The Measby Murder Enquiry

by Ann Purser

  “Nope,” answered Deirdre.

  “What, then?”

  “ ‘Onward Christian Soldiers,’ I’m afraid.”

  AFTER ALL THE jollity, everyone was invited to stay for lunch and Alwen said she would retire for a siesta to her room. Roy said he thought Ivy should do the same, but she said that was rubbish, and she could not have felt more wide awake. She wanted Gus and Deirdre, and Roy himself, of course, to come up to her room.

  “You haven’t had my present yet,” said Gus, when they were upstairs with small glasses of port—courtesy of Mrs. Spurling’s private store—and a large box of chocolates.

  He felt in his pocket, and drew out a small package. “Not much, I’m afraid, but I’ve been unable to get to the shops lately. I had this ready for you in the cottage, fortunately.”

  Ivy set down Tiddles, now fast asleep in a furry ball, on a cushion beside her, and unwrapped the parcel. “Oh, that’s really thoughtful, Gus!” she said, and peered at it closely.

  “Well, tell us what it is,” said Deirdre impatiently.

  “Here, have a look,” Ivy said and handed it over.

  “Nice little photo,” Roy said, as Deirdre passed it to him. “Where is it?”

  “Round Ringford,” said Ivy. “And that’s Victoria Villa, my home. And that’s me standing outside, with my dear old Tiddles. She used to do that. Wrap her tail round my leg, I mean. Goodness me, Gus, where on earth did you get that?”

  “Aha! I don’t run a detective agency for nothing, Miss Beasley. Anyway, glad you like it.”

  “I like it very much,” Ivy said. “And now perhaps you’d like to explain to us what’s been happening to you. We’ve been worried sick, and Deirdre here was going to empty the bank to get you back.”

  “Sorry,” Gus said. “I’m really sorry, but the only reason I’m here now is because, I suspect, the ransom was paid in some way, and I gave my word I’d not say anything more than that I was unavoidably delayed. Naturally, my word meant nothing to them, and they threatened in a good old-fashioned kidnappers’ way to wreak vengeance if I spilt the beans. Unfortunately, I think they meant it. And now, Ivy, I’m sure you’ll understand that I need to get back to the cottage. I called in briefly to pick up your present, and rescue Whippy from Miriam Blake. But both were out walking. Should be back by now, and I . . . well, you know. . . .”

  Deirdre said that they all understood, and would everybody like to come up to Tawny Wings for coffee tomorrow, and get back to normal business for Enquire Within, which could now go ahead with their leader at the helm.

  “Meaning?” said Ivy.

  “Gus, of course! Who else did you think I meant, Ivy?”

  AFTER GUS AND Deirdre had gone, Roy lingered on in Ivy’s room, and they chatted for a while, recalling magical moments in the day. Then silence fell, and Ivy looked at Roy. He was frowning, and he seemed to be fumbling again in his jacket pocket.

  “Are you all right?” Ivy said anxiously. Had all the excitement been too much for him? She put out her hand, and he took it quickly. Then, to her alarm, he kissed it.

  “Ivy,” he said breathlessly, “dear Ivy.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Ivy, and now her heart had begun to pound.

  “Never better,” Roy said. “There’s just one more thing I wanted to say on this day of days. May I say it, Ivy?”

  Ivy was silent for what seemed to Roy like hours, and then she gave a small cough and said, “Nobody’s stopping you.”

  This was such an unromantic answer, and so like his Ivy, that Roy chuckled. “I love you Ivy Beasley,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone like you, and I thank my lucky stars that you came to live here. You’ve changed my life, my dear, and I just want to know whether you could consider changing yours, just a little?”

  Ivy, back in charge of herself, said briskly, “Well, get on with it, Roy.”

  Now he produced the small box and opened it. A single and quite large diamond twinkled in the light. “I’m not up to going down on one knee, my dearest,” he said shyly, “but would you do me the great honour of marrying me?”

  This was said so gently and with such feeling that Ivy melted, for only the second time in her life. “Oh, Roy, my dear, dear Roy,” she said. “Before I give you my answer, can I just tell you something about what happened to me once? I would like you to hear it so that you’ll understand a bit more about me.”

  “I could listen to you all night, my love,” Roy said. “Please go ahead.”

  Ivy began hesitantly but soon got into her stride. “It was when I was in Round Ringford, and had a lodger named George. He was always pleasant and helpful, and I grew quite fond of him.”

  “I’m jealous already,” said Roy with a fond smile.

  “Yes, well, in due course he suggested we get married. Asked me one summer’s day when we’d gone on a picnic. I couldn’t believe it, Roy. All my life, ever since Mother died, I’d lived alone. Suddenly I could see a totally different future opening up. A man about the house, company on long winter evenings. Me with a husband!”

  She paused, and a shadow crossed her face.

  “So what happened, dearest?” Roy said in a whisper.

  “It was on our wedding day,” Ivy continued. “I was all dressed up, pale blue it was, and then he didn’t turn up. Just didn’t . . .” Her voice petered out, and the hand that was still holding Roy’s suddenly gripped hard.

  “So he did a runner?” Roy asked gently.

  Ivy nodded mutely, her lips clamped together to hold back tears.

  “He must have been out of his mind,” Roy said, quite fiercely now.

  They sat in a tense silence for a few minutes, and then Ivy took a huge breath and said that was the story, and she’d vowed never to trust a man again.

  “But my dearest Ivy,” Roy said lightly, “even supposing it was remotely likely, I don’t think I’d get far in my shopping buggy.” He looked at her closely, and when he saw the beginnings of a smile, sensed a cloud had lifted.

  “Then you’d better not even think of it,” Ivy said. “I’d catch you before you’d turned the corner!”

  “Is that a yes, then?”

  Again Ivy paused. “Um, well, if we could wait a while before we actually . . . you know . . .”

  “Until you make sure I am not limbering up for doing a runner? Of course, my love. You shall fix the date when you’re ready. So is that a yes?”

  Ivy beamed. “No, it’s a yes please!”

  Roy took her left hand and carefully placed the ring on her finger.

  “Oh, look, Roy! It’s a perfect fit!” Ivy turned her hand round and round, the light catching the fiery sparkle of the diamond. Then she kissed him shyly on the cheek, and for a while, all was sweetness and joy, until Roy said, “Ooops! Ivy, don’t look now, but Tiddles is . . . I think she’s . . . Oh dear, too late. Never mind, let’s hope Katya’s still on duty. We’ll ask her to clear up, and then maybe . . . ?”

  “Yes,” said Ivy firmly, “she shall be the first to know!”

  Thirty-four

  DEIRDRE LAY AWAKE in her large bed, and could not sleep. She had tried all the usual methods, counting sheep—useless—relaxing from the top of her head through every muscle of her body to her toes—equally useless. By the time she got to her toes, her neck muscles had tightened up again, and whichever way she turned she could not find a comfortable position. In the end, she got out of bed, made herself a cup of tea and returned to listen to the World Service on the radio.

  The usual mixture of warring African countries and political stories from far-off lands slowly relaxed her. This usually worked, especially with the sound so low that she could barely hear. She could then abandon the attempt at making sense of it and slowly drift into sleep.

  But tonight it did not work. She relaxed, certainly. But then the whole extraordinary day began to replay in her mind. Mrs. Spurling had really turned up trumps, hadn’t she? With a generous donation promised by Deirdre, Springfields had certainl
y given Ivy a birthday to remember. And Tiddles was the crowning moment, until, that is, the surprise appearance of Gus.

  Gus! Why did she bother with him, when she was pretty sure Theo Roussel would take her to the altar with alacrity? She was no fool, and was perfectly well aware that not only did he still fancy her, but he fancied her bank balance even more. But why would she want to do that? Acceptance into the charmed circle of the county aristocracy? She knew better than that. That lot would be brilliant at a cool politeness judged appropriate for a garage owner’s widow! No, no, stuff them and their cut-glass voices. As the good old saying went, she knew her place, and was happy with it.

  Marry for love, her mother had always said, and when Bert popped the question, her father had given his blessing and said that although love wouldn’t pay the bills, it went a long way towards making poverty bearable. Of course, in the end she and Bert had made money, lots of it, and poverty never came into it. And she had loved Bert with all her heart. But her heart had not ceased beating along with his, and now she was pretty sure she loved that stupid idiot, Gus Halfhide. And, if necessary, his skinny little dog, too.

  So, Gus it was, and she needed to know a great deal more than he was so far prepared to tell them. What did she already know? That he had been kidnapped and held against his will. A ransom had been demanded, and she had been prepared to pay it, but in a fugitive message he had said she was not to. Now he’d said he thought someone did pay it but claimed he had no idea who.

  And then there was Alwen Wilson Jones. There was the real mystery. If the woman had actually been able to influence his release, how on earth had she done it? Perhaps she had settled the ransom, as she had hinted. But why should she? There had been that brief aside to Alwen from Gus as he sat down beside her. What had he said that cleared the miserable expression from her face?

  “Oh, sod it!” Deirdre said aloud, as she heard the grandfather clock in the hall below strike three o’clock. She reached for her sleeping pills, not touched for many months, and took one with a slurp of water. “Sod them all,” she muttered, as sleep finally overtook her.

  “I LOVE THESE blustery days,” Roy said as he steered his buggy skilfully round the potholes in the pavement on the way up to Tawny Wings next morning. “Reminds me of my farming days, Ivy. It was a great time of the year, when the harvest was all in, the stock sleek from summer grazing and ready to be brought into shelter for the winter.”

  “What about all those summers when it rained and ruined the crops?” Ivy said, walking beside him and whacking encroaching nettles with her stick. “And when whole herds had to be slaughtered because of mad cow disease? I seem to remember there were plenty of disasters. Farmers’ wives used to come to Ringford Women’s Institute complaining that their husbands were even more gloomy than usual. Most farmers are gloomy. Have you noticed that, Roy?”

  “I wasn’t, Ivy. Nor was my Dad. But then, we weren’t really living on the edge, like a lot of farmers. Grandad had salted away plenty of reserves, and one bad harvest didn’t matter all that much to us. And Mum, she had inherited money of her own, bless her. Never stinted us for anything.”

  “Pity I didn’t meet you years ago,” said Ivy with a smile and an affectionate pat on his shoulder. “My Dad always said I should marry money. Sadly disappointed, he was.”

  They were turning into Tawny Wings when they were hailed from behind. “Hey! Wait for me!” It was Gus, and a sprightly Whippy by his side. “I swear you two get younger every day,” he said.

  “Must be love,” said Roy. “You should try it, Gus.”

  Gus looked at him and frowned. “Am I missing something?” he asked, seeing the grin on Roy’s face. And Ivy, too, was smiling broadly, and held out her left hand for inspection.

  “You two?” Gus asked, scarcely believing what he saw on Ivy’s ring finger. “You’ve been and gone and done it! So he’s popped the question, Ivy?”

  Ivy nodded, and said if anybody asked her, she would say that was obvious.

  DEIRDRE WAS WAITING for them, and had set out coffee in the drawing room, thinking that after yesterday’s festivities the old ones might not manage the stairs. But when she saw them coming up the drive, Ivy striding along with her stick, Roy doing a three point turn to park his vehicle and Gus standing smiling at them, Whippy at his side, she picked up the tray and took it up to the Enquire Within office.

  Gus sat in his usual chair and waited until the others were settled. Then he said that he knew he had to give them an explanation for his absence, but he hoped they would bear with him if there had to be gaps. “But first,” he said, “Ivy has much more interesting news for us. Go on, Ivy—or you, Roy!”

  Then Deirdre insisted on opening a bottle of champagne, and they were suitably mellow when the business of the meeting got going.

  “Why?” said Deirdre. “Why can’t you tell us the whole truth, Gus? After all, I think we three went through a nasty time, and you owe it to us.”

  Gus did not answer but looked down at his shoes, as if considering the matter. Ivy broke the silence.

  “Now wait a minute, Deirdre,” she said. “We know Gus was taken against his will and kept a prisoner for a while. We know money was demanded, and we don’t know whether it was paid. And now he has come back, all in one piece. That must have cost something, even if not money. Don’t you think we should leave him alone to get over his ordeal? He’ll tell us, all in good time. Isn’t that right, Gus?”

  He looked at her gratefully. “Absolutely right, Ivy. But I can give you a brief account of what happened. I walked away from my prison. I got out once, and they caught me before I could get away. But then the next thing that happened was that one of my captors appeared and gave me a warning. I think it was a real warning, not an empty one. I was to be freed, provided that I made no attempt to trace them, nor gave anyone information which might lead to their discovery.” He stopped and looked around at their solemn faces. There was no comment, and they waited for him to continue.

  “More importantly,” he carried on, “I was to make sure Enquire Within gave up all attempts to find out about demands made on Alwen Jones. For the sake of the safety of us all, I must keep my promise. If this does not satisfy the other members of Enquire Within, I shall be willing to resign and leave the decisions to you.”

  Max had actually put it more bluntly. “Forget it, forget the whole business, Halfhide. Stick to lost dogs and missing cats, or else you’ll regret it, all four of you.” He had gone on to say he personally wished he’d never set eyes on Gus, but the boss—whose name he did not reveal—set up the whole kidnap thing to find out if Enquire Within was onto them. To go to all that trouble, Gus had thought, Max and company must be involved in something big.

  But now there was a chorus of “No, no, don’t resign!” and Ivy suggested that with a tactful approach and Gus’s agreement, and bearing in mind Alwen had been mentioned and was obviously involved in something much more serious than they had thought, they should continue to keep her and her problems in mind. “And at the same time,” she added, not entirely convinced that there was any real danger to Enquire Within, “we can get on with the case of the old man in Measby and hear what Deirdre discovered on her visit there.”

  Gus sighed and said he, too, was reluctant to knuckle under to a blackmailer’s threats, but added that he thought Deirdre going on her own to Measby had been a bit rash, hadn’t it?

  “Of course not,” said Deirdre. “I was sick of waiting around with no word from you, and as it happened, I had a real stroke of luck.” She told him about the For Sale notice in the shop window, and how the shopkeeper introduced her to his boss, who was handling the sale. “She showed me round the actual cottage where the man died,” she said, and shivered at the remembrance. “She didn’t seem at all anxious to sell, fortunately. More keen to put me off.”

  “It was all a bit strange, Gus,” she continued. “This woman, Doris May Osborne, was clearly well-heeled. She had all the signs of wealth. Designer cl
othes, great haircut, expensive scent—same as mine, actually—and when we parted, she grudgingly said that she lived at Measby Manor, behind the trees of what looked like extensive parkland.”

  “She might have lured the squire into marriage. It does happen,” said Ivy, looking pointedly at Deirdre.

  “Maybe she’d been a kitchen maid and the lord of the manor seduced her?” Gus offered.

  “All right, all right,” said Deirdre. “That’s quite enough of that. But I think it is odd, anyway. Honestly, Gus, that cottage was a wreck, a stinking wreck. Wouldn’t you think that if it had belonged to the manor estate they’d have smartened it up a bit before putting it on the market?”

  “Was there any furniture left in there? Nothing to see as evidence of a brutal murder, I suppose?” Roy liked a gruesome story, and the idea of Deirdre confronted with the scene of the crime was promising.

  “More to the point,” said Gus seriously, “did she say anything about the old man’s death? Or didn’t you talk about it?”

  “I asked, but she didn’t say anything much more and never once mentioned the word murder. She didn’t seem to think it was very important. I tell you, Gus, it was really odd.”

  Roy had not had his question answered, and he persisted. “Was there any furniture, Deirdre? Any interesting clues?”

  Deirdre reached across for her handbag. She unzipped it, and brought out the foxed and crumbling gambling book. “Not much furniture,” she said, “only a few sticks. But I stole this. I don’t suppose it’s important.”

  Gus almost snatched it from her. “Oh, yes it is!” he said. “This is a very important find, Deirdre. I am ashamed to say I am no stranger to this particular book. It is an illustrated account of all the ways of cheating at gambling, ostensibly to open the eyes of those who are being cheated. Everything a serious gambler should know.”

  “How is that important, though?” Ivy said, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell.