Another thump made the door shake, and when I yanked it open, I found myself nose to nose with Trina McKinnley’s and Bunty Wiseman’s . . . Joe. Speak of letches and leeches! I was so taken back I blinked twice before realizing he was in a foul temper—if he had any other kind.
“Trina here?” He elbowed past me.
“Yes, she’s upstairs, I believe. She’s not due to leave for another half hour.” This response didn’t appear to go down well with Joe Cool, and Bunty didn’t look happy.
“Ellie! Why didn’t you tell me?”
A good question.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Bunty?” Joe snarled. If looks could kill, she would have keeled over on the spot. “Trying to muck things up between me and Trina, is that your game? Better get it through your dumb skull, girl, you and me is through. I ain’t about to risk Trina giving me the shove, not now when everything’s coming up right for a bloody change.”
“I didn’t know your other girlfriend was here,” responded Bunty with commendable dignity. “But don’t sweat it, Joey boy. I was going to tell you to get lost. I noticed the last time we were out”—giving him a lush-lipped smile—”that your hair’s getting thin on top.”
Joe, whatever his other shortcomings, had a fine head of well-greased black hair, but Bunty obviously knew just where to stick the knife. Clutching at his temples, he swung around in search of a mirror. Of course, there being no mirror in the kitchen, he was reduced to the materials at hand. He grabbed up a metal spatula lying by the cooker, shifting it this way and that in a frantic attempt to get an overhead view. The faces he made were not pretty, even before Bunty suggested he also check out the bags under his eyes. I almost felt sorry for him when Trina came into the room.
“Joe?” She stood, a model of efficient household help in her crisp white uniform—curls vibrant, black eyes snapping. “Just what’s going on here?”
“Doesn’t he always hop about looking at himself in pretend mirrors?” Bunty asked kindly.
“You shut your bloody mouth!” Joe rounded on her.
“Why, you rude man! Call me a nosey parker, Ellie”--turning sweetly to me—”but I feel you should discourage Miss McKinnley from having him pick her up here in future.”
“Hey, Trina don’t work no place without my say-so! And I’ve decided I don’t want her coming here no more.” Joe was working himself back up into a comfortable state of belligerence. “Besides, she don’t need to. So we’re outta here. Right, Trine?” Casting the spatula into the sink, he thumbed for his woman to come to heel. To my surprise Trina nodded and followed him to the door.
“But I haven’t paid you,” I protested.
“Forget it.” She turned around and shrugged. “You don’t seem to be having much luck keeping help, do you, Mrs. Haskell?” She was looking at Bunty as Joe jerked on her hand and dragged her out the door.
“Here, hit me with this if you like.” My friend picked up the discarded spatula. “I’ve properly mucked things up for you, Ellie, and I am sorry. What are you going to do?”
“Find someone else, I suppose.”
“Will that be easy?”
“Oh, I expect so.” Actually, I did have someone in mind. Me.
“You have to be wondering what I ever saw in Joe,” Bunty smoothed out a crease in her tight skirt. “I suppose I was off my loaf. But what does that make Trina?”
“She didn’t strike me as a woman who could be ordered about,” I said, “but life is full of surprises, isn’t it?” Lending substance to this vacuous statement, the garden door opened and in came Ben with the children. He said he’d decided to take the afternoon off so we could go for a picnic.
“Come on, Mummy!” Tam pleaded as Abbey tugged on my hand. “We got food in the car. A whole basket. Daddy made sangriches”—my son always had trouble with this word—”and there’s cake and biscuits and everything.”
“It was a fairly slow morning at the restaurant,” Ben said. “Tam’s right. There’s plenty to eat, as well as a bottle of wine on ice. Why don’t you join us, Bunty?” He’d always liked her.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Bunty tiptoed up on her high heels to kiss his cheek. “I have to get back to work, and anyway I’m in disgrace. No treats for bad girls like me for at least a week.”
“What’s that about?” Ben asked as the door closed behind her. “Or would you rather”—eyeing the twins—“tell me later?”
I picked up Abbey, who blew fairy kisses into my neck. “The gist is that Trina McKinnley threw in the tea towel without even finishing her half day.”
“Are we under a curse, Ellie? She and that bloke were heading out onto The Cliff Road as I pulled into the driveway. It sounded to me as though Trina and her boyfriend were having a blazing row.”
So Trina hadn’t gone meekly down the garden path. But would she make a complete break with Joe? I wondered. All depended, I supposed, on just how dotty she was about the creep.
“Where’s Jonas?” Abbey peered around the room as if suspecting he was hiding under the table or behind the pantry door. “He’s got to come, too, Mummy.”
“‘Course he has.” Tam scampered out into the hall, the rest of us following more sedately at his heels. “Daddy made egg sangriches ‘cause he knows Jonas likes them best. And a chocolate cake, with lots of icing. But I think that’s for me.”
“No, it’s not.” Abbey poked him in the back. “It’s got my name wroted on it.”
“I put both your names on it.” Ben separated the children, who had gone nose to nose and were growling like an angry pair of puppies. “But I can always scrape them off if you don’t behave.”
The threat instantly brought them to heel, although both still looked cross until they heard footsteps overhead and raced across the hall to wait for Jonas to come stomping down the stairs. It made my heart ache to see him try to straighten his back when he saw us watching his progress. But sympathy wasn’t likely to do him as much good as getting outdoors in the sunshine. So when he drew down his bushy eyebrows at the idea of accompanying us on the picnic, I told him I wasn’t having any nonsense from him. I bundled him into an old jacket and got him out the door without listening to his string of protests.
“We’ve all got things we should be doing,” I scolded as we headed for the car. “Ben should be at work, the children should be getting a jump start on learning algebra, and I should be doing aerobics to build up my stamina to finish the spring cleaning on my own, now that Trina McKinnley has given me the boot. But there’s more to life, Jonas, than being productive.”
Hearing that Trina had flown the coop wiped the sour expression off his face. Like me, he didn’t relish the idea of anyone replacing Mrs. Malloy. A sacrilege was what he called it. And he got into the car without any more grumbles to sit with Ben in the front while I got in the back with Abbey and Tam.
“Miss McKinnley find the job too much?” he asked as Ben started the engine.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” I said, making sure the twins’ safety belts were secure. “Let’s just have fun. Where are you taking us, Ben?”
“I thought we’d go to that little cove you’re so fond of.” He was driving through the gates as he spoke, turning left away from the village in the direction of Bellkiek, our closest market town. I had always loved the area from my visits to Merlin’s Court as a child, and the hint that we were getting close had always been that first tantalizing whiff of the sea. Living here, I’d grown used to it except on occasions such as this when my childlike enthusiasm for magical sunny days and picnics reasserted itself. Rolling the window down, I breathed deeply, savoring the salty tang blown in by the breeze, and the sun on my nose.
The cliffs sheared down to our right, a climber’s delight, but a problem for normal people wishing to get down to the ribbon of beach below. Ben told the children we would have to put them in the picnic basket and lower them by rope, which made them giggle. Jonas didn’t think much of that idea because they’d squash his e
gg sandwiches, so I looked for the spot where we always parked the car when going to our special cove. When we came within sight of the house Tom Tingle had recently bought, I knew we were close.
There were only three or four houses on that stretch of road. Tom’s was built of red brick and dated from the turn of the century. It was a lovely place, with ivied walls, mullioned windows, and lots of gables. It stood well back from the road, surrounded by rock gardens that I envied.
I wondered if Tom would host a Hearthside Guild meeting in the coming months, or if he had been too put off by what had happened at the last one to even attend in future. Ben stopped the car at a grassy circle shaded by a couple of trees that looked as though they knew their job, having done it for years. Here the cliffs became considerably less steep. There was a path that Ben and I sometimes walked down, but since it was overgrown in parts and there was a waterfall to negotiate, we always took the children down by way of a flight of steps leading down to the sea.
Ben now led the way, with me taking up the rear. The beach was deserted but for ourselves. It was shaped like an armchair, with seaweed-covered rocks scattered about like large cushions. Today the sea spilled towards us in gentle ripples of white-edged foam. Gulls wheeled overhead, uttering their hoarse-throated cries. The sun smiled down as if pleased to see us. And Abbey and Tam were already tugging at their sandals, eager to wiggle their toes in the biscuit-colored sand.
I handed them their buckets and spades, promising to help them build a castle after we had eaten, and told them they couldn’t go paddling until Daddy or I had tested the water. Then I watched them scamper off to position themselves beside their favorite rock. It was always rimmed with a couple of inches of water, making it easy for them to damp down the sides of the sand they emptied out of their buckets and decorate these little edifices with seaweed. Their happy voices floated our way as I unfolded the chair for Jonas to sit in before spreading out the old plaid rug and anchoring its corners with stones gathered from the cliff bottom. Ben got busy setting out our picnic.
And a delicious-looking feast it was. In addition to the egg sandwiches made especially for Jonas, there were ham and cheese ones on wonderful crusty brown bread, a spinach and walnut salad, mushroom pasties, savory eggs, a tray of sliced fruit, and the chocolate cake with Abbey’s and Tam’s names on it. There was lemonade for the children and coffee, along with the bottle of wine, for the grown-ups. Even Jonas admitted that he wasn’t sorry he had come.
“We should do this more often,” I said. “Irresponsibility is good for the soul. I feel a bit like Mole in The Wind in the Willows when he said, ‘Hang spring cleaning’ or something of the sort and went scurrying out of his dark little house into the sunlight.”
Ben adjusted a final sprig of parsley on the egg plate. “Before we call the children over to eat, I want to hear all about Trina McKinnley—and don’t leave out the part about how Bunty fits into the picture, because it was clear to me, Ellie, your friend was up to her pretty neck in whatever was going on.” He set out plastic plates and cups and I told him and Jonas, who actually leaned forward in his chair to catch every word about Bunty and Joe.
“The two-timing scumbag!” Ben said of Leather Jacket.
“Actually he’s three-timing.” I settled down on the rug. “There’s a wife in addition to Bunty and Trina McKinnley. But the real scoop is that Trina inherited over fifty thousand pounds from Mrs. Large. Can you believe that? The daughters got nothing—well, a hundred pounds each, just enough for them to choke on.” I went on to explain about Mrs. Large’s husband and the insurance policy.
Ben pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “But I’m not clear where this Mrs. Smalley fits into things.”
“I’m sorry, I was a bit garbled about that part. Mrs. Large arranged for Mrs. Smalley to be the trustee. She gets to dish out the money at her discretion, in order, I suppose, to prevent Joe from helping Trina go through it all in one fell swoop.”
“I ain’t clear why Mrs. Large left her the money.” Jonas tugged on his moustache while the breeze lifted what little gray hair he had on his head.
“She wasn’t close to her daughters,” I said. “Mrs. Smalley told me when I met her the other day that they hardly gave Mrs. Large the time of day. It’s possible all the members of the C.F.C.W.A. viewed Trina as a daughter or niece of sorts. Mrs. Smalley certainly made it clear she was very fond of her.”
“Don’t make no sense to me.” Jonas huddled down in his chair and drew up his jacket collar when the sun drifted behind a cloud. “Wasn’t Roxie Malloy a friend of Mrs. Large? Why not leave her something, her and all the other women in this—what did you call it?
“The C.F.C.W.A—”I had begun to explain when the twins came flying across the sand towards us, Tam eager to tell me about the jellyfish he thought he had seen and Abbey holding out a pink shell she had found. They were quickly distracted from these enthusiasms by the sight of the chocolate cake taking pride of place among the other treats set out on the rug. Tam wanted to know if they could eat it first because picnics weren’t the same as real meals and Abbey asked if some of the writing said “Happy Birthday.” She knew it wasn’t hers and Tam’s, but she looked hopefully at Jonas. She had asked me recently if people got to be old by having more birthdays than other people.
“I think this should be a birthday party for Jonas,” I said, smiling at him. “Everyone deserves an extra one now and then, and what makes this one special is that you aren’t a year older.” The children whooped with delight and had to be ordered off the rug before they trampled the food, which gave Jonas a moment to pull himself together and try not to look pleased.
“Daddy, do we got any candles?” Abbey liked things to be done right.
“No, but I’ll light a match and Jonas can blow it out.”
“And he still gets to make a wish,” I promised. “Now we’d better eat if we want to get to the birthday cake before the sun goes behind the clouds for good and we have to go home.”
“About time. I’m starving.” Jonas took the egg sandwich Ben handed him and actually bit into it with relish. For the first time in weeks I felt optimistic about Jonas; I wished Freddy hadn’t been at work and could have seen the sparkle in the old man’s eyes as he proceeded to eat several mouthfuls of spinach salad and a few slivers of apple and orange.
“Eat up, Ellie.” Ben passed me the plate of mushroom pasties, of which he knew I was passionately fond. “And you’ve hardly touched your wine.”
“For once in my life I’m mostly enjoying watching other people devour everything in sight.” I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and smiled at him. The sun was back out and all was right with my world. But I did sip my wine and take a pastie. Actually I took two, since they were even more delicious than usual, being seasoned with salt air.
“What birthday is it when you stop getting bigger?” my son wanted to know.
“Will me and Tam need all-new clothes when we wake up on our birthday and we’re four?” Abbey asked.
It was clear they were getting impatient for the cake, so Ben unearthed a box of matches from the picnic basket and lit one, holding it up for Jonas to blow out.
“Don’t forget to make a wish,” I told him.
Jonas leaned forward in his chair and the movement was enough to make the flame go out before he could blow, before he could . .. but no, I had to believe that he had made a wish. This wasn’t a day for bad omens. The fact that it had suddenly clouded up meant nothing, I was certain. We gathered up the remains of the picnic and stowed them in the basket, and Ben suggested we look for shells before heading for home. The four of us set off, leaving Jonas to take a catnap.
“We’ll just walk around to the next cove.” Ben took my hand as we made our way onto the damp, coffee-colored sand, where it was easy to spot the shells. After helping the children select several to put in their buckets, we skirted a narrow strip of beach around the cliff shoulder, where shadows darkened our faces for a few moments before
we entered another armchair-shaped beach. It was smaller than the one we had left, and there were more rocks, but what was most striking was the man seated at a table.
It was laid with a white linen cloth. The man had his back to us, but over his shoulder we could see the wineglass being raised to his lips, the silver bud vase, and the soup tureen.
“Good heavens!” Ben whispered in my ear, “and I thought I’d gone all out!”
The scene was so completely unreal that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the gull wheeling overhead had dropped to earth, shaken its feathers, and assumed human guise before producing a table for four and begging the Haskell party to be seated. So it was disappointingly anticlimactic when the man turned his head and stared at us without surprise, and certainly without enthusiasm.
“Why, it’s Tom Tingle!” I felt silly just saying the name, so imagine how he felt living with it. “His house is almost directly above here.” My eyes shifted to the cliffs as Ben, the children, and I trailed across the sand to beard the man at his table. On closer view we saw the remains of the smoked salmon, salad, eggs mayonnaise, and bread and butter that made up his meal, along with what I supposed was soup in the tureen. What a production it must have been getting everything down here! And impossible, I would have thought, to keep the soup even lukewarm.
“Out taking the air?” inquired Tom T., looking like a middle-aged gnome, cursed to sit there forever. His large head was sunk in the collar of his earth-colored jacket.
“We’ve been having a picnic on the other side.” Ben pointed back the way we had come.
“You two haven’t met, have you?” I was feeling flustered for no sensible reason. “Darling, this is Tom Tingle, a new member of the Hearthside Guild. And Tom, I’d like you to meet Ben and our children—Abbey and Tam.”
The Spring Cleaning Murders Page 13
