The more he thought about it, the more he was resolved to carry out some detective work and prove that she was not a woman to be trusted.
And there were only two people who could answer his questions.
Her employer, Angus McDonald.
And Babs Mason herself.
Sixpence leaned on the bar next to Stan Cooper. He had left the Captain and Babs to their own devices in the inglenook. He stole a guilty look over his shoulder to ensure that neither was watching him. To the contrary, the pair were absorbed in each other. Babs was throwing back her head and laughing, while the Captain patted her hand fondly.
“Ah, Sixpence, can I get you anything?” asked the landlord.
“Thank you, Angus, but I don’t need a drink. I did wonder whether you could help me with a rather, um, delicate matter.”
“Shall I leave?” asked Stan, stepping back. He apologised profusely as his steel-capped size ten boots crushed another customer’s toe. Stan’s keen detective mind hadn’t cured his clumsiness.
“No, no, Stan. Please stay. It isn’t a criminal matter, exactly, but I wouldn’t mind your opinion.”
“Fire away, old man,” said Angus. “We’ll do our best to help.”
Angus, Stan and Sixpence put their heads together, and Sixpence took a deep breath. He shuffled from one foot to the other.
“It’s like this,” Sixpence began in a low voice, then plunged on. “I’m worried about the Captain.”
“Why?” asked Angus.
“The Captain hasn’t had much experience with women,” said Sixpence carefully, “and I’m really worried that he’s been taken for a ride.”
Stan said nothing, but he was listening intently. Another peal of Babs’s laughter rang out behind them.
“You mean his friendship with Babs?” asked Angus.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. He’s absolutely smitten by her.”
“Well, there’s no law against that,” said Stan, smiling.
“I know!” said Sixpence hurriedly. “It’s just that he’s givin’ her a stream of presents. Valuable antiques from the manor. Stuff that’s been packed away for decades.”
“No law against that, either,” said Stan, but he was no longer smiling.
“It’s just, I wondered whether either of you knew anything about her or her past,” finished Sixpence. “I mean, you read in the papers about these professional fraudsters… Perhaps I’m completely wrong, but it just doesn’t feel right. Do you know what I mean?”
Angus and Stan nodded.
“Well,” said Angus quietly. “She said she’s a single woman. She came with two glowing references from other pubs. Somerset area, I think. To be honest, I didn’t check them out at the time, I was so busy, but I could look them up in the Yellow Pages and give them a ring. Nobody needs serving at the moment, I’ll pop out the back and do it right now. I hope you’re wrong about this, because she’s a good barmaid!”
“I’d be really grateful,” said Sixpence.
Stan said nothing, but he was deep in thought. If he turned sideways, he could see Babs quite clearly in the inglenook. Her left hand rested on the Captain’s knee. He focused on the third finger. No wedding ring, but her finger was indented, the way a woman’s finger becomes when she’s worn a ring for years.
Was Sixpence right?
Was Babs Mason hiding some secrets?
“Hello, am I through to the White Hart?”
“Yes, you are, how can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you could help me. My name’s Angus McDonald and I’m the landlord of the Dew Drop in Sixpenny Cross, Dorset. Who am I speaking with, please?”
“My name’s Sarah, I’m the landlady here. How can I help you, Mr McDonald?”
“I’ve recently hired a new barmaid, Babs Mason. She worked for you, and she gave me a reference signed by the landlord, David Leech.”
The line went silent for several seconds. Then Sarah spoke again.
“I’m sorry, but are you sure you have the right pub? There’s no David Leech here. My husband is the landlord, and his name is Daniel Falconbridge. We’ve had the White Hart for twelve years and I’m quite sure we’ve never had a barmaid here called Babs Mason.”
11
Angus McDonald put the telephone down, perplexed.
Good gracious!
He ran his fingers through his hair.
Was Sixpence right? If Babs was lying about her past job at the White Hart, what else was she hiding?
Sixpence had returned to the inglenook, and Babs was back behind the bar.
“Ah, there you are, Boss,” she cried, “I thought you’d been whisked away by aliens!” And she threw her head back, laughing.
Stan Cooper watched her with interest, then turned to Angus, raising his eyebrows in question.
Angus leaned in to him and whispered, “The pub in Somerset.”
“Yes?”
“They’ve never heard of her.”
Stan’s brow furrowed but he wasn’t very surprised.
“Don’t tell her what you know yet,” he instructed. “When you get the chance, phone the other pub, check out their reference too. That’ll give me time to make a few enquiries of my own.”
“Do you need some more time to think about it?” asked the salesman.
“No, I don’t think so, do you?” Babs turned to check with her husband.
“If you can knock a bit more off the price, we’ll take it,” said Rick. “We’ll pay cash, of course.”
“Wise decision,” said the salesman. “You can’t go wrong with these Ford Escorts. Very reliable cars. This one may be secondhand, but it’ll go on for ever.”
They agreed on a price and Rick pulled out a wad of banknotes from his pocket. He counted them out on the desk, licking his finger occasionally and placing the notes in neat one-hundred piles. Then he passed them over to the salesman to count. Satisfied, the man unlocked a drawer and put the money away before handing Rick the car’s keys and logbook.
“A pleasure doing business with you,” said Rick, as they left.
“Oooh, Rick! It’s so nice to have a car of our own again, isn’t it? I’ll be able to drive myself to work now instead of taking the bus,” cooed Babs as they drove away. “And I saw you watching where he keeps the money! You’re not thinking of turning the place over, are you?”
Rick laughed, and patted her knee.
“Once a con, always a con,” he chuckled. “I learned in prison it’s always a good idea to use your eyes. You never know when you might need to know where people stash their cash.”
“Thanks to the Captain, I think we have happy days ahead,” laughed Babs. “It’s my night off, let’s raise a glass or two to our golden goose tonight, thank him for our new car.”
“Good idea. And it’s time we started to think about how to get you inside that manor house of his. I reckon it’s packed with valuables, and I bet he wouldn’t even notice if some went missing.”
“I don’t think he would either,” agreed Babs, smiling at the thought, then sobering. “I think his companion, Sixpence, is a lot more switched on, though. We can’t rush into anything.”
“Hmm,” said Rick thoughtfully, “it would be even better if we could get rid of our friend Sixpence altogether.”
“Yes, that’s right, Sixpenny Cross, near Yewbridge. Am I speaking with the landlord of the King’s Arms?”
“Indeed you are, how can I help?”
“Just a quick staff question, if you don’t mind. Did you have a Babs Mason working for you at any time? Maybe she called herself Barbara?”
“Barbara? No, definitely not. My ex-wife’s called Barbara, and I’d remember that name, no question. We’ve never had a Barbara, or Babs, working here.”
Time marched on, and May saw the first swallows arriving from Africa. A cuckoo called from Sixpenny Woods. Angus no longer lit the fire in the Dew Drop, but the Captain and Sixpence still sat in their customary seats in the inglenook, oft
en joined by Babs.
The month of June brought out all the wildflowers in the surrounding meadows. Garden beds burst with blooms all the colours of the rainbow.
The Captain gazed out of the drawing room window onto the wide lawns edged with herbaceous borders. In his mind’s eye he saw Sixpence’s father using twine and stakes to tie up and support the tall lupins, foxgloves and gladioli, preventing them from falling over in strong winds.
So many years ago!
Now a professional landscaping company tended the grounds. Except, of course, for the roses and kitchen garden which were Sixpence’s pride and joy.
The place needs a woman, thought the Captain. It’s too late to fill the house with children, but at least I can keep my promise and bring home a wife.
Yes, it was time to take action.
Meanwhile, outside, Sixpence gazed at his roses. There were several buds that he had his eye on, lavishing them with time and attention. Any of these might be the blooms he would choose on the morning of the village fête, to enter in the Best Roses competition. He smiled, confident that he’d win another red rosette. His roses never failed to lift his sagging spirits. This business between Babs and the Captain was driving him to distraction lately.
Should I talk to the Captain about my suspicions? he mused. No. Not yet.
Stan Cooper had asked him and Angus to maintain silence for the moment while he investigated further.
“After all,” Stan had said, when Angus had reported back about the second pub Babs had allegedly worked in, “she lied, but she hasn’t actually broken the law. And she has no criminal record that I can find. But mark my words, people like her may be very clever, but they always make a mistake. For the moment, we just watch and wait.”
Angus was only happy to agree. Babs was an excellent barmaid and attracting an ever increasing clientele. The pub was thriving and, despite her lies, he was reluctant to fire her.
But it was hard for Sixpence to see the Captain fall ever more deeply under Babs’s spell. The man was mesmerised by her, oblivious to her lack of breeding and her brassiness. The thought that the Captain might be considering making the wretched woman the lady of the manor made him shudder.
“Sixpence, is that you?” called the Captain from the drawing room, when Sixpence entered the kitchen through the back door.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can I have a quick word?”
“Of course, sir.”
Sixpence entered the drawing room and waited.
“Ah, there you are, old man. I’ve been thinking I’d like to hold a dinner party some time, would you have any objection?”
The Captain’s tone was light but Sixpence was astute enough to detect a hint of uncertainty in his employer’s voice, as though he was nervous of Sixpence’s reaction.
“No, of course not, sir. How many guests?”
“Oh, just one, I think.”
Sixpence’s heart sank. He didn’t need a planetary-sized brain to guess the identity of the proposed guest.
“May I ask who?”
“Of course, I was thinking of asking Barbara from the pub. She said to me only the other day that she’d love to see Sixpenny Manor and that she really enjoys looking at antique furniture.”
I bet she does, thought Sixpence, but managed to keep his features impassive.
“Nothing too fancy,” continued the Captain. “Just a nice homemade soup perhaps, and maybe roast chicken to follow. She’s a simple creature.”
Simple? That woman is more cunning than a starving fox.
“Perhaps, if you wouldn’t mind, you could unpack a couple of the silver candlesticks, and cut a few roses for the vases?”
“Very good, sir. When were you thinking of holding this little, um, soirée?”
“I thought Thursday next week. That’s Barbara’s next evening off. Would that suit?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Sixpence, perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but I get the impression that you don’t like Barbara very much. Am I right?”
12
Sixpence opened his mouth. Here was his opportunity. The Captain had asked him a direct question. He could answer with the truth.
That woman is a lying fraud. In my opinion, she’s after your money.
That was what he wanted to say, but he held his tongue.
“Sixpence?”
“It’s not for me to say, sir.”
“Very well. If you have any reservations, I’m sure you’ll let me know in your own good time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He’s invited me to dinner at the manor house next Thursday,” crowed Babs.
“Oh, lah-de-dah!”
“Yeah, I’ll have to get myself a little black dress!”
“Never mind that, you just make sure you take a good look round. Case the joint, memorise the layout. See which rooms have good stuff in them.”
“I will, don’t worry. Have I ever let you down?”
“Nope, we’re a great team. I just wish we could get rid of the golden goose’s mate, he’s the only fly in the ointment.”
“You’ll think of something, Rick, you always do.”
It was five o’clock when the telephone on the counter rang. Stan reached for the receiver but his elbow caught his mug of tea, sending it spinning before it smashed in two on the floor. Tea splattered over the counter, threatening a pile of paperwork, and a growing, brown puddle collected at his feet.
He rolled his eyes in annoyance but grabbed the receiver just before the telephone stopped ringing.
“Sixpenny Cross Police Station, PC Cooper speaking.”
“Ah Stan, thought I’d missed you. It’s PC Holman here at Yewbridge cop shop. Thought I’d give you a quick bell.”
“How are you?” asked Stan, watching with dismay as his papers began to soak up the spilled tea.
“Fine, thank you. You wanted us to check out a Barbara Mason, I think, a few weeks ago?”
Stan forgot about the tea.
“Yes, that’s right. You couldn’t find anything on her. She had no rap sheet.”
“That’s true, but we’ve just come across something else. I thought it might be worth telling you.”
Stan waited, unaware he was now standing in a pool of tea.
“Barbara Mason kept her maiden name, but she’s actually married to Richard Kane. And he’s got a rap sheet as long as your arm.”
“Really? What for?”
“Just about everything. He’s a nasty piece of work. Burglary, car theft, fraud, grievous bodily harm, you name it. He’s had a few stretches inside. He was also the main suspect for a homicide back in the seventies, but the case was dropped through lack of evidence. It was a bungled burglary. The homeowner surprised the burglars so they clobbered him over the head with a crowbar. He died of a heart attack.”
“And Babs Mason is married to this thug?”
“Yup, looks like it. They live together in a council flat in Yewbridge.”
“Well, thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”
Stan stood still for several minutes, deep in thought. It was time to have a word with the Captain. Better still, he’d first have a chat with Sixpence and together they’d work out the best way to break the unwelcome news to the Captain.
Yes, he decided. I’ll catch Sixpence at the pub tonight and bend his ear.
Decision made, he locked up and went home, unaware of the great, wet footprints he left criss-crossing the floor.
But PC Stan Cooper didn’t see Sixpence that evening. It was Thursday and neither the Captain nor Sixpence were at the pub. They were entertaining Babs at the manor house.
The Captain had taken extra care with his appearance. His sparse hair was slicked down with water, and his fingernails were spotless. He wore a crisp white shirt and cravat, feeling they were in keeping with the occasion.
What exactly was the occasion? he asked himself.
He had no precise answer to this question but planned to see how the evening went.
For some reason he felt that something huge was about to happen.
Sixpence, in spite of his misgivings, had worked hard. He had uncovered the dining room table and chairs and polished the wood until it gleamed. White candles flickered in silver candlesticks, and he’d arranged some of his roses in vases. The table was set perfectly and the silverware sparkled.
“You’ll dine with us, of course, old man?” the Captain had asked, but Sixpence had politely refused.
“No, sir, I’ll leave you two in peace. It’ll leave me free to serve, too.”
The truth was, he didn’t think he could stomach watching Babs fawn all over the Captain. He didn’t want to listen to her peals of fake laughter while the Captain gazed at her as though she was Miss World 1985.
Babs had swept up the gravel drive in her new Ford Escort, and the Captain had welcomed her. She was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her ample curves. A necklace drew the eye to her décolletage, and her scarlet lips pouted. She tilted her head, allowing him to kiss her cheek, and he walked her through to the drawing room.
“Can I get you a drink, Barbara?” he asked. “Perhaps a sherry?”
“Oooh! Perhaps a sweet sherry, thank you! Just a little one, mind, don’t want you getting me tipsy!”
A peal of empty laughter rang out, and, in the kitchen, Sixpence grimaced and rolled his eyes.
The Captain stuck his head round the kitchen door.
“Sixpence, I’m just going to show Barbara round the house, we shouldn’t be long.”
“Very good, sir, I’ll have the first course waiting for you when you get back.”
As he stirred the homemade vegetable soup, he could hear her laughter reverberating from different parts of the house. Many of the rooms were closed, but she seemed to want to see them all.
When the pair had returned and seated themselves at the dining room table, Sixpence served the soup, ensuring each bowl had a sprig of watercress garnish and a final dash of cream.
The Sixpenny Cross Collection Page 20
