Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  “You win,” said Lois, and retired to her office.

  Gran straightened herself up, and then opened the door. “Good afternoon, Inspector, can I help you? My daughter’s rather busy at the moment.”

  “She’s expecting me, Mrs Weedon,” said Cowgill, with his most charming smile. “I am sure she will spare me a few minutes.”

  “Oh, very well. You’d better come in.”

  At this point, Lois came out and said that Inspector Cowgill had made an appointment with her, and they were not to be disturbed. Gran sniffed, and said in that case, they would probably want cups of tea, unless Lois called that an interruption. Lois resisted a temptation to give her mother a sharp response, and eventually she and Cowgill were left alone.

  “So how are you feeling today?” he asked, though he could see from her smile that she was her old self.

  “Fine, and you?”

  “Haven’t had time to ask myself!” he said. “We’ve had a lot of thinking and discussion. Going back to Pettison’s funeral, what did you think of it? Not bad, I thought, under the circumstances.”

  “Yep. I thought Betsy Brierley was very dignified, until she snapped in the café.”

  “Snapped? I saw her stalking off.”

  “Yeah, it was something I said, about giving him a good send-off. She must have loved him, I reckon, Hunter. Very sad, really.”

  “Mm, well, not many would agree with you. Betsy is considered to be hard as nails. Still, no reason why she should not mourn him. She’ll get over it, one way or another. Now,” he continued, “we’ve trawled all round the county, but found first of all that there are very few adapted taxis, and second, they were all either being repaired, or in use by reputable folk unconnected with our enquiry. In other words, we’ve drawn a blank, so far.”

  “Oh dear. Well, this may mean nothing, but I went round to Gran’s friend Joan, who lives in Blackberry Gardens, and asked her if she had spotted a taxi leaving that night. She said no, and then she laughed and said that on her way round to see if she could help at the shop, she saw a hearse—yes, a hearse!—vanishing at speed. It wasn’t until now, before you came, that it dawned on me that it could have had something to do with Pettison.”

  Cowgill said nothing for a few minutes. Then he opened his briefcase and withdrew a small plastic bag, securely sealed, and put it down in front of her.

  “Ever seen this before?” he said.

  “It’s a padlock,” said Lois flatly. “And there’s a small key in the keyhole.”

  “Correct,” said Cowgill. “The padlock has been taken from the pigsty at the back of Josie’s shop.”

  “And the key?”

  “Brought in by Betsy Brierley. She found it in the pocket of Ted’s black undertaker’s coat. It has been checked over thoroughly, and it is definitely the one.”

  “Oh my God! What did she say when she brought it in?”

  “Not very much. She was very upset, but tried to explain that she had to decide between loyalty to Pettison or to Ted.”

  “And Pettison won?”

  Cowgill nodded.

  “But why would Ted have wanted to do such a terrible thing? He’d lived alongside Pettison for long enough. They must have had a sort of tolerance of each other?”

  “Not necessarily. Ted could have been like a simmering kettle all these years, and suddenly boiled over.”

  “Boiled dry, more like,” said Lois, unimpressed. “But kettle or no kettle, he had put up with a lot, including being mocked by Pettison. Poor sod, he must have suffered. I suppose he could have walked out on Betsy, but maybe he loved her. Loves her, I should say. He started as her pimp, so I’m told, but they’ve lived together for years, and she’s not unattractive. So does he think he’s got away with it? What are you going to do?”

  “Pull him in for interview, of course. But first, I hear Mrs Weedon approaching with a tea tray, so you and I can exchange sweet nothings for a short while longer.”

  Lois sighed. “You really are an old softie,” she said. “But there is something tragic and romantic about all this, isn’t there? Too much misplaced love. I must say, and please don’t use this in evidence against me, that Pettison was an evil old devil.”

  “Maybe, but there could have been other ways of putting him out of action, such as a long stretch in prison for breaking the law relating to trafficking in rare species. But now he is dead, and we don’t have to think about that. We have to take care that Betsy Brierley doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  *

  Later that day, Cowgill sat in his office, facing a resentful Ted Brierley.

  “What do you mean, was I out that night driving a hearse? Of course I bloody wasn’t! There’s no call for a hearse at that time of day. Unless it’s for the Hell Fire Club. They have nasty rituals, but our lot won’t have nothing to do with that!”

  “Do you have someone to vouch for you being at home all evening, as you say?”

  Ted thought quickly. He would have to risk this, and tell Betsy as soon as he got home. “Betsy, of course. She’ll know I was at home with her. I can even tell you what we had for supper.”

  “Very well, tell me.” Inspector Cowgill sat back in his chair, and looked interested.

  “Steak and kidney pie,” Ted said. “With chips and peas, and ice-cream with fruit cocktail for pudding. Most of it came from the supermarket, but we’re both busy people. Sir.”

  “Excellent recall!” Cowgill said. “Do you pride yourself on your good memory?”

  Ted visibly relaxed. “Oh yeah, me and Betsy do the crossword every day to keep our brains sharp.”

  “So were you able to find some time to help out at the zoo, when Pettison went into hospital?”

  “No, they didn’t need me. And, I don’t mind telling you, I am not that keen on zoo animals. There’s always that smell of doings and disinfectant mixed. So no, I kept out of the way and left it to Betsy. She and that Justin Brookes seemed to be coping all right. Is it something to do with the zoo that you got me in here for?”

  “Possibly. Or it might be a charge of driving a hearse without due care and attention, and exceeding the speed limit in a built-up area.”

  Ted laughed at what he thought was a joke. “I’d not call Long Farnden a very built-up area!” he said.

  “I see,” said Cowgill, and made a note. “I suppose you must have attended several funerals there, over the years?”

  “Oh yeah. I know the area well. Those little lanes an’ village greens, an’ that. Sometimes difficult to manoeuvre round. You get used to it, though.”

  “So I expect you’d be good at driving in the dark around there?”

  “Oh yeah,” Ted said proudly. “They always ask me to drive, if there’s tricky jobs to be done.”

  Silence. Cowgill said nothing, and the atmosphere was heavy with tension.

  “Can I go now, inspector?” Ted said.

  “No, not yet, Mr Brierley. Not yet,” he repeated, opening his desk drawer. He carefully placed the small plastic bag on the desk in front of him and slid it towards Ted.

  *

  “They’ve kept him in, Justin, and it’s all my fault! What am I going to do?” Betsy was gripping her telephone, trying to speak calmly, but failing miserably.

  Her voice was hoarse, and Justin did his best to make sense of what she was saying.

  “You mean the police have taken Ted in for questioning, and have not released him yet? Do you know what they are asking him?”

  There was the sound of sobbing, and Justin was puzzled. “What’s been going on, Betsy?” he said.

  There was no reply, and he realised Betsy had cut off the call. He frowned. This was not like her. Perhaps he should drive over and make sure she was okay. If they had taken Ted into the police station, something new must have come up.

  *

  Betsy sat with the phone in her hand, staring into space. She had done it. She had agonised over what she should do since she had brushed Ted’s overcoat, ready to put it back
in the wardrobe, and felt the key in the pocket.

  Not that she hadn’t already suspected him of being involved in something fishy. Twice lately, Ted had gone out unexpectedly in the evening, dressed in his black undertaking clothes, and had returned later than usual.

  The first time, it was the night before she discovered Pettison had been humiliated in the hospital. A man in black had been spotted running away, the receptionist had said. And the second time was the night of the killer bees.

  Again, he had been wearing his black suit and overcoat, and she had noticed him taking the emergency hearse key from its hook in the kitchen. He had said next day he’d been meeting some of the lads for a special get-together in the Royal Oak pub in town. They’d agreed to wear their funeral gear to play a trick on the publican, he’d said. But she had met the wife of one of his undertaker mates in the supermarket next morning, and she had said her man had stayed at home all evening.

  Betsy had tried to put all this from her mind, but now Ted was in custody, and it was her fault. She had tried to deliver the padlock key to the police station anonymously, but they had insisted on taking her name and contact details. So now he would know she had shopped him.

  She drifted upstairs and found herself staring again at the black overcoat. He had been so proud of it, but in the end he had used it as a disguise for a horrible crime. She had always said he looked his responsible best when fully kitted out. She put her face to the warmth of the coat and noticed a stain on the cuff of one sleeve. She wished she was dead.

  Ted Brierley. She sat down on the bed, and let her thoughts carry on remorselessly. They had never married, although after a while she took his name. He had managed her life, along with several other girls, and he was a careful and considerate protector. Provided the girls made no trouble. For her it was easy. Being on the game ran in her family, and she’d drifted into it without thinking too much about it. Then when Ted took her on, it had been convenient for both to live together, especially when Pettison had said he wanted to be her only lover.

  Like an old married couple, Ted and she had got used to one another, and he was still protective towards her. What a mess! She caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wardrobe door. What a ravaged, awful face! Prostitution showed in the end, didn’t it? It might have started as a game, but ended in disaster. Best to end it. End it for good.

  “It’s all my fault, and there’s only one thing I can do about it,” she shouted to the image in the looking glass.

  Then the doorbell rang, and she went to open it. It was Dot Nimmo and Justin Brookes.

  “Can we come in?” Dot said. “We’ve brought a bottle.”

  Fifty-six

  They sat in the small back room, glasses of whiskey in front of them, and Betsy did most of the talking, spilling out the whole story, with Dot and Justin asking questions now and then.

  “Why did he do it, Betsy? I thought you and him rubbed along together quite happily. After all, you were only one of his girls,” said Dot. She was trying to be tactful, but it was not in her nature.

  “So we did, Dottie. He had to get rid of the other girls, and look after only me. Pettison organised all that. O’course, I knew he didn’t like Pettison. Not many people did! But Pettison was money, and we needed it.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Mrs Brierley, do you think Ted was jealous of you and Uncle Robert being together so much in that way? Do you know what I mean?”

  “No need to be polite, Justin. I made an early start. Mum hired us girls out. Wouldn’t be allowed now, would it? I was always the prettiest one, and did well. Then Ted came along and wanted me to join his group of girls. A pimp, he was, but known for being fair and professional. Pro can mean professional as well as prostitute, you know, Dottie Nimmo! We were professionals at what we did, and saved many a failing marriage, I reckon. An’ if you’re asking if Ted loves me, I expect he does, in his way. But jealous? I dunno. Maybe.”

  “So when Uncle Robert first appeared, was he a regular client? I think our family had more or less decided he was gay.”

  Betsy laughed. “Don’t you believe it!” she said. “I taught him a trick or two, but he knew most of them, and they had to do with girls like me. I was very pretty, you know, and he fell in love with me. He admitted it, and after a while he asked Ted if he could pay to have me all to himself. And Ted had to get rid of the other girls, so it was all confidential, an’ that. That was quite a long while ago, and we’ve carried on like that ever since.”

  “And what about Ted?” asked Dot. “I expect he thought it was a good deal? One regular client, no trouble, payed up regular. It meant he could get himself a job on the side. What went wrong, Betsy?”

  “Well, o’course I knew Ted was fond of me, like I said, but it was more like a father. Him and me never had no close relations, as you might say. Except for the last year or two, when he needed a cuddle in the middle of the night. And to tell the truth, Pettison was getting a bit past it. So there we were, a right triangle, and I think Ted had had enough of being beholden to Petti.”

  “What did he think of the animal trade?” Justin was amused at Betsy’s account of what could hardly be called a romance, and had a sneaking admiration for her practical, straightforward way of looking at it. He had never met anybody quite like her.

  “Oh, Ted disapproved of that. Reckoned it was too risky, an’ he’ll probably be proved right. Not that he had much to do with it, but he knew I helped out quite a bit. So I suppose he decided to put a stop to it. I reckon he wasn’t thinking quite straight. When Pettison asked Ted to take him to Farnden to see the bees, I reckon he saw a golden opportunity and didn’t see straight until he’d done the deed.”

  Her face crumpled, and she began to cry silently. Justin reached out and took her hand. “Don’t worry, Betsy,” he said. “We’ll take care of you.”

  Dot looked at him in surprise. As far as she could tell, Betsy Brierley was quite capable of taking care of herself.

  “But how did he get hold of the hearse?” continued Justin. “I know he was a part-time undertaker, but this was in the evening. Not many funerals at that time.”

  “Not sure,” said Betsy, “but it must have been the hearse he’s been working on. Refitting it inside, they are. Poshing it up with red velvet and brass handles an’ that. He could easily have got a wheelchair into that one.”

  “Wouldn’t it all have been locked up, standing there in the workshop?”

  “Oh, no problem. He had access to all the keys. They trusted him, poor saps,” she said.

  Fifty-seven

  Winter had finally ended, and there were signs of spring everywhere in Long Farnden. Lois’s garden was full of snowdrops, and the children in the village school were leaping about like young lambs, reviving old playground rituals with skipping ropes and coloured balls. Gran spent minutes at a time outside the school gates, listening to chants of “Nebuchadnezzar, the king of the Jews, bought his wife a new pair of shoes.”

  “When the shoes began to wear, Nebuchadnezzar began to swear,” she sang now to her friend Joan in her neighbour’s kitchen.

  “When the swear began to stop,” chanted Joan back to her, “Nebuchadnezzar bought a shop.”

  “When the shop began to sell, Nebuchadnezzar bought a bell,” tootled Gran, in a high soprano.

  “When the bell began to ring,” they ended in unison, “Nebuchadnezzar began to sing, GOD SAVE THE KING!”

  “We shouldn’t be singing today, I suppose,” said Gran, when they’d stopped laughing. “It’s the anniversary of that horrible killer-bees incident. Six months to the day. Or night.”

  “Yep. Well, that Ted Brierley’s safely put away, and Betsy and Justin Brookes paid enormous fines. Just as well young Justin’s got all that money! I reckon they got away with a lot, them two. And that Betsy, who’s no better than she should be, shacking up with young Brookes! She’s old enough to be his mother! It’s a funny old world. There’s the grand opening of the refurbished zoo th
is afternoon. Shall we go? I can drive us.”

  *

  The sun shone on the newly painted entry box, where Margie Turner, in a new frilly dress for the occasion, welcomed visitors in. “Free entry today, dears,” she said, as family after family passed through. The town band was playing a selection from The Sound of Music, and refreshment stalls had been set out on the lawns behind the zoo.

  Cameroon Hall was still empty, and it had a sad, neglected look, with the blinds pulled down over the big windows. But rumour had it that Justin Brookes, who had been given by his mother a goodly sum from the sale of his family farm, as well as inheriting Pettison’s entire estate, would be moving in shortly.

  “He’s still in our flat at the moment,” said Gran tartly, as she and Joan walked into the zoo. “Betsy Brierley has moved in with him. I told Lois she ought to forbid it.”

  “I expect they’ll marry and have a family in due course,” Joan said kindly.

  “I hope she’ll give up the game, then! Mind you, she and that Ted were never married, you know, so there’ll be no problem there. Justin Brookes is welcome to her,” Gran added. “The sooner they’re out of the flat and we can get a nice middle-aged couple in there, the better I shall like it.”

  “Oh look,” said Joan, trying to change the subject. “There’s the maypole set up, ready for the schoolchildren. Shall we sit over there and get a good view when they start dancing?”

  Inside the zoo and officiating beside the animal enclosures, Justin and Betsy were talking pleasantly to visitors about the habits of chimpanzees. “You have to be careful with them,” he said. “They are easily offended, and then you have to run!”

  “That applies to several people I know,” muttered Betsy in his ear.

  “And now, let’s go and see the snakes,” said Justin to the small group of onlookers. Shrieks from the children greeted this, and his eye was caught by a familiar figure “Hi, Josie!” he called. “We’re just off to see some lovely snakes. Will you join us?”