by Purser, Ann
Her appointment with her cousin was in half an hour’s time, and she had to tidy up the BMW before delivering it back to him. When she approached the car, she recoiled with a gasp. A yellow-and-green diamond-patterned snake lay curled up on the roof, and at that instant, it raised its head, looked at her with hooded eyes and then lowered its head again, appearing to go back to sleep. Dot froze. Then she rushed indoors and phoned her cousin.
“Can you come and see to it now? I’ll watch to see it doesn’t get away, though God knows what I shall do if it moves! Come now!”
When her cousin arrived, Dot had remembered the trick with a box and a piece of wood, and had trapped the snake where it still rested on top of the car. With a brick on top, it could not escape, and she said he should come in first and talk to her for a few minutes, then he could tackle it.
Mozzie said he knew Pettison quite well, though Pettison was the kind of bloke who kept himself to himself. Good talker, but when you thought about it afterwards, he had said nothing about himself.
“How did you get to know him then?” Dot asked, and her cousin was frank.
“It was all to do with her over the road,” he said, grinning. “Old Pettison rang me up one day, and said straight out that he needed a willing girlfriend. O’course, I’d known her over there for years. Not as a client, o’course, but she had been a prostitute before Ted Brierley took her on. He must have known she wouldn’t give up a lucrative business. He was said to have been her pimp, though I don’t know the truth of that. Anyway, I suggested contacting her, and she was willing. I don’t know whether he became her sole client, but it seems likely. Anyway, after that, Pettison and me met for a drink now and then. Sometimes I can do him a favour; sometimes he can do me one. And don’t ask me about that, Auntie Dot! You know better than that, I reckon.”
“Gimme a clue,” she said.
“This and that, buying and selling, importing and exporting—you know the kind of thing. Uncle Handy was in the same line. Nimmo style, you could say.”
“Mm,” Dot replied. “So do you think it’d be safe for me to work at Cameroon Hall, cleaning the house?”
“As long as you watch your back, you’ll be fine. Anyway, you’ve had plenty of practice in taking care of yourself, haven’t you?”
Dot saw him out, and watched as he gingerly carried the box and piece of wood across the road. There he lifted the snake with a practised hand, and eased it through the fancy woman’s letterbox. He was still laughing as he drove off, waving cheerfully to Dot.
*
The policeman on duty outside the zoo put up a hand to stop a smart sports car from going straight through the barrier at the gate.
“Sorry, madam, but the zoo is closed.”
“Okay. Then perhaps you’d like to take this and restore it to its rightful place?”
The policeman peered into the box the driver was holding. “Ah, yes. I see, madam. I think we can make an exception for you. Drive on please, and take the turn to the right for the zoo. I will tell them you are coming,” he added, putting his phone to his ear. Then he closed the barrier and resumed his place on guard. He looked at his watch. The woman shouldn’t take long handing over the snake, and then he’d be off home. What was she doing with the ruddy thing, anyway?
Twenty minutes later, the woman had not returned. He gave her another ten minutes, and then phoned through to check. There was no reply, so he opened the barrier and walked through, heading for the zoo. No doubt he would meet her coming out, but he had to make sure before he left.
Nineteen
Ted Brierley, from the house opposite Dot Nimmo, paused in his pacing up and down his small sitting room. He was worried. Betsy almost never went out without telling him where she was going or what time she would be back. This evening he was furious when he found the door locked on returning from work. He had let himself in the back way, and looked for a note on the kitchen table, where she always left it if she was going out unexpectedly.
As there was no note, he told himself that she would be back at any minute. Probably gone round to the neighbour’s for a chat, he thought. She did not have many friends, and he knew that it was because of what she called her home-entertainment business. In the beginning, their relationship was one of convenience. She needed protection, and he could give it to her. Then Pettison came along, and the arrangement with him was ideal. He would continue to visit her, but had said right from the start that he was to be her only lover, and if she strayed to her old game of prostitution, then Pettison would end the deal immediately.
Ted knew that Betsy enjoyed getting to know old Pettison, and they had settled down into a three-cornered relationship. Ted’s desires were satisfied elsewhere, and Betsy relaxed when off duty at home. It was a fact that if Betsy had gone back to the old game, they would be financially better off, but Ted had no wish to alienate Pettison, having built up lucrative business contacts with him, and so had agreed to his terms.
He watched the clock until eventually there was a knock at the door, and his fists tightened. She had obviously forgotten her key. He went quickly to open it, and when he saw Dot Nimmo, his anger escalated.
“What’s happened to her?” he said in a loud voice.
“Who?”
“The wife, of course. She’s not here, and I have no idea where she’s gone. Where’s she gone?” he shouted. “You keep a close eye on our business, don’t you?”
“No need to be unpleasant,” said Dot, not in the least offended. “I reckon I can help you there. My cousin’s car was outside while he was visiting me, and when he went to go, he found a bloody great snake on top of the BMW. He returned it to sender, Ted Brierley, via your letterbox.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Dot? A snake! Betsy hates snakes. Come on, no ridiculous excuses. Where the hell has she gone?”
Occasionally, he and Betsy, along with Justin Brookes, acted as safe houses for new and valuable additions to Pettison’s illegal trade. Pettison always laughingly said he was sending them on to good homes, which was not illegal, he assured them. At least, not very.
The snake had been right at hand for Ted Brierley. He considered nosey Dot Nimmo a threat, working for Lois Meade. It amused him now and then to leave small warnings, in the shape of a worm or, in this case, a snake.
“She’ll be back shortly,” said Dot soothingly. “I just came over for a flue brush. Me chimney’s blocked.”
“Mm, well, I suppose you’d better come in. She should’ve been back hours ago. God knows what she’s up to.”
After rummaging about in the shed at the back of the house, he found the long-handled brush and handed it to Dot. “There you are, then. D’you want a cuppa? I’ve been so busy today I’ve not had time to chat to anybody.”
Recognising that he was genuinely worried about his wife, Dot agreed she could stay for a few minutes, and sat down, prepared to listen.
“Good of you to stay,” he said, when they were both settled with coffee. “I’m sure she’ll ring soon, or turn up, wondering why I’m in such a state!”
“It’s because of that accident at the zoo,” said Dot, going in with both feet. “We’re all a bit nervous, aren’t we? So naturally, as she’s probably gone to the zoo to get rid of the snake, you’re bound to be worried. She’ll have gone to see Pettison, I expect, so that’ll be okay.” She grinned, but he did not return her smile.
“Yeah, s’long as it is Pettison,” he replied gloomily. He stared into his mug as if his fortune was at the bottom of it.
*
Betsy Brierley was indeed at the zoo. She had found a keeper, and he had been delighted when she gave him the snake. Apparently, it was a rare and valuable one, and he had no idea how it could have turned up in Betsy’s house. He told her Mr Pettison would be curious to see it. She stayed chatting to him for a few minutes, and then he turned away as his mobile rang.
“Call from my husband?” she said with a laugh. “I bet he’s tracked me down. I forgot to leave a no
te for him, and he worries.”
“No, no, not your husband, Mrs Brierley. It was Mr Pettison, wondering if you’d like to go up for a drink? Seems he recognised your car.” He paused. “He said not to take no for an answer.”
“So what happens if I say no?”
“I don’t advise it. Mr Pettison has automatic control over the main gates.”
“Oh, very well,” she replied. “Let’s go up and get it over with. It’s out of office hours for me.” She grinned. “So I shall not be more than fifteen minutes; well, perhaps thirty.”
“He said I should take you up in my runabout. It’s quite comfortable,” he added, embarrassed by her brassy smile.
“It may be comfortable,” she retorted, “but you look very uncomfortable! Come on, then, lead me to your runabout.”
Pettison was waiting under the hall portico. He smiled his usual beaming smile, and handed her out of the vehicle.
“That will do for today, thank you,” he said to the keeper. “You can go off home as soon as everything is secure.”
“Glad to see you, Betsy,” he continued, taking her hand and leading her inside. “Lucky you turned up when I was feeling in need of company. And thanks for bringing back the snake. Careless of Ted to let it loose.”
“Company is all I’m offering,” she replied. “Can’t stay long. Ted will be worrying.”
“Oh, Ted will manage. We’ll knock back a gin and tonic, and then you can be away home. Give me a couple of minutes to fetch some ice, and then we’ll have a chat. I’d be interested to know what you’ve heard about poor Mrs Richardson.”
“Come off it, Petti!” she replied. “You know you couldn’t stand the sight of her. Probably arranged for her accident all by yourself!”
He did not smile. “I am sorry you feel like that,” he said. “Back in two minutes.”
When he returned, he was not carrying an ice bucket, but a small but deadly looking gun in his hand.
“Now, about that snake. You should not have given it to the keeper. My new people do not go anywhere near the zoo.”
“Too bad. I’m sure you’ll think of something. I had no idea you were at home, and I wanted that thing out of my car as quickly as possible. Ted’s furious with me, as it is. Suspects I’m still on the game. But no, you can relax. No such luck for me.”
“I see,” he said, and frowned. “I think I need to make sure you will do what I say for a little while. Turn around, my sweet, and point your pretty little feet towards the door, and then I will direct you. Don’t try anything stupid or brave, because I hate to be disobeyed, as you know. Off we go, then.”
*
The small room at the back of the hall was cold and dark, and Betsy shivered. She was not warmly dressed, having left home in a hurry with the snake. Now she looked around for something to put around her shoulders, but there was nothing. She supposed the room had once been a maid’s bedroom, and not been used for years.
“Robert!” she yelled for the umpteenth time, and banged on the door until her knuckles were sore. “Pettison! Let me out of here, or the police will be up here very soon. Let me out!”
“No need to shout, Betsy.” He was standing at the other side of the door. “The police, in the shape of one constable guarding the gate barrier, has been up here asking for you. I denied having seen you, of course, and wished him well in his search.”
Betsy leaned on the door. “What’s the point of all this? Is this some new setup to liven up a jaded appetite? If so, you can stuff it. I’m not available.”
“You will be delighted to hear that I am cooking a delicious supper for us both, and I shall be bringing it upstairs in due course.”
“Stuff your supper, too!” she yelled. “Let me out of here; otherwise, I’ll never allow you to call on me again.”
“Oh, I don’t think Ted would be pleased about that. I think we can come to some agreement over supper, my dear. Back soon!”
Betsy sat down and thought. She looked around the room for inspiration, and could not believe her eyes. On a rickety bookcase by the door she saw the gun. He had forgotten it! She picked it up gingerly and looked more closely. She was expecting it to be cold and heavy, but it wasn’t. It was quite light, and made of plastic. It was a toy gun, and she began to laugh. The man was unhinged, she thought, but harmless.
Twenty
Ted Brierley had doubted Dot’s guess that Betsy was with Pettison, and as he heard a car coming up the road, he stood back from the window. No warm welcome from hubby for you, madam, he thought.
Meanwhile, now unashamedly standing staring out of her window, Dot saw the car and nipped out of her front door. The car’s headlights dazzled her, and she stepped back onto the pavement. For one moment, she thought it was coming straight at her, but then realised it was slowing to a halt beside her. The lights were switched off, and a woman got out. It was the errant wife, Betsy Brierley, teetering towards her on ridiculously high heels.
“Is that you, Dot Nimmo?” she asked, peering at Dot through the gloom.
“Indeed it is,” she said tartly.
“What you doin’ out here, then? You need some help?”
“No, it was your husband that needed help. He’s exhausted with worry about you.”
“And you’ve been trying to console him, is that it? If so, you’re wasting your time, Dottie.”
“Don’t talk rubbish, woman,” said Dot angrily. “And don’t judge other people by your own standards!”
“Oh, piss off,” said Betsy, unlocking her door and disappearing inside.
“A good spanking for Betsy?” muttered Dot, and she laughed. “She’ll get her comeuppance one of these days, and I’ll be the first to laugh,” she said to her elderly parrot as she went indoors.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” answered the parrot.
Meanwhile, Betsy confirmed to Ted that she had been with Pettison, omitted to mention that she had delivered the snake to the zookeeper, could not be bothered to tell him about the small servant’s room at Cameroon Hall and said she was very tired and was going straight to bed.
Stretched out, Betsy thought about the evening’s events. Pettison had been very strange, but then he was always strange, one way or another. He’d laughed when she appeared at the top of the stairs, having let herself out of the cold little room. “Just wanted to let you know the situation,” he had said. “And to give you a taste of what might come to be, should you decide to make unilateral decisions or, to put it another way, feel tempted to spill the beans.”
She asked which particular beans he wanted kept secret, and then he had turned nasty, ordering her, more or less, not to joke about a very serious situation. He had said she knew very well which particular confidential matters he referred to, concerning the trade with the small animals, and added that if it came to his notice that she had made one more stupid move, as with the snake and the keeper, the gun would be a real one, and the maid’s room would be replaced by another, much more unpleasant.
Then he had forced her to drink a couple of glasses of wine, demanded her cooperation upstairs in comfort, and finally changed into his suave, charming self and seen her to her car, still parked by the zoo.
It was a long time before she went to sleep. She wondered if Ted would eventually get fed up with Pettison, and break off all business relations with him, and that would include her. She saw that this was extremely unlikely, and found herself snivelling into her pillow and wishing Robert Pettison was dead.
*
Next morning, the sun shone brightly into the kitchen at Meade House, where Lois and Derek, with Gran officiating, were finishing their breakfast.
“I’m going to ring Cowgill,” Lois said. “It’s time they did something about those zoo animals. Poor old Dot sounded quite worried last night. You know she turns most things into a joke, but one of these days, another person is going to be bitten, and end up in hospital. If it’s fatal, like it most probably could have been with that Richardson woman, perhaps that’ll get them g
oing. Anyway, Derek, are you home for lunch? If Cowgill says the zoo is open again, I might make an appointment to see Pettison about Dot cleaning at the hall.”
“You must be mad,” said Derek. “After all the rumpus that’s gone on there?” He sighed. “I suppose it’s no good ordering you to use your common sense, is it?”
“I am using it,” she said, “and I’m not mad. I shall make doubly sure that Dot will be okay, and anyway, I’m not putting pressure on her. She’s the enthusiastic one.”
Gran had said nothing, but her lips were clamped together in disapproval. Now she banged the frying pan down on the draining board, and said she didn’t know what her late husband would have said. “Your dad was the only one you took notice of, Lois Weedon. He must be turning in his grave.”
“Sorry, Mum,” Lois said. She knew that when Gran used her maiden name, she was really serious. “I’ll make sure Cowgill knows when Dot starts there, if she does. And then Dot can make the decision whether or not to stay. I know I am responsible for her, but I do respect her and her ability to look after herself. If she decides to give it a go, I shall be right behind her.”
“I hope not!” said Derek. “One of you up there at Cameroon Hall is more than enough. You stay right here, Lois, else I’ll tie you to the table leg.”
For once, Lois couldn’t think of any reply, and went off to her office to phone Cowgill.
“Good morning, Lois! Lovely to hear from you.” He had been sitting glumly at his desk, staring out at the sheets of rain falling on the streets of Tresham. A golf fixture this morning had been cancelled, and he was disappointed, having looked forward to lowering his handicap. Lois’s voice had been exactly what was needed to lift his spirits.
“Morning, Cowgill,” she said briskly. “What news to report?”
