Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  “Bees!” said Betsy again. “I cannot bear them, Justin. Ted will tell you. I run screaming if one gets in the house. Are you sure about this?”

  “We don’t have much option, do we?” he said flatly. “There’s no contact name, address or anything else. We have to accept them, and that’s that.”

  “We could refuse to accept them?”

  “And then what? We’d have officials from sundry authorities crawling all over the zoo. And probably another damaging story in the paper.”

  “Did you put that other one in? Was it you what done it?” Betsy said.

  “Of course not,” said Justin. “If it had been me, I’d have thought of something a bit more sophisticated to do to him.”

  Betsy looked at his frowning face, dark with what she thought must be extreme dislike.

  “So what did he ever do to you?” she said. “He was one of my best customers.”

  “All water under the bridge,” Justin replied. “Best forgotten.”

  “But not forgiven?”

  “No, not forgiven,” he said. “Now we’d better arrange who’s going to be up at the house ready to receive the bees. Not you, obviously!”

  “No, it’ll have to be you. Perhaps Dot Nimmo might take a turn. I believe she’s up there cleaning on a Tuesday.”

  “I’ll ask Josie in the shop. Her mother will know. She’s New Brooms’ boss, isn’t she? Okay, Betsy, let’s get on with it.”

  Fifty

  “Morning, Mum,” said Josie, as Lois came through the shop door. “You missed a call. It was Justin. He’s in Tresham already, and wanted to know if Dot will be cleaning up at Cameroon Hall, and if so, would she be prepared to take in a parcel?”

  “Yes, she is, and it’s up to her whether she accepts a parcel or not. I’ll ring her on her mobile. Did Justin say where he would be?”

  “Yes, he phoned from the hall, and said he would be there all morning. I think he wants Dot for an hour or so in the afternoon.”

  “Right. I’ll do it now.”

  After her call, she said to Josie that Dot had been intrigued, naturally, and agreed to take in the parcel, if it had not arrived when Justin was there. She said he’d not given her any idea of what was in it, except that it mustn’t go astray. Postmen often left parcels on the doorstep, he had said.

  “Not if they’re parcels needing a signature before delivery,” said Lois. “Anyway, no doubt Dot will report. Now,” she said, fishing a shopping list from her pocket, “can you get these together, and I’ll collect later on? I have to go into Tresham this afternoon. Cowgill has summoned me. Your Matthew has no doubt acted as go-between again.”

  “Mum! He’s very discreet! It’s not easy for him, you know.”

  “No, sorry. I know he’s really tactful. And a good policeman, thank goodness. I always feel safe, now you’re both living in the cottage.”

  *

  Up at Cameroon Hall, Justin waited in some trepidation, hoping in a way that the parcel would not arrive until Dot had come to take over. But quite soon the bell rang at the back door. He rushed to open it, and was greeted by a deliveryman with a white van with no contact details on it. He carried no parcel.

  “You can come and get ’em out, mate,” he said. “I’ll be damned glad to get them out of my van. The cold weather is supposed to send them to sleep, but they’re buzzing about like mad. I should leave them outside, if I was you. The warmth inside the depot has probably woken them up.”

  “I was wondering if we could transfer them from your van straight into mine? I’ve got a really safe place to put them. No good leaving them here to terrorise the neighbourhood!” Justin said.

  “Do what you like with them, but sign this, please, to say they arrived alive and buzzing when I handed them over.”

  Between them, they managed to transfer the hive, safely protected, into the zoo van, and Justin returned to the house. He made himself a coffee, and settled down to think until Dot Nimmo arrived. But before that, he reminded himself, he had to call Josie, and ask her if it was okay to put the hive down at the end of the garden, well out of the way. He had meant to do some mugging up on beekeeping on the internet, but had no time, and reckoned he could master the basics from asking around friends.

  Where had Pettison intended to keep them? And why had he ordered them? Surely bees were bees, full stop. Nothing rare about bees. Maybe he just fancied keeping them. The estate was large enough to put them well out of harm’s way, provided he was here to keep an eye on them. But now, with nobody in residence, it would not be possible, in case they decided to fly off to pastures new, stinging a few dozen citizens on their way.

  The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Pettison would not be in the business of making honey, or even keeping them as a new hobby. They must have been intended for a client. Perhaps someone would be getting in touch, and then they would be able to get rid of them.

  *

  When Dot arrived, soon after lunch, she was horrified. “I’m not staying here unless you get rid of them bees,” she said to Justin. “And have you asked Mrs M if she’s willing to have them there at the back of the shop?”

  “Well, actually, I spoke to Josie, and she said she’d think about it, and ask her mum and Derek. But I haven’t got time to wait for that. She didn’t sound too bothered, and I can always take them away again.”

  “Best get going then,” said Dot. “I shan’t settle until you’ve gone.”

  All the way to Farnden, Justin was aware of the bees. The buzzing seemed to have died down a bit. It was certainly freezing in the van, and he wondered if they would die of the cold. If they did, they did, and maybe a good thing, he decided.

  “Oh hello,” said Josie, as he came into the shop. “Mum said to tell you it would be all right, so long as you know how to look after them. And so long as she can have the first pot of honey! I said it was in direct competition with the shop, but she pointed out I could sell your honey, too.”

  “Thanks a lot,” he said. “I’ll get them unloaded and down to the end of the garden. I might put them in the pigsty overnight, and then take a look at them tomorrow.”

  “What sort are they?”

  “Are there different sorts?” he asked. “I know they’re not bumblebees. And they’ve come from Africa. That’s about all I know.”

  “There’s mason bees and honeybees and also killer bees,” said Josie, “but I think those ones come from Africa, so it might be them! Anyway, they’re not an endangered species, as far as I know.”

  *

  In the Brierley house, they had been talking about Pettison. “Poor old sod hasn’t got any relations that I know of,” said Betsy. “I suppose I’d better go over to the hospital and pop in for a few minutes. Last time I went, they said they weren’t sure that he knew a visitor was there. He’s deep in a sort of coma, or trauma, I suppose. He’s good at pretending, mind. Still, I shall have him on my conscience unless I go.”

  “Rum sort of conscience you’ve got! Anyway, make sure you don’t get involved. With his future, like,” said Ted. “I don’t want to have to take responsibility for him, no way. And anyway,” he said as an afterthought, “I’ll not be surprised if this silent act isn’t all put on. It’s easy to pretend, and not speak. You can bet he’s busily thinking out some new scam.”

  “You’re right, Ted. We have to be careful. It’s quite enough taking over running the zoo for the time being. Though I must say Justin has turned up trumps. It’s given him something serious to do, I reckon. He was a bit of a drifter before. Cagey about his past, although he let slip his dad, who’s just died, wanted him to run the family farm. I really think now, having seen him in action, that he could do it perfectly well. As for the zoo animals, he’s wary, but is learning how to handle them. Farmer’s instinct, I think, more than anything else.”

  “Well, you do what you like,” answered Ted. “You always do, anyway. But don’t drag me into it. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be happy to see that
place closed down tomorrow, and him with it.”

  Betsy did not reply. She was well aware of Ted’s feelings about Pettison. He naturally couldn’t stand the sight of him. But, as she occasionally reminded him, he was happy enough to spend his money. He had asked her pertinent questions about Justin lately. Perhaps he was thinking about setting up a new client for her, now Pettison was out of action. But there was nothing doing there. Not that Justin was gay. She was sure of that. But he was not the sort to take up her offers. Not yet, anyway. She liked working with him at the zoo, and that was that.

  “Bye, Ted. Should be back in an hour at the most. And, by the way, Justin phoned to say the latest addition to the zoo is a hive of bees! Arrived today, not exactly by post. He’s keeping them behind the Farnden shop until he knows what to do with them. So, off to Pettison. Shall I give him your love?”

  “Buzz off!” said Ted, and she set off, still laughing.

  *

  Betsy joined the queue of visitors in the waiting room at the hospital, and walked with them through the maze of corridors until she came to the private wing. The receptionist said it was fine to go straight in to Pettison’s room. “Not sure if you’ll get anything out of him,” she said, “but he may know you’re there. Just talk about things he might recognise.”

  The room was warm and quiet, and smelt strongly of a pleasant flowery perfume. Was it a spray, or had he had a visitor with an expensive scent? The latter, she decided, and wondered who it could have been?

  She leaned over and kissed his forehead, now revealed from the mass of wrappings.

  “Hi, Petti,” she whispered. “It’s Betsy come to see you.”

  His eyes were closed, and apart from an occasional flicker of one eyelid, there was no visible reaction.

  She settled down in a chair, and began to chat about things going on in the zoo, and what she and Justin were doing to keep it up and running. “He’s really helpful, Petti,” she said. “He got stuck into it straightaway, and we’re working well together.”

  Still no reaction, though she could have sworn there was a fleeting change of expression. Continuing to chat about nothing very much, she came to the latest consignment of animals. “Or insects, to be truthful. A hive of bees! And Justin’s taken charge of them at his flat. When you feel up to telling us who they’re for, we’ll move them on to the client. I’m not keen on bees, I must say!”

  Pettison stirred, moving his legs very slightly, and then appearing to lift one arm. To Betsy’s surprise and horror, he moaned, and then appeared to whisper something. She put her ear to his mouth, and was sure of one word only.

  “Killers,” he said, quite clearly.

  Fifty-one

  “Justin? I’ve got a message, of a sort.” Betsy took a deep breath. “I’ve been over to see Pettison, and he seemed much the same. But then I mentioned the bees, and he kind of moved, and then whispered something. I could only get one word, but he repeated it once, and then relapsed into his usual nothingness. I told the nurse, and she was really excited. Said it was definitely a step forward, and asked if I could visit again tomorrow. I’m home now, and had to ring you. He said ‘killers.’ That’s all.”

  “I suppose it’s good news,” he said. “But what do you think he meant?”

  “It’s obvious! He meant the bees, and was telling us they’re killer bees. Ted’s looked them up in our encyclopaedia. They come from Africa, and they’re deadly if they sting you! All you can do is run, and even then they can follow you!”

  “Oh my God, what do we do now?”

  “I should leave them in the pigsty until we find out who they’re for; then whoever it is will have to collect. As long as they’re shut in, we’re all right.”

  “Well, the pigsty has only got the bottom half of a door, and that’s bolted. But the top half must have gone years ago. It is really cold tonight, so I’m sure they’re either dead or fast asleep. Anyway, I’ve fixed a tarpaulin tacked down temporarily over the open top half, and I’ll see what I can do tomorrow to fix it properly.”

  “We could ask the pest control people to help.”

  “They’d just take them away. There’s probably a lot of money resting on this consignment.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Justin! They’re killer bees. We don’t want a death on our hands, do we?”

  He did not answer. Then he coughed, and said he had to go, but he’d be in touch tomorrow to reassure her. She said goodbye, but felt that somehow the danger was still lurking.

  *

  Next morning, Lois was awake early. She had had a nightmare about Josie held in the hand of a large gorilla standing on top of St. Martin’s steeple. Unable to free herself from a sea of treacle covering the ground beneath, she had fought her way out of sleep and lay awake sweating and trembling. The terror had remained with her, and she decided the only thing to do was to go down to the shop and make sure Josie was fine.

  “I’ll not be long, Mum,” she said. “If Derek rings, tell him where I am. He’s gone into Tresham for supplies.”

  “I don’t know why you have to go traipsing down to the shop so early, getting in Josie’s way?”

  “I shan’t be long,” Lois repeated. “I’ll take Jeems, and then carry on for a bit to give her some exercise.”

  Josie was at her usual chore, sorting out the newspapers, and was surprised to see her mother so early.

  “Nice to see you, Mum,” she said. “Though I hope it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong.”

  “No, no. Just getting some fresh air and exercise with my dog. Everything all right with you? Are the bees safely buzzing?”

  “Dunno, really. I haven’t had time to have a look. I know Justin went down there with a piece of tarpaulin Derek found for him to cover the top half of the door. Apparently he wants to keep them shut in until he gets some instructions from the zoo.”

  “Right-o then. I’ll be on my way. So long as you’re all right.”

  After she had gone, Josie was puzzled. Her mother did not usually pay early morning calls without some good reason for doing so. And why did she keep on asking if I was all right? “Does she know something I don’t?” she said aloud. “If so, what?”

  The next customer was even more of a surprise. A woman who announced herself as Betsy Brierley came in, and asked if Josie knew where Justin was. Apparently he was not answering his phone or his mobile.

  “I expect he’s still asleep,” Josie said, trying to remember what she had heard about Betsy Brierley. “He was out the back, working on the pigsty door last evening. My gran walked by on her way back from seeing her friend Joan, and heard him banging away down there! Can I help at all?” Like selling you an expensive box of chocolates, she thought. I’m not here as an unpaid assistant to my tenant.

  Betsy shook her head. “No thanks. Sorry to trouble you. I’ll catch up with him later. I’m on my way to the hospital. They asked me to go in urgently, and I need to tell Justin. Thanks, anyway.”

  Josie shook her head, trying to make some sense of this. She remembered Betsy’s association with Robert Pettison, who was still in hospital after a humiliating shock. Everybody knew that, from the local papers.

  A van drew up outside, with deliveries for the shop, and Josie put all else from her mind as they unloaded the heavy boxes.

  Meanwhile, Betsy drove into town and circled round and round trying to find a place to park near the private wing. It was a bad time of day, she supposed, all part of the morning rush. Finally, she parked under a tree, which dripped heavily onto her car roof. Not a good start, she decided, and made her way to reception, where she was directed to the private wing. She was greeted by a woman washing the corridor with mop and pail. “He’s not up yet, dear,” she said. “Ask at the office this end. They’ll help. Most of the nurses will be in the office doing the changeover. Night staff going off; day lot coming in. Busy time of day. Do they know you’re here? It’s not visiting time.”

  “I was phoned,” Betsy said crossly. “Urgent, th
ey said.”

  “You go and knock on the office door. They’ll send someone.”

  Finally, Betsy found the office, braved the scowling staff as she knocked at the door, and explained.

  “Oh yes, that’ll be Nurse Brown. I’ll tell her. Wait there.” The door was closed, and Betsy was about to walk away and go straight home, when it opened again and a familiar nurse came out.

  “Ah, Mrs Brierley,” she said. “It was concerning Mr Pettison. Earlier on, he seemed restless, and we caught some sounds from him. The only thing we could make out was ‘killers,’ and as this seemed to upset him, we thought perhaps you could shed some light? Perhaps have another session and hope he explains? It’s an odd word, isn’t it, under the circumstances?”

  Betsy sighed, and said yes, very odd. But she had an idea what he meant. She would go and sit with him for a bit, and see if he said anything else. “And you couldn’t rustle up a coffee for me, could you?” she added.

  “There’s a machine in reception,” the nurse said unhelpfully, and returned to the office, shutting the door firmly in Betsy’s face.

  “Sod that for a bunch of soldiers,” Betsy said, and marched off, her high heels clacking noisily along the empty corridor leading to the private rooms. She sat with Pettison for half an hour, and he didn’t move. Nor did he say anything more, and Betsy finally gave up and left.

  When she reached home, Ted was still there, and had not yet gone to work at the gas company’s showrooms.

  “What’s the matter with you?” she said grumpily.

  “Got the morning off. Not required. It’s the beginning of the end, probably. There’s not enough orders to keep us all busy. Short time, and then the chop. That’ll be me. Helping at the occasional funeral doesn’t make enough to buy a couple of pints. And you’re not in work yourself at the moment. There was a call for you, by the way. From one of your old regulars. We might need some of them if Pettison doesn’t make the grade. Mind you, if he no longer wants you, we can get back to the old days with plenty of customers. More lucrative in the long run. It’s not all bad news, Betsy. Meanwhile, I think I’ll go down into the shed and eat worms.”