7 Sorrow on Sunday

by Ann Purser

  Horace had asked her to ring New Brooms, suspecting that Dot was a plant. He hadn’t seen her, but from Blanche’s description, he guessed she was one of the Nimmo lot from Tresham, and he was certain he knew who had planted her. It would be Mrs. Meade, the cleaning boss and part-time sleuth in cahoots with the police, according to information he had received.

  Now Margaret had to ring Horace to tell him she had failed, and to ask what she should do next. She dialled his mobile number and waited. His reply was like staccato gunfire. “Damn! Hire the woman! Report back.” Margaret sighed. She wished she was married to one of those nice, jolly farmers they met at the Hunt Ball. Comfortable wives in cushy situations, matriarchs of farming dynasties, indispensable and contented. Or were they? At the farm bordering Willow Farm, Margaret knew that the farmer’s wife had not been able to have children, had had a nervous collapse, and was now virtually a recluse, while her husband played the field at the club in Tresham.

  She shook herself. These were useless thoughts, and she might as well forget about it until Wednesday, when she might be able to find out more.

  * * *

  HAZEL CAME INTO THE OFFICE HOLDING HER CHEEK. “These dentists!” she said. “I reckon they find something to do, even if it’s not necessary. It was only a check-up, and now I’ve been tortured for half an hour under the drill. Ouch!”

  Lois stood up and put her arm around Hazel’s shoulder. “Now listen,” she said, “it’s home for you. Painkillers and some nice sloppy food. Bridie’s not working today, is she? She asked for time off, in case you weren’t able to cope with Lizzie.”

  Hazel nodded, and said in a voice that sounded as if she had a hot potato in her mouth, “Yeah, Mum’s got her. Are you sure, Mrs. M? Will you be able to stay?”

  “Yes, I can work from here. The wonders of laptop computers! Get off now, and then you’ll be fine tomorrow. Take care, Hazel. Oh, and a little whisky and water helps, so Derek says. But then, he doesn’t need toothache to try that remedy! Go on, gel. Off you go.”

  Hazel tried to smile, but yelped again, and left, waving a pathetic hand.

  Lois picked up the phone. “Mum?” she said. “Shan’t be back for lunch. Hazel’s gone home with a painful tooth. Yes, Bridie’s looking after Lizzie, so they’ll be fine. Love to Derek, if he turns up. See you later. Yes, I’ll get a sandwich. Promise. Bye.”

  Bringing up the week’s schedule on her computer, Lois looked to see where Dot Nimmo was working today. She was pretty sure she was at Alice Parker-Knowle’s. Yes, Dot was there from two o’clock. Right. She got through to her, and asked her to call in at the office when she had finished at Alice’s. “And don’t stay longer than your three hours,” she said. Dot exploded. She protested that she never got paid for any extra time, and she wouldn’t dream of asking for it. It was a good turn she was doing for a nice old lady.

  “Yes, all right,” said Lois. “But it’s important that I see you as soon as possible before I go home. Yes, I’m here all afternoon. Thanks, Dot.”

  The day went quickly, with phone calls from potential new clients, and one or two existing ones. There were seldom complaints, and when Mrs. Pickering telephoned in to talk to Lois about Floss, she wondered what was up. Floss was not allowed to work for her mother. This was one of Lois’s rules, and so it couldn’t be a cleaning problem.

  “It’s about this horse, Mrs. Meade,” Mrs. Pickering said. “Floss is feeling a bit better now, and has said she really would like to have it on the Battersbys’ terms. She’s had a bit of a rough time with illness lately, and her father and I would like to help her out with paying for upkeep and so on. As you know, she’s saving up to get married, and says she couldn’t possibly afford it herself.”

  “Are you getting round to telling me Floss wants to get a better-paid job? If so, Mrs. Pickering, I would quite understand, though I’d be very sorry to lose her.”

  “Gracious, no! Floss loves working for New Brooms. She’s never been so happy. Says she’s found her métier!”

  Lois laughed. “Good. Then what’s the problem? I’d be quite happy about that, as long as you make sure she’s under no obligation to the Battersbys. I wouldn’t want her to feel indebted to them. No need to oblige them in any way that she didn’t want to.”

  “What do you mean by oblige?” Mrs. Pickering said.

  “Oh, well, extra jobs without telling me, that sort of thing.”

  Mrs. Pickering sounded relieved. “Yes, of course,” she said. “For a minute I thought you meant oblige the Colonel in . . . er . . . well, you know, in some unpleasant way . . .” She tailed off lamely, and Lois laughed again.

  “Don’t know him that well, Mrs. Pickering,” she answered, “but I’m sure he’s not a dirty old man. If you can ever be sure,” she added honestly. “But she only has to leave at once and tell me. New Brooms has ways of dealing with that sort of thing.”

  What had she meant? Lois asked herself later. She was beginning to distrust anything connected with the Battersbys. All roads seemed to lead back to the Colonel. She knew what Derek would say. How could she expect to trust anybody named Horace?

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  DOT ARRIVED AT THE OFFICE EXACTLY TEN MINUTES AFTER the time she had finished at Alice’s. Lois glanced at her watch, and wished she hadn’t.

  “No need for you to check the time,” said Dot crossly. “If I say I’ll do a thing, I do it. And I’ll be glad if you could show the same trust in me as you do with the others. You’ve had no cause to doubt me so far, and you won’t have. So if it’s all right with you, as I’m out of paid time, I’ll go home and get me tea.”

  “Sorry, sorry!” said Lois. “I apologize! I wasn’t checking up on you, though I can see it looked bad. Now come and sit down, Dot. I want to talk to you about something important. D’you want a cup of tea?”

  A little mollified, Dot nodded and said she’d make it for both of them. Once they were settled, she looked at Lois and said, “It’s about the Battersbys, isn’t it?”

  “Sort of,” Lois said. “I need to know for my business purposes what previous connection you’ve had with the Battersbys. I’ve had roundabout requests for your surname from them and their friends. I’ve stalled them so far. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but I got this feeling. I have it sometimes, and it never lets me down.”

  Dot was silent for a minute or so. Then she squared her shoulders and began to talk. “I’ve not told you everything,” she said, “and you could say I hadn’t been straight. Well, you give me a chance, when I bet everybody tried to turn you against me. The Nimmo name is not a good’un in Tresham. My Handy sailed close to the wind in more ways than one, and he had friends and relations to back him up. People were scared of him, not to put too fine a point on it. There’s other mobs in town, o’ course. But Nimmos was known to be the most powerful. Can’t tell you a name for the others. Honour among thieves, my dad would say. Dad didn’t approve of my marryin’ Handy, but the old devil always treated me well. Not stingy, not with me.”

  “And the Battersbys?” prompted Lois.

  Dot told her what she had already told Alice. It had been a case of non-payment of a bill, with the Colonel accusing Handy of screwing him over, and refusing to pay. “Handy got his revenge, though. Nobody would work for Battersby after that. Not Tresham builders. It was only a poxy kitchen extension he wanted, and Handy did a good job. It was a fair price, too.”

  “So if they knew your name, you’d be out on your ear at once? Well, that is even more important than I thought.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. But there’s more. Y’know my Haydn was killed in a so-called accident? Well, I think old Battersby had somethin’ to do with it, and I reckoned that if I could go to work there, I could find out more.” There was a pause, and then Dot added, “So I s’pose you’d like to give me m’ cards straight away. Fair enough. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  Lois sighed. “Oh, Dot,” she said. “Now what am I to do? I know you’re good at the job, and
another client has asked for you specially.”

  “Can I ask yer something, Mrs. M?”

  “Go on,” Lois replied, wondering how honest she should be herself.

  “Why did you hire me? I’m not a fool, and I know I got a disgusting house. I look a sight when I’m not scrubbed up, and the Nimmo reputation goes before me. So why?”

  Lois made a decision. “Because I thought I could use you,” she said. “My Derek witnessed the accident, you know. When he told me all the details, I reckoned there was something not quite right. Your son was a young man, and I don’t like young blokes being killed for some trumped-up accident story. I’ve got sons, too. I don’t know what Haydn was involved in, but whatever it was, it needed the truth told. So when you came in here, applying for a job, I thought I could use you.” She did not mention Cowgill.

  “And now it looks like you can?” Dot said hopefully.

  “Maybe,” Lois said. “So I’ll give you another chance. What I get to know I’ll share with you. And you can tell me everything you know about them. And you can start by explaining why the Horsleys at Willow Farm should also be interested in who you are. And what do you know about the stable thefts?”

  “Easy,” said Dot. “Close as a couple o’ toads, Horace and Joe are. Gambling, women, money. Been goin’ on for years. Mind you, they’re close in other ways, too. Nothing much leaks out. Got away with it for years, too. If you want to know more about them, I got contacts. As for the stable thefts, I’ll see what I can do.” She stood up and held out her hand. “Partners?” she asked.

  “For now,” answered Lois, shaking her hand. “But with a get-out clause at any time.”

  “Goes for me, too,” said Dot cheerfully, and made for the door.

  * * *

  LOIS BEGAN TO TIDY UP THE DESK, AND AS SHE TOOK the dirty mugs into the kitchen, she heard a loud squeal of brakes, and then an engine revving.

  “Oh no!” she yelled, and rushed out into the road. Not far from Dot Nimmo’s house near the top end of the road she could see a dark shape lying in the road. People were beginning to run towards it, and Lois joined them.

  “Let me through!” she shouted, and pushed her way to the front of the gathering spectators. “Oh, God,” she said in a shocked voice. “Not Dot! Please God, not Dot!”

  But of course it was Dot, and in due course police and ambulance arrived, and Lois was making another call to Gran, saying she would be home later than expected.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “AND GUESS WHO WAS QUICKLY ON THE SCENE?” DEREK asked grimly.

  Gran, Derek and Lois were in the sitting room, and for once the television was not on. It was quite late, and Lois had forced down a meal, with Derek and Gran sternly standing over her. Now, after a long pause, Derek had made his sour remark.

  “Yes, you’re right. Cowgill was there,” Lois said flatly. Gran reckoned she was in shock, and had said so. Lois had denied it hotly, but was like a zombie going through the motions of the day.

  “You haven’t told us much, lovey,” Gran said gently. She remembered when Lois was a young girl, reluctant to confide in her parents. She needed coaxing. “Was Dot all right when she left you in the office?”

  Lois gave herself a little shake and made an effort. “She was fine. We’d had a good talk, and sorted things out. It was going to be easier in the future for both of us. I admire her, you know. Dogged and brave, in her way.”

  “What did the ambulance man say?” Derek said. “Was she . . . well, you know, had she snuffed it?”

  “Nearly,” said Lois. “They reckoned she couldn’t live much longer. Extensive injuries, they said . . .”

  Suddenly Lois collapsed and hid her face in her hands. Derek moved to sit next to her on the sofa, and put his arm around her shoulders. She pulled herself together in seconds. Lois Meade did not blub. But the lapse in self-control had relaxed her, and she began to tell them the whole story, from beginning to end, but leaving out the partnership pact. “I keep thinking that if I’d let her go earlier, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Had you thought, me duck,” said Derek, “that whoever ran her down might have been waiting for her? It wouldn’t have mattered what time she came out of the office, she’d still have been in trouble. Didn’t anybody see the sodding hit-and-run merchant?”

  “Don’t know,” Lois said, “but you know what Sebastopol is like.”

  “I expect you’ll be hearing from Cowgill, anyway,” Derek said. “You can bet on it.”

  “I have to make a statement,” Lois said. “So I expect I’ll know more after that.” She was quiet for a minute, and then said angrily, “Who the hell would do a thing like that to a woman like Dot?”

  Derek raised his eyebrows. “You’re not telling me Dot was a poor defenceless widder woman, mindin’ her own business and no threat to nobody?”

  Lois shrugged. “No, I’m not,” she said, “but I shall still do my best to find out who killed one of my team and then buggered off.”

  “She’s not dead yet,” Gran reminded them.

  * * *

  LATER IN THE EVENING, THE TELEPHONE RANG. “IT’S for you, Lois. It’s him,” called Derek.

  “I’ll take it in the office,” Lois said. “And yes, you can listen in if you want.”

  Derek frowned and stomped off upstairs. He dreaded Lois becoming more and more involved in anything to do with the Tresham mobs. They were small beer, compared with some, but could be dangerous, even so. Witness Haydn Nimmo. Derek would never forget the smashed-up face, the awkward twist of his neck.

  “Lois, how are you?” Cowgill’s voice sounded anxious. “I’ve been worrying about you. You went off looking so pale and wan.”

  “Thank God, then, that you stayed at the scene of the crime,” said Lois, restored to her usual stroppy self. “Have you got the villain who did it?”

  She heard Cowgill sigh. “Not yet,” he said. “But we have good leads, and are following them up.”

  “So you’ve got no idea,” said Lois. “Well, neither have I. But I’ve got plenty to work on. When are you coming to take a statement? I’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and can’t waste time.”

  “Lois, dear,” Cowgill said, a risky strategy, “I know you’re not heartless. Dot Nimmo worked for you, and I’d expect you to defend her. So you don’t need to pretend to me. A nice young policeman will be round tomorrow morning about ten o’clock. Will that do?”

  “It’ll have to, I suppose. You know what I’m going to ask next . . .”

  “She’s hanging on,” Cowgill said quietly. “You’ll be the first to know if the worst happens. I’ll see to that personally. Now,” he said in a brisker, police inspector voice. “I shall need to see you to ask a few questions. Formally, of course. Can you come down to the station, or would you rather I came to Farnden?”

  “I’ll come to you,” said Lois, thinking of the chilly reception he’d get from Derek and Gran. “Tomorrow, I suppose? Blimey, I shall be talking to policemen all day. Can’t I tell it all to the nice young policeman? No. Well, if you were a villain, I’d be deeply suspicious. All right, all right! Three o’clock tomorrow? That’s the only time I can do, and it can’t be for long.”

  Cowgill had another appointment at that time, but he said, “Fine. Three o’clock tomorrow, then. Goodbye, Lois.”

  He put down the phone and buzzed for his secretary. “Cancel my three o’clock appointment tomorrow,” he said, “and refix it for any other free time.”

  * * *

  IN THE INTENSIVE CARE DEPARTMENT OF TRESHAM General Hospital, a grey-haired doctor looked down at the inert figure of Dot Nimmo and shook his head. Tubes hung in festoons around her, and her face was parchment yellow. The heart monitor bleeped away her life, with alarming gaps at intervals.

  A young nurse stood by. “Sad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s always sad,” replied the doctor. “I’ve lost count of how many Nimmos I’ve seen in this hospital over the years. You could say they were an unlucky family, b
ut they made their own luck. Let’s hope this is the last,” he added, and walked away.

  THIRTY

  ALICE PARKER-KNOWLE WAS THE FIRST PERSON LOIS TELEPHONED the next day. It was fortunate that Dot had not as yet worked for many New Brooms clients. Alice was first because Dot had worked for her before, and was obviously a special person to her.

  “Is that Mrs. Parker-Knowle?” Lois wasn’t sure of Alice’s voice yet.

  “Oh, hello, Lois. Nothing wrong, I hope?”

  When Lois told her what had happened to Dot, there was a long silence. “Alice? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m still here.” The voice was calm, not what Lois had expected.

  “I’ll be sending you another one of the team. They are all good people.”

  “Not like Dot, though,” Alice said quietly. “She brightened my life, Lois. When you get to my age, not many people can do that.” There was another pause, and then Alice continued. “Did she tell you about the paint sprayed on her windscreen?”

  “I saw it,” Lois answered. “Dot didn’t seem too bothered about it.”

  “It was the second warning in one day. Somebody had clamped her car while she was having a quick sausage roll before coming on to me. She was late, by the time it was taken off. She made up the time, of course.”

  Lois frowned. “She didn’t tell me that,” she said. “In Dot’s circle, threats and feuds are part of life. Most come to nothing, and she probably reckoned it would all be sorted out.” She thought privately that Dot must have been vulnerable ever since her Handy had died. Haydn had obviously been no protection, and she had been left alone to cope. Lois’s anger rose. “We don’t know yet,” she said, “that the accident was deliberate. But the car didn’t stop. Not sure if anybody saw anything, but it’s still rough around there and most people think it best to keep mum. You can be sure I shan’t let it rest, Alice. Meanwhile, Dot is still alive, just, and we must hope and pray.”