Strangled in the Sauna

by Oliver, Marina

  'What are you doing here?' the girl demanded.

  If she spoke to the guests in such an aggressive manner, she would not retain this job for long, Dodie thought, and then the meaning of the words came to her. Why did Mandy want to know? Who came to The Crags was hardly her concern. She must have met Mr Shefford on the previous occasions when he had come here.

  She didn't hear his reply, but then Pat arrived, greeted him, and he went away along the corridor. Dodie softly closed the door of her room and thought hard. There must be something between Mr Shefford and Mandy, for her to take that tone with him. A crazy notion came into her head. Was it remotely possible he was the rich boy friend who gave her expensive presents? When she could find the girl on her own she would challenge her, but while she and Pat were together it would serve no purpose. Mandy would simply deny it.

  *

  Dodie, thoughtful, went downstairs. Mr Shefford was in the drawing room, looking grim. Was that because he was on his own, without any of the usual admirers? Dodie went to sit by him.

  'I'm afraid I'm not very energetic today,' she began. 'Have you taken advantage of the therapies yet, or do you come here simply because it's a good hotel?'

  She thought he was going to snub her, but with an obvious effort he managed a polite response.

  'It's convenient, and I sometimes have a massage or swim, but after this murder nothing seems to be the same. Everyone's on edge, and I can't concentrate. Don't you feel that in order to benefit from such as a massage one needs to be in the right frame of mind first?'

  'You mean start out feeling tranquil?'

  'I'm sure it helps. Otherwise half the time is spent getting into that frame of mind, so the benefit of the massage is halved.'

  'I'd never thought of it that way before,' Dodie replied, and to herself she thought it was a bizarre idea.

  After a few moments of silence he spoke again, changing the subject. 'Tell me, what do you think of this chap they've arrested? Though I have occasionally swum here I can't say I ever noticed him particularly. They tell me he has a vicious temper.'

  'But you must know him,' Dodie said. 'Last week, on Wednesday I think it was, my daughter and I had lunch at the Bull, and you were talking to him. I didn't know who you were then, of course.'

  He looked surprised, and Dodie thought he was suppressing annoyance, but he nodded and smiled.

  'Oh yes, I remember now, I did chat with him. To be honest with you, he was the only person there I recognised, and one doesn't like to be unsociable, even when one has nothing in common with someone. But what do you feel about him? Had Mrs Jones upset him, do you think? She could be rather abrupt. I'd noticed it with the maids.'

  Why was he so interested? And why mention Mrs Jones?

  'People don't usually resort to strangling someone who has upset them. Frankly I was surprised,' Dodie said. 'Yes, he may have a temper, and he's surly, but somehow I don't see him murdering someone, and that murder must have been committed in a premeditated way. That would take a more devious mind than I believe Terry has.'

  'But they tell me he has no alibi, and simply claims he was in Middlesborough on Friday night. The police must have something else on him, I suppose.'

  'Perhaps. I don't know.'

  'The police have probably told Miss Sheila. You and your lovely daughter seem very friendly with her. Has she mentioned anything to you about it?'

  'No, she hasn't, and as I understand it the police usually keep some of their evidence back, to surprise people, so they are unlikely to have told Sheila anything else, just his lack of alibi.'

  'Yes, I see. Ah, here is your daughter. Elena, I believe?'

  Smarmy creature, Dodie thought. She would contrive that they didn't have to sit with him at dinner. To that end, when she saw Hazel enter the drawing room she waved energetically to her. Even Hazel with her snide questions about whether Dodie had yet solved the murder was preferable to more of Mr Shefford.

  Then when dinner was announced she managed to hang back talking to another guest, until she could sit at a different table.

  *

  Able to have a brief word with Sheila the following morning, Dodie found her suspicions correct. Sheila had wanted a close eye kept on Mandy, so had paired her with Pat. She didn't want to damage the girl's employment, and decided she would only mention Mandy's aggression towards Mr Shefford after she had spoken with the girl.

  It was a day for a swim, she decided. Nothing was happening, and she could think of few more enticing things to do. Massages and scrubs did not appeal. The thefts had been explained, and though they must be connected to the murder, she could not work out why. She doubted Terry could be involved in that, it wasn't his style to be devious and careful. If she could not do any more, it would be time to go home and leave the police to make fools of themselves over Terry. She really didn't believe they had a good case.

  She was swimming languidly up and down the pool, with a few more of the guests, when the outer door opened, swinging back against the wall with a crash. She glanced up, and swallowed a mouthful of water when she saw Terry come in.

  He was grinning broadly, and slapping hands with Darren and Sam. Dodie speeded up and climbed out of the pool in time to hear him explaining.

  'I got me an alibi!' he was saying. 'My mates went round the pubs last night, and found several people who remembered me. And,' he paused impressively, 'they found the tart I was with all night. So the plods had to back down, make their humble apologies, and let me go!'

  *

  CHAPTER 13

  Terry was surrounded by people slapping him on the back and demanding details. She would not be able to get near him, Dodie thought, so she might as well get changed. Afterwards, having spoken to Elena, she went back to the pool where Terry was talking to Sam. Darren, as usual, was doing all the work, collecting wet towels and making sure the sauna cubicles were operating at high temperatures. That is, he was looking after all but the one where Mrs Jones had been found, though the police tapes there had been removed. Perhaps, in a few weeks, the memory of that grisly scene would have been forgotten and the new guests would feel less squeamish about using it. She wondered if Terry knew about the thefts yet? Very few of the staff had any idea. Felicity may have known, and perhaps one of the waitresses had overheard the guests discussing the finding of Mr Barratt's tie clip. The police had not asked him to keep quiet about it.

  Dodie went towards Terry, and he turned to face her. 'Good to see you back,' she said. 'Terry, there are some questions I need to ask. Can I treat you to lunch at the pub? I'm sure Sam will carry on covering for you.'

  Sam looked anything but delighted at the notion, but he could not refuse. With a muttered curse and deep sigh, plus asking sotto voce when people expected all the garden work to be done, he slouched off.

  'Shall I drive?' she asked as they went out to the car park.

  Terry glanced from his ancient Ford to Elena's BMW, and graciously agreed to be driven by a woman. Dodie noticed Mr Shefford's Mercedes, which he normally parked next to the BMW, was missing, and hoped he was not going to the Bull for lunch. If he persisted in joining them, her chance of asking Terry questions would vanish.

  As she went towards the village Dodie merely asked when the police had released him.

  'This morning,' he told her. 'And such a palaver! I'm innocent, I had been wrongly arrested, and they still treated me as if I was a major criminal!'

  'I don't suppose they liked being proved wrong.'

  Geoff, the landlord, lifted his eyebrows when Dodie ushered Terry to a table for two and asked for menus. No doubt, Dodie thought with an inward grin, he was more used to Terry having a liquid lunch with maybe a handful of crisps. A quick glance round assured her that Mr Shefford was not there. When they had ordered, she turned back to Terry.

  'I'm partial to the fish and chips they have here.'

  'Geoff has a good chef, though I don't often get to eat like this. It's usually just a bar meal when I eat here.'


  'I'm sure they must be good too. From what I can judge he attracts quite a lot of passing trade.'

  'He does that.'

  'Like Mr Shefford. Did you know he was staying at The Crags now?'

  Terry took a long drag on his beer. 'Who?'

  'You must know him, I saw you talking to him one day last week, Wednesday, I think it was. He often stays at The Crags.'

  Terry shifted awkwardly in his seat. She tried to sound as though this was a casual remark, and sipped at her wine, not looking at him.

  'Oh, yes, you mean that posh guy with a Merc. Yes, I remember now, he was talking to me.'

  'Doesn't he usually stay at the Crags when he's in the area?'

  'I don't know about usually. I've seen him there once or twice. He said he was just passing, on his way further north, and called in because it was lunchtime and handy.'

  'I noticed him because you were the only person here I recognised. He seemed very serious, and I don't know if I'm being paranoid, but I thought he kept looking at us.'

  Dodie sat back as the waitress brought cutlery. Terry was looking embarrassed, and when the waitress moved away he leaned forward and spoke quietly.

  'So he's staying now, is he? How long?'

  'I don't know. How long does he normally stay? Do you know?'

  'Not really, unless he comes to the pool, which he doesn't often do. I don't know if he has any other treatments. Just a couple of days, I think. He said he liked to relax in between appointments, but I don't know what they are.'

  'He's up here a good deal, I gather. But enough of him. Have you any idea who could have killed Mrs Jones?'

  'Some loony, must have been. Someone who caught her in the car park. Or that scruffy husband of hers who's often hanging around, wanting handouts.'

  They had to pause while their meals came. Dodie cut into the fish and squeezed the lemon, while Terry cut off a piece of steak and began chewing it. Dodie waited for a minute or so, then spoke again.

  'But if this was Ken Jones, or a random killing, why and how could he get her into the sauna? It doesn't make sense.'

  'It don't make no sense anyway to put her there, unless they were trying to put the blame on me or Darren.'

  'That's not likely to be the case with a random killer. Could it be anyone from the village, someone you've offended perhaps?'

  He shook his head. 'I know there's a few that has grudges against me, but no one who'd try that.'

  'And they presumably must have had some grudge against Mrs Jones, not picked on her by chance. Has she any enemies in the village?'

  'I don't see how, she never comes in the pub, and she's no other reason to be in the village.'

  'And no friends locally, I take it?'

  'No friends at all,' he said. 'She's too eager to keep her distance from the rest of us, and I've never heard anyone in the village mention knowing her.'

  'Apart from people like Pat and Mandy who live there.'

  'Mandy!'

  She was surprised at the tone. It was partly anger, but there was also frustration in that one word. 'You must know her quite well?'

  He laughed, but bitterly. 'I'd say I do. Now she'll hardly give me the time of day. Her mom and mine were cousins, see, and I looked out for her when she was little. Her dad was useless, in and out of gaol, and some of the other kids used to pick on her. Mind, she didn't help herself, flying into rages all the time, like the other day when she walked out of her job, without thinking there's not much else round here.'

  'And you still look out for her, no doubt? Even if she seems to resent it?'

  Dodie tried to sound as though it was a casual remark.

  'Me? Nah, she don't want me now she's got this rich feller. Not that she sees him that often, not every weekend, like.'

  'Has she ever said who he is, what he does? Is he much older? Or could he even be married? If he is that could explain why she doesn't see him often.'

  'No, she's not told anyone here a thing about him, or we'd all know. And she won't listen to any advice. Right close, she's been, just lately, which is not like Mandy, come to think of it.'

  'You probably haven't heard, but she asked for her job back, and she's working at The Crags again.'

  He looked surprised. 'You mean Miss Sheila took her back? I'm surprised. But then Miss Sheila's a good sort. She helped me when no one else would.'

  'I think Miss Sheila needs maids who know the work, things are difficult enough after that murder.'

  'I suppose so.'

  'What about this note the police found in your pocket, from Mrs Jones. What was that about?'

  'Interfering bitch! She saw me leaving early one day, Friday before last, it were, when she was leaving early herself as she usually does – did – for her precious weekends. It were none of her business, I do my hours.'

  Dodie doubted that but didn't comment. They finished their meals in silence. Terry refused a sweet and coffee, looked at his watch, and Dodie took the hint and drove him back to The Crags.

  *

  Elena was in the drawing room, sitting with two of the women and Mr Shefford. So he had not been away for long. Dodie accepted a cup of coffee. She grimaced. She would have preferred real coffee at the pub, but this weak decaffeinated stuff was better than nothing. After a while they went to Elena's room to talk.

  'I've been talking to Terry,' Dodie said quietly, and told Elena the gist of what she had heard. 'I'm going back to the village now to see Mandy.'

  'Do you want me to come?'

  'No, I think not. She'd feel intimidated with two of us quizzing her.'

  Dodie was passing the open door of the office when she heard Lady Carter's voice. She went inside. Why had the woman come here? It was soon explained.

  'But I must have it back! My husband will be home at the end of the week! They can't keep it from me!' The woman was almost weeping, wringing her hands and striding around the room.

  Sheila looked shattered. 'Lady Carter, I would be only too happy to give it back to you, but the police say they need it for evidence.'

  'Why? They have all the other things, you said, why can't they be content with them? Where can I see this Inspector? If I explain to him, surely he'd see reason? Look, I drove up as soon as you told me the necklace had been recovered. They can't keep my property from me, that's theft!'

  'Then I suggest you go and talk to the Inspector and argue with him.'

  'I will. And can I have a room for tonight? I simply can't drive all the way back to London today.'

  'Yes, my lady, that can be arranged.'

  'Good. Thank you, my dear, and I do realise you cannot do more for me.'

  She gave Dodie a somewhat puzzled look, but did not appear to recognise her as she swept from the office.

  Sheila gave a sigh of relief. 'Whew! That's all I need. At least Tansy can't descend on me, and Phillipa understands, and says as long as she can have the brooch back by the end of next month, she can replace it without her borrowing being discovered.'

  'I wouldn't like to be the Inspector. Now, I'm off to talk to Mandy away from here.'

  *

  It began to rain as Dodie drove for the second time that day towards the village. It was both heavy and gusty, and the windscreen wipers had a job to cope. Dodie switched them to maximum, and turned up the heat. Suddenly it was like winter, and she found herself longing for her London house and its familiar comforts. How could people live in this climate? She turned into the estate of small houses behind the Bull, where there was the one main straight road, with frequent cul-de-sacs off it. She recognised the right one, where she had been before, and drove slowly along until, through the sheeting rain, she saw the number she wanted. Dodie glanced up at the sky, decided the rain was not going to abate for hours, and ran for the small porch sheltering the front door. Except, she found to her disgust, it did not shelter it. The rain appeared to be driving vertically straight into the door.

  She pressed the bell button, and almost immediately heard footsteps beyon
d the door. The door opened, and a small woman clutching a tea towel opened it.

  'Good afternoon. Maybe you remember me? I came to talk to Mandy yesterday. I'm Mrs Fanshaw, from The Crags, and I wonder if I can have a few words with Mandy?'

  'Mandy? But she's gone back to work. Yes, I remember you. Oh dear, but do come in, this rain's wetting my carpet.'

  Thankfully Dodie stepped inside. 'You're Mrs Godley, Mandy's mum?'

  'Yes. There's no trouble, is there? Mandy can be a bit silly, at times.'

  'No, of course not. But she doesn't normally work in the afternoons, does she?'

  'Miss Sheila asked her to go in special. After all this trouble, she said there was lots to do, and Mandy could help. But what am I thinking about? Here, take off that wet coat and have a nice cup of tea. That'll warm you. Go into the sitting room, and I'll make a pot. The kettle had just boiled, I was making one for myself.'

  Dodie was ushered into a small room with the large settee and two big armchairs that almost filled it. They all faced a huge TV screen sitting above the fireplace. In front of the settee was a glass-topped coffee table, on which there was a scattering of magazines. She saw Hello! and several devoted to film and television. The designer handbag she had seen Mandy carrying was on one of the armchairs, and before she sat down Dodie confirmed it was real, not a copy.

  Mrs Godley returned with a tray on which was a homely brown teapot, two china cups and saucers, a plate overflowing with ginger biscuits, a pottery sugar bowl and a matching jug for milk. She poured and offered the biscuits.

  'The neighbours will be wondering,' she said, giggling, 'with two big posh cars outside today.'

  'Two?' Dodie said.

  'Oh, the other one wasn't for us. He was lost, Mandy said. Looking for the old people's home. He stopped to ask the way just as she got here before dinner. She cycles. I hope she got back before this lot came down.'

  'I didn't see her on the road when I came down, so she probably had,' Dodie said. 'What sort of car was it?'