Tragedy at Two (5 page)

 

 

“GYPSIES ARE LIKE LARGE, SCRUFFY BIRDS,” SAID FATHER KEITH on a duty visit to the pub that evening. He was enjoying himself, and had had more than his usual half pint. “Alighting in a familiar nesting place, making use of what Mother Nature provides for them, and when she fails, they use their ingenuity to arrange for humans to supplement supplies, sometimes unknowingly.”

“It’s stealing! No need to wrap it up in poetic language,” Andrew Young said fiercely to the loquacious vicar. Andrew was the latest recruit in Lois’s cleaning team. The abiding topic was still the murder. No consideration was given here to the possibility that it might be manslaughter.

There was a chorus of agreement with Andrew, and the vicar judged it time to drink up and be on his way.

“Stupid bugger,” said Sam Stratford. “Lives on a different planet from the rest of us.”

“Hoping to,” said Derek and everybody laughed.

“But seriously,” Andrew continued. “I don’t know why they haven’t been moved on weeks ago.”

“Police won’t go near them unless they have to,” Derek said. “I remember my Dad saying about that site on the other side of Tresham that if a bomb dropped on the lot of ’em the crime rate in town would go down by half.”

“Even if they do get moved,” Sam said, “they leave sackfuls of litter behind. And not in sacks, either. Some other bugger has to clear it all up.”

The door opened, and Sam groaned. “Surely himself hasn’t come back for more,” he said.

But it was the same tall gypsy who had asked for work, and he came straight across to Derek. “Thanks, mister,” he said.

“What for?”

“We got work at that farm. Good bloke farms it. We’re not always trusted. Anyway, thanks.” His dark face warmed, and he smiled at Derek.

“S’okay,” Derek said in embarrassment, and turned his back. The others glared at him. “Doesn’t do to encourage them,” Andrew said quietly to Derek.

The gypsy, whose name was George, went to the bar and ordered a drink. He stood alone drinking unhurriedly and then walked slowly out of the pub. As he left, he look ed back at Derek who, astonished at himself, waved a hand in farewell.

“For God’s sake, boy!” said Sam. “You’ll be asking us to join the Friends of Farnden Dids next!”

 

 

“WHAT’S DIDS?” LOIS SAID, WHEN DEREK REPORTED WHAT HAD happened. To his surprise, Lois seemed pleased that he had made a fool of himself. In fact, she thought he’d not made a fool of himself. The others were the fools. He had thought of not telling her anything, but everything came back to Lois in the end. So he told her everything except sending them up to Thornbull’s. John Thornbull was Hazel’s husband.

“Where’ve you been all these years, Lois?” scoffed Gran. “Dids is short for didikyes. Gyppos to you and me.”

“They’re gypsies or tinkers to me,” Lois said.

“Oh, don’t you start,” said Gran. “Tolerance is all very well, but you have to speak from experience, and they’re a dirty rough lot. Always have been. They don’t respect our laws. Worse than foreigners.”

Neither Lois nor Derek said anything more, and the subject was changed.

“Josie phoned a couple of minutes before you got in, Lois,” Gran said. “She’s sleeping back over the shop tonight. I tried to persuade her to come here, but you know what she’s like once she’s made up her mind. Anyway, I said we’d expect her for breakfast. I want to make sure that girl’s getting food inside her. Bereavement can cause weight loss, you know. And she’s thin enough already. She’ll need her strength.”

“Maybe I’ll just pop down and make sure she’s all right,” Lois said.

“You might get a flea in your ear,” Gran said.

“She’s my daughter,” Lois said.

 

 

BEFORE SHE GOT TO THE SHOP, LOIS COULD SEE A CAR, NOT JOSIE’S, parked outside. As she got nearer she saw a man sitting inside. She stepped into the shadows and waited. After a few seconds, the man got out and stood looking up at Josie’s window. The curtains were drawn, but a light showed that she was there. Lois’s heart beat faster, and she wondered whether she should go back for Derek. But no, there wasn’t time for that. Then the man got back into the car, started the engine and drove away. As it passed under a street light, Lois was sure she recognised the face of the driver.

HAZEL THORNBULL ARRIVED HOME TO FIND HER DAUGHTER Lizzie in bed and asleep, and her husband John dozing in front of a discussion programme on television. She walked over and kissed the top of his head.

“Sorry to trouble your beauty sleep,” she whispered in his ear, “but did you remember to shut up the bantams?” Hazel kept a few bantams in the garden, not for the eggs, as they were not very good layers, but as pets. She loved the feathery silkies, and they all had names.

John jumped up and said, “Of course I did. Um, what did you say?”

“Never mind,” Hazel said. “Day go well?”

“Not bad. Them dids are good workers. Don’t say much, but just keep their heads down and get on with the work.”

“Gypsies?” Hazel said. “What, that lot from outside the village?”

“So they said. I asked them if they were moving on, because if they were they were wasting my time. I need workers who’ll last the season.”

“And?”

“They said they were staying as long as they could. The tall one actually laughed, and said you could never tell when the polis would evict them, but they were behaving themselves and hoped to stay until Appleby. He was quite a nice bloke. Had a sort of dignity about him.”

“Rubbish!” said Hazel loudly. “You can’t trust them round the corner! You’ll probably regret it, John.”

Then Lizzie appeared at the door looking worried and clutching Floppy Doggie, and had to be reassured that all was well and Mummy and Daddy were not quarrelling and it was time to go back to bed and sleep.

“You know everybody thinks it was one of those gypsies killed Rob, don’t you,” Hazel said, when all was quiet again. “Not everybody,” John said. “Now things have cooled down, now the Farnden branch of the Ku Klux Klan have decided not to go with a fiery cross to torch the encampment. A lot of people realise that it was much more likely to have been oafs drugged up and on their way to Tresham. Rob was drunk and was probably wandering around all over the place. And even he could get belligerent in his cups.”

“Rob? Josie’s Rob?”

John nodded. “I’ve seen him,” he said. “One night in the pub he was goin’ on about some policeman who fancied Josie, said he was taking advantage. Drownin’ his sorrows, was Rob. Landlord tried to stop him at his fifth pint, and that’s when Rob turned nasty. It was quickly settled, but we were all surprised.”

“I wonder if Lois knows about this,” Hazel said quietly. “Or if she’s been told that those two are working up here for us.”

“Nothing to do with her,” John said firmly. He was not keen on Hazel getting involved in Lois’s ferretin’.

“Of course it’s to do with her,” Hazel snapped. “Rob was nearly her son-in-law.”

“But he wasn’t, was he? Maybe that’s part of the picture. Anyway, I don’t want you mixed up with all that.”

“I know, I know,” replied Hazel. “We Thornbulls keep ourselves to ourselves. I’m off to check on Lizzie,” she added and disappeared.

As she went up the stairs on tiptoe, she resolved to ring Lois first thing tomorrow morning.

 

 

AS IT HAPPENED, NEXT MORNING AFTER BREAKFAST, WHEN HAZEL was just on the point of leaving for work, deciding it would be better to talk to Lois from the office, there was a knock at the farmhouse door. She opened it quickly and was confronted by an upright figure, an elderly woman, with a basket over her arm and lace mats spilling over the edge of it. A gypsy, realised Hazel, taking in the long skirt, dark face and greying braided hair.

“Buy some lace, dear?” said the woman. “All handmade by experts. Very cheap compared with what you’ll get on the market.”

It so happened that Hazel had learned lace making with her mother-in-law at WI classes in the village, and she could see with one eye that the mats were machine made. “No thanks,” she said. “And I’m in a hurry, so if you don’t—”

Before she had finished speaking, the woman had turned around and was walking at a measured pace through the yard and out into the road.

“—if you don’t mind, I have to go,” shouted Hazel at her retreating back.

THE TELEPHONE RANG, AND HAZEL RUSHED INTO THE OFFICE and picked it up.

“Morning Hazel,” Lois said.

“Morning Mrs. M!” Hazel puffed her reply, and Lois smiled.

“Anything in the post?”

“Just the usual,” Hazel replied, rapidly opening envelopes. “Two requests for New Brooms’s services, and . . . um . . . one asking about our interior décor expert. Shall I pass that on to Andrew, or do you want to look at it first?”

“Make me a copy, and then pass it directly to him. Anything else?”

The morning call was routine, but Hazel seemed reluctant to sign off. After a pause, she began to speak. “Just, um, well, John and me were talking last night. He’s hired a couple of them dids from that site by the road. Seems they’re there illegally, but old Smith who owns the land doesn’t bother about them. Some say he’s got gypsy blood himself, way back.”

“So what’s wrong? Have the two done something bad?”

“Um, no. But I don’t like having them so close to the house when we’ve got a young child. You hear such awful things . . .” Hazel trailed off, aware of an icy silence. Then Lois replied.

“Yes, well. Perhaps you could give ’em a chance, Hazel. I’ve no doubt John will keep an eye on them. Was there anything else?”

Hazel hesitated. She sensed she had offended Mrs. M, who seemed to be sticking up for gypsies in general. Hazel couldn’t think why, when it was more than probable they beat up her Josie’s Rob until he snuffed it. Still, it might be important.

“There was one other thing,” Hazel said. “It’s about Rob. I can hardly believe it, but John saw it with his own eyes.” She paused, but Lois said nothing, so she continued. “Seems he was in the pub one night, and had had a skinful. Drowning his sorrows, John said. When I asked what sorrows, John said Rob was telling anyone who would listen that Josie had a cop lover who was taking advantage of his position. He said he’d teach the pair of ’em a lesson if he could catch ’em together. They were making a fool of him, Rob said, and he started swinging his fists at all and sundry when they laughed at him.”

“So what happened?”

“The landlord calmed him down. John says everybody was really surprised. Rob is such a mild character usually. I thought you’d better know, in case it’s helpful in finding out who killed him. If he had violence in him, an’ that.” Her voice trailed off.

“I don’t know what to say, Hazel. I can hardly believe it myself. Not Rob, surely? Still, if John saw it all, it must be true. I’ll sound out Josie and see what she says.”

“Don’t tell her it came from me!” Hazel said in alarm. “We’re good friends, see, and she needs me at the moment.”

“I’ll say it’s gossip,” said Lois dryly. Of course it was gossip, but she’d have to investigate nevertheless.

 

 

SOON AFTER THIS CONVERSATION, WHEN HAZEL HAD TIME TO take off her coat and sort the post properly, she thought over Mrs. M’s reaction. Surely she’d have been more worried if Rob had been violent? After all, if he had been beating up Josie, it was cast-i ron certain that Mrs. M would have been down there giving the wimp a sorting out he would not forget. Maybe she did know, and was keeping quiet. Hazel picked up the phone to make appointments for Lois to visit the two new potential clients. Then she put it down again. A figure appeared at the door and seemed to hesitate. Hazel saw that it was Josie, and rushed to the door.

“Hi! Come on in. I was just making a coffee. Want some?”

She all but dragged Josie inside and sat her down in a chair. After they were settled, Hazel smiled kindly and said had Josie remembered what she wanted to ask last time she came in?