and here to see the family?”

Cowgill looked at her, so like Lois and equally lovely. “I’m here to see your mother, but couldn’t pass without saying hello. And, of course, to ask if you’ve heard any useful talk in the shop.”

“About the woman in the Mill House Hotel? Oh yes, most of the old tabs who congregate in here on pension day, they had plenty to say this morning. One of them said she was a high-class fancy woman who usually turns up with a man. The same man every time. But this time she was on her own.”

“How did this woman know that?”

“Son works for the hotel, in the bar. You lot have already interviewed him, so I’m not telling you anything new. Though there was one other woman who said she thought she knew who the man was, though it was all highly confidential. She looked embarrassed, as if she wished she hadn’t said anything.”

“Can you give me names, Josie?”

“No, sorry. Not unless it is unavoidable. If it got around that I was a nark, my shop would be avoided like poison. Mum being your little helper is bad enough.”

“And being married to a policeman?”

“And being married to a policeman.”

G
ran had refused many times to have her hearing tested, claiming it was as good as the day she was born. Lois suspected she could be conveniently deaf at times and sharp as a button at others. She sighed, as no sooner had the bell begun to ring than there Gran was, opening the door and greeting Cowgill with distinct coolness.

“Ferretin’,” as Lois’s husband called her detective work, was steadfastly frowned on by both him and Gran. Derek considered she had enough to do with New Brooms without running around after criminals, some of whom could be dangerous, and Gran’s objection was terse and to the point. “A woman’s place is in the home,” she would say, loudly and often.

Now Lois asked her kindly if she could rustle up coffee for the inspector, and shut the office door firmly.

“It’s some time since we cleared up the last case. How have you been Lois? Is business good?” Cowgill smiled affectionately at her over her desk.

“Fine, thanks. New client at, guess where, Brigham. My friend Aurora Black runs a bakery near the Mill, and, as I am sure you know, we have talked about the sad case of an unexplained death in the hotel.”

Cowgill nodded. “Right, well, this woman, who checked into the hotel as Sylvia Fountain, arrived at about three o’clock in the afternoon with an overnight bag and went up to her room. She did not appear in the dining room for supper, nor at breakfast. The cleaning staff reported that they could get no reply to knocking, and asked if they should use their room key to go in.”

“What time was this?”

“Ten o’clockish. The cleaners do not always go round the rooms in the same order, so they weren’t absolutely sure, but more or less ten o’clock. When they went in, two of them, they saw the woman, still under the duvet and asleep, or supposedly asleep. Then one of them said the woman seemed very still, so they gently pulled back the duvet and saw at once that she was not breathing. The rest you can imagine.”

“Not completely. Was she wearing nightclothes?”

“Ah, still thinking laterally, Lois. No, she was wearing the clothes she arrived in. And the next odd thing is that her overnight bag contained no night things. No nightdress, toothbrush, nothing you would expect to find.”

“What was in it, then?”

“Jewellery. Bags of it. And, I am assured, all of it worthless. Costume jewellery, I believe it used to be called.”

“Oh God. Not jewellery.” Lois had paled.

“I know, Lois my dear. Your friend Aurora’s husband, Donald Black. First on our list of suspects, of course.”

“But she didn’t say anything about him being involved when I was over there.”

“No, well, when we spoke to him he had a cast-iron alibi. He was up north, far north, attending a conference on business management. They vouched for his every move, including sleeping in a school dormitory requisitioned for the purpose.”

“Oh, how convenient! And the big question: how did she die?”

“Strangled with a silver necklace.”

“Blimey,” said Lois, and she frowned as the door opened and Gran entered bearing a tray of coffee and home-baked biscuits.

“You all right, Lois?” she said, frowning. “You look like a ghost! What’ve you been saying to my daughter, Inspector?”

“Oh, I’m okay, Mum. Thanks for the coffee.”

The inspector had jumped up to help, and now closed the door behind a scowling Gran.

“Sorry, Lois. I didn’t mean to alarm you. But I am afraid that Donald Black is still under surveillance. I am not sure how much he has told his wife, but she must be aware.”

“Poor Aurora. What a slimy toad he must be. Beats me how he fathered that lovely Milly.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Lois. As I said, his alibi is watertight. In fact, so much so, that it is in itself odd, to say the least. Most of us cannot account for every minute of our day and night.”

“Anything more to tell me?”

“Only that Miss Sylvia Fountain is known to us. Nothing serious. A little light shoplifting now and then. Also hires herself out to the highest bidder. Family money behind her, apparently.”

“Where does she come from?”

“Variously at a number of addresses. Widowed aunt lives in relative luxury locally. Several brothers, who return to our notice on a regular basis. Small-time crooks, and not worth our time and trouble, mostly.”

Lois did not reply for a minute, and then said that she presumed he wanted her to concentrate on the Brigham end of the case.

The inspector rose to his feet. “You know, my love, that whatever you decide to do is helpful to us. As long as you keep in touch and don’t do anything foolish.”

“Thanks, Cowgill. To be honest, I look at it like this. If I can help Aurora in any way, then I shall do so. And before you say it, I shall remember to keep mum on everything you’ve told me.”

He laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said, and leaned across the desk to give her a light kiss. She did not push him away, but said, “You’re allowed one. Being as you’re family.”

“D
ouglas phoned while you were out with Jeems,” Derek said.

Lois had taken her dog to the nearby woods early, before breakfast. “She caught a rabbit,” she said. “I’ve left it in the scullery for you to deal with. I was a bit cross with her, but as she killed it quickly, I thought we might as well not waste it. Mum loves rabbit.”

“What’s that Mum loves?” said Gran, coming into the kitchen.

Lois told her, and her long-suffering mother said that as long as Derek drew and skinned it, she’d make rabbit pie for tonight’s supper.

“I might be out for supper,” Lois said. “Aurora has asked me over to see some new stuff Donald has for sale. She wants me to stay for supper. Perhaps we could have rabbit pie tomorrow?”

Gran sniffed. “You don’t fool me, Lois Meade,” she said. “You’re ferretin’ again. To do with that strangled tart, I suppose.”

Lois did not deny this, but said Josie’s birthday was coming up, and Donald Black had got some new stuff to show her.

“I should think we could do better than that rubbish for our Josie’s birthday,” said Derek. “I suppose it is no good saying you’d do better to keep well away from Brigham and that latest case?”

“Who said anything about the latest case?” said Lois.

“Inspector Cowgill did,” said Gran. “I just happened to be coming along with your coffee, and you know what a deep voice he has. It carries, you know.”

“Mum! You were listening at the keyhole!”

“Of course I wasn’t! How can you say such a thing to your own mother?”

“Oh well. I expect the full details will be in the local papers by now. But for heaven’s sake, if you heard anything else, keep it to yourself. And in answer to you, Derek my love, I promise to keep well away from anything dangerous. I really want to help in this case for Aurora’s sake.”

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” said Gran with a smirk.

“No. Don’t think so.”

“Your son Douglas phoned. Shouldn’t you go and phone him back?”

“Oh Lor, okay, okay. I’ll go into my office.”

She went quickly into the cool, soothing quiet of her office and dialled her son.

“Hello? Mum here. Did you want me?”

“Just idle curiosity, Mother dear. Brigham Bakery is in the news today. Isn’t that the Blacks, opposite the hotel where that woman has been found dead in bed? I thought you might have an ear to Mrs. Black? Aren’t they Brooms clients?”

“And I get my bread from them. Delicious it is, too, and Aurora Black is a very nice person. I count her as a friend. As for knowing anything more about the strangled woman, apart from the fact that her name was Sylvia Fountain and her occupation prostitute, then I don’t know anything.”

“Fountain? An old and disreputable family here in Tresham, so the gossip goes. So possibly one for Inspector Cowgill and his brilliant sidekick, Mrs. Lois Meade? No, don’t answer that. The Fountains are known to be rich, largely as a result of dodgy dealings. Best not to have anything to do with any of them. We all love you, Mum, and don’t want to lose you. ’Nuff said! Bye for now.”

*   *   *

Lois spent the day visiting clients and checking over the accounts with Hazel in the Tresham office. She thought of calling on Susie, Douglas’s wife, but looked at her watch and decided the best thing would be to see if Cowgill was in his office and find out how much he knew about Tresham’s underworld in general and the Fountains in particular. He had spent a working lifetime in the area and probably knew all the villains, really bad, not so bad, and totally ineffectual. The Nimmos were another such family, and Dot Nimmo, a member of Lois’s team and cleaner extraordinaire, had opted out, more or less, but inside knowledge had proved invaluable in the past.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Meade,” said the sergeant on the reception desk. “The inspector is in his office. Would you like to go on up and give him a nice surprise?”

Inspector Cowgill’s partiality for Lois Meade was well known in the police station, and Lois said certainly not, she would be glad if he would wipe that grin off his face and enquire if the inspector was free.

By the time she had climbed the stone steps to his office, he was standing at his door ready to welcome her.

“To what do I owe this visit, Mrs. Meade?” he said formally, and then as soon as his door was shut, gave her a hug and drew up a chair for her.

“It’s simple really,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about the families known to be involved in a network of crooks in this town and around. More as background information, really. Nimmos I know about, and now there’s the Fountains?”

The next half hour Lois listened carefully as Cowgill gave her information about people she had never met. The Nimmos seemed to have been a bunch of Robin Hoods, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, with no record of violence. Not so the Fountains. Mugging old ladies for their purses was a specialty.

“So what are you going to do? And is there anything I can be doing to make life easier for Aurora Black?”

“Trust me. I am sure you will be supporting her, and that is most important at the moment. She is carrying on with the bakery, and I suspect helping her is what you can do best. Now, Lois dear, unfortunately, much as I would love to keep you here for longer, I have a meeting to go to in five minutes. How’s the family? Matthew and Josie seem blissfully happy.”

“And why not? Anyway, I have to go now. Work to do. Oh, and by the way, when you come to see me in my office, keep your voice down. Mrs. Weedon, alias Gran, has superefficient hearing.”