The Troutbeck Testimony (10 page)

Bonnie leant close to the massed white chrysanthemums with a tasteful spray of rosebuds and freesias in one corner. ‘It smells gorgeous, as well. What a lovely thing. How much did the person have to pay for this?’

It was a fair question, for someone intending to work for her, but Simmy winced at the directness. ‘A hundred pounds,’ she said. ‘You have to factor in the time it takes.’

‘Oh, yes! That’s obvious. Valerie’s going to love it – and how clever you’ve been with her little blue flower!’

Simmy was rather proud of the way she’d added the porcelain fragment to the rosebuds and freesias. ‘It looks okay, doesn’t it?’

‘More than okay. Absolutely brilliant.’

Too late, Simmy remembered that Bonnie had known Barbara Hodge, as had probably her closest friends and relations. ‘You know Valerie, do you?’

‘Not really. I’ve heard a bit of the gossip about her, same as everybody else. Corinne says—’ she was interrupted by the telephone, and cocked an eyebrow at Simmy to check whether she should answer it.

‘No, let me,’ said Simmy.

It was the woman who was getting married that weekend, efficiently running through everything she was expecting the florist to provide, and when. Simmy rummaged for the checklist she had already made, and compared it with the bride’s requirements. All was in order, none of it unduly demanding.

‘Wow!’ Bonnie said, when she’d finished. ‘You really see life in this job, don’t you. I never dreamt you got so much of the emotional stuff, right in your face.’

‘It came as rather a surprise to me, at first,’ Simmy admitted. ‘What were we talking about?’

‘Valerie Rossiter. She’ll be lonely without Miss Hodge. Corinne says they were joined at the hip. It’s sad that one of them had to die so young.’

Simmy’s eyebrows lifted. It was unusual for a teenager to regard a person in her sixties as ‘young’. ‘She was sixty-four,’ she pointed out.

‘Oh, yes, but she always seemed much less than that. And most people live to be ninety now, don’t they. So really it
is
young. And Valerie’s barely fifty. What’s she going to do now?’

Simmy shook her head. She wasn’t sure what she made of Valerie Rossiter. She had seemed pleasant enough, and was obviously suffering. But the death had after all come as no great surprise, with ample time for preparations and farewells. ‘She’s young enough to start again in a new life,’ she said. ‘Which I gather is what she did ten years ago. She seems a pretty capable person to me.’

‘Capable doesn’t come into it,’ said Bonnie, making Simmy feel oddly heartless and insensitive. But she was proud of the floral cushion.

‘We’ll need to keep this cool in here until tomorrow. Don’t touch it, will you?’

Bonnie moved back. Her trainers squelched at every step. ‘Okay,’ she snapped defensively. ‘I wasn’t going to hurt it.’

‘I didn’t mean …’ Irritation rose to the surface again. ‘Have a drink, will you, and go and wait for Melanie. She won’t be long now.’

The small room was always crowded if two people occupied it at once. With the mass of funeral flowers taking up every surface, and overhanging in places, it was almost impossible to move without knocking into something. Even with Bonnie’s small stature, it felt dangerous. ‘Sorry,’ Simmy said. ‘I’m just so scared we’ll send it all crashing to the floor. I’ve got everything precisely organised, you see.’ She edged over to the tiny kitchen corner. ‘Let me get you some water and a biscuit, okay?’

Bonnie removed herself and Simmy followed quickly with a tray. ‘I don’t want you worrying about my food intake,’ Bonnie said firmly. ‘It doesn’t help. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Sorry,’ said Simmy again. ‘I really ought to speak to someone about it, I suppose. I mean – you’re under eighteen, which probably makes for a whole lot of employment complications. I’ll need to check the paperwork when I get a minute.’

‘Sounds like a hassle.’ Bonnie looked forlorn and pale, with her hair in lank tails and her clothes all stuck to her. She was shivering, too, Simmy noticed with alarm.

‘Not really. I just need to find a bit of time. Oh, Lord, you’ve really got to change those clothes. It’s not at all
warm in here. You’re bound to catch a chill. I should have sent you home. I should have
taken
you home.’ Her shortcomings crowded in on her, and a feeling of harassment and frustration flowed through her.

‘No, you shouldn’t. It’s my own fault. I’ll be fine as soon as Mel gets here.’ They both looked at the door as if they might conjure Melanie into existence.

Instead, causing Simmy a surge of panic, Detective Inspector Moxon came in.

‘I’m dreadfully busy this morning,’ she blurted before he’d closed the door. ‘Whatever you want will have to wait.’ She remembered his request that she examine pictures of known burglars. ‘Sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘You want me to go to the police station, I suppose.’

Moxon merely gave her a forbearing smile. ‘I haven’t come to see you. It’s Miss Lawson I need to talk to,’ he said.

‘Me?’ Bonnie showed no sign of being worried by the attentions of a police detective. ‘But why?’

‘If you could come with me, I’ll try to explain.’ Then he noticed the state she was in. ‘Why are you so wet?’

‘It’s raining,’ Bonnie pointed out, without a hint of sarcasm. ‘Do I really have to go with you? Am I allowed to without a responsible adult? I’m only seventeen, you know.’

Simmy hovered helplessly. A vague association came to mind, from TV dramas involving young prostitutes. Horrified at her own thought processes, she tried to push the idea away. But something about Bonnie’s confident defiance suggested a ready familiarity with the limitations of police powers. But then, Melanie would probably behave in the same way, and Ben certainly would. Perhaps their entire generation had grown up with an acute awareness of their rights and a refusal to be intimidated.

Moxon sighed. ‘Your foster mother will be there as
chaperone. Everything’s been arranged. It’s nothing to worry about.’

‘I prefer to call her my aunt,’ said Bonnie stiffly.

Simmy found herself thinking, rather wildly,
At least he can’t be intending to charge her with the murder of a burglar.
In the circumstances, that appeared to be the worst-case scenario.

‘Whatever you call her, she’s
in loco parentis
. That’s good enough for us.’

‘I promise you I haven’t done anything. And I can’t go like this, can I? We’re waiting for Mel to bring me some dry clothes. Why can’t you ask me whatever it is here? What’s so important, anyway?’

Moxon glanced thoughtfully at Simmy. She did her best to look responsible and discreet. ‘I can go into the other room, if it helps,’ she offered.

He shook his head and addressed the girl. ‘We want you to look at some pictures, that’s all. They’re on our computer. People we think you might recognise after that trouble you had with the dogs.’

‘Oh … Right.’ Bonnie, who had not seemed especially tense, now became positively buoyant. ‘Sounds like fun.’ She paused. ‘But why is it suddenly so urgent? The thing with Spike happened months ago now.’

Moxon just sighed and said nothing.

Simmy clamped her lips together, to prevent herself from asking questions of her own. If Moxon himself had come for Bonnie, that made it obvious that he wanted her for something connected to the murder investigation – which he had strongly implied the previous evening bore no connection to the dognappings. Then she recalled his
bemoaning the fact that there was no way they could conduct both investigations at once, and the idea occurred that he was contriving to combine them, in order to make best use of manpower. Was that ethical? Or even rational? Or had something just happened to suggest that there was, after all, a link?

‘I can see your mind working,’ he told her, with a little smile.

She took it as an invitation. ‘Well, yes. Are you now thinking the murdered man
was
after dogs, after all?’

He smiled again, an annoying smile that told her nothing. ‘I can’t disclose what we’re thinking,’ he said.

‘I see. Well, I don’t know anything about the incident that Bonnie was involved in, do I? It doesn’t sound very significant, from what you’ve said.’ She was deliberately goading him, surprised to find herself so cross.

‘I don’t mind,’ said Bonnie, in a squeaky voice. It sounded like a quote from somewhere, or a family catchphrase, which Simmy found even more irritating. The girl added, ‘It was a horrible thing to do, trying to steal Spike and Millie. You should have taken more notice of me at the time. I
told
you I’d seen one of them. I would have absolutely
died
if Spike had been nabbed. And look at how frantic Barbara Hodge was when they took her gorgeous Roddy last year. It was so lucky they got him back.’

‘Miss Hodge?’ Moxon frowned. ‘The one who—’

‘Right. Whose funeral’s tomorrow. I guess she never did report it to the police. The men told her not to, same as with everybody. They said they’d find ways to get revenge if anyone went to the cops. There are loads more of them than you know about.’

‘But Miss Hodge was a pillar of the community,’ said Simmy. ‘Surely she wouldn’t have been scared of that sort of threat?’

‘She was ill. She got a lot worse, because of the worry about Roddy. I s’pose she didn’t see much point in reporting it.’

‘How do you know all this?’ Moxon demanded.

‘Corinne gets to know most of the dog stories around here. She’s still doing the classes and all that, even if they’ve stopped her breeding.’

‘But she never saw the man who took your dogs?’

‘No, it was all me,’ said Bonnie proudly. ‘I screamed the place down, and Spike and Millie howled and barked, and he just dropped them and ran. He must have been a complete idiot to go for those two in the first place.’ She looked from Moxon to Simmy and back. ‘But it’s not him who was murdered, is it?’

‘Not as far as we know. You can help us settle that for certain.’

Bonnie preened. ‘Hey! That makes me feel important.’

Both the adults laughed at her.

Then Simmy remembered something else. ‘I thought it was
me
who was meant to be looking at pictures of criminals. The man in the car and the one with the beard.’

He inclined his head and looked at her from under his brows. ‘You only caught a glimpse. Miss Lawson got a much better look. We decided to start with her.’

‘Are you thinking it’s the same man?’

‘There you go again. I can’t make you privy to what we’re thinking. For obvious reasons.’

‘Sorry,’ she said mulishly. ‘But I’m busy, and this is all very confusing, and Bonnie’s soaking wet.’

‘Don’t panic, Simmy,’ said Bonnie, infuriatingly.

‘I’m not
panicking
.’ But she was. The funeral wreaths were calling to her from the back room and time was rushing by alarmingly. ‘I just—’

Then Melanie walked in, her arms full of bags and a brolly and her head covered with a voluminous hood for good measure. When she’d discarded it all, she was perfectly dry underneath. The threesome watched her in relief. Even DI Moxon had always found Melanie Todd a reassuring presence. He understood her and her background and her place in the community, which was more than he could say about Ben or Simmy.

‘Bloody hell, you’re wet!’ Mel said to Bonnie. ‘What have you been
doing
?’

‘Just take her somewhere and change her,’ said Simmy, as if the girl were a small baby. Then she paused. ‘But where? There’s no space in the back room.’

Melanie made her own special face, which, thanks to an artificial eye, conveyed scorn better than anyone else could. When only one eye rolled up to the sky, the message was somehow twice as powerful. ‘She can sort herself out in the loo,’ she said, handing a bulky plastic bag to Bonnie. ‘There’s pants as well, but no bra.’

‘I don’t wear a bra. Why would I?’

All three females glanced at Moxon, who stared at a bunch of tulips and said nothing. Melanie snorted her amusement. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked him.

‘He’s taking Bonnie in for questioning,’ Simmy answered for the detective, who gave a strangled sound of protest.

Bonnie trotted off to get herself dry, and a customer interrupted any further conversation. ‘Mel, can you deal
with the shop?’ Simmy muttered, before answering the call of the wreaths.

‘Okay – but you were joking, right, when you said that about Bonnie? She’s not wanted for questioning, is she? What do they think she’s done?’

‘They want her to look at pictures of known dognappers – that’s right, isn’t it?’ She looked from Moxon to Melanie, and left them to work it out between them. Melanie might not even know there had been a murder, and the prospect of bringing her up to speed was too much to contemplate.

A second customer came in, glanced at the group, and began browsing contentedly amongst the displays. ‘Sorry – I’ve got work to do. Can you see to these gentlemen?’ she said to Melanie, indicating both the newly arrived customers, before firmly closing the door between herself and the shop.

Bonnie slipped past her a minute later, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a baggy blue sweatshirt. Her hair looked slightly less bedraggled. ‘That’s better,’ Simmy approved. ‘I assume they’ll bring you back again when they’ve finished with you.’

‘I doubt it,’ said the girl. ‘These things can take all day. And even if it doesn’t, they’ll probably leave me to walk back.’ She disappeared and Simmy was left worrying about a repeat soaking and yet another set of dry clothes needing to be found.

An hour later, with the biggest wreath completed and another one started, she was feeling slightly less harassed. Melanie had left her alone, and she ignored all sounds from the shop. She worked for another twenty minutes and then went to join her assistant. ‘Time for a sandwich,’ she said.
‘I’ll go and get some, shall I? And something for Bonnie. She ought to be back soon, don’t you think? It can’t really take very long, can it?’

‘Don’t ask me. I’m still wondering what she has to do with dognappers.’

‘I thought you’d know. I have to say, I’m not entirely sure it was a good idea to drop her onto me the way you did. She’s so young and fragile, and mysterious. I can’t understand her family set-up, for a start. And how bad is the anorexia now? I feel I have to keep nagging her to eat something, but that’s probably all wrong.’

‘She’s fine. All you have to do is show her how the business works, pay her the minimum wage and think yourself lucky.’ Melanie was showing signs of impatience. ‘You’d never have found anybody to replace me, otherwise. You hadn’t even started advertising.’

‘I know. It was very good of you. But you can see for yourself, she’s a bit flaky. Getting so wet for no reason. Wanting to move in upstairs …’

‘What?’

‘Yes. She asked if she could have the rooms – not just for her, but her dog as well. She’s obviously a very dog-centred person. Not to mention the non-aunt. Corinne something. My mother knows her slightly. They were selling puppies, but got closed down. I’m sure you know the whole story.’

‘Corinne’s done fostering for ages, but she likes the kids to call her Auntie. I don’t know the whole story – it’s better not to, probably. The family’s in Workington. There are three other kids, one with special needs. Bonnie was taken into care when she was about twelve – something pretty nasty going on, I think. She’s hinted to Chloe about
it. But she had the sense to blow the whistle. There’s a rich grandmother, who got some huge compensation payout when her husband was killed, and has paid for everything for years. Still buys fancy clothes and sends them to Bonnie. But that doesn’t seem to have helped much. The opposite, if anything.’

‘So the abuse sparked off the anorexia?’ said Simmy.

Melanie gave her a patronising look. ‘You’re not listening. She’s been with Corinne for three or four years, and the eating thing only got really bad last year. It’s way more complicated than you seem to think.’

‘Sorry,’ Simmy snapped. ‘All this is outside my experience.’ She hesitated, hearing herself with shame. ‘I’m being naive, aren’t I,’ she sighed.

‘A bit, yeah. Anyway, my sister, Chloe, was great with Bonnie. She’s really kept her going, just by being a good friend.’

‘And Spike,’ said Simmy. ‘I gather he’s famous in his own right.’

‘He’s just a dog,’ said Melanie. ‘But listen – you can’t let her use the rooms. Not before she’s eighteen, anyway.’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ said Simmy. ‘Although she seems very determined about it.’

‘You mustn’t let her,’ said Melanie again. ‘And I know it’s a pain, but I can’t stay much longer. I’ve got another interview this afternoon, and the car’s making that noise again. I’ll have to get the bus.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Grasmere. Not really where I was hoping for, but it’s all good practice, even if I decide not to take the job.’

‘Can you manage any time tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow’s Friday,’ said Melanie as if this was a detail Simmy had forgotten.

‘I know. But the old routines don’t seem to be working any more.’

‘True, but I didn’t think you’d need me once the funeral stuff’s out of the way.’

‘There’s a wedding on Saturday, remember?’

Melanie’s impatience increased. ‘If I do come, it won’t be till tomorrow afternoon. It’s all going crazy, you don’t understand. I need to
focus
. This is my
career
I have to think about.’

Simmy took a deep breath. They were both obviously feeling the strain of imminent separation and new arrangements. ‘Okay. Thanks for coming in today. Have you had a look at the computer?’

Melanie pointed to a printout of the day’s orders. ‘Nothing until tomorrow afternoon, in Bowness. Shouldn’t be a problem. The next one’s Monday.’

Outside the rain had stopped, Simmy noticed. A trickle of customers arrived, representing the usual lunchtime increase, regardless of the weather. Simmy dealt with them, leaving Melanie to file orders for fresh flowers the next day. There were only five tributes still to prepare for the funeral, all of them sheafs or similar, and therefore quick and easy by comparison with the cushion and wreaths. If Bonnie came back, everything would run smoothly, she hoped.

‘She’ll be back soon,’ said Melanie, as if reading her mind. ‘She’s really quite reliable. I wouldn’t have dumped just any useless dropout on you.’ The hint of reproach wasn’t lost on Simmy. ‘As far as I could see, it was the perfect answer for everyone, even if she is a bit … well,
flaky’s right, I guess. Does Ben know she’s here?’

‘He saw her yesterday. Seemed pretty surprised, actually.’

‘He’ll know quite a lot about her. Basically, you’re the only person in town who doesn’t. You need to follow the news more closely. It’ll make you feel more connected.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Melanie’s admonitions were regular and reasonable, but somehow Simmy mostly failed to follow them. ‘But I can’t see how I’d ever have got to grips with all that’s happened this week.’

‘It doesn’t sound particularly weird to me.’

‘It is,’ Simmy assured her. ‘And I blame Moxon for most of it,’ she said. ‘I never quite trust his motives for coming here all the time. More often than not, it’s obvious some junior could do it instead. Whatever it is.’