by Ann Purser
Gary was helpful, as she’d expected, telling her their routine, and making sure she knew exactly what they had to do. “Most of the rooms are tidy, and lots of the cupboards are locked, of course,” he said. “There’s just the old doctor’s room that’s a shambles. Anyway, I do the doctors’ rooms, and Sheila does the rest. Are you OK with that?”
Lois nodded, and began work. She found herself keeping an ear tuned to where Gary was cleaning. It wasn’t easy, with the linear layout of the surgery. A long corridor bisected that section of the building, with doctors’ rooms on either side.
“Mrs Meade, room number two, please,” said a voice. She whipped round, her heart thumping, and then realized it was Gary, fooling about up the corridor.
“Just get on with it,” she said crossly, and he disappeared.
Half an hour or so later, Lois had made a decision. This was a perfect opportunity to have a word with Gary. No need to give it unnecessary weight by asking him to see her at home. Just a casual word, she decided. She walked on soft-soled shoes up the carpeted corridor to find him. He was in room number three, with the door half open, and she could see that he was reading a document he must have picked up from the doctor’s desk. She stopped dead, uncertain what to do. He went on reading for a few seconds, then sensed her presence.
“Mrs M!” he said, putting the piece of paper down hastily on the desk. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Obviously,” said Lois sharply. “What were you doing reading that letter?”
“It’s not a letter,” said Gary, swallowing hard. “Well, just a handout from a drug company. Doctors get them all the time. It caught my eye, that’s all. Look, you can see for yourself.” He picked up the paper again and held it out to her.
She shook her head. “Bloody hell, Gary!” she said. “You know we don’t touch private papers! Put it back where you found it. I’ve a good mind to give you your cards right now, you stupid idiot! Now just get out…right out, and go home. I’ll let you know what I decide.”
Gary shrugged. “Not a criminal offence,” he muttered.
She ignored him, and left the room, but when he’d gone, she went back to room number three and looked into the doctor’s in tray. It was the same piece of paper, she was sure, and read it without picking it up. In no uncertain terms, the drug company set out the side effects and dangers of over-prescribing a new painkiller, known to be used illegally by kids in the States. The letter stated baldly that hundreds of young people had died from misusing this drug, and warned doctors to be particularly vigilant.
By the time Lois reached home, her instant rage at catching out Gary had subsided. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d had his fingers in the till. She told Derek at lunchtime, and his reaction was what she expected. “Get rid of him, gel,” he said at once. “I told you he’d be no good, and he isn’t.”
“But he’s very good at his work,” Lois protested.
Derek exploded. “What’s the matter with you, Lois? The nasty little sod is obviously up to something, probably ferretin’ about for the latest on drugs, and you witter on about being good at cleaning! For God’s sake, woman, think about it! For all we know, it might have bin him dishin’ out God knows what at the club Josie went to…and you said that woman she saw could have been the slut you turned down…”
“It was,” said Lois quietly. When Derek lost his temper with her, she always listened. “At least, I’m pretty sure it was, from Josie’s description.” She felt sick, remembering how Joanne Murphy had threatened to get back at Lois for rejecting her. Not through Josie, surely? Nobody could be that evil! Oh yes, they could, Lois told herself.
“Well, for Christ’s sake, Lois, get rid of him. And then let’s stay out of this whole business. Josie’s got her head screwed on, more or less, and we can keep an eye on her. You can easily find another cleaner, and then leave all that other stuff alone.”
Lois was quiet for a minute or so, and then put out her hand to take Derek’s. “You’re most likely right,” she said. “But I took him on and it’ll have to be me that fires him. If I do. My decision, really, and it’ll have to be quick. He’ll be waiting.”
“Let him wait!” said Derek. He sighed. Lois was right. It was her business, and he’d not take kindly to her telling him how to rewire a pub. But she was still his wife! “Just get your priorities right, Lois,” he said. “Our kids come first. And if there’s any sniff of danger to them, I hope you’ll know what’s the right thing to do.”
After he’d gone back to work, Lois sat motionless for an hour, staring out of the window and getting her thoughts in order. Finally she made her way through to her office and lifted the telephone. “Inspector Cowgill?” she said. “Can we meet?”
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Nineteen
The storm began when Lois was halfway to Alibone Woods. Her ancient windscreen wipers were not really up to the job, and she could barely see the road ahead. As she turned off into the track where she concealed her car, she splashed into deep puddles and muddy potholes. I hope to God I can get out of here again, she thought. Well, I can’t blame Cowgill today. He’d taken her request very seriously, and suggested the next day, when she had planned to go into Tresham to see her mother, and would be passing by the woods anyway. “You sound worried,” he’d said. “Can it keep ‘til tomorrow?” She had assured him it wasn’t that urgent, though after she’d put down the phone, she had realized she had no idea of how urgent it was. Like Derek, she began to feel caught up in something too close to home. She tried not to think of the children out there…on the school bus, in the playground, on their way home through the village. She fought back mental pictures of Josie being dragged screaming into a car with darkened windows, of Douglas reeling home covered in bruises and cuts, and Jamie yelling for his mum as he was dumped unceremoniously into the boot of the same car.
Lois was early, and there was no sign as yet of Cowgill. She found an old umbrella under the back seat, and got out into the rain. It was much lighter now, and she trod – in wellies this time – along the familiar track to the clearing meeting place. As it came in sight, she saw something that caused her to stop dead in her tracks. Someone was there already. Leaning against a tree? Watching out for her? It was a man, she could see that, but his attitude was odd. He was standing up, certainly, but he seemed to be looking down at the ground, and not moving. A shower of raindrops fell from the tree above her, and she dodged to one side, shaking the water from her head. She looked again. Still no movement. He must have heard her, so what on earth…?
Walking forward slowly, Lois glanced behind. Surely Cowgill would be here in a minute. She could hardly go running back now. Her wellies would slow her up, and this man, whoever he was, could easily catch her. If he wanted to, that is. He had certainly shown no interest in her so far.
As she got closer, she saw why. The woods spun around her, and she grabbed at a low branch for support. Slowly, slowly she crept forward, hand to her mouth. Now she could see that the man was tied to a tree, right next to the broad stump where she perched for her meetings with Cowgill. The rope went round and round, anchoring him in an upright position. Only his head was free, and lolled hopelessly down.
Lois took a deep breath and marched forward, dizziness gone. She came up to the bound figure and peered at his face. He was dead. There was no doubt about this. He was the second dead man she had seen in the last month, and as she heard the crackle of twigs under Cowgill’s approaching feet, she knew that this second death, and who it was, and where it was, was no coincidence.
♦
Lois had assumed there would be immediate telephone calls, summoning police doctor, ambulance, and all the paraphernalia she had witnessed at the major’s spectacular demise. But Cowgill just stood and looked. Then he put his hand on her shoulder and said quietly, “You all right, Lois?” She nodded, and then he said, “Right. Nothing we can do for him now, so let’s have that talk. Can you manage that?”
Again she
nodded. “Can we go over there?” she said.
“He can’t hear us,” said Cowgill, and Lois looked at him bleakly.
“I know,” she said. “But he never liked me, and I’d rather not have to look at him.”
She was calm, and had rehearsed what she wanted to say. It was brief, well-organized, and put Gary Needham in a very bad light indeed. As a consequence, she was surprised at Cowgill’s reaction.
“No,” he said, “don’t sack him. If you can cope, keep him on. We’re getting well on into this, and Gary Needham can lead us even further.” He paused.
“Your turn,” said Lois flatly. “What’s it all about? That Joanne Murphy’ll probably have another go at my kids. And how can I send Gary to jobs when I don’t trust him?” She turned involuntarily to look at the motionless figure. “And what about himl What did he do to deserve that?”
Cowgill shook his head. “Can’t tell you more than you know, except that Joanne and Gary are bit players in this particular theatrical production. Let’s say the play can’t go on without them, but we’re after the producer.”
The image did not impress Lois, who lost her temper. “It’s not a bloody game!” she shouted at Cowgill. “Derek is furious with me, and my kids are in danger. The cops are supposed to protect us, aren’t they? And you’re a bloody cop, aren’t you?”
Cowgill held up his hand in self-defence. “Lois, calm down,” he said. “If I thought your kids were in serious danger, I’d do something. But take it from me, that approach in the club was probably routine. Joanne Murphy may not even have known Josie was your daughter. No, it’ll be much more dangerous if we don’t get to the heart of all this, and you can help. You have helped already.” He became brisk. “Now, get on out of here. I’ll give you five minutes to get away, then I’ll summon the troops. And don’t forget, I’m always accessible, night or day.”
With one last look at the sagging corpse, Lois stumbled her way back to the car, and drove carefully out of the woods and on to the road. But instead of continuing to see her mother, she turned back towards Long Farnden. She needed to be by her telephone, ready to take the inevitable call. She didn’t know whether it would be Bridie or Hazel, but they would be needing her, nothing surer than that. After all, however much you hate your father – or husband – it’ll be a great shock to hear he has been found dead, tied to a tree, with a knife stuck into his heart.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Twenty
Hazel and Bridie Reading sat in Lois’s kitchen, mugs of tea in front of them, and the talking had finally stopped. Yesterday had been a nightmare for them, and for Lois, too. But now the police had gone for the moment, and the two Readings had come over to Long Farnden to be with the person they trusted most.
Lois had felt this keenly, since she was not able to be straight with them. She could not tell them she had been in the woods, or that she had found Dick’s body. She had to keep secret that she knew the inspector in charge, and that she was more than interested in that other death. As she sat quietly at the table, waiting until they wanted to talk some more, she reflected that both victims had been men variously disliked. The major had had no real friends in Waltonby, and she knew that both Hazel and Gary were contemptuous whenever his name was mentioned. She knew that Dick Reading was tolerated at work only because he was very good at it. He had no friends there, and none in the village. News of unhappy marriages is soon common knowledge, and the whole of Waltonby knew of Bridie Reading’s tribulations. Not that anybody but Lois had tried to help. Still, Lois was the first to admit that Bridie was her own worst enemy. She would do nothing about Dick’s violence, refused to talk about it to anyone but Lois, and repeatedly made her promise not to pass it on, saying she would be the one to suffer.
Lois’s thoughts wandered on. Dick Reading had often cursed the major, threatening all kinds of retribution if any kind of approach should be made to his own daughter. Had some unknown person revenged the major? She shook her head, and Hazel looked at her curiously. “It’s really nice of you to ask us over,” she said. “But I expect you’ll be wanting to get on. It’s just that…” She dried up, all her customary bravado gone.
Bridie helped her out. “We just needed to tell you, Lois, that if we’re not wanted to help the police, we’d like to carry on working.”
“Oh, Bridie, I don’t expect that!” said Lois at once. “For goodness sake, there’ll be loads of things to do, and you’ll both still be in shock. No, no…we’ll manage somehow.”
“You can’t,” said Hazel baldly. “Not at this early stage in New Brooms. Not enough staff, and you can’t get replacements in time. No, Mrs M, we’ll keep going, if you don’t mind. It’ll be a help. Me and Mum have decided, if it’s OK with you.”
Lois looked at their pale faces and wondered what else she could do. She had lost count of the number of times she’d wished Dick Reading was out of the way for good, times when Bridie’s face had been purple with bruises, and Hazel a frightened little girl hiding in her room. But not dead. She’d never wished him dead, though she knew she could not mourn for him. Somebody had made sure he was dead, though, and Lois knew that whatever Derek said, she had to do all she could to help clear up the mess. Whoever had murdered Dick Reading had done his wife and daughter no favours.
♦
In a grubby bedroom on the Churchill Estate in Tresham, Joanne Murphy lay stretched out on her bed, blowing smoke rings up to the ceiling. Her eyes were half-closed and a jangle of angry music came from a radio beside her. She did not hear the footsteps coming along the landing, and sat up with a start as the bedroom door opened.
“Tony?” A burly man stood smiling at her. “Fancy a Chinese?” he said. “Sort of celebration, you could say?”
“Later, maybe,” said Joanne, stubbing out her cigarette. “Now come ‘ere, you great idiot, and let’s ‘ave a celebration right away.”
It was some time later that Joanne and Tony perfunctorily tidied the bedroom, checked that the kid was at her grandmother’s as usual, and took the big black car with darkened windows into town. “First stop the theatre?” said Tony.
Joanne looked at him. An unlikely member of a theatre audience, she thought. Huge shoulders, no neck and a shiny shaved head sitting squatly on his body. Pea-sized brain, she thought to herself. But this didn’t matter. She had enough brains, and he was the brawn. She giggled, thinking how satisfactorily brawny he was, and how safe she felt with him around.
They pulled up outside the little theatre, and Joanne got out. “You wait here,” she said, “shan’t be long.” They were parked on yellow lines, but this did not bother Tony. He had mates who could fix most things, including traffic wardens. It was early evening, and the street was beginning to come alive. It had been respectable once, full of workers from the shoe factories, families who had moved from slums into neat terraces of houses that seemed to them like palaces. Then it had gone through a phase of dereliction and abandonment, and now once more there was new paint, fresh curtains and pots of flowers. Ethnic minorities had taken over, and were proud of it. But here and there were the remnants of the bad old days. Peeling paint, filthy windows, and doors that were never opened more than a few inches. Tony’s mates lived in these houses, a network of low life that came and went in the shadows, dealing and dodging and betraying one another without compunction.
Twenty minutes went by, and Tony began to get restive. Where the hell was she? She’d told him to stay put, but he was bored. How had he got into this…taking orders from a bloody woman? Still, that was how it went. She took her orders from somewhere, he had no idea where, and he passed on whatever was necessary, making a profit like they all did. And she was a good lay, no doubt about that!
Joanne emerged from the alleyway at the side of the theatre and got in the car. “He’s not there,” she said. “Stupid little runt! Anyway, I’ve left word with the so-called stage manager, and he’ll pass it on. Come on, Tony, let’s get out of here and get some food. I’m starving a
fter all that exercise, you evil brute!” She leaned across and kissed him full on the mouth while he flailed around, taken by surprise.
“Christ, Joanne,” he said, “how about getting a takeaway and goin’ back to my place?”
“Suits me,” she said, and leaning back in her seat, she licked her lips like a snake in the sun.
♦
Gary Needham was in a panic. He knew he should have been at the theatre to meet Joanne, but he’d finished work late. For the first time, his client housewife had claimed he’d not finished the job properly and threatened to ring Lois Meade. And now he had to see Hazel Reading. The network had faithfully reported Dick’s death, and Gary was scared. He needed to talk to Hazel urgently, find out what she knew – what anyone knew. Although he’d tried her home number dozens of times and not found her, he was reluctant to try her mobile. She could be anywhere, and, what is more important, with anyone. No, he would have to go over to Waltonby and try to track her down. It was more important than risking the wrath of that disgusting Joanne Murphy.
His old car chugged along like a reluctant carthorse, and by the time he reached Waltonby his panic had subsided. Nevertheless, he was extremely relieved to see lights at Hazel’s windows. Chances were that she was in, keeping her mother company. Gary knew all about Bridie and Dick, and about Hazel, too. He’d quite fancied her once, and still respected her. When she’d just arrived in the first class at school, he was about to leave. But the word had quickly got around that one of the new girls was very promising. By the time Hazel was thirteen, she had a string of spotty admirers, all of whom got the bum’s rush. This mass rejection naturally stimulated burgeoning male instincts for conquest, and for the rest of her school career Hazel had an enviable time. When Gary came back from his various attempts at stardom, he saw her again, flashing around Tresham on her bike, and wondered if he should have a go. But she wouldn’t have looked at him twice, he was sure. Their paths had crossed steadily since then, both of them involved with Tresham undesirables. Then, when he met her at New Brooms, he learned more about her domestic situation and pitied her. He ran up the path to ring the doorbell, hoping against hope that she would answer the door.
