Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series!

by Caroline James

  ‘May I speak to a resident?’ Hattie asked.

  ‘Oh no, that wouldn’t be appropriate.’ Nancy smiled. ‘We’re a happy family here, but many are confused, and a strange face might be upsetting.’

  ‘Perhaps I could have a chat with a member of staff?’

  ‘Sadly, it’s the wrong time of day, everyone is very busy in the mornings, but you can see how cheerful they all are.’

  Outside, Hattie was led into a garden.

  Ramps gave accessibility for wheelchair users and seating areas were thoughtfully arranged in sunny spots. The cliff-like wall behind the house cast lengthening shadows but with the sun high in the midday sky, brightening the garden, Hattie imagined that she was seeing the place at its best.

  ‘Let’s go into my office and have a chat over coffee.’ Nancy strode ahead.

  Coffee arrived on a tray, in the hands of a uniformed woman. Her hair was tucked under a dingy scarf and grey tendrils sprang out across her forehead. She barely glanced at Hattie as she placed the tray on Nancy’s desk. With a sigh and deadpan expression, she opened her mouth to speak but Nancy dismissed her with a wave of her hand and, unsmiling, the woman walked slowly from the room.

  Nancy’s office was spacious and neat, Hattie noted. A sashed window of ceiling height overlooked the front of the home. They sat in deep, comfortable armchairs and Hattie saw Nancy sit forward to stare out of the window, where a sleek vehicle had cruised into a designated parking place.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’ Nancy asked and poured their drinks.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Would your uncle be fee-paying or a referral?’ Nancy casually asked and handed Hattie a china cup and saucer.

  ‘Oh, fee paying,’ Hattie lied. ‘Uncle Charlie is very comfortably off and has a large property in Kirkton Sowerby. But I’m his only relative and I can’t cope with him now.’

  Nancy beamed. Her eyes glinted and Hattie knew that she’d just made the transaction simple for the home. There would be no social services to deal with, nor funding required.

  ‘Then, we would be able to accommodate him as soon as you like.’ Nancy sat forward. ‘Perhaps he’d like to stay for a week to begin, to see how he settles?’ She gathered a brochure and paperwork. ‘After that, we can make it more permanent, once you’re happy that Marland Manor is the right place for Charles. Here’s a brochure and our list of terms, six-months payable in advance and monthly thereafter.’

  Hattie took the brochure. ‘I’ll take that with me and be in touch very soon.’ She finished her drink and put her cup down. Picking up her bag, she eased out of her chair.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Nancy said and stood too. ‘Call me anytime, and don’t forget that Charles can bring personal items; we want his room to be just like home.’

  ‘I’ll let you get on,’ Hattie said, ‘you have another visitor.’ She had a clear view through the window of the recent arrival, and nodded towards a man who’d leapt out of the high-performance Mercedes and was now heading up the drive.

  Nancy looked out of the window. ‘Oh, that’s our owner, Mr Hargreaves. He likes to keep a close eye on all his properties.’ As she gazed at the tall, dark-haired man who came towards them, Hattie noticed that Nancy’s eyes lit up. ‘He’s a wonderful person, so caring,’ she cooed as she showed Hattie out. ‘Cheerio, Mrs Mulberry, we look forward to seeing you again soon.’

  ‘Thank you for your time today, I enjoyed my visit.’ Hattie tucked the brochure into her bag. But Nancy’s attention had wandered, and she hardly noticed that Hattie was making her way down the steps and onto the drive.

  ‘Nancy, good to see you!’ John Hargreaves called out, ignoring Hattie.

  Hattie watched the MD of Castle Care Communities disappear into the home. ‘Good to see you too!’ she muttered under her breath and, side-stepping potholes, headed to her car.

  NANCY CLIFFORD LOOKED out of the window and watched Hattie drive away. A relaxed smile crossed her face as she turned back to the room where her boss had made himself comfortable behind her desk.

  John Hargreaves leaned back in his chair and placed his feet on the leather-topped surface, linking his fingers across a taut stomach. ‘Now then, Nancy,’ he said, ‘what have you got to report?’

  Nancy eyed his polished brogues and tailored suit and was glad that she’d chosen a new outfit when she dressed for work that morning. She never knew when John was going to visit and was pleased that she was looking her best.

  With her head tilted to one side, Nancy said, ‘You just ignored a prospective client.’

  ‘The woman at the door?’ ‘Her uncle has dementia.’

  ‘I trust you’ve signed him up.’ John’s dark eyes glinted, and he raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Any day now.’

  Nancy unbuttoned her jacket and let it slide to the floor. Reaching up, she loosened the clip holding her chignon and long dark hair fell to her shoulders. Silhouetted by the light from the window, Nancy held John’s gaze and placed a hand on her slim waist as she studied her boss.

  John flicked his wrist and glanced at a heavy gold watch. He swung his legs off the desk and sat forward.

  ‘So, business is good?’

  ‘Never better.’

  ‘No deaths this week?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Nancy walked forward, her long legs moving slowly. She stopped when she reached John’s chair and, with perfectly manicured hands, ran her fingers through his thick curly hair.

  ‘Did you lock the door?’ John asked and tugged at the hem of her dress.

  ‘As soon as you came into the room.’

  ‘I haven’t got much time.’ He pushed the skirt up and slid Nancy’s lacy knickers to one side.

  ‘Then we’d better be quick.’ Nancy gripped his shoulders and leaned forward. Her hair enveloped their embrace as she straddled his lap and eased herself forward.

  John let out a groan.

  All in a day’s work! Nancy thought to herself and smiled.

  ‘WHAT ON EARTH are you doing here?’

  Hattie stood in the doorway at Boomerville. She was embraced in a bear-hug that threatened to crush the neat line of her fit and flare dress. ‘Ease off, Judy,’ she replied, ‘or I’ll be bringing up my breakfast.’

  ‘It’s so good to see you!’ Judy stood back. ‘Alf said you were in fine fettle and I’m pleased to say that he was right.’ She looked Hattie up and down. ‘By heck, you look smart, quite the lady. Come in and get the weight off your feet.’

  Hattie followed Judy into the hotel. It was the first time she’d set foot in the place since she’d moved away to marry Hugo and it felt strange to be back in an environment that had absorbed so many years of her life. She cocked her head to one side and looked around at the Georgian hallway with its wide, curved staircase. Hattie visualised the hundreds of times she’d slid playfully down the polished banister rail and her eyes brightened as memories flooded back.

  Judy led Hattie though a long corridor, past the reception desk, cocktail bar and panelled restaurant, until they came to a sunny room that overlooked the three-acre walled garden. As Judy went to get their drinks, Hattie gazed out at a croquet lawn and meadow beyond. She let her thoughts drift to the many happy times she’d enjoyed within these welcoming walls. Her eyes filled with happy tears.

  ‘Here we are,’ Judy said and put a tray of coffee on a side table. She looked at Hattie and shook her head. ‘Now what’s all this about?’ Judy stroked Hattie’s shoulder.

  ‘Just a moment of nostalgia,’ Hattie said, easing herself forward and wiping her eyes. ‘I had many joyful days here; this hotel was a big part of my life.’

  ‘If you miss it, you should come back,’ Judy said. ‘Jo would always find a position for you.’

  ‘No, I’m just being silly, it’s time to move on, not reminisce about the past.’

  ‘So, to what do we owe this visit?’ Judy sat down beside Hattie.

  ‘I’ve been to Marland for a meeting and it seemed wrong
to drive past without stopping, so here I am.’

  ‘It’s a shame that you’ve missed Jo, but she’s in the west country for a few weeks, sorting out the

  Boomerville Hotel in Bath. It’s a very posh place.’

  ‘Aye, I know, we keep in touch.’ Hattie stirred her drink and took a sip.

  ‘So, Judy, how’s life treating you?’

  ‘I’m grand thanks and loving the job, Alf and I keep fit and well. We have a great deal to be thankful for.’

  When Hattie married Hugo, Judy had been promoted to Hattie’s position. Judy had worked at the hotel since she was a girl and was more than adequately qualified for the job. Although based at Kirkton Sowerby, she often travelled between the sites of the expanding business, training staff and helping to get the new concepts off the ground.

  ‘Is Boomerville busy?’

  ‘Heaving, we rarely have a spare room and the courses are full, the restaurant is booked up too.’

  The restaurant at Boomerville was open to the public and, with a menu created by Jo’s son, Zach, a Michelin-starred celebrity chef, tables were also popular with locals in the area.

  ‘You look well,’ Hattie said. She was pleased to see that Judy’s good looks had been maintained over the years. Pretty, blonde and bubbly, Judy had always been popular with staff and guests alike.

  ‘Does it feel strange to come back here?’ Judy asked.

  ‘Yes, and the more I sit here, I’m not sure that I like it, too much water under the bridge.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Judy said. ‘You’ve years of adventures to come and Alf tells me that your cottage in Hollywood is going to be gorgeous, now that you’ve got an interior designer on board.’

  ‘Well, I was happy with keeping things simple, but I suppose in the long term it will be a good investment, to do the old place up a bit.’

  ‘And he says you’ve got a new job.’ Judy lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was about before she continued. ‘A sleuth! Just fancy, our very own Miss Marple in the district.’

  Hattie made a mental note to throttle Alf when she got back. So much for his confidentiality! And she didn’t like the reference to Miss Marple, an elderly fictional spinster; it didn’t sit well. It was the second time she’d heard it in reference to her in less than a week.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Judy whispered, ‘my lips are sealed.’

  ‘I hope that they are, Judy, I don’t want wagging tongues to spoil the things I’m working on. I can hardly go undercover if everyone knows what I do.’

  ‘I understand.’ Judy drew a line across her lips with a finger. ‘I’m zipped.’ She leaned over and refreshed

  Hattie’s coffee. ‘So, where have you been today?’

  ‘Marland Manor.’

  ‘The care home?’

  ‘Yes, do you know it?’

  ‘John Hargreaves sometimes brings business colleagues here for dinner,’ Judy said. ‘He also entertains special friends.’

  ‘What special friends?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Hattie, use your imagination.’

  ‘Friends that aren’t his wife?’

  ‘Yes, exactly, he has the corner table in the panel room, behind the screen, it’s very discreet.’ Judy shook her head. ‘He also takes a room for the night sometimes.

  I can’t say that I like him.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He’s a bit of a lech, always chatting the young waitresses up, leaves a big tip so he can get away with it.’

  ‘His businesses seem to do well.’

  ‘Well, they would, he cuts costs to the bone, profit margins will be high.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Alf’s sister Grace works at Marland Manor; she could tell you a thing or two.’

  Hattie made a note to have a chat with Grace.

  ‘Have you ever met Barry Delaney?’

  ‘The chap who worked with John?’ Judy asked. ‘I think he was a director or something?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him, been with the company for years.’

  ‘Yes, he’s a lovely fellow; he comes in with John from time-to-time and always drives the company car, so John and his cronies tend to neck back cases of Burgundy until they’re senseless.’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Topped himself.’

  ‘Never! I can’t believe it.’

  Hattie realised that Alf was probably more discreet than she thought, as Judy clearly had no idea that this was the case Hattie was investigating.

  ‘Oh, my.’ Judy looked like she was about to burst into tears. ‘He was such a gentleman.’

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t know; it was in the papers.’

  “I never get time to read the news or listen to local chit-chat.’

  Hattie looked at her watch. ‘I must get going. I’ve got a meeting at the vicar’s in a bit and I need to get my head down for a couple of hours.’ She reached for her bag.

  Judy nodded. ‘Best to have a nap at your age; it’ll keep you on your toes.’

  Hattie shot her a look. A nap indeed! She was about to tell Judy the real reason for her exhaustion but didn’t want to fuel more gossip. Alf the Mouth would fill Judy in with all the details of Hattie’s lover leaving the lane that morning, before he got through their door that evening and put his cap on the table.

  ‘I’ll be off,’ Hattie said and headed down the hall. ‘Now, don’t be a stranger at the cottage, there’s always a cup of tea in the pot; make sure you get Alf to bring you over to Hollywood for a visit soon.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Judy said and held the door open for Hattie. ‘I can’t remember the last time I visited Hollywood and I’d like to see your cottage.’

  Hattie gave Judy a hug then crunched across the gravel on the driveway. She eased herself into her car then shot off the carpark.

  HATTIE DECIDED that Barry probably had a lot more on his plate at Castle Care Communities than had first met the eye. His boss cut costs at work but spent freely when entertaining and led another life with the ladies. It was certainly more than Marjorie was aware of. Hattie wondered if John Hargreaves had a wife and if she was aware of his philandering?

  The plot was beginning to thicken. She longed to go back to her office to get her feet up and make a few notes but there was the damned foolish fete meeting to go to. Further investigation would have to wait till tomorrow.

  Hattie yawned as she entered a roundabout and missed the sign.

  ‘Take the first turning,’ her sat nav instructed. Tired and confused, Hattie kept going around. ‘Take the next turning!’ But Hattie missed it again.

  ‘Jaysus, you’ll be the death of me!’ the sat nav yelled and, astonished, Hattie stared at the screen. She threw the car into a sharp left and narrowly avoided a tractor with a full load of hay.

  ‘Are you happy now?’ Hattie shouted as she turned onto the road leading to Hollywood.

  ‘You will arrive at your destination in thirty minutes.’

  ‘And you’ll arrive at yours much sooner,’ Hattie yelled and turned the sat nav off.

  8

  Marjorie appeared at Hattie’s cottage at ten minutes to seven that evening. ‘Anyone home?’ she called out and poked her head

  over the open stable door.

  ‘Yes, come in,’ Hattie replied, ‘just grabbing a bite to eat.’ She sat at the kitchen table, munching on ham and pickle sandwiches.

  ‘Don’t fill yourself up, the vicar’s wife will have made cakes.’

  ‘So I believe,’ Hattie said and took another bite. ‘Grab a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  ‘You look very trendy.’ Marjorie checked Hattie’s outfit.

  ‘I haven’t a clue what to wear to a vicarage,’ Hattie said and smoothed her pretty coral shirt over her hips. She’d teamed it with cropped jeans and sparkly trainers.

  ‘It suits you.’ Marjorie placed her Marc Jacobs bag on the table and sat opposite Hattie. ‘Have you got any
news for me?’

  ‘Did you know that John Hargreaves likes to entertain the ladies?’

  ‘How do you mean, “entertain”?’

  ‘Discreet dinners with women who aren’t his wife.’ ‘Are you sure?’ Marjorie looked shocked.

  Bullseye! Hattie thought and licked a smear of pickle from her lips.

  ‘I thought he was happily married. I know his wife, Venetia. She’d kill him if she thought he was playing around.’

  ‘Do you know her well?’

  ‘As well as anyone could get to know Venetia. Barry and I used to stay with them at their villa in Spain; she’s a terrible snob and as tough as old boots.’ Marjorie was thoughtful. ‘She’d screw him for every penny if she knew.’

  ‘Did Barry ever mention that costs were being cut within the business?’

  ‘No, quite the opposite; he was aware of all the money John spends buying properties with the intention, presumably, of opening new homes.’

  ‘John’s sitting on a property empire?’ Hattie pushed her plate away and wiped her lips with a napkin.

  ‘Piles of it, empty buildings, a former hospital, even a disused school, I believe.’

  Hattie made a mental note of the information and stood up. ‘Let’s get off then,’ she said. ‘Are we walking or driving?’

  ‘Oh, driving. I couldn’t possibly walk in these shoes and I’ve got the car outside.’

  Hattie locked the kitchen door and followed Marjorie through the garden. Marjorie’s animal print, kitten heels, were clearly more suited to driving than walking and Hattie watched her neighbour swing her shapely legs into an open-top Mercedes roadster, parked by the gate.

  ‘Nice wheels,’ Hattie said and buckled her seatbelt.

  ‘Birthday present from Barry, last year.’

  They sped through the village and, as another hot day drained the sunlight away, Hattie watched the last rays kiss the village green. Marjorie didn’t slow down and pedestrians taking an evening stroll with their dogs leapt out of the way as they saw the red sports car careering around the bends. Hattie wished she’d worn a headscarf and she held her hands to her head, where her carefully-styled hair now stood at right-angles, blasted by the wind.