by Purser, Ann
“Morning, Lois dear. You’re looking very lovely, if I may be so bold?”
“Oh Cowgill, not you, too! I’m up to here with lustful old men. Been to see Pettison at the zoo.”
“Open up and let me in. I need to tell you things. Quick sharp! The lights are changing.”
He sat down swiftly in her passenger seat, and said she should park round the rear of the police station. “I assume that the business suit means you are taking Cameroon Hall on as a client for New Brooms?” His whole demeanour had changed, and he was every inch the policeman.
Lois nodded, and followed him up to his office. She said she had a great many things to do, so she couldn’t spare much time. Cowgill immediately got down to the subject at hand.
“I should warn you about the Cameroon Hall zoo; and though it’s perfectly fine as far as the animals are concerned, unofficial reports have come to our ears of staff difficulties, burglaries, that kind of thing. On each occasion, Pettison has managed to deal with everything without needing our help. But I strongly suspect that there is far more going on there than we have yet discovered. Can’t put my finger on it, but I would say this to you, Lois. Be very careful who you send to clean there. In fact, I would advise you not to take on the job at all. But I suppose you won’t agree to that?”
“You suppose right. I intend to send in Dot Nimmo, who is, as you know, a very tough cookie, having been married to a gangland boss in Tresham, and still in touch with useful people.”
The telephone rang, and Cowgill answered it with a brisk “I’m busy. Tell them to phone later. What? Where? Right, I’ll be there in half an hour. Tell Chris I shall require her to drive me.”
“Something urgent?” said Lois.
“Something very nasty,” replied Cowgill, getting to his feet. “There’s been an accident in Pettison’s zoo. His chief worry seems to be that his people are in a state of rigid terror. And for ‘people,’ read ‘monkeys.’”
Fourteen
For Lois, the rest of the weekend had been taken up with a trip with Josie to the nearby shopping centre, newly opened in Tresham, with a tempting number of clothes shops especially dealing in designer fashions. It was Josie’s birthday, and Lois had promised her a warm winter coat.
“You’ll freeze, gel, come the east winds,” Gran had said, critically looking her up and down, and saying that if anyone asked her, a good tweed skirt and lambs’ wool twinset would be just the ticket.
“Don’t forget the pearls, Gran,” Josie had said, laughing.
Although she loved shopping with her daughter, Lois had found her mind repeatedly returning to the woman in the monkey cage. It transpired that the victim was not dead, but badly wounded from a vicious attack. She had been taken to hospital, and the matter referred to the police. According to the news and the local paper, the woman had been a friend of a member of staff. She had—in the owner’s words—“trespassed into the monkey people’s territory, and paid the price.”
Everyone in the zoo, and of course visitors, was warned against trespass as a matter of course. This was apparently the first incident of its kind. One of the keepers had been working in the cage with the door closed when he was interrupted by a woman, who was leaving her cleaning job at the hall, and had come to say goodbye to the keeper. He had opened the door to the cage, and the woman had entered, only to be immediately attacked by a male chimpanzee defending his territory. She had collapsed, but was rescued almost immediately.
So it was probably that Richardson woman, Lois had thought, as Josie emerged from the changing room, in a singing red coat that reached a decent level nearly to her ankles.
On the way home, Josie had accused her mother of having her mind elsewhere. “I can see from your face that you’re thinking of something bad. Not another reptile, I hope!” she had said.
Now Lois sat in her office, sorting out the schedules for the midday meeting of New Brooms. All the girls would be present, and Andrew, part-time interior decorator, part-time cleaner when required. Looking at her watch, she saw that there were ten minutes clear until the team turned up. She dialled Cowgill’s private number, and was irritated to see that his message service was switched on.
“Ring me, please, as soon as poss. Thanks,” she said.
The doorbell rang, and she heard Gran hurrying to get to the door before anyone else. “Come on in, girls,” she said. “And one boy, Andrew! You look cold, all of you. Hot coffee any good?”
“Thanks, Gran. We’ll have it after the meeting as usual. Where’s Dot?” Lois added, and Hazel said she had seen her rushing past the office window, so guessed she would be a little late.
“Not like Dot,” Lois said, and began the business of the meeting. Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and Gran ushered in a red-faced Dot. “Sorry, Mrs M. Trouble with the car. My nephew’s lent me his spare. Enormous great thing, a black BMW with dark windows. Like driving a hearse. Anyway, what have I missed?”
“Nothing important. We’re going through the schedules. Now, here’s yours, but there will be a possible change. We have a new client, and I’d like you to take it on. There are a few things to finalise, but then I’ll arrange to introduce you. We were to go in today, but there’s been a drama there, so we will go tomorrow.”
“What kind of a drama?” said Dot, frowning.
“A nasty accident, to be blunt.”
Before Lois could elaborate, Dot said, “Oh my Gawd! Not the zoo? I reckon you take your life in your hands working there. My friend’s on the gate. Oh no, Mrs M, it’s not Margie Turner, is it? They wouldn’t give the name on the telly news.”
After that, the whole story had to be discussed, and Lois assured Dot that she would only go there to work if it was considered 100 percent safe.
“Don’t you worry about that, Mrs M,” Dot said, intrigued in spite of her first fears. “My nephew’s a mate of old Pettison. I’ll get the dirt from him when I take the hearse back. You fix it up for tomorrow, and we’ll go and have a snoop,” she added. Her face had resumed its normal colour, and her eyes twinkled with excitement. “Now then, what’s next?” she said.
*
When the team had gone, Lois looked to see if Cowgill had answered her. The red light was winking, and she played a message that was short and to the point. “Need to see you. Please ring back.”
She tried at once to call him, and this time he picked up his receiver. “Ah, Lois. I’d like you to meet me at the Cameroon Hall zoo at three o’clock this afternoon. I’ll be there with Chris, and I’ll warn the gate that you’re there with my permission. Needless to say, the zoo is closed today.”
So why did he want me to be there? Lois was reluctant for two reasons. She did not like being ordered about by Cowgill. She was not an employee of the police service, and had never received a penny for her help on previous cases. If this was a case? The one thing she needed to know for certain, however, was the name of the victim, and the best way of finding out was to meet Cowgill as instructed.
After lunch and a thinking walk with Jemima across the fields, Lois set off for Tresham and the zoo. As she approached the main gates, she saw that they were closed, and a policeman stood by.
“Mrs Meade?” he said, opening the gates. “Drive up to the house, please. The zoo is out of bounds at the moment. Inspector Cowgill is expecting you.”
The driveway was now becoming familiar to Lois, and she coasted along, turning over in her mind what Pettison had said to her when she was last here. He had agreed to everything she had stipulated, and made it quite clear that hanky-panky was not in his line. Was he gay? She thought not. Not from the way he looked at her legs! But then that might mean nothing. By now she had reached the house, and drove round the back to park. Cowgill, as if by magic, appeared at the side of her car, and opened the door for her.
“Ah, good. Come with me,” he said, and led her into a sitting room, which obviously at some time had done duty as a family library. There were books everywhere, and he moved a couple o
f piles so that she could sit down.
“Now, Lois, I want your word that you will abandon all thoughts of sending any of your cleaners to this house.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Lois. “Why the urgency? You could have told me that over the phone.”
“Because of one very important fact. The victim—you probably know by now—was Pettison’s former cleaner. The cause of the attack in the chimps cage is more or less known. The woman trespassed. She had gone into the cage to speak to a keeper, and the sight of an angry old chimp could have given her a heart attack. She certainly collapsed, and was bitten, but only a little. The woman was confirmed as Mrs Richardson, until very recently employed as a cleaner by Robert Pettison at Cameroon Hall.”
“Ah. I see. A different kettle of fish altogether. Thanks for telling me, Cowgill. I do see your point, and will certainly think this over very carefully. I have already told Dot Nimmo that she is to work here, and she’s really looking forward to it. But this might well change her mind! What have you done with Pettison? He usually shows up if somebody comes up the drive.”
“He is answering our questions at the moment. Not always willingly, but we are persisting. Now, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you something else you need to see.”
“Not another killer reptile!” she said nervously, and followed him out of the room.
*
They went through to the main hall, and then Cowgill indicated the stairs. “Up there, Lois, and I hope you’ve a strong stomach.”
“Not very,” she said. “Depends what it is. Is it really necessary for me to see?”
“No, but I’d like you to know what Dot’s in for, should you be foolish enough to let her work here.”
At the top of the stairs, Cowgill turned right along a corridor until, at the very end, he brought out a key and opened the door. Then he took her hand, and led her gently inside.
“Hey, what are you up to—” She stopped suddenly, gripping Cowgill’s hand tightly.
In front of them, hanging from the ceiling, was a very large gorilla, eyes shining from the light in the corridor. It was huge, dark and extremely frightening. Lois tried to back out, but Cowgill held her steady.
“Don’t worry, my dear. It is long dead, poor thing. That noose round its neck is meant to be frightening. According to our specialists, it probably died of very old age at least fifty years ago. Moth-eaten, here and there, if you look closely. Now, that’s not all. If you’ve had enough, we’ll go, but there is more.”
“No, I’m okay. Is the rest as grisly?”
Cowgill nodded, and drew her round the room. The gorilla was a centrepiece, and all around were specimens of the animal kingdom, particularly all sizes of monkeys, some splayed to show their interior workings. Others, like a vast collection of insects, large and small, were laid out in pretty patterns in glass cases.
Lois stared, and then inside felt a rising anger against Pettison. She was not afraid, but furious that he could have made these innocent animals victims of his—his what? Was it some horrid perversion, or a workplace for an amateur ’ologist of some sort?
“This is awful, Cowgill! What the hell has he been up to?”
“He calls it his mausoleum.”
“For his people, no doubt! My God, if I had him here, I’d . . .” Lois could not think of anything bad enough to do to Pettison.
“Then I’m glad he’s not,” said Cowgill. “But there is one mitigating fact. He bought this stuff, lock, stock and barrel, from the effects of an eccentric collector who died many years ago. There are some specimens here of creatures that are now extinct, and these are valuable. Anyway,” he continued, “now do you see what Dot Nimmo should not come across with a duster in her hand?”
“I noticed you unlocked it. We could tell him to keep it locked at all times when New Brooms is likely to be on the premises.”
Cowgill shrugged. “Up to you, Lois. But now you know about it, I trust you will give the whole thing more thought. Now, I must go and find my chaps. Mrs Richardson has been taken to hospital, and we must consider if and when we can allow the zoo to be opened again.”
“Are you going to let go of my hand, or do I have to follow you?”
He chuckled, and before she could withdraw her hand, he kissed it, and then marched off along the corridor and down the grand staircase ahead of her.
Fifteen
“So what did you discover from Cowgill about the accident in the chimp cage?” Gran had dished up a steaming stew, full of leftovers from the Sunday roast, and augmented with herbs and her own spicy stock.
“Mm! This smells good.” Lois sat down at the table and began to eat.
“Are you going to answer Gran’s question?” Derek said.
“Well, best after supper, I think,” she said. She had considered whether to tell Gran and Derek about the Pettison mausoleum, and had decided that on balance it would be a good thing to do. Then any extra precautions she had to arrange for Dot would be explained in advance. It was simple, really. She needed Dot to work there to know exactly how things went on, and that would include knowing how the reptile invasion of the shop could have happened. And why!
“Why best after supper?” said Gran. She feared the worst. Lois had that look about her, one her mother knew so well. Another case of ferretin’ was in the offing.
“Well, it’s all to do with the zoo, and the chimpanzee attack. The woman apparently went into the cage when she shouldn’t have. The animal regarded it as a menacing trespass on his territory. She was a cleaner up at the hall. Oh yes, and that’s confidential, but Cowgill didn’t say I had to keep secret the details of Pettison’s private morgue there. Mind you, I think it’s probably best if you do keep it to yourselves.”
“Morgue! Lois, you need go no further. I forbid you to have anything more to do with it. An’ that’s an order!” Derek was sitting bolt upright, looking as stern as he could manage. This, unfortunately, was not enough, and Lois continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I need to keep in touch with Cowgill to see what they discover about how things go on under the surface. As you know, Dot’s keen to take on the cleaning job there, and as yet, I’ve made no final decision. The important thing is that the zoo is well away from the hall, and there’ll be no need for Dot to go anywhere near it. And the woman in the entrance kiosk is an old friend of Dot. Margie Turner, she’s called. End of story.”
“Of course it’s not the end of anything! But I suppose I have to trust in your common sense not to get too involved in something dangerous,” said Derek, and getting up, he stalked out of the kitchen and slammed the door.
Gran’s eyebrows lifted. “I must say, Lois, I agree with Derek. I’d say it’s up to you and Dot Nimmo. She’s not my favourite person, but I wouldn’t see her come to harm.”
Lois sighed. “You were happy to see her eaten by a bear not so long ago. But thanks, Mum. I don’t know about you, but I’ll not be happy until we find out exactly who put that snake in Josie’s stockroom. I’d better go and smooth my husband down, and then it’ll be time for Inspector Montalbano on the telly. I might pick up some tips.”
*
Alone in her house in Tresham, Dot Nimmo looked at the telephone and tried to decide whether to ring her cousin-in-law, Amadeus Mozart Nimmo, Mozzie for short. He was her cousin by marriage, a brother to Dot’s late husband, Handel. Handy had been more of a sleeping partner in the dodgy enterprises that the Nimmo patriarch, the late Ludwig, had run successfully in Tresham for many years.
Now she was on her own, outside the dealings of the Nimmo businesses, but she kept in touch, feeling in some way that it kept her closer to her own late husband, of whom she had been extremely fond and proud. Her own son, Haydn, had died in a car crash, and her life had been dark and bereft until Lois Meade came along and recruited her into the New Brooms team.
Yes, now would be a good time, she thought. Mozzie would be in his armchair, with a whiskey at his elbow, asleep and snoring.
> “Hello? Is that you, Mozzie? It’s Dot here. Long time no see! How’re you doin’, boy? Good. Now listen, I know you’re a friend of that Pettison man. Yeah, the one who comes an’ sees to the brassy blonde over the road from me. Well, I need some information. Tomorrow? Yeah, fine. I’ll bring the car back. See you then, boy.”
She smiled and put down the phone. He was a useful dodger, in his way. Now, when she next spoke to Mrs M, she would have a few interesting things to tell her. A couple of hours later, she was about to go upstairs to bed when a loud rap on her front door caused her to pause. Kids, no doubt. There was a family of no-goods a few doors down the road, and knocking on doors and scarpering was one of their less offensive ways of being a nuisance.
She was halfway up the stairs when there was a second rap. Then she heard the letter box clang, and she turned. Once they had shoved through a lit firework, and if she’d not been there, it could have set the house on fire. She went down and through the hall to the front door. There was something on the mat, with a label attached. She bent down to pick it up, and it moved. She screamed and retreated. Then she could see what it was. A fat and wriggling worm was trying to move across the stiff bristles of her door mat.
“Very amusing,” said Dot aloud. She put on rubber gloves, picked up the worm and carefully untied the label. Then she put the twisting body out into her back garden, and was about to screw up the small piece of card, when she saw some writing on it. “Anima,” she read. “Latin: breath, life, soul.”
“Rubbish,” said Dot, and threw it into the bin.
Sixteen
Justin Brookes, returned from the fens of Lincolnshire, looked around the meagre room that served as his headquarters. His father had rallied, and after making excuses about important meetings to attend, he had said farewell to his mother.
