Wendy looked at her watch. “We should be able to manage that, and if Mum’s done before we get there, I’m sure they’ll treat her to another glass of bubbly. Just so long as she doesn’t get bored and decide on blue streaks.”
Once again, I plugged an address into my GPS and crossed my fingers we’d get there via a main road. Luckily, the caravan park wasn’t far out of town, and the manager was in. It was my turn to sleuth.
“Good afternoon. We met one of your renters last weekend, and he recommended your park as well kept and reasonably priced. Do you have a brochure?”
“Sure, I’m Shirley, and I’ll be happy to help you. Will you be bringing this cute little thing with you? What’s his name?”
Dickens spoke up. “Another one! I’m not little, dang it.”
“I think he likes you,” I said. “His name is Dickens, and he never leaves my side.”
“Plenty of our guests bring their dogs, so he’ll be welcome. Will you be bringing your own caravan or renting one of ours?” she asked.
“Oh, we don’t have our own like Max did, so we’d want to rent a two-bedroom if you have one available. And probably for a month, maybe over Christmas and into January.”
“Max? Are you talking about Max Maxwell? You must have met him right before he passed away. I was sorry to hear about that.”
“Yes, that’s him. We met him at the Fall Fête in Astonbury. He put on a nice show, and it was a shock to find out he died that very night.”
“It was a shock to me too. Though with the life he led, I can’t say I was surprised.”
I cocked my head and said, “Really?”
“A bit rough around the edges, he was. Kept his little yard tidy, but was always running girls in and out. Even had one girl come banging on his door yelling at him late at night. Read him the riot act about that.”
“Gosh, seeing him perform and make the children smile, I never would have imagined that. And, somehow, I had the impression he had a regular girlfriend . . . maybe named Sparkle?”
“Ha! I think the girl banging on his door thought she was the one and only, from what she was yelling at him. She must’ve gotten over it, ’cause she was back all lovey-dovey not long after. Don’t think it was a name like Sparkle, though. Maybe Patience or Prudence? I recall thinking the name didn’t fit her behavior. Anyway, I doubt I’ll have those kinds of problems with you ladies.”
Wendy and I laughed and told her definitely not and asked about pricing.
The manager was quick to say, “I’m not sure what Max told you, but I need to let you know he had a special rate ’cause he rented for six months at a time. Not many folks do that. And it costs more to rent one of ours. Still, I’d have to agree we’re reasonable. Even at that, Max was forever behind on the rent. For all his grumbling, he knew he wasn’t going to find anything cheaper than £400 a month, and he always paid up in cash, so I mostly let it ride.”
£400? That was a huge discount on high and mid-season rates, but a bit higher than those for the low season. Perhaps the long-term nature of the rental made it worth it to her. We thanked her for the information and made a show of taking a drive around the park.
“Well hell, how many girls did he have on a string?” I asked. “We knew about Sparkle, and we’ve learned there’s someone named Prudence or maybe Patience. Which gal was banging on his caravan door? Maybe Prudence? Given what the bartender told you about an on-again, off-again relationship?”
“Could be, but Leta, I don’t get it. Sure, he was good-looking in a bad boy kind of way, but he treated women like dirt. Why would they stay around? At least Trixie wised up and got out.”
“Who knows? Maybe there’s something about a magician that’s alluring. Anyway, it’s probably past time to pick up your mum. I can’t wait to get her report.”
We could see Belle through the window when we pulled up to the Blue Hair Studio. She was sipping a drink and laughing with the receptionist.
“Mum, you look lovely,” exclaimed Wendy. “Did you have your makeup done too?”
“Why yes, dear. I think you and Leta will have to take me somewhere special for dinner tonight. Can’t let all this go to waste. And look at my nails.”
“Belle, is that Bubble Bath pink? That’s what I wear. I like it for its natural look. Did you have a pedicure too?”
“No, I went for the makeover instead. No one’s going to see my feet. What do you girls think of my hair?”
“Love it, Mum.”
“Me too,” I chimed in.
While Wendy paid the receptionist, Belle placed her champagne flute on the counter, and I helped her put on her coat. Seeing her preparing to leave prompted her stylist, makeup artist, and manicurist to come running to give her hugs. They went on and on about how much they’d enjoyed her. Belle had been quite a hit.
She was beaming. “Oh, Leta, I almost forgot. Come with me for a minute, please.”
I followed her to the back where several girls were washing hair. Belle motioned to a young girl and whispered in her ear when she approached. She pulled a phone from her blue smock and asked for my number. I had no idea what was going on until my phone pinged with a text.
I saw photos of Max in his tails and hat, and I could see people walking behind him and the waterwheel in the distance. These were from the Fête. There was one of Sparkle doing fairy hair, one of Captain Hook with little Michael, and a sweet one of Max and Sparkle hugging. It was the last photo that surprised me. It was Max lying down, eyes closed, on what looked like the riverbank, and it was nighttime. “Oh my gosh, where did this come from?”
Belle shushed me. “We’ll talk about that later, dear. Let’s be on our way.”
Wendy was talking on her phone outside. “That’s right, Peter, you can’t believe what a hit Mum was in the Blue Hair Studio. They loved her, and she loved them. Yes, yes, I’ll send pictures. Uh-huh. Our day of detecting is over, and we’re going to the hotel. Leta and I need to freshen up before dinner, but Mum is already gorgeous. Yes, consider this our check-in for the day. Bye now.”
Wendy gave me a questioning look, and Dickens barked. It must have been the look on my face. “I know, I know, I look as though I’ve seen a ghost, and I think I have. I’ll explain once we’re in the car—or perhaps Belle should do the explaining.”
Belle was beside herself. “Okay girls, you’ll have to hold your horses, because I want to start from the beginning. And thank you, Wendy, for my day of pampering. I’m not sure what was better, the beauty treatment or the clues I gathered.”
I glanced at Wendy in the rearview mirror. “Seems you’ll have to wait to hear about the shock I just had, but it’s Miss Marple’s story, so we’ll follow her lead.”
Belle smiled sweetly. “Once upon a time . . . just kidding. I found a huge clue as soon as I sat down in the hair washing chair and Tina noticed the sparkly blue strands in my hair. Had to pop my hearing aids back in so I could hear her. She asked where I’d gotten my fairy hair. When I told her it was in Astonbury at the Fall Fête, she said, “Oh, that was probably Prudence. She does the fairy hair here, and she’s one of my flatmates.’”
“Prudence?” Wendy and I said in unison.
“Yes, girls. I told her I’d not met anyone named Prudence, that Sparkle and Summer had a booth and did a booming business. Tina looked puzzled and said she was positive Prudence had gone to the Cotswolds for two weekends of festivals. I thought that was odd, but I couldn’t ask any more questions right then because my hearing aids had to come out so she could shampoo my hair.
“It was time for Priscilla to set my hair, and I pondered how to proceed as we talked. She commented on my fairy hair too but had a similar reaction about Summer and Sparkle. Hadn’t heard of them. By the way, you may have noticed my hair is not as curly as usual. I like the way Priscilla used bigger rollers.”
“Oh, is that what it is, Mum? We’ll have to try that at home. It’s a much more elegant look.”
I glanced at Belle. “I think it mak
es you look younger.”
Belle just chuckled. “May have to shop for curlers on the way home. Meanwhile, Priscilla sat me under the dryer, and the manicurist worked on my nails. She rubbed cream into my hands, applied oil to my cuticles, and stuck my hands in these marvelous warming gloves. I think I need some of those too. Wouldn’t they be a comfort on chilly nights?”
“Belle,” I asked, “is this the first professional manicure you’ve had?”
“Yes, but hopefully not the last,” she replied.
Now I had an idea of something to get Belle for Christmas—a gift certificate for a manicure in Astonbury. I was eager for her to get to the part about Sparkle, but it was a joy to hear the wonder in her voice as she described her salon experience.
“Loved the hand and arm massage, and I like the look of my nails. Next, Priscilla combed out my hair and styled it in these soft curls. Sprayed something on it to make it shine too. Darn, should’ve gotten the name of that stuff. It was Priscilla who suggested a makeover, and I thought it couldn’t hurt.
“It was while the makeup artist was pulling out colors that I had a brainstorm. I excused myself and went back to the hair washing station. Asked Tina if she by chance had a picture of Prudence. And she did. Someone had snapped a pic of Prudence doing fairy hair on Tina. Guess who it was?”
“Well, you just said it was Prudence, didn’t you?” asked Wendy.
“Um, was it Sparkle?” I asked.
“Nailed it. Yes, Prudence and Sparkle are one and the same.”
Wendy looked at me dumbfounded. “How on earth did you know that, Leta?”
“I wish I could say I was that smart, but I’m not. Let your mum explain.”
“I had an inkling there couldn’t be that many girls doing fairy hair in Totnes. That’s why I asked for a photo. Still, I was surprised to find my hunch was right—that Prudence had a stage name, so to speak.”
Wendy laughed. “Makes me think of that Beatles song, ‘Dear Prudence.’”
The lyrics popped into my head, as did a piece of trivia I’d picked up who knows where. “Ha! Bet you didn’t know the song was inspired by Mia Farrow’s sister Prudence?”
“Honestly, Leta, you’re forever coming out with strange crumbs like that. Funny how that brain of yours works.”
“Now girls, let’s get back to the story,” said Belle. “The photo prompted me to go a step further and ask about Max. Told Tina I’d met him at the Fête too. That’s all it took. She told me all about Max and Prudence’s up-and-down relationship. Been going on for several years, according to her.
“When I told her about Max dying, she said Prudence had called her with the news and was pretty broken up. I couldn’t believe my eyes when she pulled out her phone to show me a text from Prudence and said, ‘She sent me a few pics from that day. Glad she got some to remember him by.’
“Remember, Leta, you told us he’d been found on the riverbank? That was the last pic, him lying there in the dark. He looked so peaceful. He had to still be alive when Prudence . . . or Sparkle took that picture, right?”
“Bloody hell,” Wendy whispered.
I caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “Look at my phone. Your mum had Tina forward the message to me. Read the caption too and tell me what you think.”
Wendy pulled out her blue reading glasses and didn’t react as she looked at the first few photos of Max waving his magic wand and smiling. When she got to the one of him lying down, her reaction was identical to the one I’d had.
She turned my phone every which way, enlarged the photo, made it smaller again, and then read the message aloud: “‘Started the day sober and wound up dead drunk as usual. Looks a right fool, doesn’t he?’ Good grief, Leta, I don’t know what to think. She was probably playing around, but what poor timing. How was she to know he’d wind up dead soon after?”
Dickens was ahead of us. “Looks dead to me.”
“Dickens, are you trying to tell me something?” said Wendy.
He barked excitedly, knowing full well I was the only one who could understand him. “Yes, I am. He looks dead, dead, dead.”
“Well, we don’t call him Detective Dickens for nothing,” Belle said.
Wendy leaned over the front seat to show the phone to Belle. “Surely he’s alive, and she took the picture planning to show it to him later, right?”
Belle replied, “No matter. We’re going to have to send this to Gemma. Maybe her technicians can tell for sure. Granted, I hardly know the girl, but I can’t imagine she’d be fool enough to snap a picture of a dead man.”
“Goodness knows, but you’re right about forwarding it to Gemma,” I said.
Belle was looking pretty smug. “Do I win the prize today? Or did you girls come up with something better at the pub?"
Thankfully, we were still able to laugh at ourselves. “Belle, I think your daughter would agree you’ve won the prize. We heard Max was often at the pub with a girl named Prudence, and now we know who she was. You cleared up that mystery for us. Let’s discuss the rest over dinner. I have an idea for something special tonight.”
Chapter Ten
I stopped by the front desk and asked the concierge to make us a reservation at The Angel. It was fancier than the other places in town, and I thought it would be a perfect spot for Belle to show off her new glamorous look. She was in for quite a treat.
I took Dickens for a quick walk and promised to take him for a longer one after dinner. Explaining why he couldn’t accompany us to our special dinner was a waste of breath.
As I left the room, he barked, “Fine, be that way.”
It would have been a pleasant and invigorating walk to The Angel but difficult for Belle, especially after her day in Totnes. I had the car waiting and warmed up when Belle and Wendy came out.
“How festive,” exclaimed Belle as she admired the lights on the river walk. “Is it always lit up like this?”
“I think so,” I replied. “I wonder whether they add Christmas decorations in December? Surely they do.”
The Angel was located in the Dartmouth town centre overlooking the River Dart, and our concierge had reserved us a table by the window where we could watch the Dartmouth to Kingswear ferry go to and fro. This one was larger than the one beside our hotel.
I sighed in contentment. “It almost seems a shame to discuss murder and mayhem in this charming setting.”
“Leta, luv,” said Belle, “why don’t we enjoy ourselves and save the serious talk for later?”
Wendy nodded in agreement. “Yes, let’s savor the sights and the meal. Nothing’s going to change in the next few hours. And who knows? Letting the events of the day simmer in the back of our brains might produce a major aha moment!”
“Looks like we’re all on the same page, and here comes our server, right on cue. What do you say to a round of Prosecco to kick off the evening?”
We made our request and listened to the specials. The restaurant offered a choice of a two- or three-course menu, and we splurged on three. I took advantage of being on the water and ordered roast diver scallops as my appetizer and roasted stone bass as my main course. Belle chose oysters followed by venison, and Wendy went for a beetroot tart and then salted cod. A bottle of crisp Sauvignon Blanc saw us through the meal.
Thank goodness we could order three desserts for the table, as choosing only one would have been impossible. When we told our server we’d be sharing the final course, she carefully arranged the banana and pecan souffle, lemon crème, and raspberry tart in the middle of the table.
Belle smiled as she sampled the lemon crème. “I’m in heaven. Perhaps we should return in the spring. I can see myself spending another afternoon at the Blue Hair Studio followed by dinner here at The Angel. Greenway’s on tomorrow’s agenda, but there’s so much more to see. We could tour the Naval Academy one day. You know Queen Elizabeth met Prince Phillip there, don’t you? And we could do the Round Robin ferry, bus, and train ride one day.”
Wendy looked a
t me. “We may have created a monster. Before you know it, Mum will be booking massages and facials. But seriously, Mum, if you’d like to come back, let’s plan on it.”
We were paying our tab when my phone pinged with a text. I smiled when I saw it was from Deborah. She’d sent the photos she’d taken at the Fête with an apology for taking so long. I texted her back and told her the timing was perfect, that I was with Belle and Wendy and could share them when we returned to our hotel.
Belle dozed off on the short drive to the hotel, and she reluctantly suggested Wendy and I carry on without her. Chuckling about losing one-third of our brainpower, Wendy escorted Belle to their room while I went to get Dickens.
Dickens was good about being quiet when he was on his own, but when he heard me approach our room, he barked a greeting. “About time.”
“My, my, and here I was ready to take you for a walk along the river. You’d better change your tune, young man, or you’ll be right back up here instead of lying beside me while Wendy and I brainstorm.”
“But you need me for brainstorming. How could you even consider doing something so important without Detective Dickens? Let’s go.”
I knew it would take Wendy a while to get Belle settled, so Dickens and I walked almost to town before turning back. After a three-course meal, a walk in the crisp, cold air was just what I needed. I reflected on what we’d learned during the day, but if anything, I was more puzzled than I’d been before we explored Totnes. An idea did occur to me, though—not an idea about who the killer was, but one about how to organize our thoughts.
At the front desk, I asked whether the hotel had a conference room or office with a whiteboard or flipchart. The gentleman on duty thought for a moment and asked me to wait while he disappeared. He returned looking quite pleased with himself and asked me to follow him to the second floor.
There he unlocked the door to a large conference room overlooking the river. It had a whiteboard along the front wall and two flipchart pads on stands. “I didn’t think the size mattered, miss, and this one has a view. We use it for staff meetings.”
Pumpkins, Paws and Murder (A Dickens & Christie mystery Book 2) Page 15
