Dodie steered the conversation onto the treatments the others were having, saying this was her first time and she wanted to know what the treatments were like.
'I haven't a clue what reiki is,' she said, 'and hesitate to try it.'
'Oh, you must, it's absolutely wonderful!' the older of the two women said. 'I really love it!'
'Isn't it some Japanese thing?' Mr Barratt asked. 'They have some interesting therapies, I believe, though this is my first time here too.'
'Yes, it's Japanese, and it's great for relieving stress. They lay on hands, and help the life force energy to flow through us. It treats the whole body, and the emotions. You must try it, both of you. I always feel great after a session with Jenny.'
'Yes, I must,' Dodie agreed. It didn't sound too bad, not like the full massage where she expected to be pulled and pushed around, slapped and pummelled by some huge, tough therapist. She hadn't met Natalie yet, who, she understood, did the massage, and though Elena had assured her there were gentle ones she was wary. What Elena considered gentle was not the same as her own perception of the word.
'I'm for the yoga this afternoon,' the younger woman, who hadn't yet spoken, said. 'Natalie is a great teacher. We come here every year, don't we, Mother? All the therapists are excellent.'
Her guess had been right, they were mother and daughter. If the walkers were sisters, as she supposed, it began to seem as though The Crags catered for families. At least they did not have screaming toddlers, though perhaps women came here after giving birth in order to get back into pre-baby shape.
When lunch was over Dodie managed to evade the helpful guests attempting to introduce her to their favourite therapies, saying she needed to speak to Felicity.
'She's not here today, she only does three days.'
'Oh, then I'll have a word with Sheila.'
To her relief Sheila was in the office, looking worried, and ushered Dodie into her private sitting room.
'I really don't mean to fuss, but it's getting so that I can hardly sleep for wondering which of my staff has become a thief. Have you any more ideas?'
'I do understand, but there's not a lot of evidence. It's all speculation, and I have more questions, I'm afraid.'
*
After talking with Sheila Dodie went up to her room, dug out a notebook and wrote down all the information she had so far acquired, and the questions still to be answered. Although some of the other staff, like the waitresses or Frank, even the therapists, might come to the guest rooms, she thought they could only come occasionally, and it was unlikely any of them could have been there every time there was a theft. That must mean one of the maids was the thief, and Rosie and Mandy who did the top floor had the best opportunities. However, before she made any accusations she needed to check they had been on duty when the jewels were stolen.
So far she had not spoken to the housekeeper, Mrs Jones, had only seen her in the distance carrying fresh towels into one of the ground floor rooms. What excuse could she make to summon her? She did not wish to complain, for she had no complaints, and could not accuse one of the maids unfairly of some dereliction of duty. And any ordinary request would usually be dealt with by one of the maids. Then she recalled her pretended headache that morning.
The housekeeper's telephone extension was on the list of internal numbers, and Dodie promptly rang it.
'Hello, can I help?' The voice had the local accent, like several of the maids and waitresses. It was brisk and businesslike.
'Mrs Jones, it's Dodie Fanshaw here. I'm so sorry to trouble you, but I find I have forgotten some medication. I'm hoping you can let me have some painkillers, for a headache. I understand Miss Joan could help, but I don't want to interrupt her sessions, and Miss Sheila is busy today in the office. I'm rather hoping you might have a supply to hand.' She was burbling, giving the impression of an incompetent airhead. Dodie wondered if it was an unconscious desire to appear unintelligent, to put people off the scent, but she doubted she could keep it up for long.
'Oh, please don't worry, Mrs Fanshaw, I have some and I'll bring something along right away.'
'Room 305, but I expect you know.'
Mrs Jones laughed. 'Of course.'
'I'll leave the door unlocked.'
Dodie put down the receiver, and glanced round the room in order, she thought with a grin, to set the scene of an invalid's sickroom. Swiftly she drew the curtains, made sure none of the tumblers were in the bedroom, kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed just as there was a gentle knock on the door.
'Come in,' she whispered, then repeated it in case she had been sounding too ill and Mrs Jones had not heard. It did not matter, the housekeeper bustled in and closed the door behind her with a snap. Dodie winced, then tried to look apologetic. She didn't want the woman to take offence.
Mrs Jones was a women in her forties, tall and thin, with dark brown hair showing a thread of grey at the roots. She carried gold-rimmed spectacles that dangled on a chain, and wore a neat blue dress with breast pockets that reminded Dodie of a nurse's uniform. A pen nestled in one of them, and what looked like a pack of wet wipes in the other. Yes, she looked like a nurse.
'Is it a migraine?' she asked, coming across to the bed and sitting down on the edge. She put her hand on Dodie's forehead. 'Yes, you do feel a little feverish. Do you have these heads often?'
'Oh no, it's not a migraine,' Dodie whispered, restraining herself with some difficulty from pushing the woman's hand away. She hated hospitals and doctors, and avoided them whenever she could. 'It's nothing as bad as that, thank goodness, but when I get these wretched heads there's nothing to do but take a pill and lie down.'
'Have you been doing too much? Some of our guests can't take it slowly, they feel they have to make the most of their stay and sample everything, because they are paying for it. Now, which of these pills do you prefer? I know people have preferences.'
Thank goodness she seemed the chatty sort, Dodie thought as she raised herself to a sitting position and took one of the proffered pills in their individually packed strips.
'These will be fine,' she said. 'Thank you so much. I don't think I have been too energetic, really, though I did feel a little faint this morning after swimming and sitting in a hot tub. I'm not usually a great fan of too much exercise, so I'm taking it easy, my first time here.'
'I'll get you some water.' Mrs Jones went into the bathroom, and brought out a tumbler which she handed to Dodie. 'Now drink plenty of water, and try to rest. Shall I send for your daughter?
'Elena? Oh no, thank you. I don't want to interrupt her programme, and there's nothing she can do. I'll just lie here quietly, and will be better by dinnertime.'
'Well, phone me if there's anything else I can do. Now take the pills.'
Dodie dutifully swallowed the pills. 'Thank you. Yes, it's my first time here. I believe many of your guests come back each year?'
'Yes, they do, we're very popular.'
'Do the therapists stay for long, or do you have to engage new ones?'
'Most of the staff are here for a long time. They are well paid and the work's not too onerous.'
'The maids too? Do they all live in?'
'Mandy, who does this floor, lives in the village with her mother, since her father died last year, so does Pat from the ground floor live out. Rosie lives in at the moment, though she is engaged and will move out when she gets married in the summer. I hope she will stay here, she's a good girl, a steady worker, though she's looked a bit peaky just lately.'
'Is her fiancé a local man? In the village?'
'He's one of the gardeners, Sam, and he has a flat above the old stables. They'll live there until they can get a house in the village, I imagine, though they don't come available very often.'
'It must be satisfying that your staff are so reliable, and stay for a long time,' Dodie said.
'Indeed it is. Now, Mrs Fanshaw, that's enough talking. I must leave you to rest, and hope your headache is better soon.'
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'Yes, and thank you. It's feeling better already, and if I can sleep I'll be perfectly well by dinner time.'
*
A couple of hours later Sheila came up to Dodie's room. 'I hear you are not well, not serious, I hope?'
'Just a mild headache with an excuse to chat to Mrs Jones. It's better now, thanks.'
'What did you think of her?'
'Very efficient and capable.'
Sheila's frown gave way to a smile. 'Yes, she is. Good. Now, I have some of the answers,' she said. 'Here are the lists. I hope it helps, but I need to go back to the office, we have some new guests arriving soon.'
Dodie swung her legs off the bed and began to look through the papers. 'Thanks, Sheila. I'll go through them and try to eliminate those I can.'
Sheila sighed. 'I can't think how you can do it. I've tried to sort it all out, but it's hopeless. There are so many different combinations!'
'It's a matter of eliminating those who are least likely to have done it. But I'm afraid it must be one of the maids. How long have they been with you?'
'Ages, and I thought I could trust all of them!'
'How long has Mrs Jones been housekeeper?'
'Three years, almost. You surely can't suspect her!'
'I suspect everyone until I can cross them off the list.'
'I suppose you have to. Jamie said you were good. You'll be well enough to come down for dinner?'
'Of course. It was a diplomatic headache, that's all.'
Sheila went, Dodie looked through the new lists, and later went down to the pool area. Terry was there, and he came up to her with a beaming smile on his face.
'Mrs Fanshaw, they didn't have the shower jel you wanted, but they said this one was as good.'
He offered her a large bottle, and Dodie suppressed a shudder. She'd used this before, and hated it. The scent was far too strong and seemed to linger for hours. Oh well, she could always leave it behind in the bathroom when she went back home. She forced an appreciative smile.
'Thank you, Terry,' she said. 'How much do I owe you?'
'Sorry, but I lost the receipt,' he said, without any sign of remorse or embarrassment, and mentioned what Dodie was sure was an inflated price.
She pulled out her purse, counted out the amount, and added more for a tip. He made no objection, smiled at her and pocketed the cash.
'Thanks, Mrs Fanshaw. Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, just let me know. It's always a pleasure to help our guests.'
Feeling nauseous Dodie left the pool area. Didn't Joan and Sheila know what a creep the man was? Or was it impossible to find anyone else to do the job? She went to Elena's room, hoping her daughter would be there and she could talk about Sheila's lists, check with Elena that her provisional conclusions were reasonable. But Elena was not there, and Pat, who had been turning down the sheets with her partner, said she thought Miss da Rocha had gone to the drawing room.
Dodie nodded her thanks and went into the main house. It was almost time for dinner, and the drawing room sounded full. There was a great deal of chatter and laughter coming from it. Sighing, promising herself a double gin as soon as she could find the local pub, Dodie went into the room.
Elena was once more sitting near the window, with, as far as Dodie could judge, the same group as at lunchtime. The curtains were drawn, there was no sight or sound of the waves, so Dodie threaded her way across the room, avoiding the welcoming glances from her lunchtime companions.
She was passing another small group, including the energetic walkers, and noticed a woman she hadn't seen before. The bright red hair was certainly new. She must be one of the newly arrived guests.
She glanced up as Dodie walked past, and gave a gasp of surprise.
'Why, surely you are Dodie Fanshaw? Don't you remember me? I'm Hazel Prentice. We met when you came to stay with your friend Phyllis, when her son Martin was accused of murdering his wife. You were quite the Miss Marple. What mystery are you investigating here? No more murders, I hope!'
*
CHAPTER 4
Before Dodie could reply dinner was announced, and Hazel shepherded her and her two companions into the dining room, commandeering a circular table for four in the middle of the room.
'Well who's been murdered here?' Hazel demanded. She had a shrill, penetrating voice and Dodie could see heads all around swivelling towards them. If she could have got under the table she would have, but the tablecloths hung almost to the ground. She tried an insouciant laugh, but was afraid it didn't come out quite right.
'No one has been murdered, homicide is really not frequent, and it doesn't follow me around,' she answered. Yet, she added to herself, thinking of imaginative ways she could dispose of Hazel. 'I'm here for the same reasons as I assume you are.'
Hazel gave her what Dodie could only interpret as a sceptical look. I suppose she thinks I'm here to lose weight, Dodie thought resentfully. Hazel might be slender and pretty, but she was probably bored and a week at a health farm doing yoga and having facials was likely to be her idea of amusement.
'But The Crags is so far from London. That's where you live, isn't it? There must be heaps of health clubs and spas much nearer you.'
'Yes, lots, of course, but The Crags has a good reputation, and a friend recommended it.' Well, Jamie was a friend.
'But do tell us about this murder Hazel mentioned,' one of her companions said. 'It sounds intriguing. Did you really solve it?'
The surrounding heads were either openly turned towards them, or leaning sideways to catch everything. Both waitresses and Frank were hovering nearby. Dodie opened her mouth to reply, but Hazel was before her.
'Oh, it was the scandal of the decade, where I live. Martin, a village worthy, lost his wife in a rather dodgy accident, and he was being blamed. Of course he swore he was innocent, but the poor man couldn't prove it, so he was being ostracised. His mother Phyllis asked Dodie here to come up and find out who did it.'
'Golly! And did you?' This was the other energetic one. 'I wouldn't know where to start solving a mystery like that.'
'It was a fluke,' Dodie said. Walking along cliffs would hardly solve murder mysteries. 'But fancy seeing you here, Hazel. Do you come often?' She cringed. It sounded like a chat-up line by a teenager.
Hazel was having none of it. 'Yes, every year. But there have been other flukes, as you call them, other murders where you have been, that you have solved, from what Phyllis has been saying. I'm dying to here about them, from, as it were, the horse's mouth.'
Dodie silently cursed her friend's busy tongue. She could do without speculation about her presence here at The Crags.
'Really? Do tell!' This was the younger walking enthusiast. Dodie could see slight differences now, and decided that they must be sisters, probably only a year apart, rather than the twins she had first suspected. So much, she thought wryly, for her supposed powers of detection.
'They were nothing, it was pure chance I happened to be there, nearby,' Dodie began, but Hazel was not about to let her escape. She clearly relished having knowledge others didn't.
'There was something about a riding school, and wasn't there one where a vicar was killed?'
'Both unfortunate accidents,' Dodie said desperately. 'Hazel, how have you been? Tell me how everyone is. Phyllis isn't a very frequent correspondent,' she added, sacrificing her friend.
Hazel frowned. 'Well, I suppose you have to keep your secrets. Especially if there are still court cases to come and you need to give evidence. Isn't that called sub judice or something like that?'
'Yes, that's right,' Dodie said with an inward sigh of relief. So long as Hazel didn't discover the cases had been over months ago, she could use that excuse. She only prayed the wretched woman would not discover anything else, but California, where she had been recently, was far enough away.
'What a pity,' the older one said. 'But do tell us what we ought to do here. It's our first time at The Crags, though we have stayed with friends in the area b
efore, and know the country. If either of you get bored with what's available we can show you some very interesting walks.'
*
As Dodie and Elena left the dining room they found two men in the entrance hall, one hanging onto the other's arm. Sheila was standing looking at them.
'The cheeky devil was going to sleep in my tool shed,' one was saying, shaking the arm he held. 'Said he had nowhere else but his car, and it was leaking.'
Sheila sighed. 'OK, Sam, I know him. You can let go, and thank you.'
Reluctantly Sam let go, and stepped back. The other man brushed his sleeve, and turned to Sheila.
'Miss Sankey, I don't mean no harm, you knows that. I just want to speak to me wife, but she won't come down, so I thought I'd wait till morning.'
'Yes, Ken, I know, but if your wife – ex-wife – won't speak to you, you have to accept it. You can't just sleep wherever you want. Now do go away, neither Mrs Jones nor I want you here.'
'But I have nowhere ter go! And no cash for a room.'
'You've got your car,' Sam said. 'Take that back to wherever you came from and sleep in that.'
Ken began to cough. 'I've got pneumonia,' he wheezed.
'Rubbish! If you have, go to a hospital. They might believe you. Where's your car? It's not in the car park here.'
Ken appeared to give up. 'It's just along the lane,' he muttered. 'OK, I'm off. But I'll be back, if I'm still alive.'
Sam took hold of his arm again and steered him through the front door. Sheila closed her eyes briefly.
'Was that Mrs Jones's ex-husband?' Dodie asked, and Sheila nodded.
'He comes here occasionally, trying it on. I don't know if she ever gives him money, but with luck we'll be free of him for a few weeks.
*
'That woman!'
Dodie and Elena were in the latter's room, having chosen to make coffee there rather than have it in the drawing room where Dodie suspected she would have been bombarded with questions from the less inhibited other guests.
Elena chuckled. 'You'll have to put on a disguise next time you go sleuthing. But what ill luck to meet her here.'
Strangled in the Sauna Page 5
