by Ann Purser
“On the National Health?” said Gran. “That’s a laugh. Anyway, he’s not going to want you lot arguing the toss, so just you be good and quiet and don’t stay too long.”
Josie had said very little about the accident, and Lois knew that she was more shocked than the boys. Derek tried very hard not to have a favourite, but his girl was special, and she’d always been close to him. She was ready on time, and Lois noticed she had no make-up and her hair was brushed smooth and flat. Her attempt to be a simple, unspoiled teenager for her dad was touching, and Lois took her hand and squeezed it. “He’ll be so pleased to see you,” she said. “Come on, love, help me get the boys into the car without a fight for the front seat.”
Jamie was missing, nowhere to be found. Gran called all round the house, and finally Lois walked down to the bottom of the garden, where she found him picking all Derek’s prize flowers, just in bud and lovingly cared for in time for Long Farnden show.
“Got to take him some flowers,” Jamie said.
Lois took a deep breath. She nodded. “Right you are, Jamie,” she said. “Very nice thought. Now go and get in the car and we’ll be off.” She hoped Derek would see the massacre with the same understanding.
She need not have worried. Derek was so overjoyed to have the kids around him that he took the bunch from Jamie, winked at Lois, and said, “Great flowers, James, thanks a lot.” He was looking nearly like his old self, except for a few plasters and a florid black eye. But after half an hour, Lois saw that he was tired, and rounded up the family to leave.
“Hello! We meet again,” said a voice, and there was the vicar, the Reverend Rogers, peering in at the door and smiling broadly. “Just visiting another patient and thought I’d look in. How are we, Mr Meade? Making good progress?”
The look of alarm on Derek’s face made Lois smile, and she said that yes, he was doing very well, but thought they’d all tired him out, and were just leaving. “I’ll walk with you, my dear,” said the vicar. “Just leaving myself. Now, you be a good chap and look after yourself,” he added, “and God be with you.”
Derek gulped, blew kisses at the kids and Lois, and said, “Thanks, Vicar. See you tomorrow, Lois? Might have some news about coming home.”
The Meades and the Reverend Rogers walked down the corridors and out into the car park, the kids all talking at once with the release of tension, and Lois trying to keep them in order. Finally they were all in the car, and the vicar turned to Lois. “I enjoyed our chat in the church. Any time you feel the need to talk, I’m always available at the vicarage,” he said, and then added, “and by the way, do you remember I said how lucky I was to have Mr Betts? Well, blow me down if he hasn’t tendered his resignation! Wants to leave as soon as he can, without the proper notice. That’s put us in a pickle, I’m afraid, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to manage! Well, now, off you go, and God bless you all.”
So there’s a turn up, thought Lois as she drove off. Betts is clearing out. The kids argued all the way home, but she scarcely heard them. Why was he in such a hurry? As soon as they arrived home, she settled Jamie with a snack in front of the television and went into her office. Breaking her own resolution, she lifted the telephone and dialled Cowgill’s number.
♦
It was cool and damp as usual in the wood, and Lois felt a shiver of unease as she approached the meeting place. Last time there had been a nasty surprise. Cowgill had made little of her suggestion that maybe they should find somewhere else. “After all,” she’d said, “at least one person knows where we meet.”
“Never heard of the criminal returning to the scene of the crime?” he’d replied airily. “We might nab him when he least expects it.”
Now she looked apprehensively at Dick Reading’s tree, but there were no replacements. Thank God for that. I can do without having to cut down Mr Betts from a makeshift gibbet, she thought. Though perhaps he is the hangman…But a village schoolmaster, churchwarden and good family man? Probably not…
“Morning, Lois,” said Hunter Cowgill. “Sorry I’m late. Seen anybody?” She glared at him, and he added hastily, “How’s Derek doing?” She gave him a quick report, and he nodded approvingly. “We’ve had no luck tracing the car,” he said. “But we’ll get them, never fear. Murphy and – what d’you call him? – the Gorilla have also disappeared, but we expected that. They won’t get far. Now, what’ve you got for me?”
“More than you’ve got for me, from the sound of it,” said Lois tartly. She told him about her visit to the pub, and the conversation with Betty Betts. “It seems our Prue got herself in the club, and tried to get rid of it. Ended up in hospital.”
“Is that so?” said Cowgill crossly. “That Betts told us she’d overdosed. Said they wanted to keep it quiet.”
“Didn’t you check with the hospital?” said Lois, surprised at this lapse.
Cowgill shook his head. “Bad, that,” he said. “I should know better,” he added, and rubbed his hands across his eyes. For the first time, Lois noticed how tired he looked.
“That’s not all,” she said. “The old vicar at Waltonby is one of my clients. He found me lurking in Dalling church…and he was on about how helpful Mr Betts was, him bein’ a churchwarden and that. Then I saw him again in the hospital, and he blurted out that Betts had resigned and was off as soon as poss.” She paused, waiting for his reaction.
He said nothing for a few seconds, and then surprised her. “Why were you lurking in the church, Lois?” he said. She stared at him. His face was without expression, his eyes very cold. For God’s sake, surely he didn’t think she was mixed up in it?
“Well,” she said furiously, “I’d just nipped in to see where I could stash a load of drugs, and maybe a corpse or two.” She turned away from him and began to walk back along the track.
“Lois!” She took no notice and continued to walk. “Lois! Come back here, or I’ll arrest you!” She heard him laughing then, and slowed down. He caught up with her, took her arm and said, “Sorry, sorry…mind on something else. Come on, Lois, what did you find?”
“Who said I found anything?” she snapped.
“I can tell,” he said. She told him about the torn-off corner of a ten-pound note, and he nodded. “All fits,” he said. “They handle very large amounts of cash before moving it on. You’ve done well, Lois,” he added. “You can see it coming together, I reckon. Not too much farther to go. Keep at it, and we’ll have a very useful result…quite soon.”
After that, there was no more to say, and they left the wood separately as usual. Lois drove home, wondering what kind of a home life was possible for a man like Cowgill.
♦
It had been a morning for rushing about, first working with Hazel at the hall, then meeting Cowgill, and now getting back in time for the weekly meeting. As she ran into the kitchen, her mother – happy to be back from Tresham – said that the rest were in the office, waiting. “Here,” she said, handing her a mug of coffee, “I’ve given the others theirs. You’ll have to slow down a bit, Lois,” she added, “else you’ll be the next one in the General.”
“Don’t nag, Mum,” said Lois ungratefully, and went to the join the team. As she walked in, conversation ceased. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Morning all. Shall we make a start?”
There were no major problems, and Lois noticed Gary sat very quietly for once, not making his usual witty comments as the girls gave their reports. He looked pale, and kept his head down, not looking at Hazel at all. She, on the other hand, looked at him frequently. Worried about him? And if so, why? Lois tried to concentrate.
Bridie was saying something about the vicar. “He’s quite worried, actually,” she said. “I hope you don’t think I’m gossiping, Lois, but he does follow me about and natter on. Seems the schoolmaster has put him in a fix, handing in his notice. Nobody seems to know in the village, so I’ve kept it to myself, like you said, Lois. I told him, whatever we hear at work don’t go no further, I said. He looked pleased. I don’t
think he should’ve told me, actually.”
Sheila Stratford looked annoyed. “Mrs Betts hasn’t said anything to me,” she said. “She must know I wouldn’t pass it on.”
“No, well,” said Lois, “we must all remember that. Had you heard, Hazel? From Prue, perhaps?”
Hazel coloured, and muttered something that Lois could not hear. She asked her to repeat it. “No…that is, Prue did say something about them not being in a boring little village for ever…something like that.”
“Right,” said Lois. “Now, if we’re all done, I’m starving. Any questions, anyone?” There were none, and Sheila rushed off, saying her husband would be waiting for his dinner. Gary sloped off finally, leaving Hazel and Lois together. Hazel started for the door, and Lois said, “Hazel, can you spare another couple of minutes? Just a word or two, if you don’t mind.”
Hazel’s expression was mutinous. “Got to get going,” she said.
“Sit down,” said Lois firmly. “This won’t take a minute. Now then,” she began, as Hazel reluctantly sat on the edge of a chair, “I want a straight answer from you. Did you know that Prue Betts was pregnant?” A brief nod from Hazel. “And did you organize that abortion?”
“Christ, no!” said Hazel loudly. “What the hell d’you think I am? I tried to get her to tell her parents, but she went off on her own and did that stupid thing.”
“In that case,” said Lois relentlessly, “who did fix it for her?” She waited, but Hazel did not answer. “Was it Gary?” Lois said finally.
Hazel shook her head. “Well, not directly,” she said slowly. “But he knew somebody.”
“And that somebody was?” No answer. “Was it Joanne Murphy?” said Lois.
Hazel had never seen Mrs M like this before, and she wriggled on the chair, as if to get away from that icy glare. But there was no escape, and she muttered that yes, it had been her and her lousy friends.
Lois walked to the door and opened it. “You can go,” she said, and Hazel left in silence. Lois lifted the telephone and dialled Gary’s number. “Yes,” she said, “it’s Mrs Meade. I know Gary is not home yet, but when he comes in, please tell him to ring me…straight away. And yes, it’s urgent,” she added, and slammed down the receiver.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Thirty-Five
It was no more than half an hour later that Gary returned the call. “You wanted me, Mrs M? Mum said it was urgent…hope there’s nothing wrong.”
“So do I,” said Lois. “I need to talk to you, Gary. Can you come over as soon as possible?”
“Um, like tomorrow? After surgery?”
“No, like this afternoon. Let’s say half past three. And don’t be late.”
“Well, I was going…”
“Half past three, Gary. Goodbye for now.”
Lois put down the phone and walked through to the kitchen, where her mother was making a chocolate cake, her speciality. Lois sat down at the table and sighed deeply. Her mother slid the cake tin into the oven and turned around to look at Lois.
“What’s up? No bad news from the hospital, I hope?” She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down on the opposite side of the table.
“No, no, it’s nothing. Just feeling a bit tired, that’s all. I’ve got Gary coming back soon for a talk, and then I must get in to see Derek. There might be good news about him coming home.”
“Sooner the better, if you ask me,” said Gran. “You need him here at home.”
“He won’t be doing anything at all for a while, Mum!” said Lois, bridling.
“No, but he’ll be here, for you to talk to and to give you advice. You won’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. I’ve no experience of running a business.”
Lois looked at her mother’s kindly face and felt terrible. “Mum, don’t be silly,” she said. “Of course I trust you. And I wouldn’t have been able to manage without you here, helping with the kids and the cooking, and generally bein’ indispensable! But, yes, I do miss Derek. He keeps me straight. You never know how much you rely on a person until they’re not around, do you?”
“True,” said her mother, and Lois could have kicked herself. Her parents had been inseparable, and she knew how much her dad was missed. “Anyway,” Gran continued, “if you’ve got that lad coming back, you’d better have something to eat right now. I’ll make you a sandwich…chicken or cheese?”
“Cheese please, with pickle. I’ll be in the office. Got to get some papers together. And thanks, Mum. Thanks a lot.”
♦
Gary was on time, and looking apprehensive. He took a mug of coffee from Gran, and Lois noticed that his hand was shaking. The afternoon sun streamed through the window and fell full on to Gary’s face. He was pale, as usual, but Lois noticed new dark shadows under his eyes. Was he using something? She hoped the little fool knew better, but he kept the wrong company, she was sure of that. If only she’d listened to Derek, she wouldn’t be faced with this problem character sitting in front of her right now. Still, there he was, and she was going to get some information from him…or else.
“You’re in trouble, aren’t you, Gary,” she said baldly. Shock tactics might work. She knew from past experience that polite handling was useless.
He started, and looked straight at her for the first time for weeks. “What on earth do you mean, Mrs M?” he stuttered.
“Exactly what I said. You are in trouble, and I know some of it. But I need to know more, and you’re going to tell me.”
“But I really don’t – ”
“Shut up, and listen to me. I know you’re up to something in that Tresham theatre, and it involves an evil woman named Joanne Murphy…” She noted his choking fit with satisfaction. First dart right on target. “Drink your coffee,” she said coldly. “Now, where did I get to? Ah yes, an evil woman named Joanne Murphy, and her unsavoury minder whose name I don’t know. That’s one thing you can tell me. No, don’t say anything yet. I know you are friendly – no, perhaps familiar would be better – with Ms Murphy, because you’ve been seen talking to her. You can tell me where she is now, and what has happened to that car that nearly did for my Derek. No, not yet…I haven’t finished. The next thing you can tell me is who fixed Prue Betts’s abortion and nearly killed her.” She paused then, and when he said nothing, she added, “There’s been far too much killing, hasn’t there, Gary? Or nearly killing, in the case of my Derek and silly little Prue.”
The silence lengthened, and became a pressure that Gary could not bear. He opened his mouth, coughed, and then said, “All right. There’s not much I can tell you that you don’t know already. Yes, I met Joanne Murphy at the theatre. She was cleaning and her minder, as you rightly call him, got a caretaking job there. When Prue discovered she was pregnant, Joanne Murphy heard about it somehow and offered to help. Help! That was a joke…except that it wasn’t.”
“How did you know Prue Betts?” said Lois.
“The club scene in Tresham. I’ve hung around there, and she was one of those young kids whose parents should lock ‘em up. Crazy for anything male, and swallowed anything offered. She looked on me as a father figure, I suppose.”
“Don’t make me laugh!” said Lois loudly. “Father figure? A little squirt like you?”
“No need to be offensive, Mrs M,” said Gary feebly. “Well, anyway, it was a disaster, as you probably know.”
“And the other questions…where is Joanne Murphy now, and where is that car?”
Gary shook his head. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “I’d tell you if I knew, what with your Derek’s accident…but I really don’t know. Could be they’ve vamoosed, but I’ve no idea where.”
“And the car?” said Lois.
Gary shrugged. “Easy enough to make it vanish. That minder of hers – his name’s Tony, by the way – is an expert, I believe.”
Lois sat back in her chair and looked down at her hands. He was lying, of course. He knew far more than he had told her, and she had to find a way of making him
tell. What did she really need to know most of all? Who killed the major and Dick Reading, and why. That was the nub of it. She began again.
“Gary, like I said, I know you’re in trouble. For some God knows what reason, I’d like to help you. But I can’t do that unless you’re honest with me. You and Hazel have some kind of relationship, I know that. Hazel is the daughter of my best friend, and I don’t want to see her out cold on a tomb in Dalling church. Or you, come to that.”
“Or tied to a tree, with an apple on my head,” said Gary slowly.
Oh my God, thought Lois. He has all the answers. Shall I just turn him over to Cowgill and wash my hands of him? No, she couldn’t do that, though she would hate to have to defend her decision to Derek.
“So what do I need to know to stop that happening?” she said.
“You, Mrs M?” said Gary desperately. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s all grinding on like some giant steamroller. I reckon I might be next in its path…” At that, he began to tremble, and stood up, looking wildly round him. “Sorry…” he said, and then his knees buckled and he fell quite neatly to the floor.
∨ Terror on Tuesday ∧
Thirty-Six
Between them, Lois and Gran brought Gary round and got him stretched out on the sofa in the sitting room. Gran fussed around with cups of sweet tea and cushions, and Lois sat on a chair and looked at Gary closely. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a doctor?” she said. “Have you done this before?”
Gary nodded. “Ever since I was a kid,” he said, but Lois suspected he was lying. She would give him another ten minutes, leave him by himself, and then make the decision. “It’s something to do with circulation,” Gary added casually. He made a brave attempt at a smile. “Sorry, Mrs M,” he said. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be fine.”
“But not fine enough to drive home,” said Lois firmly. “I’m going in to see Derek, and I’ll give you a lift. You can leave your car here, and we’ll arrange something for tomorrow. Sheila can pick you up on the way to the surgery, if you’re OK, and then drop you off here to collect your car after work.”
