by Ann Purser
“Yep, the same,” said Betty, smiling. “He’s my brother, but he don’t like people knowing it, me being the landlady at the pub. He was the clever one, but I’m nicer!” She laughed now, slapping the table in delight. “He went to college and I went out to work. Married that stuck-up cow, and left his family behind. Mind you,” she chatted on, “when his precious Prue wanted to work behind the bar, he’d never’ve allowed it if I hadn’t been here to keep an eye on her. Or so he thought…but you can’t have eyes everywhere when you’ve got a pubful on a Saturday night!” She stopped then.
Perhaps because she’d said too much? wondered Lois. The revelation that Betty was Mr Betts’s sister had come as quite a shock, and for a moment had driven other concerns from her head. Then she remembered.
“Now, about Gary,” she said. “Have there been any more problems? I did have a sharp word with him, and he assured me it had been a temporary thing.”
“Nope, no more trouble,” said Betty. “I said to Geoff at the time, I said that lad’s got something on his mind, something bothering him. Of course, Geoff turned round and said never mind about that…he’s here to do a job, and I’m paying out good money. I expect the job to be done, and not hot taps left on wasting electricity. You know what men are,” she added confidingly. “No, Mrs Meade, Gary’s fine now. A good worker, really, and keeps himself to himself. Never wants to stop for a chat. So you needn’t worry about that one.” She reached forward and patted Lois’s hand where it rested on the table. “And what about that husband of yours? Is he on the mend?”
Lois told her the latest, and then felt quite easy about bringing up the subject of the accident itself. “The ambulance man said you’d seen it happen?” she said.
“Yes, I did.” All the smiles disappeared from Betty’s round face. “The buggers drove off, you know. Terrible screech of tyres and dust blowing up everywhere, and they were gone. I couldn’t believe it. It was me that called emergency on my mobile. Thank God I’d got it with me…and it worked for once. Then I stayed with Derek until the ambulance came. It was there in minutes – though it seemed like hours, I don’t mind telling you. The police asked me some questions, and then I went back home. I’d been going on to see a friend, but I hadn’t the heart. Geoff was good, though. Got me going again, in time for working behind the bar later on! Show must go on, he said.”
“We owe you, then, Betty,” said Lois simply. “If you hadn’t been there, God knows what…” She couldn’t finish, and they both sat without saying anything for a minute.
“Betty?” Lois spoke first. “Did you see anything special about that car? What did it look like…? The police haven’t told me much at all. I really want to know who could do that wicked thing.” She said nothing about her suspicions, of course. If she just played the concerned wifie – which she was – Betty might be moved to remember something.
“It was black, with them smoky windows. I’d stopped at the crossroads, like always. I don’t trust cars, and they mostly don’t give cyclists a chance. So I had stopped. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard it coming, just as Derek started to drive off. He’d stopped, too, but I suppose he couldn’t see nothing either and got going. Me being on a bike, I could hear more, I reckon. Anyway, this great thing comes out of nowhere, at speed. It drove straight at Derek’s van and then swerved at the last minute, hitting the side of the van so hard that it tipped right on to its side.”
“Didn’t the car stop at all?” said Lois.
“For a couple of seconds,” Betty said. “Oh, yes, and the window on the passenger side went down a little bit, and then up again fast. I just got a glimpse of a woman’s face. Yeah, I’m sure it was a woman. I’ve only just remembered that. Suppose I was in shock, too…Geoff said I was.”
“And the woman?” said Lois, her heart beating fast.
“Could hardly see her…” Betty frowned, and covered her eyes with her hand. Lois held her breath. Betty looked up and nodded. “I did just see a bit of blonde hair,” she said slowly, “sort of shiny…but no, that’s all I can remember. Sorry, dear…”
“No, don’t be sorry,” said Lois. She was thinking that it was just like stupid Joanne Murphy to look out of the window. Probably panicked, thinking they might have killed Derek. They wouldn’t want to do that, the bloody cowards! Just hurt him enough to scare me off. She smiled at Betty. “That’s a great help,” she said. “I get around quite a lot in my job, and you never know who I might see.” It was time to let it go now, change the subject. “I tell you what,” she said. “When Derek’s home again, we’ll come over and he can thank you himself.”
Betty nodded. “You do that, dear,” she said. “We got fond of him when he was doing the rewiring. As nice a chap as you could want, Geoff said. And he did a good job. Nothing’s blown up yet!”
And now back to Mr Betts, thought Lois, finding on the spur of the moment a good reason to bring up the subject again. “I must go now, Betty,” she said, “and look in on the Betts’s. I expect you know Sheila Stratford’s started working for them? Seems they’d got in a bit of a muddle with cleaning. I just want to check all’s well there.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine…for a while,” said Betty wisely. “Maybe for a good while, since they had that blow up with Mrs Whatsit. You’d think that their Prue would help out a bit, wouldn’t you? But not madam, oh no. Too posh by half to sully her lily-white hands. She wasn’t much good to me. More good to the young farmers, as it turned out!” This time she put a hand over her mouth, as if to stem the flow.
“Why? What happened with the young farmers?” said Lois innocently.
“Well, our Prue was begging for it, Geoff said. You couldn’t blame the chap…nice lad, one of a big family of lads. Working hard all day and coming in here for a couple of pints and a bit o’ fun. Took a fancy to Miss Prue, and she was only too willing.” She got up and walked towards the door. “I shouldn’t say any more, Mrs Meade,” she added. “Family business, really. All I can say is that it weren’t no bad case of flu that took her into hospital that time. No, she’d taken matters into her own hands in some back street in Tresham, and it went wrong. Landed up nearly losing her life as well as the…well, you know…”
Lois nodded sympathetically. “It’s often these kids with over-careful mums and dads who get into the worst trouble,” she said. She followed Betty into the bar, waved goodbye to the dozing old man in the corner, and went out into the village street. So that was it. Prue had had a bun in the oven and tried to get rid of it. And what had Daddy to say about that? And what repercussions had there been? She hardly dared to imagine, but reflected that Hazel must know. She’d have known about it without a doubt, and yet had said nothing. Why?
The schoolhouse was quiet, and there was no reply when Lois knocked. Next door the kids were out to play, and the noise was deafening. She saw a woman out on playground duty, mug of coffee in hand. She didn’t know her, and decided that she’d leave her visit to Mrs Betts until another day. There was quite enough to think about after Betty’s revelations. A woman with bright blonde hair – almost certainly Joanne Murphy – and then the whole Betts thing. Lois needed to mull it over, and decided to drive over to Dalling on the way home. The church would perhaps be open, and she could sit in one of the pews in peace and quiet. It was unlikely she’d run into the Gorilla again. He and Ms Murphy were probably in Spain by now.
She got into her car and drove slowly back down the street, unaware that Mr Betts, standing at the schoolroom window, was watching her intently as she went.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Thirty-Three
Lois sat in her parked car and looked around her, attempting to clear her mind. She had too many thoughts whizzing around, confused and repetitious. Maybe she would concentrate on what she saw, and then she could describe it to Derek and cheer him up. It was certainly a beautiful day, a day when surely nothing bad could happen in the heart of the country, here in the park with sheep munching and ducks cackling from the lake. T
here was the church sitting on its mound with a dry moat full of daisies. The sky was blue…
It was no good. It was a beautiful day, but grim reality would not go away. Lois now knew a number of things which she should communicate to Hunter Cowgill. These new facts and suspicions were what she had come to sort out, and she opened the car door and stepped out into a pile of sheep droppings. That was more like it, more like the real world. She should beware of small, peaceful-looking churches.
She walked up and tried the door. It swung open, and she was overwhelmed by the musty, damp stone smell. She had not been prepared for such a forcible reminder of her last visit. Standing at the top of the short flight of steps leading down into the interior, she looked round carefully, her eyes adjusting to the dim light after the bright sunshine of the park. There was no one there. “Hello!” called Lois, just to be sure, though if the Gorilla was hiding, he’d hardly be likely to pop up and say “Hi, Lois.”
She walked down the steps and crossed the stone floor to the tomb where she had first seen him lurking. How had they managed to get the heavy stone top off, and what had they hidden inside it? Supplies of drugs? Weapons of violence? Money? Somehow she knew it was the last. Drugs were guarded closely, and, as far as she knew, Joanne Murphy had an army of only one, and he was the Gorilla who kept his knife about his person. She put her hand on the top of the tomb. It was clever, she had to give them that. Nobody would dream of looking in an old tomb. She wondered if Cowgill had investigated it. She could not remember whether she had told him that part of it…She realized now that she had not been all that coherent after the attack on her.
The stone was warming up under her hand. In fact, it had not felt cold when she first touched it…It was in a particularly gloomy corner, and she peered at it more closely. Then she scratched it with her fingernail. Grey paint came off on her hand, leaving a white scar. For God’s sake, the props department again! Whoever had made the knight’s armour had done an equally good job with a stone slab.
She put both hands under the rim and heaved. The slab moved at once. It was very light in weight, and she had no trouble sliding it off and on to the floor, leaning it up against one end of the tomb. She looked around, and saw deep in shadow in the corner, where only spiders and mice would venture, the real stone slab propped up against the wall. How had they managed it without anyone seeing? They must have a key to the church…or be in cahoots with someone who had…
The tomb was empty, of course. Joanne and the Gorilla would have moved the contents as soon as the police had gone, after the major had been found. Lois stared down into the darkness. Something small and whitish caught her eye and she leaned over, reaching down to pick it up. A tiny piece of paper, but it was too dark to see anything written on it. She replaced the tomb cover without difficulty, and walked over to a pew where a ray of sunlight touched the dark oak. It was very quiet, but full of a presence of something. It was very strong, and Lois shivered. She supposed it must be all those generations of prayers, stored somehow in the old stone of the church. The presence of God, some would say. After all, it was supposed to be His house, wasn’t it? She peered without much hope at the scrap of paper. It was the corner of something. At first she could see nothing but then, holding it up into the sunlight, realized there was a very faint pattern of dots and lines and, yes, a tiny circle with the letter ‘C’, and a couple of words: ‘THE GOV’.
Lois got out her purse. She had been right in thinking the tomb was a hiding place for money. The scrap of paper was the left-hand bottom corner of a very worn ten-pound note. She put it carefully in the purse and snapped it shut. So, Joanne and the Gorilla stashed their piles of cash away in the tomb, no doubt returning every so often to collect and move on large amounts. But who did they move it on to? Cowgill knew all about the local small dealers, including Joanne Murphy. He had told her that much. He was after bigger fry, which was why Murphy was still out on a long leash. Lois began to think seriously. It could have been the major, though pathetic, vain men like him never seemed to have the bottle to do anything really big. Dick Reading? Lois silently shook her head. Horrible as he had been, and violent, she could not imagine him masterminding anything. He was a creature of impulse, quick to draw attention to himself with an outburst of temper. It hadn’t mattered where the family had been, out for the day on an excursion bus or swimming at Tresham pool, if Hazel or Bridie had annoyed him, even slightly, they would have been sure of a noisy explosion.
No, a mastermind working very much on the wrong side of the law would surely keep his head down. He was very likely operating from somewhere else, miles from Tresham. On the other hand, perhaps he wasn’t? Perhaps he was the most obvious suspect, maybe responsible for the murders, too, even if he didn’t necessarily carry them out himself. A double bluff? Well, it could be anybody…except Derek. Soon be time to go and see him. At least she had one thing clear in her mind. She would not tell him who’d very likely nearly done for him in the accident. It wouldn’t help to have a vengeful Derek taking on something that might be more dangerous than either of them knew. But she had to carry on. If she gave up, told Cowgill she’d have nothing more to do with it, Joanne Murphy wouldn’t know that. So Lois would still be on the hit list, whatever she did now. And it’d be a lot more useful to help clear it all up than to leave the cops to plod on. Suddenly she felt very alone. On an impulse, she shut her eyes and put her hands together, just like she had as a Mixed Infant years ago. Dear God, she said in her head, please help Derek get better soon. Please.
A pigeon cooed rhythmically outside. It was so quiet. Lois’s eyes stayed shut. She saw Prue Betts laughing across the bar at a good-looking young farmer, and followed her as she left with him, out across the back yard of the pub and into a barn full of sweet-smelling hay. Oh yes, it was easy to imagine. Poor kid. And then the panic, and the desperate search for a solution. How did she land up in a backstreet abortion? Was that something else Joanne Murphy dealt in?
“Is that Mrs Meade?” Lois opened her eyes with a start, her heart thumping furiously. “Oh dear, I do hope I didn’t startle you.” The voice was familiar, and Lois struggled to her feet. It was the Reverend Christopher Rogers, and he was smiling at her.
“So sorry to disturb you,” he continued. “It is not often I encounter people at voluntary contemplation in this church. I am delighted to see you, my dear. Don’t hurry away, please.”
She smiled back at him. “It is so peaceful in here,” she said.
He nodded. “It’s certainly hard to think there’s a nasty old world out there,” he agreed. “May I join you?” he added, and slipped into the pew beside her, dropping to his knees in an attitude of prayer.
A minute passed, and Lois began to feel uncomfortable. Then the vicar sat back in the pew and sighed. “I heard about your husband,” he said, without beating about the bush. “I prayed for him, of course, and will continue to do so, my dear.”
“So did I,” said Lois, surprising herself, and then spoiled it by saying, “might as well. You never know.”
Christopher Rogers smiled. He liked this straightforward young woman, and attempted reassurance. “We none of us know, that’s true,” he said, “but some of us have faith, and that can be pretty powerful.” Then he slid out of the pew and stood looking at her. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he said. “I’d be pleased to visit Derek.”
Lois was not sure about that, and said he was still in intensive care and not really very awake, but promised to ring the vicar and let him know how things were progressing. “Oh, and by the way,” she added, “the church was open when I came in this morning. Is it always open?” She remembered that he had talked to her about keys, and thought he’d said that Mr Betts was one of the holders.
Christopher Rogers smiled happily. “I’m lucky,” he said. “I don’t have to come over every morning and evening. Our churchwarden, Mr Betts, is most obliging and does it for me. Of course, he’s home from school earlier than most people finish work! I
often think schoolteachers have an easy life, with short hours and long holidays, but I’m sure they wouldn’t agree with me.”
He looked like burbling on for a while, so Lois stood up and walked towards the door. “Must go,” she said. “I’m off to the hospital to visit Derek. Nice to see you, anyway, Vicar. And thanks,” she added, and walked up the stone steps and out into the sunshine.
♦
All thoughts of Mr Betts were forgotten when Lois walked into the hospital. She found Derek sitting up, still swathed in bandages, but smiling crookedly at her and without question being once more her Derek.
She had been warned by the nurse not to expect him to be too bright…his memory might be a bit unreliable for while. “Hi, gel,” he said in a gruffish voice. “Come and sit down and tell me what the hell’s been goin’ on. Can’t remember much about it…Sooner they catch those hit-and-run buggers the better. I didn’t see nothin’…they were prob’ly miles away by the time the cops got there.” Lois silently took his hand. He squeezed, and said, “Give us a kiss then,” and she was only too happy to oblige.
Then she sat down and gave him an abbreviated version of his accident. “Don’t let’s talk about it, anyway,” she said. “I’ve got some letters from the kids here for you. Can you read them, or shall I?”
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Thirty-Four
Lois had resolved that the weekend would be for the family. She agreed with her mother that it would be a good idea for her to go back to her own house for a couple of days, just to give it an airing and see to a few things. Derek had asked her to bring the children, and the nurse had said they could visit if they did not stay too long.
“Will he have bandages all round his face…just have holes for his eyes, like the invisible man?” said Jamie.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Douglas. “Mum said he’s much better. I expect he’ll be sitting in a chair with his clothes on and watching telly and having nice things to eat and drink.”
