The Hangman's Row Enquiry (28 page)

“IF YOU ASK me,” said Ivy, “I’d say we’ve got a long way off the track finding out who murdered Miriam Blake’s mother. Good as your research was, you two,” she continued, “it don’t really shed any light on what the police are investigating. So I suggest
we
carry on investigating until we find some definite connection.”

“Told you,” said Deirdre to Gus.

“Told him what?” Ivy asked.

“Never mind,” Deirdre answered. “Anyway, we haven’t heard what you and Roy discovered yesterday. Your turn now, Ivy.”

“Not me, it’s Roy’s turn.”

“Oh, come on,” Gus said. “Let’s cut the politeness and get on with it.”

“Right,” said Roy, “I’ll start and Ivy will interrupt.”

“I’m sure she will,” muttered Gus, and added loudly, “Off you go, then, Roy.”

“Well, you remember Miss Pinkney told us about the hot gossip in the village? About Mr. Roussel being seen everywhere, for the first time in years?”

Gus nodded impatiently, then began to speak.

Ivy interrupted. “Yes, he went to the pub and the shop, called in at the Budds and walked round the farm with young David. But most interesting for us, he called in on Miriam Blake yesterday, and stayed for more than an hour.”

Deirdre and Gus chorused, “Who told you that?”

Ivy’s biscuit had gone down the wrong way, and she choked into her handkerchief. Roy took over. “It was Rose Budd,” he said. “Ivy and me went for a stroll down Hang-man’s Row, and she was in her garden. Full of it, she was.”

Deirdre looked at the frail old man. “You walked all the way down Hangman’s Row?” she said.

Ivy and Roy exchanged looks. “I pushed him,” Ivy said. “He didn’t want me to, but Mrs. Spurling stopped us on the way out and said Roy was her responsibility and she could not allow him to walk so far. She produced a shiny new wheelchair, and Roy is light as a feather. Nothing to him. So it was no problem for me to push. Better than a Zimmer.”

“I’m going to get one of those electric shopping scooters,” Roy said happily. “Never thought of it before, but it would be even better if Ivy didn’t have to push.”

“So you talked to Rose Budd about Miriam and Theo,” Deirdre reminded him. She was extremely irritated to hear that Miriam had been closeted with Theo for more than an hour. “Doing what?” she asked.

Ivy shrugged. “How should we know? Rose didn’t know. She doesn’t have much to do with Miriam, and so couldn’t ask her, could she? Mind you, if you ask
me
, they were up to no good. We know she was his fancy woman once before. Might have picked up where they left off, so to speak.”

“Ivy!” said Deirdre. “That is pure speculation! I am sure Theo would have nothing whatsoever of that nature to do with Miriam Blake. Not after what the old mother told him about being brother and half sister!”

“And not when he had already taken up where he left off with you, Deirdre? I’ve got private doubts about the Hon. Theo. I’d hate to see my cousin led up the proverbial garden path.”

“I’m quite capable of looking after myself,” snapped Deirdre, and Gus decided it was time to step in.

“This is a really interesting piece of information, Ivy,” he said, “and one we should definitely follow up. The question is, how?”

There was silence for a minute, and Gus thought that he should probably own up. “As a matter of fact,” he said casually, “I had lunch with Miss Blake.”

“When?” said Deirdre.

“Today. Before coming up here.”

“Better explain,” muttered Roy. “These girls will eat you alive if you’ve been consorting with possible suspects.”

“Not
possible
suspects,” Gus said. “Chief suspect. She said the police had been back asking more questions. Some new ones, and some old ones over and over again.”

“Like what?” Deirdre said.

“Oh, about what she did before she stopped work to look after her mother. Whether she resented giving up a busy life. All that sort of thing. She was angry. Said it wasn’t fair, they should leave her alone when she was grieving for her mother.”

“Huh!” Ivy said. “For a grieving daughter she seems to have a lot of gentlemen callers!”

“Comfort and support, Ivy,” said Gus, and laughed. “But in my case, a useful piece of information gathering.”

“What else did she say?” Roy said.

“She talked a lot about Theo,” Gus said, glancing apprehensively at Deirdre. “She was really upset, and said she could never find out why he suddenly broke off their weekly love-in sessions in Hangman’s Row. I asked her if her mother had any explanation, and she said the old woman had been really cruel. Said Mr. Theo had found better fish to fry. He was a toff, she said, and toffs didn’t get serious about farmworkers’ daughters. He’d got fed up with Miriam, and no wonder, her mother had said. He could have the pick of the county. Miriam was just handy when he felt randy. She’d gone on taunting her, and Miriam had wept for days.”

“And you believed all that codswallop?” Ivy said sharply.

“Sounded convincing to me,” Gus said innocently. In fact, he had not believed a word of it. He had decided after an intimate lunch with Miriam that she was one of those fantasists who ends up not being able to tell the difference between truth and lies. It was what she didn’t say that convinced him she knew the whole sordid story. Once or twice, when Theo’s dad was mentioned, she had started a sentence and then broken off, as if editing what she was telling him.

“Well, looks like I’ll have plenty to ask Theo next Saturday,” Deirdre said.

There was an embarrassed silence. Ivy raised her eyebrows, and said that if Deirdre asked her, she would suggest asking the questions when she first arrived at the Hall, and then there would be plenty of time afterwards for this, that and the other.

“First time I’ve heard it called that,” Roy said conversationally. Deirdre ignored him, and said icily if Ivy would like to make out a list of questions, she would certainly do her best to carry out her duties efficiently.

“The other urgent thing,” Gus said, firmly changing the subject, “will be to find out what happened to Beattie’s twin brother. Got any ideas how we do that, team?” he said, hoping to inject a professional note. Never again, he said to himself, will I work with geriatrics. Then he exempted Deirdre from this. He reckoned she was not much older than him, bless her. She’d been good company yesterday.

Now she made a sensible suggestion. “I think we should start by assuming that he kept the same name as Beattie, before she changed it. Bentall, I mean. We can look up all the Bentalls around Oakbridge first, then the whole county. There should be records of the foster parents, too, but you can bet your bottom dollar they’d be strictly confidential. Angry father of twins sent packing by Mayor Bentall, might seek custody, etcetera.”

“We need to know who
was
the father of the twins,” Ivy said. Once more there was a silent pause. Then she continued, “Any guesses?”

Deirdre looked at her watch. “Oh, my goodness!” she said. “I really have to go into town for a volunteers meeting at social services. While I’m there, I can ask about fostering rules in those days. Might turn up something. Would you like a lift back to Springfield?” she asked, looked first at Ivy and then Roy.

“We’ll walk,” they chorused.

Gus laughed. “I’ll see them safely back,” he said, and the meeting ended amicably.

MIRIAM BLAKE STOOD at the sink, looking out at her untidy back garden. When her father was alive, it was immaculate. He spent hours out there with his neat rows of vegetables and flowers to cut for the house. He loved flowers, but his wife didn’t. She said they were all right for a few days, then they dropped petals all over the place and the water smelled awful. Without saying anything, he continued to bring them in and Miriam arranged them for him. It was a silent revolt, a conspiracy between father and daughter against wife and mother. Mrs. Blake’s only defence was to throw them out after a day or two, long before it was necessary.

Now there were no flowers, and only exhausted perennials struggled through. Perhaps she could get Gus to take it in hand for her? Now he had been unable to resist her cooking, and, she hoped, her charms, she would feel quite happy about asking him.

What a week it had been so far! First of all, Theo coming in and buttering her up, reminding her of the good old days, asking how she was managing and whether she had decided to go back to work. She’d made him coffee, and he had been so nice and kind. But she saw now that it was all a ruse to soften her up. He’d got up to go, and then said he had nearly forgotten what he’d come to say. This was, of course, to tell her he had to put up her rent to a realistic level, same as the others in the terrace, but if she couldn’t afford it, he would help her with housing benefit and see that she found an affordable council house. He had friends in high places, he had laughed. She had not seen the joke. It was clear that her new pal Beattie’s promise to keep the rent low was now overruled.

Then, thank goodness, there was today, making it all come right again, at least for a while. Gus would champion her cause, she was sure of that. He’d had a lot of experience, he’d said, with bringing justice to people who’d been wronged. And the other way round! She was sure he had brought many a wrongdoer to justice. They’d had such a lovely talk. She couldn’t wait until he called again. And if he didn’t she would pop next door and see how he was getting on. After all, he’d had a serious fall, and it was the least she could do.

She dried up the dishes and put them away. The afternoon sun was still warm, and she decided to have a stroll to the village shop. It was taking her quite a while, she realised, to make use of her new-found freedom. She could go anywhere at any time. So long as she didn’t leave the country! The police inspector had been firm about that. She felt the shadow of suspicion darkening her good mood, and shook herself. Fresh air and exercise, that’s what she needed, and she locked up the house and stepped out at a brisk pace.

She met a couple of village people who’d known her for years and would always pass the time of day. But they looked the other way, and hurried on. She knew why, and tried to forget the snub. But then, when she reached the shop, it was full, and she had to stand and wait. The minute she had arrived through the door, silence had fallen. Nobody greeted her, except Will behind the counter, and even he looked embarrassed. The woman who lived next door to the shop, Mrs. Broomfield, was helping Will, and she studiously ignored Miriam when it came to her turn.

“Well,” said Miriam loudly, plucking up courage. “I thought it was supposed to be innocent until proved guilty in this country?”

The huddle of gossips over by the DVDs for hire immediately began talking about their favourite film, and Will moved across to where Miriam stood.

“Good morning, Miriam!” he said. “Lovely morning!” He now had to make an important decision. Sadie Broomfield was going away for a week, and he needed to replace her. Now that Miriam was free, she would be the obvious choice. She’d done it before, and needed no initiation into the workings of the village shop. But although he had tried hard not to let it influence him, the fact that most people suspected Miriam of murdering her mother meant that the shop would be avoided for a week. Could he afford that?

Now she had made her remark about being innocent, and he made his decision. He cleared his throat and in a loud voice said, “Now then, Miriam, are you free next week to take over from Sadie? She’s off whooping it up on the Costa Brava, leaving me in the lurch. Could you fill in for the week?”

Miriam felt the blood rising to her cheeks. She could have kissed him. With tears in her eyes she said of course she’d be glad to help him out. She’d come in for a pound of tomatoes, please. She was going to try her hand at a risotto, she said, for an important guest.

“Then you’ll need some of my Italian ham,” he said in an artificially jolly voice. “Gives it the authentic taste.”