'It was Mrs Fanshaw she spoke to. I think she trusts her.'
'Good. Let's talk to her.'
He ushered Dodie into the sitting room, where Mandy was huddled in one of the armchairs. The constable sat on a chair near the window and opened his notebook. Mandy ignored him, focussing all her attention on the Inspector who had taken a seat opposite her. Then she glanced at Dodie, sitting beside her.
'It's all right, Mandy,' Dodie reassured her. 'Just tell the Inspector the truth, as you told me.'
Mandy nodded, sobbed, and turned back to the Inspector. 'Are you going to arrest me?' she asked.
'Not if you can help me,' he said cheerfully. 'Now I want you to tell me what you've told Mrs Fanshaw, about how Mrs Jones gave you money to keep quiet about her thieving from the guest rooms.'
It took some time, and Mandy was at first hesitant, but she gained confidence, and became rather indignant as she began to realise the murder of Mrs Jones had deprived her of money.
'She said she hadn't been taking nothing when I saw her opening a drawer,' Mandy said, 'but I'm sure she did. She had no right to be tidying it, and I saw her slip something into her pocket. And if it was all innocent, like she said, why pay me off?'
'Why, indeed? But Mr Shefford, he asked you to steal for him?'
She sniffed. 'I've bin thinking, and I reckon that was all he wanted with me! He pretends to be so nice, and give me posh presents, an' all the while it was to soften me up so's I'd do his dirty work for him! I bet he thieved them!'
'We'll find that out.'
'Yer won't take them from me, will yer?' she asked in sudden dismay.
'Receiving stolen goods is a crime, Miss Godley, but as you did not know that they were stolen, and we can't prove it yet anyway, I don't think you need worry.'
She sighed and smiled at him. 'Well, I'd never be able to afford them things out of me wages.'
'Now, on Friday evening, you cycled part way up the lane waiting for Mrs Jones. What did you think when she didn't come?'
'Well, that she'd left early and I'd missed her.'
'Had that happened before?'
'Once or twice.'
'How did she give you the money then? Did she come to your house?'
'No, she never came there. On the Monday afterwards, she'd put the envelope in me apron pocket.'
'For how long has she been paying you? When exactly did you see her opening that drawer?'
Mandy thought, then nodded to herself. 'It were a few weeks before Christmas. The end of November, perhaps. I remember thinking the money would help me buy a nice present for me mom.'
'Was anyone else in the room when you saw her?'
'No. We're not allowed in the guest rooms on our own. It's so as no one can accuse us of stealing,' she added. 'What a cheek! When she was thieving all the time!'
'How did it happen you were alone that time?'
'I was fetching more clean towels, and she was there. I wasn't alone. She'd sent Rosie, that's my partner, to get more soap. I was back before she expected me, she jumped when I went in.'
'That's all very helpful. Now, back to Mr Shefford. Was he ever violent towards you? Hit you, or even shout at you?'
She shook her head and swallowed a sob. 'He was always the perfect gent! I was so proud he liked me. An' after all, he didn't!'
'Thank you for being so helpful,' The Inspector said, standing up. 'If we write down what you've told us and bring it here tomorrow, we'll ask you to read it and if you agree, sign it for us. It will help us when we take Mr Shefford to court.'
'Will he go to prison?'
'That will depend on the judge, but also on what else we find out.'
'I hope he does, for years, the cheatin' bastard!'
*
Dodie stopped the Inspector as he was gathering together his things. 'Can I run a few things past you?'
'Of course. About this girl?'
'No. About the murder.'
Sheila said she'd take Mandy home, as it was so late, and would collect her by car in the morning.
'You can leave your bike here. It's late and your mother will be wondering where you are.'
'Do I have to tell her? She don't know about Mr Shefford, just that I had a rich boy friend. An' she don't know about the money from Mrs Jones.'
'It's best to tell her everything. If she finds out later, and she will if Mr Shefford is on trial, she'd be disappointed in you,' Sheila said. 'Come along now.'
They went and Dodie sat in the chair Mandy had left, facing the Inspector. She told him how Mr Shefford had appeared to say Lady Carter was only a casual acquaintance, although the lady had claimed they were good friends, and how Lady Carter had expected him to have made a copy of her necklace.
'Someone was manipulating Mrs Jones, but when she kept the stolen goods it would have annoyed him. It could have been her husband, he seems a dubious sort of character who could have got the skeleton keys, but I suspect he's not bright enough to plan this sort of operation. Mr Shefford is, and he wanted Mandy to carry on with the stealing. So he could have done the murder.'
'It looks very bad for him, but we have no proof apart from that girl's account, and a clever barrister could run rings round her, make her appear a malicious girl wanting to get her own back on a man who'd dumped her. And I'd guess he would claim he just talked to her casually if they met outside.'
'Yes, he would. But the timing's possible.' She explained her conclusions, how the timing could have worked, and asked if he had any other likely suspects.
'There's her former husband,' he said.
'As I said, he's not clever. Mr Shefford could have visited her flat. Killing her was not just an act of revenge, or done in a sudden fury if she would not give him the stolen goods. He probably thought he could get them, and he'd already been grooming Mandy to take her place. Not that it would have been easy for her, with Sheila's rule about working in pairs, but I assume he didn't know about that rule.'
'I agree it's possible, but we need evidence.'
'Listen, that can't be Sheila back already. Who is in the office?'
Dodie was out of her chair and into the office before the Inspector had moved.
'Why, Mr Shefford, I'm afraid neither Sheila nor Joan is available,' she said.
'Where are they?'
'Joan is in bed with a headache. Sheila has taken Mandy home. She's been talking to Inspector Brooks. Have you met him?'
He frowned at the Inspector, who came out of the sitting room.
'Is there any way I can help you?' Dodie asked.
'No, thank you. I was just wanting to query an item on my bill, as I'm leaving early in the morning. But it doesn't matter. It isn't worth bothering Sheila for.'
'And no doubt you were going to leave a tip for the staff? But where is the box for the staff tips? Sheila always keeps it here on the desk.'
He glanced down at the floor.
'Is this it? It must have fallen off the desk.'
'Yes. And it's open. But where is the money that should have been in it?' Was he mean enough to steal even that?
'I expect it was emptied this afternoon. It wouldn't be sensible to leave too much cash in it, a temptation for some of the staff.'
'Or guests.'
'Well, as Sheila isn't here, I can't speak to her. Perhaps I'll see her later to say goodbye.'
He turned and left the office. Dodie followed him quickly, and gestured to the Inspector. 'Is this your case?' she asked. 'Briefcase and overcoat too?'
'What is it to you? I find you annoyingly inquisitive over what doesn't concern you, Mrs Fanshaw! But for your information, I am putting them in my car ready for the morning. I want to leave early.'
'I think not yet, sir,' the Inspector said. 'I have some questions for you, and as you are soon leaving now is a good time.'
Mr Shefford sighed. 'Very well, I suppose you have to question everyone in sight, even if we were not here when the poor woman was killed, but just let me take these things out to the car
first.'
Before he could move the door opened and Kenneth Jones came in. He stared at Mr Shefford, a belligerent stare.
'Is that your Merc out there?' he demanded.
'I do have a Mercedes,' Mr Shefford said. 'Now please, can I get past?'
'Hm! That was more'n you let me do that day me poor wife was killed! Your blasted car was blocking the entrance, and I was further up the lane, couldn't get past. I came to ask yer to move, but the damn car was empty. Then yer came running along and shot away, no seat belt, and no stopping fer me to tell yer what I thinks of selfish bastards!'
'My dear fellow, I've blocked no field entrances, so please get out of my way.'
He picked up the cases, shoved Mr Jones out of the way and made for the front door. The Inspector moved swiftly after him, and blocked the way. Mr Shefford swung the case at his legs, and the Inspector fell over. Mr Shefford pushed past him and ran through the front door. The constable, just emerging from the office, dithered about going to help the Inspector or chasing after Mr Shefford.
'Don't let him get away!' Dodie shouted, and as the constable made no move she rushed out of the door herself. She still had Elena's car keys, and pulled them out of her bag as she ran. She could see Mr Shefford stashing his cases into the boot of the Mercedes. Elena's BMW was closer to the narrow car park exit, and Dodie leapt in, and started the car. She swung it round and was just in time to block the exit. For a dreadful moment she thought Mr Shefford was about to ram her, but he apparently realised that would not clear his path to freedom. He leapt from his car and ran over to hers, tugging open the passenger side door. As he attempted to climb in she reversed sharply, so that the door caught him and knocked him over. Before she could change gears he was up and running, not towards his car but down the road towards the village. Within yards, she thought in despair, he could take to the fields, and it was a dark, moonless night. They'd never catch him.
The Inspector, hobbling, emerged from the front door, followed by the constable and Mr Jones. Dodie pointed.
'He went that way.'
The policemen nodded and set off after him, the constable in the lead followed by Mr Jones and the Inspector coming a poor third. Dodie ran to the corner of the house from where she could see the lane. It was, she estimated, less than half a minute before the lights of another car coming from the village lit up the scene. Mr Shefford, instead of taking to the cover of the fields, was running down the lane, the others in hot pursuit. Perhaps Mr Shefford was blinded by the headlights, for he stopped, looked round, and before he could move was brought down in a rugby tackle by the constable. Mr Jones and the Inspector were soon with them, and sat on Mr Shefford's head and legs while the constable tugged out a pair of handcuffs and, rather breathlessly, dragged Mr Shefford's arms behind his back. Dodie, unable to resist, went after them.
'We'll speak to you in the morning,' the Inspector said as Mr Shefford was pushed, resisting and complaining loudly, into the police car. 'And to you. Mr Jones. Your evidence is going to be crucial, so will you come to the station in the morning?'
'There might be a reward,' Dodie said softly to Mr Jones. If it would help convict Mr Shefford she would put one up herself.
He looked at her and nodded, then set off back to his car. The police car drove away. Dodie replaced Elena's car in its normal parking place, and Sheila drew up alongside.
'What has been happening?' she asked.
*
It was late the following morning before the Inspector, limping slightly, appeared. Dodie and Elena were having coffee with Sheila and Joan, and welcomed him eagerly.
'Well, what happened?' Dodie asked.
The Inspector accepted a cup of coffee, and winced slightly as he tasted the decaffeinated brew. 'He sang like a bird,' he managed. 'Hoped it would reduce his sentence, I suppose. And Mr Jones turned up, he had the number of the Mercedes, so that helps.'
'He confessed? To murdering Mrs Jones?'
'He claimed it was an accident, he'd just meant to frighten her, but she struggled too much and the scarf got tighter than he'd meant. She was holding out on him about the things she'd stolen, against their agreement, he said, as though that was a good enough reason. But he told us more. They've been colleagues for several years. She stole a few things from the schools where she worked, and even before that, from the Scarborough hotels. He gave her the skeleton keys just after Christmas, and she used them to steal the three items we know about as well as a few others. She'd said she meant to give in her notice here, and apply for a post in a big London hotel. He didn't believe her, thought she was about to disappear with the goods.'
'Will he get away with a plea of manslaughter?'
'No, Mrs Fanshaw. He's confessed to too much.'
Some time later Dodie and Elena began to pack. They could reach London that day if they started soon.
'And you can resume your campaign against Jamie,' Dodie said. 'You said you were going to marry him.'
'Oh yes, he'll give in soon,' Elena said with a grin. 'You see, you're going to be a grandmother.'
***
THE END
Marina Oliver has written over 70 novels, all are now available as Ebooks.
For the latest information please see Marina's web site:
http://www.marina-oliver.net
The Dodie Mysteries
Fatal Slip
Flamboyant, wealthy, middle aged and several-times married Dodie Fanshaw is in Madeira to help make a film about her early life as a chorus girl and Hollywood starlet, and her husbands.
She is not amused when her son Jake, indifferent actor, appeals to her for money. Instead of going back to England he remains in Madeira, and contrives to alienate Dodie's friends, a rival actor, the Madeiran family who run the hotel where he had been staying, and a wealthy elderly woman with whom he is now living.
The situation becomes intolerable when Jake, drunk and abusive, comes uninvited to a party on a yacht on New Year's Eve, arranged to watch the annual Funchal firework spectacle.
*
A Cut Above the Rest
Which characters dared to write the author out of the script?
When Dodie Fanshaw went to stay with her daughter, Elena, in Markenlea, she had been expecting a peaceful, sedate village on the banks of the River Thames. But then a mermaid clambers out of the river and into Elena's garden.
Well, not a mermaid exactly – a mysterious, sopping-wet girl. Bizarre and intriguing though she is, it's only when Dodie and Elena call on Elena's neighbour, best-selling novelist Rick Wilbraham, that the real story unfolds. There they find Anna, Rick's girlfriend, hysterically clinging on to Rick's lifeless body.
Soon Rick's pleasant riverside garden fills up with his neighbours, ex-lovers, his publisher and agent, and Dodie can't help herself getting involved in this close-knit village.
A literary puzzle, but what genre is the motive? It could be Romance, might be Financial Thriller. And the mermaid? Well, that's just pure Fantasy . . .
*
Riding for a Fall
When Dodie Fanshaw goes to stay with her old friend Christine, she soon realises there are tensions, both in the family living at the Manor and the one where Elena is organising daughter Rebecca's wedding.
John, the young brother of Robert, who owns the Manor, hates his Uncle Michael, Robert's Trustee, and because he wants to be a detective, gains a reputation as a snooper.
Then there is a tragic death, but was it the right victim?
Plenty of people have both motive and opportunity, and Dodie is determined to discover the truth.
*
Presentation to a Dying
In two previous Dodie Fanshaw mysteries, the deaths could have been accidents, but she was sure they were murders and determined to unmask the villains.
This death is clearly murder, and the police investigate the many people who had grudges against the new Rector, from his family and his new parishioners.
The trouble is, most of them have no
alibis, and not all of them tell the truth.
Dodie, visiting Sir William and Lady Talbot at the Manor, is able to discover the vital clue.
*
Stage for Murder
A suspicious death, a newcomer who becomes involved in village affairs, and Dodie Fanshaw on the trail of the truth, create a delicious cosy crime novel.
Catherine, widowed, returns to her home in the Lancashire hills. She and Ian Hanson, a retired newcomer, quickly become involved in village activities.
She goes to work for Martin, whose wife died in a tragic accident for which he was blamed, but exonerated, until the rumours start up again and Martin's mother, a former dancer with Dodie, asks Dodie to help.
*
Murder in California
A stolen pistol plopping into the pool beside Dodie, former starlet, announces murder.
Instead of relaxing in the Californian sunshine, she and Joe Broughton, her ex-husband with whom she is staying in his house overlooking the Pacific, set out to discover who could have killed one of his neighbours and disposed of the pistol.
Dodie becomes aware of several tensions and jealousies among the neighbours.
They all deny having taken it, but only one of the neighbours could have stolen the pistol on the day they are avoiding an escaped Mexican convict whose sister is a maid in a nearby house.
Asking questions and testing alibis proves difficult.
Or another Mystery by Marina Oliver:
The Knot Garden
When Mr Greenslade, owner of Green Valley Garden Centre, falls from his wheelchair one night and is rushed into hospital, his daughter Tansy, talented interior designer, gives up the chance of a prestigious commission to go home to the Cotswolds and take charge.
Things have been going wrong at the Garden Centre, small irritating mistakes, petty vandalism, and what increasingly seems like major sabotage.
Strangled in the Sauna Page 16
