by Diane Ezzard
Halfway through the story, one of Brad’s character’s mates was found dead and Dotty took a tissue out of her bag to wipe her eye. Wayne must have noticed, as he put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. She snuggled up closer to him, nuzzling against his shoulder. His blond hair flopped forward as he went in to kiss her. He still had hold of his drink, so juggling it and kissing at the same time was a daft idea. The way he petted her face, with his coke in one hand, it was obvious that disaster was about to strike. The trouble was it was hard to manoeuvre his large beaker with Dotty’s hair now in his face. Unfortunately, the inevitable happened and the drink spilt onto her hair. She cringed. She wouldn’t make a scene, but she was annoyed that he had taken the top off the plastic container. His excuse was that he didn’t like drinking through a straw. It wasn’t manly enough for him.
The accident wouldn’t have happened if he’d been more careful. It wasn’t as though anyone else could see him drinking through a straw, anyway. Dotty huffed. Wayne apologised, but the damage had been done. She leaned her body the other way as she squeezed out the sticky liquid from her hair strands. He obviously had no idea how important Dotty’s hair was to her or how painstaking she’d been about getting the style right before she left home that evening. Every strand had been coiffured into place. It would look a ruined mess now and be all sticky and clumped together. She would have to wash it in the morning, a chore she hated. She counted to ten to stop herself from getting cross. Wayne was oblivious to any issues and Dotty’s anguish. He was enjoying the film too much. It was just his cup of tea — lots of blood, guts and action. There was even a sex scene to whet his appetite. As far as he was concerned, the date was going swimmingly.
Dotty felt miserable. She was glad the lights were dimmed because her hair must look like rats’ tails now. There was no way she could go for anything to eat afterwards. The film ended and Wayne put his arm around Dotty’s waist as he escorted her through the foyer.
“Sorry about earlier,” he said, stroking her damp hair. “Are we going for some food?” he asked. She was still cross with him and his apology seemed half-hearted.
“I don’t think so, Wayne. I’m not hungry now after wolfing down all that popcorn.” That was how she would punish Wayne for his clumsiness.
“How about a drink then?”
“If I’m honest, I’m tired.” It was true that Dotty had been tidying the garden at home most of the day so that wasn’t just an excuse. She genuinely was done in.
“Can I tempt you to coffee back at mine then?”
“Maybe another time.” Dotty smiled.
“Oh, so you want there to be a next time?”
“Yes, that’s if you do too.” She squeezed his hand and looked him in the eye. How could she resist those alluring green eyes?
“Oh, yes, I’d like to see you again. I’m only sorry with my work commitments I’m busy at the moment. With this murder inquiry, I’ve been called in on overtime, so it’s pants.”
They walked hand in hand to Wayne’s car.
“I understand. Don’t forget, I’m used to a police officer’s lifestyle with my dad.”
“Of course, how is he doing?”
“He’s laid up with a bad back, but he’s enjoying his retirement on the whole. He normally does the garden, but he roped me in today. That’s why I’m so tired, sorry.”
“Not to worry. Another time maybe?” Wayne raised one eyebrow and looked at Dotty.
“Yes, sure. Let me know when you are free.”
“Will do. Come on then, let’s get you home.” They climbed in the car and drove along in silence. Dotty’s weariness made any effort to talk almost impossible. Wayne’s mind was on his work. He was hungry but he would stop at the Indian takeaway after he dropped Dotty off. As they drew closer towards Dotty’s road, she decided to chance her arm.
“How’s the case going?”
“We’ve got a few leads we’re chasing up. You’ve met Evelyn Collins, haven’t you? She’s very pedantic. Sometimes, because she’s so thorough, police time is wasted unnecessarily. I know we must follow up on everything, but she’s been around long enough to realise when something is leading nowhere. I suppose it’s the right way to go about things. A lot of what we do seems a waste of valuable man hours.”
“Millie didn’t do it, you know.”
“I hear you.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“You’ll know from your dad being a copper that I’m not allowed to say.”
“No, of course not. Do you get on with your boss?”
“Most of the time I want to wring her neck but as she’s my boss, I have to bite my tongue.” Dotty laughed. She couldn’t imagine Wayne taking orders, nor did she like the sound of working with DS Collins. She seemed too serious for Dotty. They pulled up outside her house.
“Here you are, miss. I’ve got you home safe and sound.” Dotty moved to pull on the door handle.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What’s that?” She turned to look at Wayne. He pursed his lips.
“Kiss for the driver.” She moved towards him and their lips met. They petted, and he went to kiss Dotty’s neck. Her body sent ripples of delight down to her toes. If she didn’t get out of the car soon, she would crumble and be at his mercy. She drew away. He acknowledged her move.
“Yes, you better go. You’re turning me on too much. If you don’t go now, I may whisk you away to my lair.”
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” Dotty smiled, but she wasn’t staying for any more kisses.
“My pleasure.” He blew her a kiss as she closed the car door. She waved to him as he drove off.
Just as she put her key in the lock, a message pinged through. She thought it might be Wayne saying goodnight or something saucy, but it was from Kylie.
Still no word from Auntie Flo.
Chapter 15
Where was Auntie Flo? Kylie woke up in the middle of the night just as she had every night since the news of Flo’s disappearance. Her throat was parched, so she reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. She groaned when she saw the time. It was unlikely she would get back to sleep now. She could kill her auntie Flo for causing all this concern. Kylie wished she didn’t care so much but her friends’ comments had bothered her. They thought Flo might have something to do with Nigel’s death. She couldn’t understand why her uncle Chris wasn’t doing more to find his wife. She decided to pay him a visit the following day.
“Aren’t you getting worried?” Kylie asked.
“She’ll come back when she sobers up. If I’m honest, I’m glad to see the back of her. She’s been smoking that weed, and it’s sending her loopy. She’s paranoid that I will leave her. I’m not likely to run off anywhere at my time of life. I mean where would I go? Plus, she’s not getting half of my pension.” Chris didn’t seem to twig to the fact that Flo had spent most of his lump sum and the lion’s share of his pension, anyway. He was a mild-mannered man who called in the bookies every morning. After checking the form of the horses, he put a bet on, but he never spent more than a few quid. He also went out for a couple of pints on a Friday night. Up until Flo getting these funny notions selling drugs, he had lived a simple life. He worked for the railways until he was sixty-four and was proud of the forty years that he gave them. His bad heart meant he had to retire early and being under Flo’s feet seemed to send her off the rails. She had always liked a drink but over the last few years, it had become a daily occurrence. The pair of them were in denial that there was a problem but when Kylie thought about the fact that Auntie Flo had disappeared like this before, she began to wonder. She would rather her aunt be off drinking herself silly somewhere than be guilty of murder, at least she thought that was the most preferable option.
“Have you no idea where she might be?” she asked her uncle.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Don’t you think you should tell the police?”
“Wh
at, and waste their time? No, she’ll be back when she runs out of money, mark my words.” Kylie looked across at her uncle and for the first time saw how the lines on his face had deepened. She shook her head. He should be enjoying his retirement, not worrying where his wife was. Uncle Chris shouldn’t have to go through all this heartache. Although to be fair, he didn’t seem too concerned. The way he sat reading the paper looking content, his mind wasn’t on Flo’s whereabouts. Chris folded his newspaper and placed it on the table.
“Well, I suppose I better tend to her plants while she’s away. There will be all hell to pay if she comes back and her precious marijuana has died.”
“Doesn’t it bother you the way she is?” In Kylie’s eyes, Uncle Chris was a doormat. The softer he was with his wife and the more leeway he gave her, the more she took him for a mug. It seemed like a very one-sided relationship to Kylie, but it wasn’t her place to interfere. When her mum intervened a few years back and said something to Flo, they didn’t speak for six months so it was unlikely that anyone could change her.
“You know that Auntie Flo was near the soup stall where the source of the poison was found before Nigel took his fateful dose?”
“What are you implying, young lady?” Chris looked over the top of his glasses as Kylie.
“Nothing.” She put her hands up in defence. “I don’t think for one minute that Auntie Flo is guilty, but she isn’t doing herself any favours by disappearing. She had a long-running vendetta with Nigel.”
“Everyone hated that man. I’m surprised he had any friends but if you want to know what was going on, you should speak to his closest acquaintances.”
“Why, who did he mix with?”
“There’s the bank manager, Fred Peterson and that lawyer chap, what’s his name? You know the one there was all that hoo-ha about last year.”
“Oh, you mean the guy who was nearly struck off for his racist remarks, Julian Cranford.”
“Yes, that man is decidedly dodgy. He wriggled out of a court case ‘cos he found some loophole in the law, but they virtually proved that he wouldn’t represent black people. He’s not a nice man at all by all account. No wonder him and nasty Nigel got on so famously.”
“Maybe I should pay him a visit?”
“Don’t you go getting yourself involved. No good will come of it and you could end up in a whole heap of bother mixing with wrong ‘uns like him.”
“If it’ll help clear Auntie Flo’s name then I’ll do all I can.”
“I don’t know, what are you like? There’s no telling you, is there? She doesn’t deserve your loyalty and your trouble is you’re too strong-willed.” Chris rose from his chair and playfully ruffled Kylie’s short-cropped hair on his way out of the room. She pondered what her next move should be.
Given Uncle Chris’s warning, Kylie decided she wouldn’t tackle Julian Cranford on her own. If he was slippery enough to get off a court case, then she needed someone like Dotty to assist her, even if it was only for moral support. She had done her homework on him and found out he met up with friends on a Friday night. As luck would have it, she wasn’t working this Friday. Now that Graham had got new bar staff in, she was able to swap and change her rotas round. Seeing as she couldn’t talk Kenny into having a night out, Dotty would do as a suitable alternative. After they had spoken to Julian, they intended to go to the wine bar. Best laid plans never came off as expected.
Kylie had it on good authority that Julian spent Friday nights at the local social club, so the girls started their evening there. They walked through the door of the single storey building with its whitewashed exterior. It looked more like a working men’s club than somewhere a lawyer and a bank manager would meet. An elderly bald-headed man sat in the reception area behind a tiny round table. He had a large A4 size notebook in front of him. A dark blue and maroon coloured scarf hung around his neck over a blue striped jumper and he wore a cap. The girls were about to walk through to the bar.
“Have you got your membership cards, ladies?”
“Membership cards?” Kylie looked at Dotty.
“Yes, you have to be a member to come in here.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise.” Kylie frowned.
“You can join, if you like?” The man looked smug.
“And how much is it to join?” Kylie asked.
“Twenty pounds a year……. each.” The man smiled a sickly smile.
“Sack that.” Kylie pulled a face. “I only wanted a word with my uncle Julian.” Dotty’s eyes widened.
“Your uncle Julian?”
“Yes, you must know him, Julian Cranford.”
“Ah yes, he’s upstairs in a private meeting.”
“A private meeting?” Kylie’s mouth went down at the edges.
“Yes, his organisation meets once a month up there.”
“Oh, you mean the Law Society crossword club, yes he told me about that.”
“No, sorry it’s the White Brethren Society.”
“Oh, of course, silly me. The crossword club meets on Tuesdays. Come on, Dotty. Let’s go.”
“Did you want me to pass a message on for you?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll see him again.”
“Shall I let him know who called?”
“It’s fine. I’ll surprise him.” Dotty and Kylie couldn’t wait to get out of the clubhouse. They blurted out with laughter.
“Law Society crossword club,” Dotty laughed. “That’s a new one on me.”
“Up there for thinking.” Kylie pointed to her temple, “and down there for dancing.” She did a jig as they skipped up the road.
“Come on, we’ll forget your uncle Julian for this evening and leave him to his brethren, whoever they are. Let’s go to the wine bar.” Dotty linked Kylie’s arm. The girls chuckled. Suddenly, Kylie pulled up and turned to her friend.
“Wasn’t Nigel Hastings a member of the White Brethren Society?”
“Now you come to mention it, he was. I saw that name at Judith’s place on one of his letters. Could it be significant?” Dotty held her chin between her thumb and index finger.
“Could be. We need to find out more.” Both girls nodded.
Chapter 16
Dotty was in a good mood. Tracy Ballantyne, who had a clothes stall at some of the same fairs Dotty attended, messaged her to ask if she’d help out at a charity fashion show she was running. It was an annual event at St Winifred’s church hall where the local vicar got involved in the community. He was keen to help promote the local retailers. At first Dotty felt smug, thinking she was being asked to model clothes, but Tracy wanted Dotty to do the makeup for the girls. It was better than nothing. Even though she wasn’t formally trained, Tracy must be impressed with the way Dotty applied her makeup, so she still took it as a compliment. She readily agreed. Since putting the date in her diary, Dotty had been going around the various chemists and stores in the area asking for free samples to use at the event. She was encouraged by the amount of support she received from the local folk.
Because of her involvement, she was also given tickets to sell. She did well. Half of the women in her road bought a ticket including her mum and Betty Simpson from across the road. Betty didn’t seem the most fashion-conscious of women. She probably wanted to attend to show her support for the charity, or more likely so she could have a good old gossip, Betty’s favourite pastime. On the day of the event, Dotty asked Rachel to come along and help. There was plenty to do with several models needing a touch of glamour, so it would be a bonus to have Rachel there. Kylie was into makeup and would have also been a great asset, but she couldn’t get the time off work.
Things didn’t quite go to plan. They arrived at the allotted time. Tracy looked flustered. She scurried up and down the clothes rail.
“Where’s Phoebe?”
“Her train has been delayed.” A voice piped up.
“Oh, no, what are we going to do?”
Phoebe wouldn’t be there on time now, so Rachel was asked if she mind
ed stepping in to cover for the missing model. She was thrilled. Dotty might have been miffed that she wasn’t asked but convinced herself that Rachel was the same size as Phoebe, whilst she was slightly larger.
As soon as she started working on the models, she was in her element as she beavered away applying foundation and eye shadow. A couple of the girls did their own makeup and Dotty added extra glitter powder for effect. Rachel had time for a quick practice before proceedings began and she was a natural. The curtain opened, and the Reverend took centre stage and introduced Tracy and her team.
“I’m sure you will all be thrilled to see what Tracy Ballantyne and her models from Trends on Tap have to show us tonight. I offered to be a model but sadly none of the dresses come in my size.” There were laughs from the audience. “After the show has finished, we will have the raffle. Many of the local businesses have generously offered a whole host of prizes.” Tracy came on stage and addressed the small crowd who clapped politely.
“Guys, have we got a show for you tonight. The models have all done an amazing job. If you see any pieces you like, they will be available to purchase or order at the end of the catwalk session. As always, this is a charity event so all profits will be shared between helping the local hospice and funds for the new church building. Please give generously.”
Once the performance started, Dotty watched from the side lines. The music blasted out. The event was full of glamour and sparkle. She was proud of her friend and she enjoyed working on the models. She wasn’t a professional makeup artist, yet everyone seemed impressed with her ability and commented on how good the girls looked. A lot of her tips for applying makeup had been gleaned from the various blogs that she read regularly. Rachel walked on stage and the hit “No Limit” came on. The music whooped the crowd up into a frenzy and Dotty joined the rest of the audience clapping in time with the beat. The finale ended with a cascade of gold paper descending from a large net placed close to the ceiling. It looked spectacular, but Dotty was glad she wasn’t the one clearing up the mess.
