“Good. I mean, I’m glad that no children have just lost their dad.”
“Yes, so am I.”
Misty drained her glass. “So how did you learn that Simeon had, you know, died?”
“I was informed by the police. You see, amongst Simeon’s belongings at the Wonderland place was his laptop and so your policemen here checked his emails and established that I was his wife. They notified the French police who came and told me the news. It was a great shock.”
“Yeah, I bet it was. Silly, but it never occurred to me that I’d not been told officially. I learned about it from a mate, you see, who read about it on a news website. I should have smelled a rat because in retrospect the cop…cop…police always tell the next of kin when summat like this happens.”
Aimée smiled. “If the police had known about you, they too would have smelled a rat. I find it hard to believe that Simeon was a bigamist. He was always so law-abiding. At least he was while in France.”
“Simeon would never talk about France.” Misty’s eyes misted over, “Whenever I asked him of his past he said he preferred to talk of the present and the future. I wish I’d had the nous to suspect a reason for that.”
“Had he told you anything of his past then you could have found out a lot about him. His father was a famous chef, you see, and had restaurants all over France and two in Paris. Simeon inherited his love of cooking from his father but much preferred the baking side and so with his father’s help he started his own patisserie. Had you known the name of his father you could have Googled him. There is much to be read about him on the Internet. But sadly he is no longer with us. He died three years ago and left everything to Simeon who was his only child. Simeon sold his father’s restaurants and I think that’s when he first expressed the desire to come to England. I know he owns two prestigious houses in London in which he has tenants who are regarded as celebrities.”
Misty’s jaw dropped. “You mean to say he was loaded?”
Aimée smiled sweetly. “Oui.”
Misty sighed. “And I suppose because our marriage was illegal, I’ll get sweet F A.”
“Wow, that’s tough, babe,” said a voice from behind.
Misty turned around to see Finn perched on a bar stool near to where she sat.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I couldn’t help but overhear what was said. Looks like you should have stuck with me.”
Misty scowled.
“Sorry,” said Finn, “that was a stupid thing to say. But you know me. I always manage to put my foot in it.”
Misty nodded. “Yeah you do.” She turned to Aimée. “Aimée,” she said, “this blo…person is Finn. I knew him several years ago and he’s in Cornwall now because he and his mate have a stall at the Christmas Wonderland.”
Aimée held out her lightly tanned hand. “Delighted to meet you, Finn.”
“Likewise,” he said, and kissed the back of her hand.
Catching a glimpse of the watch strap on Finn’s wrist caused Misty to frown. “I’ve just remembered something. Simeon always wore a Rolex watch. I mean, naturally I assumed it was a fake which he’d bought from some dodgy source but now I realise it was probably the real deal.”
Aimée nodded. “Oh yes, it was genuine. I bought it for him for his fortieth birthday a couple of years back. I’m glad he still wore it but wonder where it is now.”
“The cops must have it,” said Misty, “I expect they’ll hand it over eventually.”
“But they have already given me the clothing that Simeon was wearing and everything he had about his person when he died and that included the signet ring he always wore on his little finger.”
“What! So where the devil is it then?”
“Perhaps someone pinched it.” Finn suggested. “Although having said that I daresay it wouldn’t be much good anyway after being in the lake for a while.”
Aimée scowled. “It was waterproof and so should have been fine.”
“On the other hand,” said Finn, “someone might have taken it from him before they did him i…i…I mean umm, before he died. In which case it wouldn’t have got wet anyway. I mean, we know he was drinking red wine and vodka with someone, so that someone might have nicked it.”
“Drinking red wine and vodka!” Aimée gasped. “Simeon never ever touched spirits other than the occasional small glass of brandy if he was feeling unwell.”
Chapter Fourteen
On Saturday morning, when Hetty came in from hanging out washing on the line at the bottom of the garden she told Lottie that it looked as though the Hillside roof was finished and it was looking really nice. “Shows ours up, in fact,” she said as she pushed the empty laundry basket inside the pantry.
Lottie, standing at the kitchen table dribbling cream sherry onto the surface of the Christmas cake she had made the previous day, nodded her head. “Well, I suppose we could have a new one sometime but it hardly seems worth it as this one doesn’t appear to leak.”
“Ah, that’s reminded me of something I’ve been meaning to do for a while,” said Hetty, “Look in the attic, that is.”
Lottie pulled a face. “Ugh, rather you than me. I bet there are lots of spiders and things up there.”
“Yes, and probably woodworm too. Not having had a survey done when we bought the place there might be a few nasties lurking amongst the dust, not that that’s the reason I thought of going up. My purpose really is to see if there’s much headroom. The roof seems to be quite steep when looking at it from the outside, don’t you think, and so it might be possible to do a loft conversion and make another bedroom or two.”
Lottie’s face lit up. “Really! Oh that would be wonderful because if it were possible then Bill, Sandra and the children could all visit us at the same time.”
“That’s what I thought and we do have some money to spare after the sale of our respective houses. I’d go up there now but trouble is we don’t have a ladder and I’m not nimble enough to get up there by way of a chair because it is too high.”
Lottie replaced the lid on the sherry bottle and then lowered the cake into an empty biscuit tin. “We must mention it to Tommy when next we see him. He must have some ladders for cleaning windows so I’m sure he’ll help us out.”
“Good idea. Fancy a coffee?” Hetty reached for the kettle.
“Yes please, but before you make it go and have a look at the rug. It was dry so I’ve put it down over the horrid stain. ”
Hetty crossed the hallway into the sitting room and Lottie followed. “Oh yes, that looks much better and it’s cleaned up really well. You’ve done a good job.”
“Thank you. I’m so glad we bought it and next time we’re in the charity shop I’ll buy the other one if it’s still there as I think it would look nice in my bedroom.”
In the evening, Lottie looked out her favourite outfit and Hetty put on the new dress she had bought at Wonderland and also her flashing snowman earrings. She offered her sister the Christmas tree earrings to wear but Lottie declined saying the green would clash with her dress but in reality she was self-conscious and didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
Once they were ready, they locked up the cottage and walked down to the Crown and Anchor where the Pentrillick Players, the village’s amateur dramatic group, were holding their Christmas Dinner and party. According to Maisie and Daisy with whom they had chatted in the charity shop when they bought the rug, this annual occurrence always made for a memorable night. For over the past few years the evening had followed the same pattern; once dinner was eaten and the players were out in the bars and mingling with the rest of the villagers, a local male voice choir would sing favourite Cornish songs. And then afterwards, to round off the evening, Christmas Carols would be sung by all accompanied by Miss Vickery at the piano.
They arrived at the pub just after seven thirty to find the bars busy and the sound of jovial voices ringing out from the dining room. Maisie and Daisy, in with their respective husbands, beckoned the sisters to join
them at a large table near to the French doors.
“Oh, it’s lovely and warm in here,” said Hetty, removing her coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. “It’s quite nippy out.” She picked up her handbag from the table where she’d put it. “Right, can I get you all a drink?”
“That’s very sweet,” said Daisy, “but we’ve only just got these.” She held up her near-full glass. The rest of the foursome did the same.
“Okay,” said Hetty, “perhaps later then.” She turned to address her sister. “Red or white, Lottie?”
“Red, please, Het.”
Miss Vickery was at the far end of the bar along with several members of the church choir who were also members of the male voice choir. However, according to the chat inside the pub, she was reluctant to play the piano for the carol singing later in the evening because that morning she had tumbled on her front doorstep and sprained her wrist. The injury was not serious but it was painful and Miss Vickery was keen to rest it hopeful that it would be a lot better the following day for playing the organ at the Sunday services.
“I can play the piano,” said Hetty, on hearing of Miss Vickery’s misfortune from Daisy, “and I’d be very willing to help.”
Lottie nodded. “She’s good too because she can play by ear or by reading the music.”
“I didn’t know you were a pianist,” said Tommy, who had joined the party round the table, “I envy you. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“I think to call me a pianist might be a bit of an exaggeration,” said Hetty, much amused, “but as regards you playing, Tommy, it’s never too late to learn.”
“Well, I dunno about that. I reckon it’s not easy to teach an old dog new tricks.”
Hetty tutted. “Old dog indeed. You’re as young as you feel, Tommy, and to be honest you look ten years younger than you really are.”
Tommy ran his hand over his thin grey hair. “Do you think so? Thanks. Anyway, that’s enough flattery. I’ll go and have a word with Miss Vickery and the choir and see if they’re happy to let you tinkle the old ivories.”
“Thank you,” Hetty looked pleased.
“So how long have you been playing?” Daisy asked, as Tommy left the table.
“Since I was a girl. We both had lessons, didn’t we, Lottie? But I was the only one who took to it.”
“I’m more the practical type,” said Lottie, not wanting to be outdone. “You know, sewing, mending, cooking and suchlike. To be honest, a sheet of music is mumbo-jumbo to me.”
“Same goes for me,” said Maisie. “So do you have a piano at Primrose Cottage?”
Hetty shook her head. “Sadly no. I had one back home but gave it to Bill and Sandra because their daughter, Kate, is keen to learn. I have a keyboard now but it’s not the same so I shall enjoy playing later if it’s alright with Miss Vickery.”
Miss Vickery was delighted to hear that there was a willing substitute for her services for she knew that without the piano several would struggle to keep in tune for the carol singing, especially after a few too many drinks. To celebrate the fact that Hetty had come to the rescue, she ditched the tonic water for a large glass of mulled wine which she carried to the table by the French doors in order to thank Hetty for offering to help.
“Will the Liddicott-Treens be amongst the party goers in the dining room?” Lottie asked, amused by the raucous laughter coming from said area. “If I remember correctly they are members of the drama group.”
“They came last year but can’t make it this year,” said Miss Vickery, having seated herself at the table, “because they have another function to attend which I daresay will be a little more sedate than this.” As she spoke a mighty crash emanated from the dining room followed by peals of laughter and a round of applause.
“Sounds like they’re having a smashing time,” said Nick, who was sitting at the next table with Patricia and Patrick who ran Pat’s Hook a Duck stall and Test Your Strength Steve.
To Hetty’s surprise she observed that Nick had abandoned his football T-shirts for the evening and was wearing a crisp white shirt and bow tie. Psychic Sid who was leaning on the bar, was also looking smart although the shirt he wore did look a little on the tight side.
“Nice to see you dressed up,” said Hetty, when Sid pulled up a chair and joined everyone around the table.
Lottie agreed. “Yes, you look very dapper.”
Sid grinned as he placed his glass on a beer mat. “Thank you, Hottie and Letty, you’re both looking lovely too.”
Tommy, standing nearby talking to Bernie the Boatman, slapped his thigh. “Hottie and Letty. I like it.”
Sid chuckled. “I didn’t mean to say that but it is a bit of a tongue twister especially when drinking cider.”
Hetty frowned. “Hmm, so which one am I, Hottie or Letty?”
“Hottie,” said Bernie, patting her cheek, “definitely Hottie, especially in that dress.” As he spoke Aimée Dupont walked by on her way to the Ladies; she paused momentarily and gave Hetty a quizzical look before continuing on her way.
“She thinks I’m mutton dressed as lamb,” said Hetty, somewhat down-hearted, “and plump mutton at that.”
“Nonsense,” said Tommy, “and that French woman is far too skinny anyway.”
“You old flatterer,” said Hetty, secretly delighted.
“Anyway, you’ll be slim soon because old Sid here came up with an accurate fortune telling for Lottie here: didn’t you, Sid?” Tommy nudged Sid with his elbow.
“I certainly did. I’m probably one of the best fortune tellers Cornwall has ever seen, or heard for that matter.” His tongue was firmly in his cheek.
“What do you mean? What did you get right?” Hetty squirmed in discomfort.
Lottie tutted. “Oh come on, Hetty. You can’t have forgotten that Sid said there would be a murder in Pentrillick before the festive season was out and that you and I would be involved. After all, that’s why he’s regarded as a celebrity all of a sudden. Isn’t that so, Sid?”
Sid took a huge gulp of cider and grinned.
“Oh, but that’s silly because we don’t know for sure that it was murder,” said Hetty, horrified at the thought of a diet strict enough for her to lose a whole stone, “and even if it was, you and I aren’t involved, Lottie, nor are we likely to be, so that bit was definitely wrong.”
“I found the wine and vodka bottles,” persisted Lottie.
“Quite right,” said Maisie, “and that’s why Simeon’s death has gone from unexplained to suspicious.”
Tommy laughed and rubbed his hands together. “Two weeks to go then till New Year resolutions come into effect.”
“You must take up my advice then and go for a nice long walk every day of at least five miles,” said Miss Vickery, who now having drunk two large glasses of mulled wine was standing in order to go to the Ladies.
“Five miles!” Hetty looked horrified.
“That’s an excellent idea,” agreed Lottie, “I must get you a nice strong pair of walking shoes for Christmas, Het. Thank you, Miss Vickery for reminding us.”
Miss Vickery cheeks glowed as she wagged her finger to everyone gathered around the table. “No more Miss Vickery,” she chuckled, “I insist that you all call me Kitty.”
Shortly afterwards, members of the village drama group and their partners emerged from the dining room with glowing cheeks and party popper streamers caught in their hair. They left behind a mess far worse than a children’s party for the waiting staff to clear up which included two broken wine bottles knocked onto the flagstone floor earlier in the evening which had been the crash heard by drinkers in the bar.
As soon as the party-goers had refilled their glasses, the male voice choir began their recital with the ‘White Rose’ which slightly raised the decorum of the Pentrillick Players who stood quietly and listened.
Aimée and Misty, also in the Crown and Anchor, were enjoying a drink with Shelley and Ginger. As the singing progressed, Misty became more and mo
re overcome with emotion.
“Simeon liked this tune. I dunno what it’s called but he had a CD of a Cornish male voice choir. I think that’s part of the reason why he wanted to come down here for Christmas. He had a nice voice too and used to sing along with some of the songs.”
“I hope you don’t think me indelicate,” said Ginger, “but that’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about for a while. I mean, why didn’t you come to Wonderland with Simeon? It’s just that if you’d not been married for long it seems odd that he came down here without you.”
Misty smiled. “I was gonna come with him but then a job came up that I really wanted to do. I’m a model, you see. I don’t do nothing fancy and take the work when it comes up and the job that came up paid well so I’d have been a fool not to have taken it. Simeon was all for it because he wanted me to still have a career and so we decided that I would join him as soon me job was done which funnily enough was the very day I learned of his death. Bless him, he said that he’d shack up in the café until I got down here then we’d find a nice hotel or even rent a cottage for Christmas and we’d choose it together. Poor soul. It grieves me to think that had I not stayed up there for the job, he’d still be alive today because he wouldn’t have gone out boozing without me, that’s for sure.”
“No, possibly not, but the police are treating his death as suspicious now,” said Ginger, “and I don’t want to be insensitive but if he was murdered then I daresay there’s nothing you could have done to have prevented it.”
Misty sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. The rotten bastard who did it would just have found another way. I don’t think he was murdered though. I mean, he was much too nice a bloke and wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I agree,” said Aimée, “he was far from perfect but had no enemies as far as I know and I said as much to the police. But I do have my doubts now especially since discovering his Rolex watch is missing. The police assure me he was not wearing it when they pulled him from the lake and it would have been impossible for anyone to have taken it from his wrist during that process because there were several witnesses.”
A Pasty In A Pear Tree Page 10
