The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry (15 page)

T
wenty-eight

“WOULD YOU LIKE
me to order your taxi again this afternoon to take you to Tawny Wings for your meeting?” Mrs. Spurling was trying hard to be helpful. She would not admit it, but Mr. Goodman becoming so sprightly—there was no other word for it—had come as a shock to her. For years he had been quiet, undemanding and polite. But since Miss Beasley had arrived and their romance had blossomed, he had become a different person. She suspected he was now much more like he was in his prime.

There was a lesson to be learned here, she thought. Perhaps she underestimated other residents who could be capable of much more than at present? The thought of half a dozen Miss Beasleys and Mr. Goodmans filled her with terror! Still, the idea of whist, or even some easier card game, held regularly, was not such a bad idea. Ever since her husband had run away with the cook, she had coasted along. Time to change, she told herself. And if Miss Beasley could find herself a husband, she was sure she could do the same.

As she looked at herself in the small mirror over her desk, she caught sight of Mr. Halfhide coming up the path. He might do for a start! Quite attractive in his way. But she would be in competition with the merry widow, Mrs. Bloxham, who was not only merry, but very rich. Well, he would do to practise on.

“Good afternoon, Augustus!” she said, as he came into reception. “I do hope you don’t mind Christian names? After all, we have known you here for a long time. Have you come to see me?” She simpered, and Gus backed away hastily.

“Not today, thanks,” he said. “I’ve come to pick up Roy and Ivy for the meeting. No need for his trundle. There are only a few steps to walk to my car, and he likes to think he can still manage, I think.”

“Very true, Augustus,” she replied. “We must all keep our youthful skills in trim, don’t you agree?”

Good God, the woman’s cracking up! Gus wondered what had caused this sudden change of character. La Spurling had suddenly become all soft at the edges. He sidled past her and made for the lounge, where he expected to find his two colleagues waiting for him.

“Ivy? What have you two been up to?” he said in a stage whisper. “Mrs. Spurling has had a startling makeover.”

“Roy’s fault,” said Ivy blandly. “He came over all masterful, and she fell under his spell. If anyone asks me, I’d say it won’t last. She’ll be back to her unlovely self by teatime; you’ll see. Meantime, Gus, have you come to collect us?”

“Your chariot awaits, madam,” he said, bowing elaborately.

“Don’t even try,” answered Ivy. “Leave it to my Roy. He’s one of nature’s gentlemen.”

• • •

DEIRDRE WAS WAITING
for them with a big smile. “Come on in. I’ve got a surprise for you.” She took Roy’s arm and led him gently into the entrance hall.

“I can manage the stairs, dear,” he said.

“No need! Enquire Within has a new office. Follow me, everyone.”

She led them through a door on the far side of the hall, into a room full of watery sunlight. “This was Bert’s workroom at home,” she said. “I faced up to the fact that he wasn’t ever coming back to use it, and turned it all out, repainted it, and set it up as the permanent Barrington office of our enquiry agency. What do you think, Ivy?”

Ivy looked around at the polished desk with a vase of fresh flowers, the obviously new and cheerful curtains, and the businesslike filing cabinet in the corner. “Deirdre Bloxham,” she said. “What can I say?”

The others waited with bated breath to hear what Ivy would say.

“I think I can speak for us all,” she said finally, “when I say that you are generous, good-hearted and a very valuable member of our team. And what’s more, you’re not bad-looking into the bargain.”

“Hear, hear!” said Gus.

“Thanks,” said Deirdre. “Now, Ivy, are you going to take the senior member’s chair?”

Ivy shook her head. “If you insist,” she said, and went swiftly to sit down. “Now we can start the business of the meeting. We have a lot to tell, haven’t we.”

They started with the morning trip to Maleham’s. “We got Elvis to take us into Thornwell,” Ivy said. “He didn’t know about our banns, and when we told him what the interrupter looked like, he got all solemn and said he had picked up a man answering to that description on Sunday morning, getting on towards lunchtime. The man wanted to go to the station, and said he was catching a train to Colchester.”

“Did he have an earring?” asked Deirdre. “I reckon that was the most distinguishing feature, as they say.”

Roy nodded. “Yes, Elvis remembered particularly because his wife had forbidden him to get one himself.”

“Very interesting, you two,” said Gus. “Sounds like the man had been hired by someone to come to church and challenge the banns. Colchester, did you say? Might be worth following up that lead straight away.”

“We haven’t finished with our morning’s work yet,” said Ivy, looking at Roy.

“You take over, Ivy dear.”

“Well, we got into the store successfully and met the creepy owner, Mr. Maleham. He took us up to the bed department in a lift and left us to it. A nice young assistant took over, named Sam, if I remember rightly. Roy?”

He nodded. “Sam it was,” he said.

“So then we had a good look around, and decided on the bed we wanted. Roy went off to do the paperwork, and I wandered out of sight. Found myself amongst dozens of dressing tables, some with heart-shaped mirrors. Seeing myself from all angles was a horrid sight! Anyway, this woman came up and started talking. Turns out she is a cousin of Mr. Maleham, and he allows her to have a change of scene every so often, wandering around the store with no intention of buying. Light relief from looking after a bedridden husband, apparently. She was a real chatterbox, so I let her run on. People tell you their life stories sometimes!”

“So what came out of it, Ivy?” said Deirdre.

“As well as a husband, she has a son, Frank. She wasn’t very complimentary about his appearance, but said he was a good lad with his dad, taking over from her to give her a break. She described him. Frank, that is. To use her words, he looks like the back end of a bus. Big and burly, and, it transpired, with an earring.”

An admiring silence followed up this report, and Ivy subsided, looking smug.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Gus said. “We started with rich Uncle Roy and his heir, Steven Wright. Then we have Steven found dead in Maleham’s store. Meanwhile, Ivy and Roy have their banns challenged, and Ivy has found a woman in Maleham’s store, with a son who answers the description of the challenger.

“Cut to Alf Lowe, and from him a contention that Roy was years ago engaged to a cousin, ditched her, and was threatened with breach of promise in his youth.”

Deirdre nodded, and said, “And now I can take over, with my discovery of a couple named Jossland, farming near Settlefield. Young Mrs. Jossland was a Goodman before her marriage, and she has an old aunt, Ethel Goodman, who is from a branch of the family of dear Roy.”

“One link missing, at least. Probably more than one,” said Ivy. “Don’t forget Steven Wright was married, not particularly happily. Wendy, isn’t it? But who is or was Wendy, apart from being Steven’s wife? The missing link, and maybe unimportant, but worth finding out.”

“And to return to the heart of the matter,” said Roy, “who is now most anxious to get hands on my so-called fortune? Apart from the donkeys, whoever it is, we need to know how far he or she is prepared to go? I must impress on Ivy as my intended wife, and the rest of Enquire Within who are fast uncovering family secrets, that we are all vulnerable, and must be on our guard.”

“And that includes you, Roy,” said Ivy. “It doesn’t bear thinking about, but with you out of the way, the whole thing comes up for grabs. Unless you have sewn everything up very carefully?”

They all looked expectantly at Roy. He hesitated and seemed about to answer the question. But then he looked at his watch, and said wasn’t it time for Deirdre to put on the kettle and make tea? And he, for one, was feeling peckish. Had she by any chance some of Miriam’s chocolate shortbread in the cupboard?

T
wenty-nine

GUS DELIVERED IVY
and Roy safely back to Springfields, and as Ivy had predicted, Mrs. Spurling was her old sharp self.

“Next time you go out in this weather, Mr. Goodman,” she said, “I suggest you allow me to order your specially adapted taxi, so that you have as little time as possible to get wet. Tea is served in the lounge, and there’s a good fire, so do go and warm yourself. And you, too, Miss Beasley.”

Gus frowned. “I can assure you, Mrs. Spurling,” he said, “that I have two large golf umbrellas, and can park my car in Tawny Wings’ driveway so that my passengers have all of two steps to be inside Mrs. Bloxham’s porch, safe and dry.”

“Very well, then. But please remember, Mr. Halfhide, that residents of Springfields are under my sole care, and I am responsible for them twenty-four hours of every day.”

“Calm down, dear,” said Roy in his best soothing voice. “We have had tea with Mrs. Bloxham, but I am sure we can manage another cup. Shall we say tea for three in Miss Beasley’s room in ten minutes? Thank you so much.”

Mrs. Spurling turned on her heel, but then remembered a message for Miss Beasley.

“In an envelope, hand delivered. I have put it in your room.”

“Delivered by whom?” said Roy anxiously.

“A strange-looking man, bald, with a leather jacket and one earring. Such a ridiculous adornment for a grown man! He wouldn’t give me his name. Just said the message was important.”

“Lucky you remembered it, then,” muttered Gus, alarm mounting.

“Right,” said Ivy. “Up we go, and see who’s sending me billy doos.”

• • •

THE WHITE ENVELOPE
was on Ivy’s bedside table, and Gus picked it up. “Would you like me to open it?” he said.

“Why? Do you think it might contain a bomb?”

“Don’t jest, dearest,” said Roy. “Why don’t you let Gus open it, just in case.”

Ivy burst into one of her rare raucous laughs. “Certainly not! It might contain something very private,” she said. “Give it here, Augustus.”

He handed it over, and she slit it open with a paper knife. She then gingerly withdrew a single sheet of white paper, with bold capitals in red ink. She put on her spectacles and began to read.

IVY BEESLEY! WHY DON’T YOU SAVE YOURSELF A LOT OF TRUBBLE AND BRAKE IT ALL OFF? OR ELSE YOU ARE NEXT. A WELL WISHER.

There was a stunned silence, and then Ivy screwed up the paper and threw it in the bin. “What rubbish!” she said. “And what’s more, my well-wisher can’t spell!”

Gus crossed the room and hastily fished out the crumpled paper and envelope. “We must take this seriously, Ivy,” he said sternly. “From Mrs. Spurling’s description, we know this was delivered by the same man who was in church, challenging the banns. What do you think, Deirdre and Roy?”

Deirdre was pale, and her hand trembled as she clutched Gus’s sleeve. “Over to you, Gus,” she said.

Roy had grabbed Ivy’s hand, and now said very firmly that since his nephew and heir, Steven, had been found dead in bed, and that not his own, they should take this anonymous letter very seriously. “Time to ring Frobisher. I shall do it at once, if you will give me the missive, Gus.”

“It is addressed to me,” said Ivy, and put out her hand.

“Very well,” said Gus. “But please keep it somewhere safe. I am in absolute agreement with Roy. We must ring Frobisher at once.”

“He’ll be off duty,” said Deirdre, looking at her watch.

“How do you know?” said Gus.

“Because he was a great friend of mine at one time, and I am familiar with his work timetable. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Well, I suppose nothing’s going to happen tonight, is it? I’m quite safe in Springfields. It would take Raffles to get into this place. Tomorrow, let’s meet here at ten o’clock, and that will be time enough to ring the police.” Ivy sat back in her chair and smiled at Roy. “And don’t worry, my love,” she said. “I have every intention of sticking to you like glue until we’re well and truly wed.”

T
hirty

“WHOEVER HEARD OF
an enquiry agency headed by an eighty-year-old spinster?”

“Agatha Christie?” suggested Inspector Frobisher. The inspector was explaining to his driver why they had to be at Barrington at ten o’clock sharp. “But the heroine of Enquire Within is no mild-mannered posh lady, I assure you. Miss Ivy Beasley and her team have had some remarkable successes in their time, and not all achieved as a result of villains being nice to old ladies.”

“We’re heading for a house called Tawny Wings? You’re having me on, sir.”

“’Fraid not, lad. There it is, over there. Park in the drive.”

The inspector walked across to Deirdre, who was waiting by the open front door.

“Good morning, Barry,” she said with a grin. “Or should I call you Inspector Frobisher?”

“Lovely Deirdre, you can call me what you like, and at any time of day or night,” the inspector murmured in Deirdre’s ear, as they made their way into Enquire Within’s office. Ivy, Roy and Gus were waiting to unload what they knew and, most important, present the inspector with Ivy’s anonymous letter.

Ivy’s face was thunderous, as Roy handed over the crumpled paper. “Load of rubbish!” she said. “Much the best thing if we had left it where I put it—in the bin.”

Frobisher read it silently, and then placed it in his document case. “With your permission, Miss Beasley,” he said politely, “I will take this and have some tests done. Clues might emerge, as I am sure you are aware.”

“If it’s clues you’re after,” said Ivy, “we have a description of the man who delivered it.”

“Fire away, Miss Beasley,” he replied. The old girl was in good form.

“Bald, heavy and ugly.”

“And nasty-looking,” added Deirdre.

“And with one gold earring in his cauliflower ear,” said Roy, managing to look perfectly serious.

“In other words,” said Gus, now smiling, “the perfect image of a common criminal.”

“So you might as well give that rubbish back to me, and this time I’ll make sure it is destroyed, as it should be.” Ivy held out her hand.

“Not really,” said Frobisher firmly. “This large, bald and ugly criminal with one gold earring is clearly up to no good. Have you, any of you, thought of a reason why such a man might want to do harm to a nice old lady in a residential home?”

Where to start? After Ivy had hotly challenged his description of her as a “a nice old lady,” the next half hour was taken up by the team’s account of two possibly linked dramas. First they mentioned what Frobisher would already know. They referred to the shocking challenge at the reading of the banns in Barrington church, and then the oddly comfortable deathbed of Steven Wright, nephew of Roy Goodman, who was engaged to Ivy Beasley. And now this anonymous letter addressed to Ivy.

“Round and round the mulberry bush,” said Ivy. “But where does it start? That’s the trouble with circles. They don’t have ends or beginnings. Do you take what I mean, Inspector?”

“Exactly,” said Frobisher. “Very well put.”

“Time for coffee, I think,” said Deirdre. “I do hope you’ll stay and have a coffee with us, Ba . . . Inspector?”

• • •

WHEN INSPECTOR FROBISHER
left Tawny Wings with strict instructions to all of the team to be on their guard, none of them seemed to want to leave. Deirdre looked at her watch.

“Shall I make us a snack and more coffee, and then we can carry on with our meeting?” she suggested.

“Good idea,” said Gus. “We need to plan what we’re going to do next. I assume bringing in the police does not mean we ditch our investigations?”

“Good gracious me, no,” said Ivy. “I shall have to phone Springfields and say we’ll be back later.”

“I think I’d better do that, Ivy,” Roy said. “You know how unpleasant La Spurling can be.”

Deirdre disappeared into the kitchen, and Gus followed her, saying he could make a very good roast beef sandwich, and Roy and Ivy were left in the office.

“Useful session, don’t you think, my dear?” Roy said.

“I suppose so. But there was one thing I didn’t mention. I thought it best to keep quiet about my meeting with Beryl Maleham in the store. You remember? You sent me off to look at heart-shaped mirrors, and I met this woman who couldn’t stop chattering.”

“Had a son called Frank, who they should have named Frankenstein?”

“That’s the one. She told me where to get my ears pierced. Her son had had one ear done and was very satisfied. Oh Lord, Roy, are we onto something?”

“Could be, but lots of men get their ears pierced these days, I’m sorry to say. I think this means another trip to Maleham’s to see if we can get in contact with your Beryl. Even if she’s not there again, we could ask for a phone number, or an address. You could pretend you really liked her and wanted to meet for a cup of tea?”

“I didn’t dislike her,” said Ivy thoughtfully. “If you think it would be helpful, I’m perfectly willing to try.”

• • •

MEANWHILE THE CONVERSATION
in the kitchen had at first gone along much the same lines, except that Gus was keen to have another chat with Alf Lowe as well as following up clues to the author of Ivy’s threatening messages.

“More to find out. So I go and talk to Alf, and you pay another social worker’s call on the young couple and their adorable baby,” Gus said, and planted a quick kiss on the back of her neck as she set off with a loaded tray

“Oh, and by the way,” he added, “what’s Frobisher’s Christian name?”

“Dunno. I’ve forgotten,” said Deirdre.