Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven (4 page)

N
ext morning, Lois slid out of bed without disturbing Derek, and tiptoed to the window. The spring sunshine had gone, and rain was lashing the daffodils. So much for dancing daffodils, she thought. They look ready to go into retreat. Never mind; a rainy Sunday would be a good day for catching up on paperwork.

“Hey, missus,” said Derek from the bed. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

“What?”

“Happy birthday, gel! Come back to bed and celebrate.”

Lois smiled. “Derek!” she said, and took a flying leap, landing on top of her protesting husband.

“Careful! Don’t spoil the surprise,” he said, and put his arms lightly around her.

*   *   *

When Josie had been on the way, Lois had really wanted to share her own birthday, and had very nearly got her wish. But her baby girl had waited one more day before emerging into a waiting family. As a result, Lois had never wanted to do much about her own celebration, avoiding upstaging her daughter. This had become a custom over the years, and now Lois had for the moment forgotten today was hers, though she knew the family had decided otherwise.

“Bacon’s like crispy leather, eggs are rock hard and I don’t mind one bit,” said Gran, with unusual sweetness. “Never mind, you two. We’re having a good lunch, as discussed, but not here. So don’t fill up too much now.”

Breakfast had been over for some time, and Douglas had rung to say they would all meet at the Mill House Hotel at twelve. A table had been booked, and Matthew and Josie had confirmed that they would be there.

“And you are forbidden to talk shop with the management,” said Derek to Lois. “No sneaking off for a ferretin’ meeting with the cleaners.”

“No cleaners there on a Sunday, surely,” Lois said. “Though I suppose they have to make up clean beds an’ that when guests go and new ones come in. Weekend shifts, there’ll be.”

When it had sunk in that her surprise was lunch for all the family in a posh hotel, and not just any old hotel, but the Mill, her brain began to work overtime. Who actually found the woman who had died there? Might be a chance to have a chat.

“No, Lois, no! I can see from your face you are plotting something! If necessary, we shall manacle you to your chair.”

“Don’t worry, Derek; I’ll behave,” she said. “I think I’ll go for a quick dog walk now. I can put on rain gear, and Jeems doesn’t specially like getting wet, so we won’t be long.”

The rain had stopped now, but the woods were dripping. After the storm thrush’s solo, birds had begun to sing again, and Lois strode purposefully through familiar footpaths. Farnden woods had once been a spinney, now overgrown, behind the big house where Lois’s ferretin’ assistant, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones, had lived for most of her life. She had moved into a smaller house in the village centre, only a few paces from the Meades. The new people had turned the whole estate into a moneymaking enterprise, and Lois averted her eyes from signposts along the path such as “Piglet’s House” and “Hedgehog Hollow.” She thought about Aurora Black, and wondered how she and Donald were coping, with him under such unjust local suspicion. The poor woman must be reluctant to face her customers, knowing what the gossips had been chewing over. With luck, seeing Milly again would do her a power of good. She wondered if Donald’s jewellery parties would be affected. Fewer customers, perhaps. Or maybe a larger attendance of curious women. Safety in numbers, possibly?

“Penny for ’em, Mother-in-Law!” It was Matthew Vickers, Josie’s husband and Cowgill’s nephew, being pulled along by a very young and sprightly terrier of mixed origin.

“Matthew! What are you up to in these woods? Not on duty, I hope. Keeping an eye on Mrs. Tiggywinkle’s ironing? Honestly, aren’t these signposts awful! And how’s the new pup? He’s very sweet, and Jeems loves him. I know we’re meeting you later at the Mill House Hotel and I’m really looking forward to it.”

“So are we, and happy birthday to you. I love family get-togethers, and I know Uncle Hunter is delighted to be asked.”

“Is he asked? Well, that’s a turn up. Must be hands-off day for Derek and Gran, who are always pushing me to give up ferretin’.”

“That was Derek’s word, wasn’t it? Should go into the policeman’s standard dictionary.”

“Better get on, then. We shall be wanting to look our best for the Mill House Hotel.”

“You are always at your lovely best,” said Matthew gallantly. “You know what they say. Always look at the cat before you look at the kitten. I did, and managed to snatch Josie from an unsuitable match.”

“So, following that to its natural conclusion, do you think Derek took a good look at Gran before rescuing me from Woolworths?”

Matthew walked off, still laughing, and Lois continued on her way.

I
nspector Cowgill was the first to arrive at the hotel, and on checking in, showed the receptionist his police badge and said he would like to have a wander around, if that would be convenient. “Not on duty, of course. This is a special birthday party for mother and daughter. But while I’m here, there are one or two things. I shall be as inconspicuous as possible.”

The receptionist was smitten by his charm, and directed him to the restaurant as and when he was ready.

Next through the double doors was Jamie, with Douglas and Susie and the grandchildren, then Josie and Matthew and Gran, making up the whole party, except for Lois and Derek.

When they were all seated, Gran said there was an empty chair, and had the staff got the numbers wrong?

“No,” said Josie. “That’ll be for Uncle Hunter. He’ll be here in a minute. Reception said he was looking around for a short while.”

“Cowgill?” said Derek, frowning. “What does he have to do with Lois’s birthday?”

“He’s family now, Dad,” Josie said quietly. “Don’t make a scene.”

Derek subsided, muttering.

After much deliberation over the menu, all were finally served, and Derek, lifting his glass, called for a toast to Lois. “To my wife,” he began, “mother and grandmother, the lovely and talented Lois Meade. And to my daughter, Josie, who had the good sense to marry a policeman, I ask you to raise your glasses. Happy birthday, Lois and Josie!”

He bent down and gave Lois a smacking kiss, and then sat down in a storm of clapping.

“Speech,” cried Jamie, and all joined him. “Speech!”

Lois rose to her feet. “On behalf of me, and Josie tomorrow, thank you all for this lovely surprise,” she said, “and especially Derek, who is no good at keeping secrets!” More clapping. “And also, I must say how pleased I am to see Uncle Hunter among us. Welcome, Hunter.”

More clapping from all except Derek and Gran.

*   *   *

When they were on to coffee and chocolates, Lois excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. She left the dining room and asked a passing waiter to direct her. After she had freshened up, she left, and instead of going back to the restaurant, she turned in the opposite direction and headed for the bedroom wing. There was nobody around, and she had no idea which room had been the one where the unfortunate Fountain woman met her end.

“Can I help you?” a voice behind her said.

“Oh yes, I am a bit lost,” said Lois. “I need to find my friend’s room. I think she said it was the one next to the murder scene.”

“Oh crumbs,” said the cleaning girl. “I’ll point you in the right direction.”

After two fire doors, Lois came to a room with the familiar police tape still covering the entrance to number 12. The next room, Lois saw, was number 14.

“Superstitious?” she said quietly. She tested the tape, and found it was insecurely fastened. One quick tug, and it was free. She opened the door softly and tiptoed inside. There was nothing untoward to see. The bed had been stripped down to the mattress, the cupboards were empty, and in the small bathroom, everything shone, clean as a new pin

Hearing voices, Lois quickly looked around but could see nothing untoward. The voices were still in the distance, and she retreated, refixed the tape and walked purposefully back the way she had come. Once more she met the cleaning girl, who now was chatting to a workmate.

“Afraid my friend is out,” Lois said cheerfully, as she passed, and in no time was back at the table with the others.

“Why don’t we do that party thing, where we all change places and have someone new to talk to?” said Douglas. His children had vanished to play with another pair from a nearby table. They had been strictly warned not to go near the millpond or the streams running through and turning the great wheel. This had been renovated and spotlit, then glassed in, so visitors could stand and watch safely, mesmerised by the tipping buckets spilling water through the channels and into the pond.

“Don’t be a nuisance!” shouted Douglas. “And do what the big girls tell you.”

A waiter, hovering to take away dishes, said they shouldn’t worry; all the dangerous places had been made secure, and no harm could come.

“I tell you what, Douglas,” Lois said. “I’ll go with them. I’d love to explore a bit. Then I’ll bring them back soon.”

She followed where the children had gone, and found them, noses pressed to the glass, staring at the slowly turning mill wheel, dripping with yellowish-green weed.

Lois joined them. It was so beautiful in its peaceful progress, and yet in former days, it had turned great machinery in the mill, powering it in its grinding of flour to make bread, the staff of life. And now, in one of the hotel’s small anonymous bedrooms, a life had been taken away.

*   *   *

“Dreaming, Lois?” It was Cowgill, Uncle Hunter, and he stood close to her, watching the wheel.

“No, not really. Are the others going? Better be going back to say cheerio and thanks to my family. It’s been a lovely treat. Come on, kids. Back we go.” She turned to Cowgill and said, “I’m so glad you came, you old fraud.”

They all left the Mill in excellent mood, Douglas and family to go back to Tresham, Josie and Matthew with Uncle Cowgill to their small cottage, and Jamie to return with Derek, Lois and Gran to Meade House in Long Farnden.

“D
id you see it, Derek?” Lois said. She was sitting with her feet up on the sofa, drinking a cup of tea and had just finished watching her favourite detective series.

“See what?” Derek had been sleeping off a good lunch, and now surfaced.

“The cat. Dead. Discovered under the floor at the Mill. Dried with age and hideously stretched out under a glass cover. It was found when they converted the mill to a hotel. They’ve got a label next to it, telling its history.”

“Witchcraft,” said Gran. “The old superstition that a dead cat, walled up alive sometimes, would keep evil spirits at bay. It would have been put there when the building was first erected. That mill is very old, you know. I think it’s very creepy, and I always walk well away from it if I’m in reception. They say the cat was moved in the recent renovations, and now would bring bad luck. Shouldn’t have been moved, they say.”

“A load of rubbish!” said Derek, fully awake now. “They should have given the thing a decent burial and forgotten about it. To change the subject, did you really enjoy your party, me duck? The kids did most of the organising. I was really proud of them.”

“And we were certainly safe from gate-crashers with two policemen in the party,” said Lois, smiling broadly.

“Very nice to see Matthew looking so handsome,” said Gran. “Can’t say the same for Cowgill.”

Lois knew this was said to annoy her, and didn’t answer.

*   *   *

Next morning, soon after breakfast, the phone rang, and Lois went to her office to answer it. It was Aurora Black, and she was in tears.

“Aurora! Are you okay? Take it slowly, and tell me what’s up.”

“It’s Donald. He’s sitting in a chair staring into space and refusing to answer. His Farnden jewellery party is tomorrow, and he wouldn’t want me to cancel it. I don’t know why I’m bothering you, but I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

“I’m glad you did. Now, when did this come on? Was he all right when you got up this morning? And did Milly manage a visit?”

“No. Last-minute emergency. I think that may have upset Donald. You know how he adores her! Yes. He is a bit quiet normally, but nothing like he is now. Should I ring the doctor?”

“Not unless you think he is in pain, or likely to do anything silly.”

“Like committing suicide, do you mean? I hadn’t even thought of that. He’s usually such a jolly soul. Always makes the best of things, even when the business isn’t doing too well.”

“How is it doing now? Do you think he might be depressed? In the clinical sense, I mean. One of my cleaning girls had a patch of that. It’s a real illness when it’s bad.”

There was a sort of scuffling noise at the other end of the phone line, and then a cry from Aurora. Donald’s voice came on, nearly deafening Lois.

“If that’s Lois Meade, you can mind your own business. Aurora has got herself in a bother for nothing. I shall be in Farnden as planned.”

“But—” Lois began, but the call was cut off. She replaced the receiver and drew a deep breath. What on earth was all that about? She thought of ringing again to speak to Aurora, but decided not. It might make matters worse.

She looked at her schedules, due to be discussed at the meeting at lunchtime, and put them to one side. She had had a ringround telling all the cleaners that, if possible, they should come in as usual after all, as one or two things had come up. The meeting shouldn’t take long, she had assured them, as they had already done the schedules and paperwork.

Who among her circle of friends and colleagues would be likely to know more about Donald Black?

Dot. Dot Nimmo, of course. She knew everybody, and might well have some useful background knowledge on Aurora’s husband. Why did he say she should mind her own business? What did he think she knew about him that was suspicious?

Too many questions now. If he had wanted to keep her out of something, he had not been very clever. She went back to her papers for the Brooms meeting. Dot would be sure to be coming along, and she would keep her back for a chat.

*   *   *

Before they began, Lois thanked the girls and Andrew for the birthday card they had sent, and described her wonderful party.

“It’s such a lovely setting, by the old millpond, with all the ducks and swans, and that huge weeping willow overhanging it. Have you been there, Dot?”

“Not since the mill has been turned into a hotel. O’course, when it was working full blast, everywhere around it was dusted with white flour. All the blokes who worked there. Even the bosses went white before their time! But we used to take our dog and walk on the water meadows. Midsummer, they used to have a regatta on the river. That was a lovely day. My Handy was a good rower, and he used to win prizes.”

The others listened, and smiled. They all knew that Dot’s husband, Handel, was a respectable crook. Nobody came to any harm from the Nimmo gang, but they amassed a good deal of illegally earned income over the years. Dot drove an expensive car, and bought designer clothes.

“Are any of you coming to the jewellery party this evening? It’s at seven thirty in our village hall. Donald Black, from Brigham.”

“Is that him whose wife runs a bakery opposite the hotel?”

Hazel had come in late from the Tresham office, but now sat comfortably enjoying Dot’s reminiscences.

“That’s the one,” said Lois. “I shall be going, to support Aurora. And Gran said she’d come. Not to buy anything, of course! Too old for jewellery, she says. There’ll be coffee and cake, so should be fun. It would be nice if some of you could come along, and don’t forget New Brooms secret motto: ‘Ears and eyes open.’”

“I’ll be there,” said Dot loyally. “Though I must say I prefer the real thing.”

“Lucky old you, to be able to afford it,” said Andrew. “I don’t think it’s quite the thing for chaps.”

The meeting wound up, and the girls drifted away.

“Oh Dot! Can you spare a couple of minutes?” called Lois.

“Nothing wrong, I hope, Mrs. M?” said Dot.

“No, it’s only that I wanted to pick your brains about Donald Black. I believe he’s from a local family?”

“Ah,” said Dot. “So that’s it. I had a policeman round asking questions after that murder, but I told him I knew nothing.”

“And is that true?”

“Sort of. I don’t know much about Donald Black the chief executive of Brigham Jewellery, but plenty about Donald the likely lad with an eye for the ladies. I used to live next door to his Nan. That was his grandmother, and he called her Nan.”

“So what was he like? I suppose he must be in his fifties now.”

“Yeah. He was at school with me, but a bit of a duffer. Slow learner, I suppose you’d call him now. In them days, the slow ones got left out. Left to fend for themselves after they finished school. He was always good looking though, with his black hair and nice smiley face. He did a few jobs for my Handy’s organisation.”

“What sort of jobs?” said Lois.

“Oh, this and that. Sometimes valuable stuff, like jewellery an’ similar, used to pass through Nimmo hands, and he always liked being involved with that. I reckon that’s why he set up his own business, but with sparkly tat. He does pretty well now, so I’ve been told.”

“Still involved with your Nimmo lot?”

“Not
my
lot anymore, Mrs. M. I’d rather work for you. But I do still see one or two of them. I could ask around, if you like.”

Lois knew she need not explain any more to Dot. She would know that it was a ferretin’ matter, and something useful might come up.