Threats at Three

by Ann Purser

  “Does it make a difference?” asked Lois, with a grin. They all laughed. Most of them could remember him as a sandy-haired schoolboy, and a nice one at that.

  “Of course,” said a straight-faced Douglas. “So where shall we find a barrel? Any ideas?”

  “I think I can help there,” said Mrs. T-J. “My people are in brewing, and I’m sure my cousin would be delighted to let us have a barrel. We shall probably have to clean it out, of course, but shall I go ahead with that?”

  Blimey, the old thing is a mover and shaker. “Thank you, that would be a great start,” he said, and then suggested they all move into a circle round the big table so that he could show them some preliminary drawings he had made.

  Lois was proud of him. He had a gift for bringing out the best in people, either adopting their suggestions or tactfully sidelining them for the moment. Sheila Stratford said she was sure Sam would be able to find some good wheels on the farm. Although he was now retired, he still spent a lot of time there, helping out. Their long patch of trouble and involvement with the police had come to an end, and Sheila was anxious to rehabilitate Sam into village life.

  By half past eight, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones announced that they had made really good progress and it was time to wind up the meeting. “We must meet again, weekly, if that is acceptable,” she said. “Not much time, and I shall need some practise if you all insist that I drive a jar of jam! I must confess,” she added modestly, “that I discovered one of my grandchildren has a similar vehicle, and I had a couple of practise sessions. Reasonably successfully, too. Quite an exhilarating experience, you know,” she said confidingly.

  The stunned WI members got to their feet, and Mrs. T-J said she would see them all next Monday evening. “Same time, same place,” she said, and went out humming what could have been “Jerusalem” if she had not been totally tone deaf.

  GAVIN, WATCHING TELEVISION WITH THE SOUND TURNED DOWN low so as not to wake Cecilia, looked at his watch. Kate should be home soon. He had had an uncomfortable evening, regretting some of the things he had said to her, but mostly worrying about Tim Froot. He had devoutly wished over and over again that he had never allowed himself to become involved with the man. He was not a man, he was a monster, so friendly and helpful at first, convincing Gavin that the investment he was recommending was all legal and aboveboard. He even offered, and persuaded Gavin to accept, a considerable loan to make the investment worthwhile. And now he was calling in the debt, so that there was not just a risk of exposure of fraud, but also a horrible threat of blackmail involving poor Kate.

  The thought of the monster with his hands on his beloved wife sent blood rushing to his head and he stood up, his fists clenched. As he heard her footsteps along the garden path he rushed out and hugged her tightly until she gasped for breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating, and she took his arm and led him into the house, putting her finger to her lips and reminding him that Cecilia was a very light sleeper.

  “Now,” she said, when they were sitting side by side on the sofa, “what exactly are you so sorry about? Not just a mild quarrel with me, surely? After all, I had every reason to send that Froot man packing. He won’t try anything again.”

  Gavin was quiet for a minute, and then ran his hands through his hair and groaned. “It’s a long story,” he said, adding to himself that he could not possibly tell her all at the moment. Perhaps an edited version would explain his anger and caution her to be very careful with Tim Froot in the future. So he said that when he left Froot’s company, he had had to break a contract in order to take up the new job, which offered really good prospects. Froot had been tough, he said, and made a deal with Gavin involving a loan, which he now wanted repaid.

  “But can’t we pay him in installments?” Kate said. “I can get a part-time job now Cecilia’s at nursery. And I can work at home, too. Lots of people do now, using computers. It’s a different world out there!”

  Gavin nodded. “That’ll help,” he said. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll crack it together.”

  Later on, aware that Gavin was not asleep, Kate said, “You haven’t told me everything, have you, Gav? You haven’t said why Froot is always cruising round this village, down to the village hall and around the streets. Not because of my irresistible charms, I’m sure of that.”

  There was a long silence, and then an unconvincing snore. Kate sighed and turned over to face the wall. She had enjoyed the WI meeting, but it all seemed very unimportant now. It was a long time before she finally fell asleep.

  THIRTY-TWO

  SO I SAID TO HER,” GRAN INSISTED, “THAT SHE MUST REPORT him to the police. Mind you, I don’t think she will. She said she knew him, so I expect it’s more complicated than it looks.”

  Lois frowned. “It was a bit extreme, wasn’t it, suggesting the police? After all, if they knew the man, a stern warning from Gavin should do the trick. Anyway, you did right to comfort the poor woman. But it doesn’t sound like it was the same man as the mystery food thief, or Jack Hickson’s missing father.” Or the man who’s persecuting him outside the school gates, she decided. Her mother had taken the whole thing a bit too seriously, she thought privately. Probably just a marital tiff, and Mum walked straight into it.

  “Could be an old boyfriend stirring up trouble. But thanks for telling me, anyway,” she said. “Nothing like a boost from Gran Weedon! Kate seemed quite restored at the meeting. Now, I must get on,” she added, returning to her computer screen. “Floss is coming to see me later on, and yesterday’s team meeting threw up a few problems. Thanks for a nice breakfast,” she added tactfully, hoping she had not been too hard on her mother.

  The telephone rang, and Gran lingered. Lois smiled at her and waved a farewell hand. Gran left the room in a huff. After all, she said to herself, Lois is not the only one with a nose for trouble.

  “Hi, Inspector,” Lois said. “Busy morning. I’m pushed for time here, so what’s up?”

  “Good morning, Lois,” he said, and his tone was brisk. “Chris and I are on our way over to Farnden to investigate another theft, this time from you-know-who up at the hall. You could say we’d been summoned. I wondered if you’d be around for a quick chat? Chris will be with me, of course.”

  “I don’t need a chaperone,” Lois said lightly. “Still, she seems nice enough, and yes, I’ll be here. But Floss is coming to see me at twelve thirty, so you’ll have to make it snappy.”

  In ten minutes they were there, knocking at the front door and being admitted by a curious Gran. “Good morning, Inspector,” she said. “And you, Miss . . . ?”

  “Chris,” said the policewoman. “I’m Inspector Cowgill’s assistant. You must be Mrs. Meade’s mother?”

  “Yes, I am,” said Gran. “I am her housekeeper, and we—”

  “Thanks, Mum!” said Lois, emerging from her office. “Come in, you two. Perhaps my housekeeper would bring us some coffee?”

  Cowgill smothered a smile, and Gran stomped off to the kitchen.

  “Now,” said Lois, “how can I help?”

  Cowgill reflected that Lois was much more polite and friendly when he had Chris with him, and realised he preferred her as she was when he was on his own. Her abrupt accusations and downright rudeness seemed to him to be the real Lois, the Lois he loved. He knew from many perilous situations they had been in together that she was feisty, brave and impatient, not this mild person facing him now. Unless it was really necessary, he decided, he would not bring Chris with him in the future. In any case, for all he knew, Lois would not be so forthcoming with a third person present.

  He was right. Lois held back when they asked if she had any idea who the thief might be, and had nothing to say on the more serious matter of the drug dealer at the school gates. It seemed that one or two parents at Jack’s school had seen the man hanging about, and were worried for their own children. They had reported this to the police, and Cowgill asked if Lois had heard anything from parents in Farnden. She was cagey. Hazel h
ad been in touch with her earlier this morning, filling her in on what happened when she gave Jack a lift, and Lois had promised to ask Paula what she knew. It was, after all, a matter for Paula to deal with, and Lois intended to back her up and support her all she could. But it would be better if she, and not the police, could get to her first.

  “It happens every so often in most schools,” she said now. “I remember when Josie was a teenager and dabbled briefly with substances, as they call them. It wasn’t nice at the time, but it was a phase that passed. You should ask some of the kids, the bigger ones. They probably won’t tell you, Inspector, but Chris might have more luck, especially if she’s not in uniform.”

  “And the thefts? Any connection, do you think, Lois?” Cowgill said with a sigh. He knew his Lois, and could see they were getting nothing of interest from her this morning.

  Lois shook her head. “A tramp, maybe? We’ve got no gypsies to blame this time, have we? No, I should think it’s a cunning old tramp. That’s how they survive, though there’s not many around now. Welfare State, an’ all that.”

  Cowgill stood up. “Well, thanks, Lois. Can’t say you’ve been a great help, but thanks anyway. We shall be around the village for a while, calling on parents who have children at the Tresham school. We don’t want to spread alarm, but it could be serious. We have a list of these children, but if you think of anything that might help, you know how to findme .”

  “Before you go, and speaking of being a great help,” Lois said acidly, “is there anything new on the corpse in the canal?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Chris. “He was one of the homeless lot, mostly drunk on anything he could get. Nothing to do with any of our investigations. His brother turned up finally and identified him. At least he’ll get a decent burial.

  “Well, thanks for letting me know, Inspector,” snapped Lois.

  Sod it, thought Lois, after they’d gone. Now she had to move quickly, to find Paula before they did. She looked at her watch. Paula would be at the hall now, and there’d be nobody at home in the Hickson house.

  “Mum! Something’s come up, and I have to go out. Shan’t be long. If Floss gets here before I’m back, ask her to wait. Thanks.”

  Gran tut-tutted. Lois would never change. Good thing she had an iron stomach, always rushing hither and thither, not giving herself time to digest. There’d been a pile of biscuits on the tray of coffee she’d taken in, and now the plate was empty.

  “Take care!” she shouted to the retreating New Brooms van, and reflected that she might just as well save her breath.

  AS SHE DROVE INTO THE STABLE YARD, LOIS SAW A FAMILIAR FIGURE disappearing into the kitchen garden. Tall, thin, but a lot smartened up from when she saw him last, holed up in a derelict cottage in a rainstorm. She wondered how Paula was coping with this situation, and was even more determined to soften the impact of the visiting police investigators if she could.

  Mrs. T-J was in the kitchen and answered the door. “Mrs. Hickson? Yes, she’s here. Working upstairs,” she added, with emphasis on “working.”

  “I wondered if I could have a quick word with her,” Lois said firmly. “It is urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t bother you.” At that moment Paula came into the kitchen, carrying her cleaning things.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll just get a fresh floor cloth. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “It’s you Mrs. Meade has come to see,” Mrs. T-J said crossly. “I’ll leave you together, but I’m expecting the police soon. We’ve had a theft from our storeroom. Perhaps you could tell me when you go, Mrs. Meade.”

  “Old bag,” whispered Paula, then apologised. “Is it about Jack, husband Jack?” she said. “He’s here now, in the garden, if you want a word. I don’t have anything to do with him, but he tries to sweeten me up. It’s probably him what took the food.”

  Lois shook her head. “No,” she said, “it’s about Jack Jr.”

  Paula groaned. “Oh, no, not in trouble again. I tell you honestly, Mrs. M, I don’t know what to do with that boy. What’s he done this time?”

  Lois explained as briefly as she could about the man at the school gates, and said she knew young Jack was scared. She told Paula about Hazel giving him a lift, and then said the police were in the village, following up complaints from other parents, as well as investigating the theft. “They’ll have Jack Jr.’s name on a list of children in Farnden who go to that school, so they’ll be wanting to talk to you. I hoped to give you time to think before they found you. You may have to tell them about your husband an’ that.”

  “Oh, my God,” said Paula. “So there is somebody pushing drugs. That’s the last thing my son Jack needs. Poor kid. It’s all that sodding gardener out there’s fault! Maybe I’ll put them on to him.”

  “You’d better get back to work now. But think carefully, Paula. I shouldn’t be telling you to keep things from the police, but your first concern is young Jack, isn’t it? I’m off now, but keep me posted. Bye.”

  After she had called to Mrs T-J that she was leaving, she drove off out of the stable yard and saw Jack Hickson standing by the gate, staring at her. It was not a friendly stare.

  LOIS FOUND FLOSS WAITING FOR HER WHEN SHE GOT BACK. “SORRY I’m late,” she said. “Had to have a quick word with Paula.”

  “That’s fine,” Floss said. “I’ve got a couple of hours before I go over to Fletching. Nothing bad happened, I hope? Mrs. Weedon said you’d had to rush out unexpectedly. I saw the police in the High Street, outside the shop. I wondered if anything had happened to Josie.”

  Lois shook her head. “Probably quizzing her,” she said grimly. “Village shopkeeper knows everything. You know the kind of thing. It’s about the school in Tresham. There’s been a dealer trying to sell to the kids, apparently. Parents have complained, and the police are going around talking to families who have kids at the school.”

  Floss looked at her sharply. “Hicksons?” she said. “Hazel told me about giving Jack Jr. a lift, and him telling her how he was scared of this man.”

  “Right,” said Lois. “Well, that saves me telling you. Yes, Jack’s been approached. But I wasn’t sure that his mother knew, and I had to get to her before the police.”

  Floss nodded sympathetically. “Poor old Paula. She’s got more than enough on her plate, without a kid on drugs,” she said. “Did you find her?”

  “Yes. I only hope she has time to think things out before the police catch up with her.”

  “Why shouldn’t she tell them straight that she knew nothing about it? After all, she’s got nothing to hide.”

  Lois took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she brushed a hand over her eyes wearily. “She suspected. But no, that’s right,” she said, “she’s got nothing to hide.”

  IT WAS AFTER TWO O’CLOCK WHEN COWGILL AND CHRIS FINALLY caught up with Paula Hickson. She had had an hour to herself before collecting little Frankie from nursery, and then the twins from school, and had been frantically turning over in her mind what Mrs. M had told her. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she had suspected for a while that Jack Jr. had been experimenting with something. Once or twice he had been very shaky in the mornings and had cried off school, saying he felt sick. His violent mood swings were suspicious, too.

  She remembered sadly what a nice little boy he had been before all the trouble with his father. A real charmer, people had said. She had taken him as a baby back to the development company where she’d worked to show him off to her friends, and the Dutch boss had come in and been so nice about him. Quite soppy, he had been. Funny, she thought now, she could have sworn she saw him staring at the village hall from his car the other day. It was probably someone else, but he’d smiled at her in that rather smarmy way the girls had reason to mistrust.

  She dragged her thoughts back to Jack Jr. What should she tell the police? She lit a forbidden cigarette and stood out in the garden, staring out at the road as if she could will the police to pass her by.

  So who was trying to persu
ade children to take drugs? And why hadn’t the police taken him off the streets? She supposed those kids who knew only too well why he was hanging about were probably hooked already, and would be too scared to tell on him. But now parents had banded together and called in the police.

  The chances were they would not ask her about her husband. Why should they? As far as she knew, Jack Sr. had not been in trouble with the law. There had been that scrap with his workmate. Well, it had been more than a scrap, apparently. She’d been told he had had to go to hospital and they found a broken rib. But again, she had not heard that Jack had been reported.

  She saw a car cruising slowly along the street, with a man and woman peering out from side to side. Police, for sure. She stubbed out her cigarette under her shoe and returned rapidly to the house. She knew now what she would say to them. Nothing much. There would be no point. They were sure to find out who the dealer was from one of the other parents, and the police would make sure the man was put away, well away from corrupting innocent children. If she told them of her suspicions about Jack Jr., they would question him, and however gentle they were, and with her alongside, it still might tip the poor kid over the edge. No, she would be vague and willing, but not much help. That would be best. After all, Mrs. M had more or less advised her to do this.

  THIRTY-THREE

  GAVIN ADSTONE HAD RECEIVED A CALL TO HIS MOBILE AS HE walked to his car. The signal wasn’t very good, but Tim Froot’s guttural voice was unmistakeable.