6 - Superfluous Death

by Hazel Holt

  ‘ “Give me the daggers!” Yes, I could hear her saying that all right—here let me do it! If you think about it, Macbeth must have been quite a difficult person to live with, all that inviting guests home without checking first.’

  ‘Yes, Ma. But about Carol. Where was she when old Miss Graham was killed?’

  ‘Let me see. I rang up the girl in the shop to try and get Ronnie and he was at home in bed with flu and Carol—Carol had gone to Taunton to see a supplier. I wonder ...’

  ‘What are you going to do, Ma? Ask Roger if he’s checked her alibi?’

  ‘No. I think I’ll just ask a few questions myself ... Oh, bother, I’ve grated my finger. Pass me an Elastoplast from the cupboard will you?’

  The next day I waited until I saw Carol leave the shop for her lunch (she took it at two o’clock when what passes for the lunchtime rush-hour in Taviscombe was over) and the young assistant was alone. What cs an>

  ‘Oh, good afternoon,’ I said brightly. ‘I want a pair of walking shoes in brown, low heels, size six and a half, C fitting.’

  The girl disappeared for a while and finally came back with a motley selection of shoes, some of which were neither brown nor low-heeled, but since that was not the object of the exercise, I didn’t comment but let her help me try them on.

  ‘No, that’s a bit tight on the instep ... No, this one’s a better ... Is Mrs Graham about?’

  ‘No.’ The girl produced a shoe horn and tried her best to cram my foot into a shoe that was manifestly too tight. ‘She’s on her lunch break. Did you want to see her specially?’

  ‘No, no. I just wondered how she and Mr Graham are after that terrible business with Mr Graham’s aunt.’

  The girl gave up her struggle with the shoe.

  ‘I think you really need a wider fitting in this style,’ she said. ‘Yes, wasn’t it awful? Poisoned! the papers said. Fancy having someone close to you poisoned.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ I said. ‘It was most distressing. Actually,’ I lowered my voice confidentially, ‘I was the one who found her.’

  The girl sat back on her heels and regarded me with round eyes, as if I were some sort of television celebrity.

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘You found her! Then you must be the lady who phoned me that day asking for Mr Graham!’

  ‘That’s right,’ I replied. ‘I’m Mrs Malory and I was a friend of poor Miss Graham.’ I looked at her enquiringly. ‘And your name is?’

  ‘Julie. Julie Shallcross.’

  ‘Oh, really? I think I know your mother—Maureen Shallcross?—at the Hospital Friends. Well, Julie, as you can imagine, I was dreadfully upset and, of course, I needed to get hold of one of them right away.’

  Julie nodded solemnly and regarded me with frank curiosity. I was obviously beginning to take on for her the glamour of someone in a newspaper story. ‘It must have been awful, all alone like that with a dead person. I’ve never c Irank cur seen anyone dead.’

  ‘It was certainly awkward neither of them being available,’ I said. ‘Mrs Graham was in Taunton, I think you said?’

  ‘Yes, she went to see Mr Bracewell. He’s our handbag supplier. He’s on that trading estate near Staplegrove.’

  ‘And she was out all day, then?’

  Julie settled herself more comfortably on a small fitting stool, obviously prepared to embark on a good chat.

  ‘Yes, she was. Though as it turned out the whole thing was a waste of time.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘He wasn’t there. He’d been called away. Urgent family business, he said. He’d had to go away the night before, so there was no one there. He works on his own, you see. She wasn’t half cross when she got back.’ Julie’s face darkened at the memory. ‘She thought he hadn’t let her know. Apparently he’d left a message on their answering machine, but it turns out it wasn’t working properly—I expect Mr Graham had done something to it (he’s not very good with mechanical things)—and she never got it.’

  ‘How tiresome for her,’ I said sympathetically. ‘But you say she was out all day?’

  ‘Oh well, as she said, since she was in Taunton anyway there were several other things she had to see to, shopping and so on.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I replied. ‘There are so many things you simply can’t get in Taviscombe any more and you really have to go to Taunton for them.’

  ‘Taviscombe’s a bit of a dead and alive place, really, not much to do.’ Julie balanced a shoe reflectively in her hand. ‘No proper disco and nowhere for any decent group to come.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I suppose it must seem a bit slow for you. I don’t remember, really, it’s so long since I was your age, but I seem to think that we made our own entertainment more. We had to get about on bicycles, too; it wasn’t long after the war and hardly anyo cd hink thane had cars, and no petrol to speak of, so we couldn’t go far ...’

  Julie looked at me as if I were from a different planet rather than simply a different age, so I said briskly, ‘I quite like this one with the buckle, if you have it in a larger size.’

  Julie shook her head. ‘We could order it for you,’ she suggested.

  ‘Oh well, I’ll leave it, then.’ I picked up my handbag. ‘I’ll look in again and see if you’ve got anything new. Thank you so much, Julie. Do remember me to your mother.’

  I felt rather mean, leaving the poor girl to put away the rejected shoes that I had had no intention of buying, but consoled myself by thinking that she must be used to it by now and she had at least had a chat to pass what would otherwise have been a boring gap in her day.

  ‘I think you should tell Roger,’ Michael said when I reported back to him that evening. ‘It means that Carol doesn’t have an alibi and she does have a zonking great motive. And it sounds a bit thin, all that about the answer-phone being up the pictures.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Goodness, I’ve just realized! When I tried to phone Ronnie at home, you know, when I found Miss Graham, there was no answerphone. I mean, it just kept ringing through!’

  ‘Ha! There you are, then. It must have been switched off by then, because if there’d been anything wrong with it you’d probably have got peculiar buzzing and clicking noises, it wouldn’t have just rung through—’

  ‘So,’ I broke in, ‘this Bracewell, the handbag man, could perfectly well have left a message on the machine the night before, so she’d have known he wouldn’t be there and then she pretended that the machine hadn’t been working—probably just switched it off—in case anyone else tried to get through. And she didn’t go to Taunton, at all. And all that business about spending the day shopping! If I know Carol and it had been like she said, she’d have been straight back to Taviscombe to the shop. Especially if Ronnie was ill and she’d had to leave Julie in charge. She’s a nice girl, but, as I can testify, she’s not much use at selling shoes! So Carol might have been in Taviscombe all the time. If only someone had seen her on West Hill!’

  ‘Well, can"n">onyou can’t expect that sort of luck twice,’ Michael laughed, ‘there’s only one Sybil Jacobs!’

  ‘Alas! Anyway, you’re right. I’d better tell Roger.’ I got up reluctantly from the sofa and replaced a sleeping Foss carefully on the seat. ‘I think I’ll call him at home, sort of casually, because, as you say, I really ought not to have known about that Trust and all those legal things, and if I make it all official at the police station, you might get into trouble with Edward.’

  Roger was non-committal when I told him what I’d found out.

  ‘Yes. The power of appointment. We know about that; I’m looking into it.’

  My description of Carol’s abortive trip to Taunton and the non-functioning answerphone roused him a little, though.

  ‘Did she now? That’s interesting—I’ll follow it up. We can do with another lead because Dr Cowley’s definitely a non-starter.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I went to Leamington and by dint of not implying any sort of blackmai
l found out from this June Hargreaves that she had been with Cowley at about the time of the murder.’

  ‘Ah. It’s a pity, though,’ I sighed. ‘He’s such a thoroughly dislikeable man; he’d have been a good murderer.’

  Roger laughed. ‘Life isn’t like that, as well you know. Anyway, thank you, Sheila, for your help. Oh, hang on, Rosemary wants a word. Something about gingerbread for the Bonfire Night party. I’ll be in touch.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Are you going to the bonfire party?’ I asked Jenny when she came to supper the following week.

  ‘Michael’s been telling me about it,’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘It sounds great fun—I adore fireworks. We never had any when I was a child and I’ve felt deprived ever since!’

  ‘Oh dear. Did your parents disapprove of them?’

  ‘My father died when I was a baby so we were very hard up and my mother used to say she hadn’t got money to burn.’ Jenny gave a little laugh. ‘S fbabo we never did.’ There was a moment’s slightly embarrassed silence and then I said quickly, ‘I’m a bit afraid of fireworks myself. I don’t like the noise. And, of course, the animals hate it all. At least the dogs do. Foss seems impervious, in fact he usually sits by the window drinking it all in! Actually, this is a very well-organized show, run by the Round Table in aid of charity, so we all chip in, contributing fireworks, food for the barbecue and so on. Which reminds me, I must get the gingerbread made some time this week!’

  ‘How nice! Can I make something, too?’ Jenny asked. ‘A cake or some biscuits? Oh, I know! I’ve got a very good recipe for brownies from an American cookbook. Would that do?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ I replied. ‘But you must be sure to keep them away from Michael, who’s been known to eat six at a sitting!’

  ‘Oh, it’s very rewarding to have someone who really enjoys what you cook—just cooking for oneself isn’t the same thing at all.’

  ‘Did your mother teach you to cook?’ I asked.

  Jenny shook her head. ‘No, she didn’t like cooking. Anyway, she was out at work all day and was always pretty exhausted when she got in. No, I just sort of picked it up. And then, at the end, she was ill for a long time, so ...’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It must have been very hard for you.’

  Jenny gave a little grimace. ‘The hardest thing of all was not going to university. I had a place, but by then my mother was too ill for me to go away. Even Birmingham was too far—I had to be able to get home to see to her at lunchtime.’

  ‘Oh, my dear!’

  Jenny smiled. ‘Oh, it wasn’t the end of the world. Lots of people have worse things to cope with. And I was lucky. I got this job in a solicitor’s office in Wolverhampton and they were very good—sent me on day release courses at the polytechnic for word processing and computer studies.’

  ‘What made you come to Taviscombe?’ I asked.

  ‘I saw the job advertised and it was quite a step up for me, very good experience.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I do hope you stay here and we don’t lose you to London and the big time!’

  ‘She can’t possibly go,’ Michael said. ‘Drayton and Decker would simply collapse in a heap without her. Besides, she’s the only person in the entire firm who can find anything in the document room.’

  Jenny smiled at him. ‘Oh, I like Taviscombe and the countryside’s so lovely round here.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘you’re a bird-watcher, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, in a very amateur way. I don’t know an awful lot about them, but it’s a good excuse for being in the open air in pleasant places.’

  I laughed and went out to get the coffee. When I got back Foss followed me into the room and made straight for Jenny, jumping on to her lap. She gave a little cry and I went over and scooped him up.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said apologetically, putting him on my chair, where he promptly curled up, wrapped his tail around his nose and feigned sleep. ‘I’m afraid he does rather tend to land with his claws out; it can be very painful at times. I do hope he hasn’t laddered your tights or pulled a thread in your skirt.’

  ‘No, honestly, it’s quite all right. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting it.’ She gave a tight little smile and picked the cat hairs off her skirt.

  ‘Oh really, Ma,’ Michael said, ‘the animals get worse and worse! I swear Foss does it deliberately. It’s a miracle anyone ever comes to see us!’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right,’ I said. ‘He does have a dreadfully calculating nature. Did you have any animals at home?’ I asked Jenny as I poured the coffee. ‘White for you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s lovely, thanks. No, we never had animals. It wasn’t really convenient with us both out all day.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I handed her the cup.

  ‘What a lovely coffee set!’ Jenny said, turning the cup round in its saucer to look at the pattern. ‘Royal Worcester, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ I replied. ‘How clever of you to know—it’s not one of the better-known designs.’

  ‘Oh, I love beautiful china and porcelain,’ she said. ‘If I had a lot of money that’s what I’d collect.’

  ‘This set belonged to my grandmother. There’s a tea set as well, almost complete, though Foss knocked one of the cups off the draining board and broke it. I kd b. The had it riveted, but of course it’s not the same.’

  ‘Oh dear, what a shame. I should think a complete set would be very valuable now.’

  ‘Probably,’ I replied. ‘I’ve never actually got round to finding out, I’m afraid. I suppose I should keep it put away in a cabinet, but I’m sure my grandmother would rather I used it; she was a very practical woman. Anyway, I can’t bear to think of beautiful things locked away, jewellery in banks, pictures in strong rooms, that sort of thing. Did you see that bit in the paper the other day about how someone keeps a Stradivarius in a bank vault?’

  ‘Well, it must be worth a fortune! They’d want to keep it safe.’

  ‘But an instrument like that!’ I persisted. ‘If it’s not making music it’s dead, just so much wood and gut!’ Jenny smiled and shook her head.

  ‘Oh, Ma’s got a totally anthropomorphic view of things as well as animals,’ Michael said. ‘She probably thinks the poor violin feels lonely and frustrated.’

  ‘No,’ I said defensively, ‘it’s just that I hate seeing things that are meant to be used, being treated as objects for purely materialistic ends.’

  I made the gingerbread and took it round to Rosemary, who was being a sort of clearing house for Bonfire Night contributions.

  ‘Oh, lovely,’ she said. ‘Bonfire Night wouldn’t be the same without gingerbread. Or is it parkin?’

  ‘I think you’re only allowed to call it that in Yorkshire,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if the recipe’s the same. How’s it all going?’

  ‘I’ve got the whole of that chest freezer out in the utility room full of food of various kinds,’ Rosemary replied. ‘Just as well the family’s here and we’ve eaten up most of this summer’s veg. There wouldn’t have been room otherwise. Oh, did I tell you? They’re hoping to get completion on the house next week. I’m so glad you told me about the Welches—it’s a perfect house for them.’

  ‘So when will they move?’ I asked.

  ‘In about a fortnight. Roger’s hoping to get a few days off to help, but, what with this Graham case, I don’t know if he will. Talking of which, what an extraordinary thing about that Trust thing. Does it really mean that Ronni kan ze=e and Carol will be fabulously rich?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know how much you know,’ I said tentatively, ‘and I’m probably not supposed to say anything at all, really, since I got it from Michael in confidence, but—yes, it does look like that.’

  ‘I only hope it improves Carol’s temper,’ Rosemary said. ‘She and Ronnie were having the most awful row in the shop the other day. I was in there with Jilly, trying to buy some shoes for
Delia. Oh, it’s so difficult, she’s taken against shoes for some reason and she simply sat on the floor and howled when the poor girl tried to fit anything on her. So embarrassing!’

  ‘What was the row about?’ I asked curiously. ‘Could you hear?’

  ‘Well, they were out in the back, in the stock room, so mostly I could only hear raised voices and a general angry blur, but I did hear the word “development” several times and Carol was saying something about not being taken for a fool.’

  ‘Goodness!’ I exclaimed. ‘I wonder what that can have been about. The development must have something to do with the Trust—you know a developer wants to buy the land for some incredible amount. It sounds as if they’re quarrelling about the money already.’

  ‘Oh well, you know what they say about money not buying happiness,’ Rosemary said. ‘But it’s not like Ronnie to stand up to Carol in any way. You know how feeble he’s always been.’

  ‘Well, money does funny things to people, especially a really big amount like this. Perhaps,’ I suggested, ‘he wants to blow the lot on some fabulous piece of furniture or a Gainsborough or something!’

  ‘I must say,’ Rosemary said thoughtfully, ‘I was very surprised to see what lovely pieces he’s collected. Still waters run deep, or whatever it is they say.’

  ‘The row must have been pretty serious for Carol to sound off like that, in the shop where anyone could hear,’ I said. ‘She’s usually very conscious of the customers. What really makes me so sad is to think of poor Miss Graham! If only all this had come a couple of years earlier, what a difference it would have made for her. It’s so unfair; with money like that she could have lived anywhere and there’d have been no hassle with horrible Dr Cowley.’

  ‘I gather, from what Roger’s let slip, that Dr C’s no longer a suspect,’ Rosemary said.

  ‘No, he appears to have an alibi. Anyway, all this money seems a much better motive. Except that the two people who benefit don’t seem to have known anything about it. It really is a complete mystery. Oh well, I daresay we’ll discover sooner or later what it was all about. How’s the cake situation now?’