Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven

by Ann Purser

  Then Lois remembered one occasion when she had been talking to Aurora on the phone, and Donald had interrupted, ranting on at Aurora. But he had apologised, and they had seemed as easy as ever with each other afterwards.

  Was it possible that Aurora had not known about Donald’s affairs? After all, he was away overnight around the country, and unless she had actually made attempts to find out about his secret life, he could easily have had a clear field. But the local ones? Jewellery parties. The ideal opportunity to make assignations, et cetera, et cetera . . .

  “I don’t know, Hazel,” she said, as the coffee was put down in front of her. “There seems to be no end to the number of people determined to mess up their own perfectly good lives.”

  “Not me, I hope!” said Hazel. “We’ve recently had a litter of ten little piglets. Now who could want more than that?”

  “The butcher, I suppose,” said Lois, laughing. “Any news for me, new clients, customer complaints, shortage of dusters?”

  Hazel said there were two new clients for Lois to visit, no complaints and no shortage of anything except beeswax polish.

  They chatted on, until Lois felt completely relaxed and stood up from her chair to turn to the door. A figure stood outside, blocking her way out. It was a woman, and there was no mistaking the head of fiery curls.

  “Ah, just the person I wanted to see,” said Gloria. “I thought I might find you here. Now then,” she continued, walking forward to face Lois. “You said you wanted a few minutes of my time, and that fool turned you out. So now here I am. What did you want? No, don’t say anything. It was about Aurora Black, wasn’t it? How long have you got? We shall need to sit down. Half an hour should do it. You’re Hazel Thornbull, aren’t you? Well, you can take a break. Have a walk round the shops, but be back in an hour’s time. I have work to do.”

  For once, Lois was speechless. She nodded at Hazel, sat down and waited for Gloria to continue.

  FORTY

  “First of all,” said Gloria, “I know you think the worst of Donald Black, and it’s true he wasn’t much good. But he wasn’t very bad, either. I first met him at the Purple Dog. He was as drunk as a lord, and they were about to throw him out. I took him up to my flat and sobered him up. And that’s all, I swear. I knew he was my cousin Sylvia’s lover, and she was fond of him in a small way. I don’t expect you to believe me, nor do I care whether you believe me or not, but we work for the club, encouraging customers. There’s plenty of unhappy men who like a drink and a chat with a woman who’ll give them a smile, but nothing else. No complications.”

  “And now there’s only you, Gloria,” said Lois, finding her voice. “I remember you from the jewellery party. Weren’t you modelling the stuff? Which leads me to ask, wouldn’t you call being strangled with a necklace a complication?” The last thing she had expected was Gloria turning out to be a warmhearted friend to all!

  Gloria frowned. “That was below the belt, Mrs. Meade. Sylvia and I were cousins. More like sisters for years. I’ll catch the wicked sod who killed her if it’s the last thing I do, and if what I’ve heard is true, you are the best person to help me.”

  “I am not so sure about that,” said Lois. “Why don’t you leave it to the police? Cowgill’s pretty good at his job. Could be the safest option.”

  “I told you. You have the ear of Inspector Cowgill. That’s well known in my circles. He would certainly not cooperate with me, but with you, yes, and I could contribute to you what I know about our side of it. Sylvia was family, but more than that. Like I said, she was both sister and best friend to me.”

  “But don’t you accept that Donald Black must have killed her? Perhaps because she was threatening to tell Aurora? Something like that?”

  Gloria’s angry red face clashed with her quivering curls. “What’s the matter with you, Lois Meade? My Sylvia would never have done that. Anyway, she had no need. He kept her wanting nothing, never short of cash. And I know she was fond of the useless idiot. We told each other everything, and she told me he used to say he was leaving everything he owned to her in his will.”

  “So, if it wasn’t some other punter, who? Somebody who wanted more than a smile and a friendly chat? And why that necklace? It was a particularly nasty murder weapon.”

  Gloria stared at her. “For God’s sake, woman, isn’t it obvious? She had Donald Black’s promotion pack with her, and was due to be at a party next day somewhere up north. The necklace was handy.”

  “Have you told Cowgill this? No, silly question. How about this: why haven’t you told Cowgill about this?”

  “You can answer that one yourself. I got to go, anyway. The thing I want you to know is this. We’re on the same side. I didn’t kill Donald Black, nor did he kill Sylvia. He couldn’t kill a wasp! Who does that leave? Person or persons unknown? Think on, Mrs. Meade. I’ve been thinking it would be very useful to get details of the postmortem. One for you to take on. And, since there may have been money involved, a look at Donald Black’s last will and testament would be extremely helpful, don’t you think? I could maybe arrange to be there when it is read.”

  “So, do we have a deal?” said Lois.”We must work together on finding who killed Sylvia and Donald? If you know anything I should know, you know where to find me. And vice versa.”

  Gloria stood up and marched to the door. “We’ll find him or her, rest assured. And if Aurora Black turns up, let me know. Please.”

  FORTY-ONE

  By supper time, Lois had decided she would tell Derek the whole story of her meeting with Gloria Prentise. She knew that sooner or later she would have to report to Cowgill, but if she intended to take Gloria up on her declaration that they were on the same side, and therefore it followed that they would work together, this was going to be a big risk. The Prentises were trouble. At least, they had been, in the past. Was it likely they had all become reformed characters? No, it was not. But, then again, Gloria would have an ear to sources of information that might help in finding Aurora. That was her chief concern. The deaths of Sylvia and Donald should take second place. If they were linked, so much the better. But for Milly’s sake alone, she needed to find Aurora as soon as possible.

  “Penny for your thoughts, love,” said Derek. Gran had gone up to her bedroom to watch television, and Lois and Derek sat on, looking at the sporting pages of the newspaper.

  “Oh, I was miles away,” said Lois.

  “In Tresham? Fletching? Waltonby, Brigham? A certain bakery opposite the Mill House Hotel?”

  Lois nodded. “Yep. Aurora and Milly. And something else. I had a visitor when I was talking to Hazel in our Tresham office today. She followed me down from the Purple Dog. Gloria Prentise, it was.”

  “Who? Prentise, did you say? One of that lot?”

  “Yes, Gloria Prentise. Daughter of Mrs. Diana Prentise, our new client in Fletching. Gloria was a cousin of Sylvia Fountain, the woman found strangled in the Mill House Hotel. Gloria and Sylvia both worked at the Purple Dog in town. No, don’t laugh, Derek! It’s serious.”

  “I’ll say it is! Did she want a job with you? I can’t see her on her knees with a scrubbing brush. Though scrubber is not a bad description, if I’m thinking of the right one. Tarty redhead?”

  “Yes. She said we were both on the same side, that she did not kill Donald Black, nor did he kill her precious cousin Sylvia. She means to discover who did, though she is not much concerned with Donald. Her cousin was like a sister to her, and she intends to find out who strangled her with a Brigham Luxury Jewellery pearl necklace. God knows what she’ll do if she finds the culprit.”

  “And when you say you are both on the same side, I hope you don’t mean you are having anything to do with it?”

  “Only so far as it touches Aurora and Milly. I must try to help them, Derek. Else I’m a rotten friend, and you know me better than that.”

  Derek sighed. “Well, t
hanks for telling me. At least I know now what is going on. Have you told Cowgill?”

  “No. What do you think?”

  “Tell him. The Prentise woman will expect you to, so no harm done there. You’d do well to have no further contact with her, unless she approaches you. And then make sure you’re in a public place.”

  “Derek! Aren’t you being a bit overdramatic? She’s no reason to do me harm . . . Oh dear, I see what you mean. Aurora Black has disappeared without a trace. Okay, I’ll remember.”

  “Come on, me duck. Let’s forget all about it and go upstairs for a cuddle.”

  “What about the washing up?”

  “I’ll stack the dishes while you go upstairs and warm the bed.”

  * * *

  Alone in her bedroom in the Brigham Bakery, Milly Black sat hunched up in bed, a woolly shawl around her shoulders, reading Jane Austen. The affair of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy was the only thing that could take her mind off her vanished mother, and she was deep into the goings-on at Longbourn when she heard a sound coming from downstairs.

  She froze. Then she closed the book and swung her legs out of bed. In bare feet, she tiptoed downstairs, collecting a golf club from the umbrella stand as she went.

  Room by room, her heart thudding hard, she looked all round, leaving the kitchen until last. If there was someone there, she could always make a run for it out of the door.

  “Hullo? Is anyone there?” she called in a tremulous voice.

  No answer. Everywhere was quiet and still. Finally, she decided the sound must have come from the hotel opposite, and she climbed back into bed. As she drifted slowly into sleep, she remembered she had left an unwashed coffee mug on the draining board. Mum would have been cross about that, she told herself. Always start the day with a clean slate. That’s what she taught her from an early age. “If only you were here to tell me now,” Milly said softly and sadly.

  * * *

  First thing next morning, Milly went down to let out the cat and open up. She was hoping to have a go at making bread dough and then a trial batch of wholemeal loaves. She would not be able to sell them, even if they were perfect, because she was unsure about health and safely rules on selling fresh produce. She guessed that if she gave the loaves away, as a trial baking, there would be no problem. Provided that the loaves were edible!

  She grabbed a stale bun, spread jam on it thickly, and downed it with a glass of milk. That would do for breakfast. Then a quick shower, and she was ready to begin. A fresh apron and the protective gloves, and she measured out the flour and salt in large pans to warm in the oven. And, of course, to switch on the oven!

  It warmed up quickly, and Milly went to the sink to rinse her glass and plate. There would be room enough in the dishwasher for last night’s coffee mug. But it was not there.

  “Must have put it in after all,” she muttered. “At least that was one thing I did right yesterday.”

  A knock on the locked shop door took her attention, and she went to take in the morning newspaper. Spreading it out on the table, she leafed through for anything new about her missing mother. Same old report, whittled down. But the police said on a different page that as a result of a number of useful reports, they were following up several leads and expected to find Aurora soon. Well, she had been away for only two nights, and Milly consoled herself with the thought that there was another whole day ahead when she might come back.

  FORTY-TWO

  Lois had started the day optimistically, having a peaceful conversation with Gran about weekend shopping and final preparations for the jewellery party. As she made phone calls necessary to the smooth working of New Brooms, she was determined to put Gloria Prentise out of her mind for the moment. She had not forgotten that she had more or less promised to find out the results of the Fountain postmortem, but she had other things to think about. She hoped that Gloria would have the sense to do the same. Almost the last thing she had said was that Donald’s will would be read shortly, and she had ways of finding out what was in it. She would let Lois know, she said, if it contained anything of interest.

  “Meanwhile, there is the jewellery party to think about, you and Joan, to take place tomorrow. Dot Nimmo was asking about it.”

  “It’s time that Nimmo woman learned to mind her own business! She sticks her nose in everywhere, and it’s time you got rid of her.”

  “That’s my business, Mum,” said Lois. “Dot is a very useful member of the New Brooms team. Anyway, she’d heard that this party was to be one of several. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it is. But it is not the first of any particular number. It might be a one and only, depending on how it goes. If we have any stuff left over, we shall donate it to the hospice shop.”

  “And where is this party to be held?”

  “In the village reading room.”

  “This village?”

  “Of course. And if you’ve finished with the Spanish inquisition, I’ll go and get on. I’m putting notices around the village. We don’t want huge crowds. It’s just a fun thing for me and Joan to do.”

  “Right,” said Lois. “I presume you won’t turn down an offer of help. I’m free on Saturday, all day.”

  Gran sniffed. “Naturally, we shall welcome any offers of help. Josie has already said she’d come down after the shop shuts. We shall open to the public from two o’clock in the afternoon until six o’clock in the evening.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier, Mum?”

  “Because you would have tried to stop us. Too late now, so you’d better come with good grace and help us have an enjoyable afternoon.”

  * * *

  Feeling a little chastened, Lois decided to walk down to Stone House, and have a chat with her sometime assistant, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones. It was just possible she might have heard something about Aurora from her friends in high places. The old lady had been an active magistrate in her time and still had a keen interest in any ferretin’ that Lois might be involved in.

  “Good morning!” said a firm voice from the garden at the front of the house. “Just having an argument with a thorny rose. But I’m winning, and shall be with you in two ticks.”

  “Here, let me help,” said Lois, struggling to hold back a stem with brutal thorns. “There you are, all free and unwounded. I wonder if you are able to spare me a couple of minutes for a small chat?”

  “With pleasure, my dear,” said Mrs. T-J, straightening her tangled hair. “Come on indoors. A small sloe gin might be a good idea. What do you think?”

  The house was calm and cool, and Lois felt immediately more relaxed. After chatting about village matters for a while, she brought up the subject of Aurora’s disappearance.

  “I am trying very hard to help find what has happened to her. She is a good friend, and I am fond of her daughter, who is trying to carry on the bakery by herself. It is so unlike Aurora to have done such a thing deliberately, without letting Milly know, and I reckon she is lost somewhere with her memory knocked sideways by Donald’s death.”

  “Great Scott!” Mrs. T-J opened her eyes wide. “That nice woman who has the bakery at Brigham? I heard something about it, but thought she must have turned up by now.”

  “No, I am afraid not. I wondered if you have any idea how we might find her?”

  “Dogs,” said Mrs. T-J, without turning a hair.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Lois.

  “Dogs. Sniffer dogs. Excellent for finding missing people and things.”

  Lois stared at her. Had she flipped her lid, the dear old thing?

  “I am quite serious, Lois. If her daughter has something with her mother’s scent on it, we can make a start at once. No time to lose, before the scent grows cold.”

  “When do you suggest?”

  “This afternoon. Pick me up around two o’clock. Ring up the daughter and get her to sort out
some nice smelly things.”

  “And the dog? My Jemima would be useless. And anyway, surely the police will have done all that?”

  “The dog I am talking about has beaten every dog in the county at finding and fetching. And even if the police have been there, it won’t hurt to make sure. No, let us give it a try. If no luck, then there will be no harm done. And Milly will be reassured that something is still being done to find her mother. Oh yes, I have a friend who has just the animal we need. I’ll have him here by two. Now, off you go, my dear. We have work to do.”

  FORTY-THREE

  When Lois, Mrs. T-J and dog Henry arrived in Brigham, they could see at once that Milly had the shop door open and was standing at the entrance.

  “I’ll take Henry to lift his leg in the meadow for ten minutes,” said Mrs. T-J, “while you prepare the girl and smooth the way for what may be a fruitless exercise. But worth trying!”

  As Lois watched the pair walking over past the millpond and into the meadow, she remembered the awful day when she and Aurora had walked so cheerfully, looking forward to their drink in the hotel and Jemima enjoying chasing pigeons into flight from the low brick wall surrounding the entrance to the bar. And then the waterwheel and its sad burden appearing in front of them in the restaurant. She shook herself, and walked to where Milly stood, waving.

  “Hi, Milly! Glad to see you’re still open.”

  “Nice to see you, Mrs. Meade. Come on in and have the one free loaf left.”

  “Free? Are you sure? Is it stale bread?”

  “No, I made it myself as a trial, and it has turned out really well. I cut one loaf in half to make sure, and it is fine. Here, let me wrap it for you, and then we’ll go and have a coffee. I can’t say customers are exactly queuing up. ‘Missing Mother’ story has gone cold, I suppose. Do you have any news? Inspector Cowgill checked in here this morning, but he didn’t have anything new to say. Officially confident, though.”