Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  “A Mr Smith. Says he is an old friend.”

  “Smith? Unlikely. But let him in,” said Pettison. “And turn him out again in ten minutes’ time, please.”

  The nurse showed him where the alarm button was, and then opened the door wider. A strange-looking man came in quickly. He was small and thin and had dark brown hair and a moustache. He wore cotton gloves and a black jacket and trousers.

  “Who the hell are you?” said Pettison.

  “Never you mind,” the man said in a muffled voice. He seemed to be having trouble with his moustache. “Put your arms above your head and keep them there, now!” he added, and before Pettison could reach for the bell to summon a nurse, the man produced a gun from his pocket, and pulled the trigger. Red paint squirted out and hit Pettison on the side of his face, and then directed downwards, until his whole visible body was covered. He spluttered, touched his bell to summon help, and then slumped to one side

  The visitor ran, like a shadow, out of the hospital and away. The whole episode had taken no more than five minutes.

  Forty-five

  “Who was that man?” said the hospital receptionist, as a dark figure ran by the desk and out of sight.

  “Goodness knows,” said her colleague sitting next to her. She was a volunteer worker who helped visitors find their way around the vast hospital complex.

  “He looked in a hurry! Maybe he was late for meeting somebody. Hey, listen, there’s alarm bells ringing somewhere. Do you think it could be him?”

  “I don’t remember him coming in, though he could have, while I went to the shop for tissues. I expect you were busy with someone else.”

  They then had a conversation about security in general, and agreed that they should stay at their post, in case someone else tried to get out unseen. “Doesn’t matter however many measures are put in by the authorities, there’ll always be ways of getting in and out without being noticed,” said one.

  “Like that man over there, walking straight past us! Hi! Come back here.”

  She stood up and gestured to the man, who returned to the desk.

  “So sorry, sir,” said the first receptionist. “My colleague obviously did not recognise you. Please carry on.”

  “So what was that all about? I thought we agreed—”

  “It was the new consultant, you dope! Don’t tell me you’ve never seen him before? He’s famous.”

  “Not to me, he’s not. It would have been polite, at least, to check in with us at the desk.”

  *

  It was getting dark, and Justin walked round to the entrance to his flat, but then thought that before he went up, he should check there were no lingering telltale signs of the shrews’ occupancy. It had been dark when Betsy collected them. The shed key was on his ring, and he unlocked and looked around. He could see that much of it had been cleared. No signs of a cage or food. Betsy must have taken them all.

  He looked around, and wondered what he could do with the space, now he had decided not to handle any more illegal animals. Derek had obviously taken what he wanted to keep, and stored it in the old pigsty at the bottom of the vegetable garden. And recently Josie had said Justin could do what he liked with the neglected patch. She had grown things there when she lived over the shop, but now had no spare time, and so it was not used.

  He quite fancied growing a few things there. It would make him feel more rooted to something permanent, with a few gooseberry bushes and maybe cabbages and lettuces. It would be good exercise, too, digging over the plot, ready to do some planting.

  He began to whistle, and went upstairs to the flat feeling much more cheerful. He would ask to borrow some gardening tools this afternoon and make a start.

  As he unpacked all the things he had so recently taken away, he felt a fool. He really would like to go and have a word with Josie, but she had said that her mother had told her about his rudeness, and she wanted no more to do with him on a personal level. He must use his own entrance, and as long as he paid the rent on time, and kept no wild animals—or tame ones, for that matter—he could stay.

  He dialled his mother’s mobile, and sat down in a comfortable chair. “Hi, Mother. How are you? And how’s Vera? Hope you’re not getting up to mischief, the pair of you. No, of course I’m not! I’m still in the flat. Planning to do some gardening soon. Yes, fine, thank you. Now you take care, and I’ll be up to see you as soon as possible.”

  The kettle was boiling, and he made himself a cup of coffee. Then he unwrapped the sandwich he had bought in Tresham, and began to eat.

  *

  In town, Dot Nimmo came out of her house and locked the door. She was about to get into the car when she saw Betsy Brierley come out into the street. She looks a bit wild, thought Dot, and waited to see what would happen next. She enjoyed a good marital punch-up, as a viewer of course, and was pleased to see Ted Brierley follow Betsy along the pavement. He caught up with her after a few yards, and grabbed her arm. This was going to be good, thought Dot.

  Ted pulled Betsy to a halt, and she turned on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” she shouted, slapping him round the face. He recoiled, and then went in again on the attack. But Betsy had had enough. “Get back indoors, and I’ll explain one more time!!” she shouted, and then turned to look at Dot. “And you can mind your own business, Dottie Nimmo!” she yelled. “There’s a thing or two I could teach you, you boring old fart!”

  Dot roared with laughter. “Very good, Betsy,” she called. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Come and have a cuppa with me when I get back. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

  In a couple of minutes, it was all quiet again. Derek pulled up outside the New Brooms office at the other end of the street, went inside and greeted Hazel, who said he had missed a good sideshow. “I could hear every word, right down here,” she said. “Betsy and Ted were at it again, with Dot joining in.”

  “Women!” said Derek. “At least you’re a rational person, Hazel. I don’t often come in here, but it’s always calm and pleasant. You’re a good girl, and Lois is lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks,” said Hazel. “How can I help? I guess you don’t want a cleaner for your office!”

  “No, we’ve got Gran, who is a law unto herself. No, I’ve been working in town, and wondered if you’d got an evening paper? I like to check the football results, and the man on the corner has sold out.”

  Hazel reached across her desk, and produced the paper. “It is delivered every day,” she said. “Half the time nobody looks at it. You take it, Derek. You’re welcome.”

  By the time he reached home, tea was laid on the kitchen table, and he eyed the chocolate sponge set in pride of place.

  “Lois in?” he asked Gran. She nodded, and said her daughter was at last being sensible and was reading the evening paper in the front room by the fire.

  “Ah, well that makes two evening papers. I got one from Hazel. I’ll tell Lois tea’s ready, shall I?”

  The chocolate sponge was a shadow of its former self by the time tea was finished, and Gran said she’d be surprised if any of them could eat supper. “You’d better go and sit by the fire and let it sink,” she said, and Lois and Derek dutifully went through.

  They had been settled only a few minutes when Lois said with a chuckle, “Oh my God, Derek, have you seen this?”

  He looked over the top of his paper, and saw Lois’s smiling face. “What are you talking about, me duck? Oh, that paint job. If it was meant to be a practical joke, it’s not funny. I didn’t read all of it.”

  Lois shook her head dumbly, choking with suppressed laughter. Then she spluttered, “Page four, halfway down. The report about goings-on at the Tresham General Hospital,” she said. “I expect this’ll cause some trouble. It’s not funny really, but, well, read it . . .”

  Derek found the page, and read on. “Nasty,” he said, unamused. “But it could have been worse. Sounds like a bit of a revenge prank, harmless but nasty. Could’ve happened to you, wh
at with your ferretin’ an’ that.”

  Lois got to her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Derek. That unkind joke was only possible because Pettison was helpless and couldn’t fight back. Anyway, I have to make a telephone call. Back in a minute, and don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  Forty-six

  Early in the morning, the telephone at Meade House had begun to ring, and it had gone on intermittently until well after breakfast.

  “I reckon the whole world read yesterday’s evening paper!” said Lois, after an amusing talk with Mrs T-J, who said she felt ashamed to find the Pettison story funny, but that he really had it coming to him. “Strange, isn’t it, how wide he had cast his net,” she said. “Lots of people have come out of the woodwork, apparently, claiming to have been tricked by him into parting with sums of money, small and large.”

  “Have you heard from Cowgill?” Derek asked Lois now. “He’ll have something to say, you bet.”

  “No, but I’m giving him a call later, on a different matter entirely.”

  “Not that different,” said Gran.

  Lois said nothing. She had to admit that she had no real need to ring Cowgill, but she was curious to have more details about Pettison. It would affect what else had to be done in identifying his suppliers. Would the business of importing poor little animals continue? Without his presence, would Justin or Betsy take over? And how important was he, anyway, in the dangerous network of dealers?

  She wondered how the red-paint story, in considerable detail, had got out from the hospital, which would surely be anxious to make as little as possible of it. That a man with evil intent had got into the private wing of the new hospital extension was bad enough. But that he had got out again without being challenged was a very serious matter.

  Now, in her office and busy with New Brooms business, the thought came back to her. Who had given the story to the newspaper? She picked it up again, and looked for a byline. No name. At the start of the story, it was anonymously “by our reporter.”

  She looked up the number, dialled, and asked for a girl who was one of her son Jamie’s girlfriends. “Diana in the newsroom, please,” she said.

  “Hello? Lois Meade here. New Brooms. Is that you, Diana? Ah, nice to hear your voice again. Yes, we’re all well. Have you heard from Jamie? Oh good. Now, dear, I have a request. I wonder if you could tell me who wrote the story about Robert Pettison? No, it’s not idle curiosity! I do have a good reason for wanting to know. Ring me back? Fine. I’ll be here for at least another hour.”

  The call came back after twenty minutes.

  “Hi, Diana, nice of you to ring back. Yes, I’m all ears. Anonymous call, did you say? But surely you don’t print all anonymous stories from people wanting to cause trouble? Oh, verified by the hospital. Good heavens, what a mess. Oh, would you? That would be really helpful. Hear from you soon, then. Bye.”

  Lois sat for another half hour, doodling on the back of an envelope and thinking. Then she put on her jacket and set out for the shop.

  “Morning, Josie. All well? Has Matthew got rid of that cough?”

  “Almost,” said Josie. “You look like the cat’s got the cream. What’s new?”

  “Nothing, really. Not yet. Is the wicked Justin back in the flat?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I told him I don’t want to see anything more of him than is necessary. He actually had the cheek to come in and ask to borrow gardening tools! Apparently, he intends putting the patch at the back down to vegetables, with a bit of lawn down the bottom near the pigsty.”

  “Sounds like he means to stay.”

  “I wouldn’t bank on it, Mum. I couldn’t trust him now, not after messing us about with the flat.”

  “Ah, well, there could have been a good reason, I suppose. Still, as long as all is well now, and you make sure you remember to lock up out the back, so you’re safe in here.”

  “Yep. Anyway, did you want a word with him? I’m pretty sure he’s in. Sometimes I think he’s got hobnailed boots, the row he makes!”

  “Something to do with settling in, I suppose. I’ll not bother him. A clause in the tenancy document about security needs rewording. Just in case.”

  But as she left the shop, she saw the nose of the Fiat edging out into the road. Justin saw her and immediately got out. “Mrs Meade, how are you? Looking a lot better than the last time I saw you! Can you ever forgive me?”

  “No,” said Lois. “But, to change the subject, I need to see you sometime about the tenancy agreement. Needs rewording.”

  “Right. Shall I give you a ring? Oh, and by the way, what do you think of the news? About Uncle Robert, I mean. It’s the talk of the town!”

  “It could have been worse, I suppose. The hospital must be really furious. It puts them in a really bad light! They are being very cagey about it, but your uncle is said to have had a relapse. “

  “Shame,” he said, and then smiled at her. “Must fly! Late already. Bye, and take care.” He revved up the engine and started off with a squeal of tires.

  “What a dope,” muttered Lois. “He’ll come a real cropper one of these days.”

  *

  Justin was heading into Tresham. He passed the New Brooms office, and pulled up opposite Dot Nimmo’s house. After knocking at the Brierleys’ front door, he looked at his watch. Not lunchtime yet, so Ted should be safely down at his club. He knocked again, and it was immediately opened by Betsy.

  “No need to knock the house down!” she said. “You’d better come in, I suppose.”

  Dot, up in her bedroom getting ready to go over to her next job, saw the car, which she recognised, and made a note to have another look to see if it was still there when she went out. She strongly disapproved of Justin having the Farnden shop flat, and had said so forcibly to Lois. “Him being Pettison’s nephew is enough to have nothing to do with him,” she had said.

  Inside the Brierley house, Justin sat down on a stool in the tiny kitchen, watching Betsy, as she continued hand washing a pile of frillies while he talked.

  “I bet you don’t remember good sensible knickers required for handstands in the school gym?” he said.

  “Blimey, I’m not that old!” she said. “And if knickers are on your mind, I’m not available at the moment.”

  “No, certainly not,” he said. “I’m here on business. We need to decide what to do now the network is very likely to break down. God knows how much they’ll find out. You got any plans?”

  “Oh, I shall have to carry on, if I’m able. There’ll be a lot of work to do, but it is lucrative, and we need the money. Whether Pettison will be well enough to get back into it is another matter. Also, there will be a lot of personal stuff to face. I must say I don’t look forward to it. But, as you know, it is difficult to see a way out without us incriminating ourselves. We’re in a bit of a limbo at the moment.”

  “What does Ted think of it all?”

  “He hasn’t said much. But on the whole he’s sticking by me, much the same as ever. He ain’t got much alternative, really.”

  “So, we’d better keep in touch, Betsy. It’ll be up to us. I do have some thoughts about how we could carry on in the future, once Pettison is out of the picture. And I can’t see him ever taking over again. That episode in the hospital must have set him back quite a bit.”

  “So what are you suggesting? I do sometimes think it’d be nice to keep the zoo going without all that illegal stuff. The two of us, and Ted, could carry on with the zoo and any animals we introduce should be aboveboard an’ all that?”

  “Yes. If we could make the transition without being incriminated with Pettison’s past, it would be a much better way for the future. You know how to handle the animals, and I’ve a reasonable head for business.”

  Betsy looked him up and down, as if sizing up his chances. “Do you really think we’re going to get away with it? All that we’ve done over the years, I mean? Because I don’t. If you ask me, the fuzz are biding their time. They know most of
what goes on at the zoo. Cowgill will strike when he’s ready. And it don’t matter how good we are now; our past history will do for us, but especially Pettison, with any luck. We’ll just have to wait and see. The best thing you could do would be to go back to Lincolnshire to be a farmer. How’s your mum, by the way?”

  “Bearing up. She’s more or less decided to sell the farm and buy a bungalow. Her friend Vera is willing to go in with her and be a sort of companion. I reckon that’s the most sensible solution, though I’m haunted by my late father’s hopes that I would take it over.”

  “Well, he’s gone now, so you’ll have to make your own decisions. Anyway, I’m busy, so if that’s all, I’ll see you out.”

  *

  Opposite, Dot watched them talking as they came out of the door, and then Justin drove off with the usual high-pitched roar.

  “What ho, Betsy!” she shouted across the street. “That was a quick one and no mistake! Doing all right?”

  Betsy laughed. “Nosy parker!” she called back. “Come in for cuppa this afternoon? See you then.”

  Forty-seven

  Saturday was usually the busiest day of the week, but the zoo was nevertheless quiet. It was eleven o’clock, and Margie looked around to see if anyone could take over while she stretched her legs and had a coffee. There was certainly no rush of customers to deal with

  She stepped out of the ticket booth, and called to the keeper, who was walking through the yard on his way to the animals.

  “Hi, Dan! Are you busy? You couldn’t take over for ten minutes, could you? I need a little break. My legs are older than my brain, and they seize up if I don’t walk about a bit.”

  He agreed readily, and, armed with the daily paper, he took up residence in her little quarters. There was just room enough to open the right pages, and he settled happily.

  “Hi, Margie!” Betsy was already sitting in the café, coffee and a large iced bun in front of her. “I shouldn’t, but I weakened,” she said.