by Sam Short
Beginning to understand that finding out what had happened to Stan might not be as simple as finding the footprints which the grapevine had sensed, Pepper turned her attention to the little shed.
If Stan had been a drug dealer, and if he’d dealt his contraband from the allotments, then he certainly hadn’t taken the security of his shed seriously. A padlock was fitted, and it was locked — the key probably in the possession of the police, but the brackets which the lock secured had seen better days.
Examining the portion of the bracket attached to the frame of the shed, Pepper discovered that it was held in place not by rivets, but by easily manipulated screws. Amazed at how fate seemed to work, Pepper reached into her bag and retrieved the screwdriver she’d bought that very morning from The Bazaar.
After checking the allotments for nosy-parkers, she made quick work of removing the two screws and gaining access to Stan’s shed.
Before she opened the door, she steeled herself against what she might see. She took a deep breath and shook her head. It wouldn’t be like yesterday. There would only be a bloodstain, and she wouldn’t have to stare at it.
Not sure what she was going to look for when she got inside the shed, but assuming that even the best detectives never knew what they were looking for when they examined the scene of a crime either, Pepper decided that her job was simply to look for clues.
The police had already been inside the shed, but as Sergeant Saxon was so keen to point out, the police were treating Stan’s death as an accident. They wouldn’t have been looking for the same things that Pepper was looking for.
But what was she looking for? She supposed she was looking for anything to do with drugs, but wasn’t sure she’d know what modern drug paraphernalia looked like if it was staring her in the face.
She pulled the door open on creaking hinges, the smells of wood paint and compost rushing at her as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the little wooden hut.
Using the same piece of wood she’d seen the door propped open with the day before, Pepper secured the door in place and peered inside the shed. As she’d expected, a dark ring stained the floor where just yesterday she’d seen Stan’s head, but she was relieved to note that the blood was dry.
Looking around the interior of the shed, Pepper understood why Winston had accused Stan of not being the most careful of men. Tools lay on the floor, were propped up in corners, and had been put on shelves which bowed beneath the weight Stan had expected them to bear.
Blankets had been thrown over piles of junk to make the shed appear neater, and ivy had found its way in through a gap in the floor.
In the corner was a little table on which stood a kettle with a frayed cord leading to a plug carelessly discarded on the floor. Pepper hadn’t been aware that the sheds in the allotment had electricity supplies, but spotting the single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the switch screwed to the wall, she realised it made sense.
She tried the switch, and the bulb flickered into life, supplying a dim yellow glow which did hardly anything to illuminate the shed’s interior. Wondering again what she should be looking for, Pepper began moving things aside on shelves, and opening the cabinets which had once belonged in a kitchen, but were now attached to the wall of a shed, alongside a dirty window which spiders had colonised with webs.
She rummaged through the contents of one cabinet, finding an old fishing reel, a Tupperware box full of copper fittings, a book containing glossy photos of cars, a few rusty pen-knives, and lots of screws and nails.
Closing the cabinet door, Pepper moved onto the shelves, rummaging through tins of paint and boxes of seeds, wondering if the mess had made any sense to Stan, or if it had been as much of a jumble to him as it was to her.
Wiping cobwebs from her fingers, Pepper opened the lid of a cardboard box and peered inside. Alongside a book offering tips on growing grape vines in cooler climates, was a single key on a keyring decorated with the double R associated with Rolls Royce, a box of air rifle pellets, and next to that, a rusty tobacco tin filled to the brim with fishing lures. Also in the box was a single mousetrap and a see-through plastic bag wrapped around an open tin of brown wood paint.
Closing the box with a sigh, Pepper moved on to the next shelf, finding nothing more than an eclectic mix of tools and seed boxes. Beginning to realise that it was doubtful she was going to find anything that would either verify the brothers’ accusation that Stan had been a drug dealer, or give her a clue as to the identity of the person the grapevine had informed her of, Pepper reached for the light switch.
Just as she was about to switch it off, a plastic bag in the corner caught her eye, the label on it giving her reason to frown. Potatohead Magic Quick Grow Fertilizer, it read. Recalling the argument she’d heard Stan having with Percy and Harry about Stan’s alleged use of chemicals in the growing of organic potatoes he was going to enter in a vegetable growing competition, she knelt to investigate further.
The long list of ingredients printed on the label, beginning with something called Phosphorous Pentoxide, told Pepper that perhaps Stan hadn’t been honest with Harry and Percy when he’d promised he was growing organic potatoes.
She remembered how angry Percy and Harry had been when they’d accused Stan of cheating, and she reminded herself that she wasn’t looking for somebody to blame for the heinous crime of murder — she was looking for somebody who might have been angry enough to shove Stan and cause him to fall.
Would somebody’s belief that a fellow competitor was cheating in a vegetable growing competition make them angry enough to assault another person physically? Pepper thought so. She’d seen and heard about people committing assault for far more innocent reasons, and Harry had lifted a fist before Pepper had shouted at the men, managing to stop the argument.
Harry and Percy had walked away, Pepper recalled, but who was to say that they hadn’t come back when Pepper had gone inside the community hall?
Sergeant Saxon had informed Pepper that she’d visited Harry and Percy, though, and had been adamant that they’d had an alibi. That didn’t mean much, though. She’d visited Barry and Darren too, yet Pepper had come away furnished with the information that Stan might have been dealing in drugs. Knowledge that Sergeant Saxon hadn’t acquired — no doubt because she’d been wearing a police uniform. What cannabis user in their right mind was going to tell a police officer where they’d been getting their drugs from?
Running her eyes over the contents of the shed once more, Pepper settled on her next course of action. She would go to Chapelford and find Harry and Percy. Being the nearest town to Picklebury, Chapelford was only a few miles away, and Pepper knew she could cycle that distance quite quickly, despite the numerous hills which lay between the two towns.
She switched the light off, and gazed at the bloodstain again, saying a few words under her breath which honoured Stan’s memory. As she backed out of the shed and proceeded to refit the bracket to the doorframe, a loud voice boomed from behind her, causing Pepper to jump and drop the screwdriver. “Hello, hello, hello!” came the man’s deep voice. “What’s going on here then?”
Chapter 19
Pepper put a hand to her chest, her adrenaline flowing. She spun quickly on the spot and stumbled backwards as a tall man approached her. Then, it dawned on her who it was. “Geoffrey!” she said. “What on earth do you think you’re doing? You scared me half to death!”
“I do apologise, Pepper,” said Geoffrey. “After all those years on the force, I never got a chance to say that! I’ve always wanted to do that hello, hello, hello thing. It seemed like the opportune moment. However, joking aside, I would like to know what’s going on. Why were you in Stan’s shed?”
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” said Pepper. “It’s just that —”
“It’s that gut feeling of yours, isn’t it?” said Geoffrey. “I could see from the look on your face how serious you were about it yesterday.”
Pepper nodded. “I’m certain tha
t something — someone caused Stan to fall,” she said.
Geoffrey studied Pepper for a moment or two before relaxing his shoulders and nodding. “I agree,” he said. “I have a gut feeling too, and I’ve learned to trust my gut feelings.” He walked to Pepper, and bent down, picking up the screwdriver which she’d dropped.
After tightening the screws in the bracket and making sure the door was secure, he passed it back to Pepper. “Do you want to let me in on what you think happened here? Have you got any hunches? Considering you’re sneaking around inside a dead man’s shed, I assume you have.”
Pepper studied Geoffrey for a moment or two, and when satisfied that she could trust him, she nodded. “I’ve discovered a little information,” she said. “I’d be happy to share it with you.”
“Let’s go to the gardening club’s allotment shed,” suggested Geoffrey. “It will be more comfortable than standing here, and the kettle has only just boiled.”
Pepper followed Geoffrey across the allotments until they arrived at the neat area outside the gardening club’s shed. She smiled as she read the sign Winston had been so proud of. A gardener’s life is long — there’s always plenty of thyme!
As she followed Geoffrey to the open door, Pepper became aware of the sound of voices coming from inside the shed. “You’re not alone?” she asked.
Geoffrey looked over his shoulder and smiled. “No,” he said. “The whole club is here. We all share the privilege of not having to work, so I persuaded the gang to help me out today.”
“Help you out with what?” asked Pepper.
Geoffrey grinned. “Come inside,” he said.
Pepper followed Geoffrey as the tall man bowed his head and entered the shed. As she entered after him, she smelled coffee in the air and spied a plate of cupcakes on the tiny table around which the other three members of the gardening club were squashed.
“Just for the record, Miss Grinder,” announced Winston, his seat pushed tight against a shelf laden with tools. “I did advise against this. This is a small shed. There’s a reason we use the community hall for our regular meetups — to prevent any accidents which might stem from overcrowding. As I’ve explained to everybody else, if a crush situation arises, do not panic. Remember to breathe. And make your way slowly to the exit, which is situated…” He lifted a hand, and pointed at the doorway through which Pepper had only just passed. “… There,” he finished.
“She just walked through the blooming door, Winston,” said Agnes, the green beret she’d worn when Pepper had met her in the police station covering her curls. She bit into the cupcake in her hand. “She knows where the exit is.”
“I’m just making sure,” said Winston.
“And I’m grateful,” said Pepper, hiding the smile which threatened to emerge.
Geoffrey grabbed a low stool from a corner and handed it to Pepper. “We don’t have the most comfortable of seating arrangements here, but I’m sure this will suffice. We are, after all, on a stakeout.”
“You’re on a stakeout, Geoffrey,” said Mary, her floral cardigan buttoned high around her throat. “There’s only one set of binoculars, one newly drilled spy-hole in the back wall of the shed, through which rain will leak if left uncovered, and as you keep telling us — you have years of police experience.”
“We’re all involved,” said Geoffrey. “And could you please stop concentrating on the hole in the shed wall. We had no line of sight to Stan’s shed from the window, so I was forced to make it. I promised I’d cover it up when we’ve completed the stakeout.”
“Well I don’t feel involved,” said Mary. “I feel like you only asked me to come because you guessed I’d bring cakes.”
Geoffrey pointed at the notepad in front of Mary. “You’re very much involved. You’ve got one of the most important jobs.”
“Notetaker?” scoffed Mary. “We’ve been here for two hours and all I’d written down is…” She opened the pad and studied the first page. “Pepper Grinder arrived at Stan’s shed at eleven-hundred hours. She is breaking and entering. Wait here, gang. I’ll go and see what’s going on. Yes, Winston, I’m aware of the trip hazard outside the door, I’ve been coming to the shed with you people for years. Of course I know about the trip hazard.” She stopped reading and looked up at the ex-chief inspector with a smile.
“You didn’t have to write down everything I said, Mary. Just the important parts,” said Geoffrey. “Although I do admire your thoroughness.”
Pepper placed the stool next to Agnes and sat down. She smiled as Mary pushed a plate with a single cupcake on it towards her, and she looked at Geoffrey. “Stakeout?” she asked. “Why are you on a stakeout?”
“Like you, Pepper, I have a gut feeling about what happened to Stan,” explained Geoffrey. “But I also have decades of police training. It’s a startling fact, but it’s a fact nonetheless — criminals, especially murderers, often return to the scene of their crime. Sometimes it’s to look for, and remove evidence they may have left behind, and sometimes it’s out of remorse for what they’ve done, and sometimes — it’s to gloat.”
“I’ve read about those sorts of things,” said Pepper, giving Mary an approving nod as she bit into the chocolate crust of her cupcake. “But in this case, I don’t think a murder was committed — if somebody was responsible for Stan’s fall, I don’t think it was done with the intention of hurting him. I think it was an accident.”
“Maybe so,” said Geoffrey. “But a crime has still been committed, and a man has died. We’re looking at the possible crime of manslaughter, and not forgetting the person failed to report what had happened to Stan. I’m sure that whoever did it is suffering from a guilty conscience, or is concerned that he or she left something behind at the scene. Whatever their motivation, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were to return.”
“And as I’ve said,” said Agnes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if what happened to Stan was a complete accident, and us being here on a so-called stakeout, is a silly waste of time.”
Geoffrey furnished Agnes with a tired smile, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Yet here you are,” he said. “Sitting in our little shed with the rest of the gang, eating cake and drinking tea and coffee — on a stakeout.”
“I’m here to make sure that the rest of you don’t do anything silly,” replied Agnes. She looked at Pepper. “Anyway — why were you breaking into Stan’s shed?”
“She’s here for the same reason I’m here,” interjected Geoffrey. “She can see further than Sergeant Saxon can. Although Sergeant Saxon is an outstanding young sergeant, she’s always been prone to the mistake of following procedure and only seeing the evidence in front of her. Sometimes, the evidence speaks to a person in a way they can’t explain.”
“A hunch?” asked Mary.
“Precisely, Mary,” said Geoffrey. “A hunch. Pepper had a hunch, and I have a hunch. If it turns out that we’re wrong, then so be it, but in the meantime, I’d like to find out from Pepper what she thinks might have happened to Stan, and if any of you don’t want to be here — that means you, Agnes, then you’re welcome to leave.”
Agnes stared at Geoffrey for a long moment and then shook her head. “I think I’ll stay,” she said. “Somebody’s got to make sure that you lot don’t get yourself into mischief.”
“Then we’ll hear no more complaining,” said Geoffrey. He took a cupcake from the plate and smiled at Pepper. “So, what do you think happened to Stan? And what were you looking for in his shed?”
Pepper thought for a few moments before speaking. She wished she could tell them why she knew that somebody else had been at Stan’s shed when he’d died, and that she was confident the same person had pushed him. But as always, when she imagined telling people she could understand messages from plants, a cold shiver ran down her spine.
She shook the idea of admitting her magical talent from her head. “I think that somebody had a reason to be angry with Stan,” she said. “And I think that person came to the allotment
s yesterday, argued with him, pushed him — without meaning to kill him, and then ran away when they realised what had happened. And I was in Stan’s shed because I found out who the two men were that I witnessed Stan arguing with in the pub yesterday.”
“Barry and Darren,” said Geoffrey.
“You know?” asked Pepper.
Geoffrey nodded. “I was the chief-inspector for four decades,” he said. “I’ve still got some very good friends on the force, and one of them is what you might call, if you were being factually correct, an informant. A man on the inside. To me, he’s…” he paused, and smiled, “…or she, is a good friend. It was from that person that I found out Sergeant Saxon had been to visit the brothers last night.”
Pepper nodded. “I went to see the brothers too,” she said. “And they told me that they’d been arguing with Stan about cannabis. They told me that Stan was the person they’d been buying it from and that they’d paid him for some which he hadn’t provided them with yet. They wanted what they were owed, and that’s why they were angry with him. I went to Stan’s shed to see if there was any evidence of drug dealing.”
“Stan Wilmot, a drug dealer!” snorted Agnes, picking a cake crumb from her blouse. “I’ve never heard such nonsense! What utter tripe! Stan Wilmot was not a drug dealer, and I’m finding it hard to believe that you would make such an accusation, Miss Grinder.”
“What did we know about him?” asked Winston, frowning at Agnes. “Not much. We knew he had an allotment shed, and we knew he sometimes popped into the community hall when he thought Mary might have brought some cakes, but apart from the brief conversations and the shouted greetings, what did any of us really know? None of us could have called him a friend. I mean look at us, we’re hardly falling apart with grief over his death, are we?”
