by G. M. Dobbs
‘Of course I’d sure he didn’t mean it,’ Amy concluded. ‘We all say things like that about people. I don’t know how many times I’ve threatened to kill my mother but I’m still around there every Sunday afternoon for a roast. ’
‘You’ll have to tell this to the police,’ Granny pointed out, looking at Mark as he stood laughing and joking at the bar. She wondered if he could have killed Carol and supposed that given the right circumstances he would indeed be capable of such an act. He certainly had a temper as he had proven when he’d attacked Tudor Lewis.
‘I don’t know about the police,’ Amy said.
‘They’ll likely want to talk to you in any case,’ Granny said.
‘Me? Why?’
‘Standard procedure,’ Granny said. She may not have watched CSI but she’d read enough Ian Rankin in her time. ‘They’ll want to talk to all of Carol’s friends.’
‘Oh no I wouldn’t want to tell the police.’
‘You’ll have no choice,’ Granny said and then nodded to warn Amy that Mark and Mansall were returning to the table. A few moments later Sue returned and took her seat.
The tone of the evening changed as the night went on. At first the conversation had been tinged with sadness but eventually they started reminiscing and each of them in turn told their own Carol stories and amongst all the sadness there was much needed laughter. Although Carol had only been in the village for a little over a year it was clear that she had touched the lives of everyone in a lasting way. Granny herself had only known Carol since joining the action group, and yet she felt as if they had been friends forever. And from the way the others spoke of her it was evident that they all felt the same way.
Granny sat back and placed her unlit pipe into her mouth, finding it a comfort to have it wedged between her teeth. It helped her think and as she sat there listening to the others she considered what Amy had told her.
Was it possible that Mark had killed Carol? He had supposedly said that he felt like doing so, but apparently it came after they had shared a sexual encounter and he was hurt at the way things had rolled around. From what Amy had said it sounded as if Mark and Carol had shared nothing more than a drunken one night stand, but all the same maybe he had thought it had been more than that, had wanted it to be more than that. That was one possibility, Granny thought but just because Mark and Carol had shared a night together didn’t mean he had killed her.
During her younger days Granny had experienced a few one-night stands herself, it had seemed almost compulsory during the rock festivals of the late sixties and early seventies. And if murder followed casual coitus then she herself would be a serial killer – well, she would have bumped off at least two men at Glastonbury and another at Knebworth. And Keith Richards certainly wouldn’t be around to twiddle his twangy strings, not after Hyde Park.
At ten thirty Arthur came over, saying he was ready to go home, and asking if Granny was coming with him. The old woman nodded and Maud said she’d walk with them.
Once outside Maud turned to Granny and said: ‘So what about Mark and Carol.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Yes,’ Granny said. ‘That is a turn up.’
‘Do you think Mark did it?’
Granny shrugged her shoulders.
‘Maybe,’ she said.
‘Will you two leave all this detective work to the police,’ Arthur said with a sigh. ‘ Only trouble will come of you two sticking your noses into things.’
‘Someone needs to find out who killed poor Carol,’ Maud said and gave Granny a look that said, “I’m with you on this.”
‘That’s what the police are for,’ Arthur said and groaned when he felt a spot of rain hit his head. He looked up and was dismayed to find that the previously star studded sky was now hidden behind murky grey clouds. There was a storm on the way, which was typical since the forecast had predicated a clear night. These days the weathermen seemed to get it wrong more often than not.
‘The police are too busy with their speed cameras to worry about anything as important as a murder.’ Granny, who had twelve points on her licence and had been banned for driving for a year, said.
Not that old chestnut again, Arthur thought. If he had a penny for every time his wife went off on one of her rants against speed cameras he would be a wealthy man.
‘The police have detectives to investigates murders,’ he said. ‘That’s why they are called detectives. Because they detect things.’
‘From my experience,’ Granny retorted. ‘The police couldn’t detect a stain in a dogger’s underpants.’
Maud laughed at that, tapped Granny on the shoulder.
‘You are a one,’ she said.
Come on let’s get some supper from the chippie,’ Arthur said, knowing he wasn’t going to win the argument and feeling it wise to change the subject. ‘I’m buying. Anything to shut you two up.’
‘That’ll most definitely do the trick. It’s hard to talk with a jumbo sausage in your mouth,’ Granny said and once again thought of Keith Richards.
Twelve
It had been a frantic morning and Granny was thankful when she finally managed to get a few moments to herself. Maud had called around just after nine this morning and ever since the front door had been like the revolving doors at a closing down sale. The news of Carol’s death had now spread to all four corners of the village, and the fact that Granny had discovered the body was also common knowledge. Earlier Granny had called at the village shop to get some tobacco and Mr Patel had questioned her at length about her grisly discovery. Carol, he had moaned, had been another good customer. Apparently the second good customer he had lost this last week since Rhona Walters was finding it hard to manage, now that her husband Reg had passed away and had gone to live in the sheltered accommodation in Pontypridd. From now on, Mr Patel had pointed out, her care workers would be doing her shopping and they used the supermarkets.
‘Honestly Granny,’ Mr Patel had said. ‘Between my customers dying naturally, being murdered or moving away it is a wonder I have any business left.’
Granny had smiled, commiserated.
‘Three,’ Mr Patel had said, holding his fingers up. ‘Three customers have died in the last month alone. Of course you can expect it with some of the older people,’ he had paused then, looking at Granny and asked how she was feeling.
Granny had told him in no uncertain terms that she felt fine and expected to be here for a great many years yet.
‘That’s something to be grateful for,’ Mr Patel had sighed. ‘When customers get to a certain age you can never guarantee how long they’ll last, but now my young customers are getting bumped off. Carol was a young lady and she had years of happy shopping ahead of her.’
‘When you look at it like that it seems doubly tragic,’ Granny had said but the sarcasm went over Mr Patel’s head.
And now alone in her own house, Arthur down the allotments, Gerald still away, Granny sank into her usual chair and brought a match to her pipe. She closed her eyes and allowed the rich smoke to linger in her mouth when her mobile rang, the riff from Smoke on the Water breaking the silence. With a frown Granny took the phone from her pocket and looked at the caller display before answering. It was Dai Twice.
‘Dai,’ Granny said.
‘I’m on duty,’ came Twice’s annoyed voice. ‘It’s Constable Davies when I’m acting in an official capacity.’
‘Oh go away with you,’ Granny said. ‘Come on Dai. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. What is it you want?’
‘I’ve got some information regarding Carol’s death,’ Twice said. ‘Though I won’t tell you until you address me correctly.’
‘Constable Davies,’ Granny said and rolled her eyes. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘The post mortem on Carol revealed that she had been strangled,’ Twice said. ‘It’s now an official murder investigation.’
Granny was not surprised at that, she had known it was a murder, but she was surprised that Twice had called
her with the information. She had been going to chase him up in a day or two but here he was. He had promised to keep her in the loop and had been good to his word.
‘Strangled somewhere else and then dumped in the pond?’ Granny asked.
‘No. They seem to think that the attacker killed her at the pond and simply allowed her body to fall into the water. There was very little water in her lungs indicating that she was dead before she went into the pond.’
‘Can you come over?’ Granny asked.
‘Why?’
‘I just want to bounce some theories about.’
‘You have some idea who did this?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Well I’ve got to put up some posters about a missing cat but I’ll be there in thirty minutes,’ Twice said and then hung up.
‘Good,’ Granny spoke into the phone, which was now connected to dead air.
She got to her feet, thinking that as soon as Twice arrived she’d get him to drive her to Carol’s flat. It could be useful to take a look around the place. If what Granny had been told about Carol and Mark was true, then maybe someone else had gotten angry and had killed Carol out of jealousy. It was all idle speculation though and the old woman hoped that maybe she would discover something at Carol’s flat that would set her off in the right direction.
So here she was involved in yet another murder investigation and Granny felt that familiar thrill. A wrong had been done and she was going to do her utmost to find out who it was who had killed poor Carol. Identify them and then ensure they faced the full weight of British justice.
‘I could get in trouble bringing you here,’ Twice grumbled. ‘I should request permission.’
Granny looked at Twice, frowned. She didn’t know what the younger generation were coming too. They were too worried about rules and regulations to ever go out on a limb. It was no wonder the country was in such a state if the young were so listless, so conditioned.
‘Don’t you want to find out who killed Carol or not?’ Granny asked.
‘Of course but,’
‘But nothing,’ Granny said. ‘You wouldn’t see John Rebus worrying about permission. He’d just steam in there and nab the bad guys. Now Rebus is what you call a real cop.’
‘Only he isn’t,’ Twice said. ‘He’s a fictional cop and we’re not characters in a book. This is real life.’
‘Then live a little,’ Granny said and got out of the police car.
Twice shook his head and, knowing there was no use arguing he too stepped out of the vehicle. The chief inspector had told him to keep Granny close so he supposed this was technically doing that, and she couldn’t get in too much trouble if he was with her. He adjusted his collar, stepped out of the car and caught up with Granny.
‘I’ll go first,’ he said. ‘The landlord lives in the bottom flat and he’ll have a key. Let me do the talking and remember I’m the police officer not you.’
‘Yes Constable Davies,’ Granny said and followed Twice, knowing that although she walked behind the special constable, it was actually she who was taking the lead.
Twice knocked the door of a ground floor flat and a moment later a podgy balding man, the landlord presumably, answered the door.
‘Not again,’ the man said, looking at Twice and seeing only the unform. ‘Haven’t you lot tormented me enough already?’
‘Carol Hamish,’ Twice said, putting just the right amount of authority into his voice. ‘I require the keys to her flat.’
‘Again?’ the balding man shook his head. ‘There’s been coppers all over the place this morning. My tenants will start to complain soon.’
‘We will be as quick as possible,’ Twice said, again using the voice he had perfected after hours practising in front of the mirror at home, the voice he thought of as being authorative.
The landlord looked at Twice for a moment and then his attention turned to Granny.
‘You brought your mother with you?’ he asked.
Granny removed the only identification she carried from her pocket and then stepped forward and quickly flashed her bus pass at the man before popping it back into her pocket.
‘The keys,’ she said. ‘You are impeding a police investigation and unless you want us to cart your sorry ass down the station I suggest you cooperate. NOW.’
Both Twice and the landlord looked at Granny open mouthed, but then the landlord pulled a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to the old woman.
‘Thank you,’ Granny said with a smile. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day. Come on, Constable.’
Twice followed behind the old woman as they went up the flight of stairs to the first floor.
‘Don’t do that again,’ Twice said as he caught up with Granny. He was a little breathless from walking up the stairs but the old woman seemed fine. She’s not human, the special constable thought. It was not the first time the thought had occurred to him and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.
‘Do what?’
‘Impersonate a police officer,’ Twice said and then pointed to a flat directly ahead of them. ‘It’s that one. Number ten.’
Granny paused for a moment at the door, looking at it closely though having no idea what it was she expected to find, before pushing the key marked with the number “10” into the lock and opening the door.
Granny had never been here before but she had been in many flats like this one. The layout was instantly familiar to the old woman.
There was a small kitchen to the immediate left; a bathroom/toilet to the right and ahead of her was the living room and bedroom. The old woman went directly to the bedroom, knowing that this would be the room to check first. The bedroom was where a woman tended to keep her most personal possessions. You could tell a lot about a woman from her bedroom.
‘Now don’t touch anything,’ Twice warned. ‘You’re not really supposed to be here.’
Granny didn’t answer the special constable and stood inside the bedroom doorway, her keen eyes taking in each and every detail of the neat room. A double bed took up most of the space and there was a bedside cabinet beside it, upon which stood a small lamp, several paperback books and a selection of perfumes. The only other furniture was a single wardrobe and a small chair, the seat of which had been covered with a pink fabric that coordinated with both the bedspread and the curtains.
‘We must leave everything as it is,’ Twice went on. ‘The police have looked around but may need to come back. And I’m sure Carol’s family won’t appreciate us nosing around her personal belongings.’
‘Carol’s family,’ Granny said, suddenly realising that she knew very little about Carol’s background. Carol had never really talked about her family, indeed hadn’t really mentioned much about her life before coming to live in the village. ‘What do we know about them?’
Twice frowned, shrugged his shoulders.
‘I know her mother’s still alive,’ he said. ‘I heard the chief inspector mentioning her and I think she had a sister.’
‘Can you find out for me?’ Granny asked. ‘I may need to speak to them.’
Again Twice frowned. He knew the chief inspector had told him to keep an eye on the old woman, report back anything useful that she discovered but he wasn’t sure if he’d already gone too far by bringing the old woman here. Still, he supposed, Granny was apt to stumble onto something that would crack the case wide open just as she had done in the past. If she did somehow reveal the killer, and to be honest the police was stumped, didn’t know where to start looking, then it could prove useful for Twice as he moved up the ladder of his police career. He had been a special constable for several years now and had already applied to join the regular police, but been turned down because of government cut backs. If he solved this case then there was no way they would be able to turn him down, indeed they would likely welcome him into the regular force with open arms.
‘I suppose so,’ he said, finally. ‘I’ll take a look at the records when I get back to the sta
tion.’
‘There may be no need,’ Granny said, having opened the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and located an address book. It was pocket sized with a red faux leather cover upon which the phrase, “Keep Calm and Smile” was embossed. ‘Fingerprints,’ Twice yelled and pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. He tossed the gloves to Granny. ‘Put these on.’ He pulled another pair from his pocket and placed them on himself.
‘You could have said earlier,’ Granny said as she pulled the gloves on and started flicking through the address book. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Twice wasn’t paying her any attention and so she slid the address book into her pocket. Then she started rummaging about in the drawer.
‘Anything useful?’ Twice asked.
Granny didn’t answer at first. There was nothing remarkable in the drawer, nothing one wouldn’t expect to find - a few cosmetics, a wristwatch, some broken jewellery, a box of scented candles and a packet of cheap pens.
‘No,’ Granny stood up and worked a kink out of her lower back. She looked at the paperbacks and found that Carol’s tastes in reading were a little risqué. There was a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, an anthology of erotic fiction, a well-read edition of The Adventures of Miss Fanny Hill and several other erotic paperbacks, the titles of which Granny had never heard of. Granny picked up the top book; something called Negative Love, and flicked through the pages and was surprised to see a house key, a Yale, which had been slipped between the pages. She carefully allowed the key to slide out of the book and into her sleeve. She figured it was a Carol’s key, the front door had been a Yale lock, and if she wanted to come back here later, without Twice, for a more detailed look around then the key would be useful.
‘I really think we should be going,’ Twice said.
Granny ignored him and then bent over, lifted the duvet and peered beneath the bed. She noticed a small box and when she slid it out, and popped the lid she saw that it contained several sex toys.
