Local Secrets

by Jan Jones

  LOCAL SECRETS

  by

  Jan Jones

  A Penny Plain mystery

  The third in the series of Penny Plain mysteries

  Graffiti and a town planning threat give Penny and Leo a mystery to solve

  Local Secrets © 2017, 2014 by Jan Jones

  New and expanded Kindle Edition

  Jan Jones has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the author at the address below.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters and places spring entirely from the author’s own imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design and formatting www.jdsmith design.com

  All enquiries to jan@janjones.co.uk

  Shorter versions of Local Secrets have previously been published by Accent Press and as a serial in The People’s Friend magazine

  LOCAL SECRETS

  is dedicated to women’s magazine editors everywhere

  CHAPTER ONE

  Penny Plain looked around in appreciation as she and Leo were shown to a table in the Harbour View Hotel restaurant. “Very swish,” she said. “This is quite a step up from your normal haunts. There are also rather more people than I expected for a quiet lunch à deux. Are we here for a reason?”

  Leo Williams grinned at her. “I am here to report on the launch of the new ‘Salthaven Partnership’. You are my plus-one.”

  Penny slanted a glance up at him. “You could have warned me.”

  “If I’d warned you, you’d have looked it up and I’d miss the full glory of your first reactions.”

  “So I’m an audience test case for your article? Thank you, Leo.”

  “Be fair, Penny. I told you we were lunching somewhere nice so you wouldn’t turn up in jeans and a fleece and be too embarrassed to get out of the car. Those years with my ex-wife weren’t completely wasted.”

  “That’s very thoughtful. I appreciate it. Go on then, what’s the Salthaven Partnership?” Penny picked up the flyer at her setting and read it aloud. “An alliance of local businessmen, councillors, retailers and leisure outlets, working together to improve Salthaven.” She looked at Leo indignantly. “What is this rubbish?”

  “Case proven,” murmured Leo.

  “Shhh. Seriously though, Salthaven doesn’t need improving.”

  “You don’t think that’s the voice of a seventh-generation local speaking?”

  She swatted his arm. “No, I don’t. The town is fine as it is, apart from a lack of houses the youngsters can afford. It’s pretty. It’s got a river and a harbour. It has winding lanes and quirky independents and tiny craft shops. There are benches to sit on, fish & chips in abundance, and a café for every week of the year. Tourists flock here each summer. People love it.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Leo with satisfaction. “Even the graffiti is spelled correctly. Which is why I accepted Mr Durham’s kind invitation to this bash.”

  Penny’s good mood abruptly disappeared. “Terry Durham? Is he involved? In that case, there will be something in it for him. I was at primary school with him. He used to pull my plaits and charge people five pence to sit in the seats nearest the boiler.”

  Leo gazed at her with appreciation. “How wonderfully enterprising of him. I do love your nuggets of local information.”

  “Give over. That’s why you brought me.”

  “No, no, they are a bonus. I brought you because it seemed a shame not to make the most of Mr Durham’s intriguing hospitality.”

  Intriguing? Penny felt a twinge of misgiving. “Leo, it did say ‘plus one’ on your invitation, did it?”

  “I expect it was an oversight. The girl hardly hesitated at all when I accepted for both of us.”

  “You are such a freeloader.”

  “It’s a dog eats dog world out there.”

  “More a ‘journalist eats steak’ world where you’re concerned,” said Penny as a rather nice goat’s cheese salad was placed in front of each guest.

  “Not necessarily. The invitation was to me personally, not to the Salthaven Messenger. Mr Durham has evidently noticed the useful fact that stories with my byline have an increased chance of being picked up by the nationals. That sort of attention to detail is a flashing arrow to a journalist. My asking for a ticket for you was by way of a test to see how far he was prepared to go to get me here. It’s a game.”

  Penny shook her head. “Another one. I’m so glad I don’t have your life.”

  “You don’t mean that. Come on, this is your town. Don’t you want to know what Durham is up to behind this partnership cover story?”

  Ha, so he thought it was a cover for something else as well. Penny mentally high-fived herself. She eyed the lectern and screen placed strategically halfway down the room. “It’s possible he’ll mention enough during the presentation that we can make a guess at it,” she said. “At the very least it will be influence and backhanders. Not that he needs any more money. Terry Durham has got caravan sites, bits of hotels, shop leases… and a finger in every pie in Salthaven. At the moment the wretched man is trying to gain control of Noel’s fiancée’s family brewery.”

  Leo’s attention sharpened in that ever so slight way he had when he scented a story. “The Seagull Brewery on the riverfront? That’s interesting. I’d heard it was failing, which is a shame because the beer is very good. There have been complaints letters sent to the paper about the smell along the river and the unreliability of supplies. I didn’t realise your son was involved with it.”

  The goat’s cheese was heavenly, as was the piquant dressing. Penny savoured it for a moment. “Noel is involved because the Seagull Brewery belongs to Caitlin’s father and Caitlin runs the sales side. He’s back this weekend, by the way. Do you want to come to lunch and meet him? He’s got a reading week, which, as far as I can tell from the experience of the last two years, involves no reading at all. I swear they plan these things for precisely when the average student has run out of clean laundry.”

  Leo gave a shout of laughter, causing a shortish, fattish, hard-eyed man at the top table to rise and look down the room. Penny felt a frisson of distaste. Terry Durham really hadn’t changed much from the nine year old extortionist who had sat across the classroom from her at Heights Primary.

  “Getting back to what we were talking about,” she went on. “The Seagull definitely isn’t failing. What happened was that they needed an injection of cash a few years ago to modernise the equipment. Investors took shares in the brewery in exchange. Terry Durham is now buying up those shares. It would be just like him to put out rumours of poor performance to get a better price. If you’re interested, we can walk down there once this shindig finishes and I’ll introduce you to Iain Ramsay, Caitlin’s father.”

  “That would be great. Thank you. Incidentally, have you seen who else is sitting at the top table?”

  Penny twisted and craned her head. “Where?”

  “Half way along.”

  Penny twisted further. She nearly dropped her fork as she recognised her ex-husband. “No,” she said, aghast. “What on earth is Julian doing here? He’s an architect, not a businessman.”

  Leo looked amused. “I’d hazard a guess it has something to do with Alice being the newly elected Member of Parliament for Salthaven. Our
hosts are getting their money’s worth out of the jamboree.”

  Penny felt herself blush. She really would have to start remembering that Julian’s partner was now as important as he was. “They’ll be lucky. Alice comes from a long line of highly moral local businesswomen. She’ll have her voters’ interests firmly in mind. I’d back her any day against whatever it is Terry is up to.”

  The meal was lovely, but the speeches on why Salthaven needed a new ‘forward-planning strategy to maximise its potential’ gave Penny indigestion. After the leader of the council had waffled on about leisure opportunities and transport links, Terry Durham stood up. It was clear this would be the main thrust of the presentation.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a wonderful town, but we must not be complacent. Every time we say ‘that will do’ instead of ‘that could be better’, every time we let something go instead of making it work, we allow Salthaven to slide. We’ve all seen the graffiti appearing over the last few weeks. It is a symptom of the silent boredom of our young people, the lack of civic pride because there isn’t sufficient reason for them to have any. Smartening up static areas and attracting new business to the town will reverse that. We need hope for our children and a sense of purpose. By increasing vocational opportunities and giving our disaffected youth the promise of full employment, we can make Salthaven as prosperous and attractive to tourists as it always used to be.”

  What was he talking about? Penny grew more and more cross. “Wrong,” she muttered at intervals. “That’s an exaggeration. That’s misleading. And just whose fault is the lack of housing, Terry? Oh, for goodness sake, where is he going to put all this new business he wants to attract here?”

  “You’re not enjoying this, are you?” said Leo. He was making rapid shorthand notes as Terry was speaking. Penny noticed he put P in the margin whenever she bridled and guessed he was going to ask her to explain why. She was ready and willing to do so - at length - but as soon as the presentation ended, a young man came across to their table with an invitation to join Mr Durham for coffee.

  “No such thing as a free lunch, eh?” said Leo, getting up cheerfully.

  “Remind me never to come out with you on a working trip again.”

  “Don’t you want to renew old acquaintance, then?”

  “Not so as you’d notice. I’ll do some delicate fishing of my own further down the stream.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “Ahem.”

  “I mean, good plan, sorry.”

  “That’s better. See you in a few minutes.” She gave a bright fake smile as they approached the top table and was pleased to see Julian and Alice exchange a look of alarm.

  Terry, she noted, had no recollection of her at all. He nodded meaninglessly and turned to Leo. “Leo Williams? I’m Terry Durham. I trust you enjoyed your lunch?”

  “I did. Thank you.”

  “Good, good. They do this sort of thing very well here. Now then, I thought I’d take this opportunity to explain some of the finer points of our new initiative for your readers.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” said Leo with an entirely misleading air of affability. “It all sounds fascinating.”

  Penny left them to it and perched on an empty chair further down the table opposite her ex-husband. “Hello,” she said. “This is all very nice, isn’t it?”

  There was a tiny moment of awkwardness before Julian spoke. “Certainly the whole of Salthaven seems to be here. I’m surprised to see you, though.”

  If Julian had been on his own, Penny might have been tempted to wind him up by saying she was surprised to see him. But Alice had zero sense of humour and more importantly, she was a useful person to have on your side, even if she disliked you. Which she did. Utter professionalism in the face of personal emotions, that was Alice.

  “Someone has to keep an eye on Terry Durham’s dodgy dealings,” said Penny. “What’s behind this ridiculous partnership idea, do you know?”

  Both Julian and Alice went very still. Oho. Her instincts had been correct. The question was, was this just Terry in general or was there more to it? Alice and Terry were both on the council and frequently clashed on policy. Her reaction could simply be based on experience.

  Julian cleared his throat in a careful fashion. “It’s unclear at the moment. What’s your objection to him?”

  Penny stared in disbelief. “On this particular occasion? Well, apart from lying through his teeth today about mass unemployment and all the disaffected youth in Salthaven, he’s after control of the Seagull Brewery. You do realise Noel’s fiancée is Caitlin Ramsay, Iain’s daughter?” And then, as Julian still looked blank, she added helpfully, “Noel. Your son.”

  “I know perfectly well who Noel is,” snapped Julian. He tapped his fingers in a delaying gesture. “Penny, I don’t like Durham any more than you, but… he contributed to Alice’s election campaign.”

  That did surprise Penny. Why would he do that? To get Alice out of his hair at council meetings? She met Alice’s eyes in sympathy. “Awkward, but that doesn’t mean you have to do him any favours in return.”

  “I’m not going to,” said Alice crisply. “It’s tiresome, though. We don’t want him damaging Julian’s work prospects, which he could easily do with his contacts.”

  Bless them. They really were perfectly suited. Penny offered up her regular prayer of thanks for her escape. “Come off it. You’re not telling me that any client seriously considering one of Julian’s designs for their home or business would be the sort of person who would pay attention to Terry?”

  “There is that,” said Julian, not seeing anything untoward with this reasoning, “but I’d rather not take the risk.”

  “Talking of risks, when are you going to design some nice starter homes for local newly-weds? At the rate prices are going, Noel and Caitlin won’t even be able to afford one of those nasty 1960s terraces down near St Barnabas by next year. And don’t tell me they can have Mum’s bungalow. That wouldn’t be fair on Lucinda and Frances.”

  “I’ll design starter homes when someone frees up a plot of land and pays me to,” replied Julian testily. He changed the subject. “I’m curious, Penny. How exactly did you get invited today?”

  Ah well, she supposed she’d asked for that. “Leo wanted a native Salthavian along to point out the interesting locals.” It sounded unlikely, even to her ears.

  Julian raised his eyebrows. “You do realise he’s too young for you.”

  Penny’s gaze rested for just a fraction of a second on Alice, who was a good ten years her junior, let alone Julian’s. “Have you been talking to Lucinda?” she enquired. Their eldest daughter made no secret of how unsuitable she thought Penny’s friendship with Leo was.

  “No,” said Julian unconvincingly.

  Penny rolled her eyes. “Leo is a friend. That’s all.” She turned to Alice. “How’s your mother? I thought she was looking very well at the WI meeting last week.”

  “Thank you,” said Alice. “She has good days and bad days. She told me you’d taken her tea across to her.” Implicit in her tone was that she hadn’t known whether that had been true or a fabric of her mother’s imagination. “I’m hoping my going up and down to Westminster won’t affect her too much. I’m usually back in time to have a chat with her in the evening.”

  “Alice, you’re never doing the trip to London and back on a daily basis, are you?”

  “I am for now, though I think we’ll need to find a small flat down there eventually.” She gave a tight smile at Penny’s worried expression. “It’s not so bad. I can get a lot of work done on the train. I’m very focused.”

  Penny could easily believe that. Even so, it couldn’t be good for her. “What’s Westminster like?” she asked.

  Alice’s lips tightened further. “It’s a kindergarten. I was warned, but…”

  “She didn’t say that,” said Julian quickly.

  “Never heard a thing.” Penny smiled wryly at Alice. “I give it five years before yo
u’ve sorted them out. And rather less before you’ve sussed how to make the present system work best for Salthaven.”

  Chairs shifted further up the table. Penny stood up with a sense of release. Making conversation with Alice was hard work.

  Leo strolled towards them, looking at his most bland. He nodded amiably to Julian and Alice. “Afternoon.”

  Terry pushed past him. “Alice, I wonder if I could prevail on you for a favour?”

  Penny obligingly dropped her handbag and watched the contents roll on to the crimson and gold carpet. “Sorry,” she said as Leo squatted to retrieve everything.

  Terry was still talking. “It’s just a formality, really. As the region’s new MP, I’m sure you’ll be happy to judge this year’s Salthaven Prize. Dr Hunter has unfortunately had a heart attack. We’ve sent a card from the council, of course.”

  “I would, Terry, but I’m too busy,” said Alice with a politely regretful smile. “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve got to learn as an MP if I’m to represent Salthaven properly. Our council has got nothing on Westminster as far as paperwork is concerned. And that’s without all the piles of day to day research I need to get through.”

  “Oh. Oh well, no matter.” But his tone was displeased. He cast around, baulked. “Leo? How about you? It’s a school essay competition, forty to fifty entries. It’s a good opportunity to get involved with the local community.”

  Nooo, thought Penny. Don’t touch anything to do with Terry Durham.

  “I’d be delighted,” said Leo, standing up. There was almost a purr to his tone.

  Penny closed her eyes in exasperation.

  “You are mad,” she said as they left the hotel and took the flight of stone steps down to the harbour. “What on earth made you agree?”

  Leo made a brushing away gesture. “Reading essays is simple. This is a chance to get closer to Durham. You’re right, Penny. He’s cooking up something. I could have fried eggs for the whole town in the oil he was exuding in that interview.”

  “Careful you don’t slip in it and break your neck,” warned Penny. “Don’t dismiss the essay prize either. It’s worth five hundred pounds to a local seventeen year old.” She paused for effect. “And I bet you can’t guess which prominent Salthaven businessman’s son goes to the same sixth form college as my Frances?”