MARJORIE’S MERCEDES screeched to a halt outside the vicarage and Hattie tumbled out. She was dressed in a creased blouse and crumpled Capri pants. Marjorie, neat in a Barbour jacket and designer jeans, followed behind.
Penny opened the door and greeted them. ‘How nice to see you,’ she said, her face dreamy and her expression soft. ‘Do come in.’
‘Is your husband still high from his quiz success?’ Hattie followed Penny through the house to the lounge. ‘He’ll join us shortly, he’s getting dressed.’
Hattie whispered to Marjorie, ‘He’ll be nursing a hangover, he was off his face last night.’
‘Peep, peep!’ a voice called out as they entered the room. Joan, resplendent in an orange kaftan and spread out on the sinking sofa, waved at the pair. ‘I saved you a seat,’ she said and patted a cushion. Her legs stuck out and, as Hattie sank down alongside the shopkeeper, she stared at Joan’s pale limbs. Plump and crinkled, they resembled a pair of parsnips.
Marjorie recoiled and, ignoring Joan, doubled back into the kitchen.
Joan reached into the folds of her gown. ‘Here, get your laughing gear round one of these, I’ve kept a couple back for you.’ She passed Hattie a French Fancy.
Hattie looked across the room where the ladies of the fete committee sat in a half circle with the quiz trophy displayed on a table. Despite their triumph, they appeared subdued.
‘Hungover, the lot of them, black coffee all round,’ Joan said. ‘The vicar and his team didn’t half do well, winning the quiz. Not a result any of us expected.’
‘I’m surprised he’s not here yet.’ Hattie held the fancy in her hand and wondered where she could hide it.
‘Drunk as a skunk, I heard.’ Joan nudged Hattie’s arm and the cake disintegrated across her knee.
‘Does he always drink a lot?’ Hattie asked. Bertie was hovering and thumped his tail as Hattie discreetly knocked stale crumbs to the floor.
‘On occasion,’ Joan replied, ‘and I suppose last night was an occasion, wasn’t it?’ Joan reached into a straw bag and pulled out a packet of shortbreads. She placed one in her mouth and began to munch. ‘It’s the first quiz at the pub in years and, as my Arnie was saying over breakfast, everyone seemed to have a cracking time.’
Hattie, having never heard Arnie speak, was intrigued. ‘And what else did Arnie tell you?’
‘He thinks you and the landlord make a nice couple.’ Joan took another biscuit. ‘You’re very suited.’
Hattie thought that Arnie should keep his thoughts to himself but she had a feeling that Joan fuelled her husband and, like his wife, Arnie didn’t miss a trick when it came to rumour-mongering.
‘But I could hardly believe my ears when I heard the news this morning,’ Joan began. She trailed off when Roger came into the room, and together with Hattie stared open-mouthed at the vicar.
Roger’s appearance would suggest that he’d just spent a week at a health farm. Greeted by a warm round of applause from the ladies of the fete committee, he beamed. His hair was neat and freshly washed and his skin bore a healthy glow. Roger wore a freshly-starched clerical collar on his shirt, with a clean black cardigan and dark trousers. Hattie thought he looked very spruce.
‘I expect your neighbour was shocked too,’ Joan said. ‘I told the sergeant that I wasn’t surprised.’
‘What sergeant?’ Hattie turned her attention back to Joan.
‘Your mate, Harry the Helmet.’
‘Why, what’s he done?’
‘It’s not the sergeant that’s been done for drink driving, he was just following up his enquiries.’ Joan took another shortbread and placed it in Hattie’s hand.
John was drinking and driving? Bloody hell! Hattie thought. Surely the daft sod wouldn’t be so stupid as to drive home in the state he was in. Didn’t Reggie get John and Camilla a taxi as she’d asked?
‘Of course, it’s happened before, so it may be a custodial sentence.’
‘John’s been prosecuted before?’
‘John?’ Joan’s eyebrows were raised, and she smiled as she patted Hattie on the arm. ‘No, my dear, he wasn’t the person who was stopped for being three times over the legal limit last night.’
‘Well, if it wasn’t him, who was it?’
‘It was his employee,’ Joan looked around and lowered her voice, ‘or should I say “lover”?’
‘Camilla?’
‘Way over the legal limit and caught doing seventy on the back roads to Butterly, but of course, it’s happened before.’
‘Before?’
‘She got off lightly last time.’ Joan sniffed.
‘Did she crash the car? Was she hurt?’
‘She was taken to Carlisle accident and emergency, but I don’t think there’s any serious injuries.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Hattie, and shook her head.
19
As the morning progressed, the committee huddled in a corner of the vicar’s lounge and held their meeting and Hattie, as an observer, sat through the machinations of what it took to put the fete together. Roger ticked off his list with efficiency and ensured that all the jobs necessary for the smooth running of the fete were delegated. With little time left before the actual day his plans were, at last, coming to fruition.
Hattie glanced at Marjorie and noticed that she was fidgety. Joan had told Marjorie of Camilla’s latest driving offence and now, as the meeting ended, and villagers drifted in, to drink coffee and eat cake, Hattie took Marjorie to one side.
‘So, what do you think about Camilla?’ Hattie asked.
‘Serves her right, the stupid girl.’ Marjorie shook her head. ‘She deserves to be locked up.’ ‘Joan told me that it’s happened before?’ ‘You’re the detective,’ Marjorie said.
‘And you need to be more helpful if you want
Barry’s life insurance to pay out.’
‘She failed a breathalyser shortly before Barry died.’
‘Before he died?’ Hattie was puzzled. ‘I could understand it if happened after his death, she would have been heartbroken.’
‘At the time, she told the court that she was under a lot of stress at work and by some miracle she only got a two-week ban and a hefty fine.’
‘She was lucky.’
‘That’s Camilla for you.’
‘Something must have been upsetting her at the time, if she got behind the wheel of a car when she was over the limit?’
‘Oh, who knows what goes on in Camilla’s head.’ Marjorie reached into her bag for her car keys. ‘I’m off, do you want a lift back?’
‘No, I’ll linger a bit longer,’ Hattie said. ‘Could you check on Alf and his army and see how the conservatory is coming along?’
‘I’d planned to see Alf today, don’t worry, it’s all in hand.’
‘Have a look at the paint in the shed too, would you? I’ve asked Alf to decorate the cottage.’
‘Oh, God.’ Marjorie shook her head. ‘You’re not going to let him loose on colour schemes and a brush, are you?’
‘Well, I thought you might cast an eye around the place and make a few suggestions.’
‘Consider it done.’ Marjorie turned and, without a backward glance, strode through the hallway and out to her car.
Hattie looked around. She’d not seen much of Penny and wondered if the girl needed help to clear up. She went through the archway in the lounge and into the kitchen, where she soon found Penny, stacking crockery into the sink.
‘Want some help?’ Hattie asked and grabbed a tea-towel. The rain had stopped, and Hattie looked out through smeared windows to the garden where Bertie, oblivious to the rain, was rolling on the wet grass.
‘Yes, please.’ Penny turned and gave a half-smile.
‘I expect you heard the news about your friend, Camilla,’ Hattie said as she waited for Penny to get stuck into the washing-up. But Penny seemed distracted as she sloshed lukewarm water over the china and dabbed at plates with a sponge. ‘She really shouldn’t have driven with tha
t much booze in her blood.’
‘She certainly wasn’t sober when I saw her,’ Penny said.
‘Did you come to the pub? I didn’t see you at the quiz.’
Penny stopped and placed a mug on the draining board.
‘What is it?’ Hattie asked. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I saw Camilla in our garden, late last night. I suppose I should have gone out to her.’
‘What on earth was she doing in your garden?’ Hattie reached for the mug and began to dry.
‘She was lying on the grass, making love.’
Hattie almost dropped the mug to the stone floor. ‘What did you say?’
‘I couldn’t sleep and I heard a noise. I thought it was an owl and went to look out of my bedroom window.’
‘What did you see?’
‘A couple, by the garden wall. I couldn’t see the man, he wore dark clothes, but I knew it was Camilla, especially when she looked up.’
‘Who was she with?’
‘Her boss, perhaps?’ Penny sighed. ‘Everyone says she’s having an affair with him.’
‘You said he was wearing dark clothes?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t see his face or head, it was buried in her shoulder. When she looked up, I moved away but I don’t think she saw me.’
‘What happened next?’
‘Nothing. I went back to bed and then I heard a car door slam. They must have driven away.’
‘Dearest!’ Roger came into the kitchen. ‘The committee are leaving and they want to thank you for your hospitality.’ He took Penny’s arm and moved her away from the sink. Penny dabbed at her cotton frock with damp hands.
‘My dear Mrs Mulberry,’ Roger said and turned to Hattie, ‘how kind of you to help Penny, and what an excellent time we enjoyed last night.’ Roger was wearing aftershave and the sweet pungent smell was overpowering. Hattie stepped back.
‘Not long now before the fete,’ he said, ‘and I’m so pleased that you and Mrs Delaney are ready with prizes for the tombola - it’s the biggest stall at the event.’
Hattie mumbled how much she was looking forward to it and, placing the tea-towel on the draining board, said goodbye to Penny and made ready to leave. Joan was still on the sofa in the lounge and she caught Hattie’s eye and waved. ‘I’ll walk, thank you,’ Hattie said, before Joan had time to tell her that if she wanted a lift, Arnie was on his way.
Hattie stepped out of the front door and looked up at the sky. The rain had stopped and sunshine peeped through dappled clouds. A faint mist rose from the village green and, as Hattie looked into the distance towards the pond, she saw a shadow waddle towards her. Drake was upright, he held his long neck erect and gently batted his wings. To her surprise, Hattie saw that he had company. A small brown hen duck was shuffling along behind him.
‘You old devil,’ Hattie thought. ‘Tall, Drake and handsome.’
HARRY THE HELMET sat in Hattie’s office. He was smartly dressed in his police uniform but appeared hot and bothered and his face was flushed. ‘It’s warming up again,’ he said as he sat down, then took a clean cotton handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his brow. ‘I thought the rain might have cleared the air.’
‘You could have told me that Camilla was locked up.’ Hattie wasn’t in the mood to discuss the weather. ‘I could have done without hearing the news from Joan.’
‘I’d only called in for a paper on my way up here,’ Harry said. ‘I asked Joan if she’d seen Camilla the night before and she said that she’d seen her leave the pub with John.’
‘Where were you when Camilla left the pub?’ Harry reddened and looked away.
‘Wrapped around a pretty nurse by any chance?’
‘We were commiserating on our quiz loss.’
‘Some copper, you are.’
‘I wasn’t on duty.’
‘Well, I have more to add to the story, but it won’t affect your case. Camilla was a pissed as a newt and shouldn’t have been driving.’
‘Go on.’
‘She had an assignation in the vicar’s garden shortly before she got in the car and drove off.’
‘Who with?’ Harry leaned in, curious to hear what Hattie had to say.
‘Penny saw Camilla bonking her brains out on the grass beneath her bedroom window, but she didn’t recognise the man doing the deed.’
Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘John Hargreaves,’ he said.
‘I don’t think it was John.’
‘They’re having an affair; it couldn’t be anyone else.’
‘Aye, so the whole village keeps telling me.’
‘Who do you think it was then?’
‘Penny said the man wore dark clothing and I happened to notice that John was wearing light-coloured trousers; he cried all over them when I asked about Barry.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Last night, Reggie told me that he personally put John in a taxi and saw the vehicle off. Camilla refused to get in and said she’d walk over the green and stay at Marjorie’s.’
‘Camilla was driving John’s car when she was arrested.’ Harry was thoughtful. ‘Who on earth did she hook up with before she got in the car and drove off?’
‘I think I know.’
‘Who?’
Hattie sat back in her chair. She held a pencil in her hand and, tapping it on the desk, said, ‘Roger Yarwood was like a teenager at the coffee morning today. He was in very high spirits and full of himself from the night before.’
‘What? You surely don’t think it was Roger?’
‘Actually, I do,’ Hattie said. ‘Why not? Roger’s an attractive man and Camilla’s a vibrant young woman.’
‘But he’s a vicar.’
‘Who seems to like the ladies; the clerical collar doesn’t appear to deter him.’
‘I suppose you have a point.’
‘Reggie said that Roger left the pub at the same time as the taxi arrived for John,’ Hattie continued. ‘He overheard Camilla being difficult and, as she was determined to walk across the green in the dark to her stepmother’s, Roger offered to walk with her.’ Hattie leaned forward. ‘Reggie said he knew that Camilla would be alright with the vicar.’
‘So, how did she end up driving John’s car?’
‘When Penny looked out of the window, she said Camilla seemed to be aware that someone was watching them. Roger must have panicked and sent Camilla on her way.’
‘Camilla may not have known who she was with,’ Harry said. ‘In the state she was in, she could have thought it was John, but he’d gone home in a taxi.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that she knew but I reckon she’d taken John’s car keys earlier, then left the vicar and made her way to the car, thinking she’d make it home.’
‘Well, it doesn’t alter the fact that she was way over the limit when she was stopped.’ Harry shook his head. ‘The traffic officer said she ran the car off the road, no doubt she knew he was following her.’
‘Was she hurt?’
‘She knocked her head so was taken to hospital.’
‘Nothing serious?’
‘No, she was examined and then released into police custody.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘She’s still at the station.’
‘I think I might have a word with Camilla when she’s sober,’ Hattie said. ‘I think she has a lot more to answer to than she’s letting on.’
‘How did you get on at Marland Manor?’ Harry asked.
‘I didn’t get a chance to discuss John, but I found out a lot more than I expected about Nancy, the manager.’ She explained to Harry that Nancy owned properties and that she felt sure Nancy probably owned many more. ‘Could you do a background check on Nancy?’
‘For what?’
‘Any criminal convictions, fraud, theft, that sort of thing.’
‘I hardly think she’d be running a nursing home if she’d committed any crime. There’s such a thing as a governing body, the Care Quality Commission, who’d make sure that the paperw
ork was in order for her to manage the home; she’d need to pass all their security checks.’
‘I’m just saying, you might have a look.’ Hattie leaned forward and gave Harry the benefit of a glimpse of her cleavage. ‘For me?’ She smiled, batting her eyelashes as she reached out to squeeze his hand.
‘Don’t go starting to flirt.’ Harry got up. ‘You’ll get me all in a lather and I’m on duty.’
‘But will you?’
‘Aye, I suppose I could have a look through the files.’
Hattie stood and came around from her side of the desk. ‘You’re a good mate,’ she said and pecked him on the cheek.
‘And I expect that’s all I’ll be while that randy landlord is on the scene.’
‘Give over, you’re back in the arms of the lovely Janine; don’t bugger it up, she’s far too good for you.’
‘That’s true, I’m punching above my weight, but it’s worth a try.’ Harry picked up his hat and straightened his tie. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear anything.’
‘You be sure that you do.’
Hattie stood by the window and watched Harry side-step the many piles of bricks in the garden. He stopped for a word with Alf but was soon on his way.
The phone was ringing, and Hattie turned to answer it.
‘I’ve got the paint,’ Marjorie said. ‘I’ve put it on your account and Alf knows a decorator; he can start in the morning.’
‘Oh, great,’ Hattie replied and visualised her cottage covered in sheets of plastic for days and weeks to come.
‘He has an assistant and as the rooms are very poky and small it shouldn’t take them long.’
‘Nice one, Marjorie.’
‘I knew you’d be pleased. I’m going to go through your furniture and bits and pieces; it’s time you had a sort out. You’ll need new curtains too.’
Hattie slumped in her chair. Was there any point in arguing with Marjorie? She may as well let the woman take over - after all Marjorie had a beautiful home and seemed to know what she was doing. ‘Well, it’s not a bottomless pit, you know. I ought to give you a budget before you get completely carried away.’
Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series! Page 17
