It was after nine when Hetty and Lottie put in an appearance. Hetty had been late getting home due to being questioned by the police and checked over by the paramedics who thought she might have suffered from the cold. Feeling better she was hopeful the pub would not be busy because she really just wanted to sit quietly and enjoy a large glass of wine which she hoped would steady her nerves and help her to sleep so that she might get the image of Biddy’s bedraggled body from her mind. After the sisters had bought their drinks, Irene and Martha crossed the bar to commiserate with Hetty over her find.
Irene clutched Hetty’s free hand. “It must have been a nasty shock for you.”
“Yes, it was but she’s in the best place now and I just hope she’s going to be alright.”
“I assume her husband is with her,” said Lottie.
“Yes, he followed the ambulance to Truro and rang me from the hospital to tell us how she is. He seemed very calm, bless him, but then when I first met them I got the impression he was a level-headed individual.”
“And how is she?” Hetty was almost afraid to ask.
“In a stable but serious condition and so hopefully she’ll pull through.”
“Any idea what they think happened?” Lottie asked.
Irene sat down. “As I’ve just been telling some of the locals it’s thought she might have suffered a heart attack because Geoff said she was feeling unwell before she went out. Biddy assumed it was indigestion and thought a bit of fresh air and a walk might do her some good in spite of the miserable weather.”
“So do they think it was an accident?” Hetty asked.
“Yes, without doubt. A heart attack, stroke or something along those lines.”
Lottie sighed. “Thank goodness for that.”
Hetty decided to say nothing at all because her instincts told her that Biddy had not been taken ill.
“While I’m here,” said Irene, “would it be alright if I asked you a bit about umm, when you, well you know, found Mum? I mean, you were there at the time, weren’t you?”
“Yes, both of us were and it was a great shock. I thought Lottie was going to faint when your moth…oh never mind.” Hetty clammed up realising it would be indelicate to mention Geraldine’s head rolling across the floor.
“I assume Sandra is your daughter-in-law, Lottie, who now lives in the Old Bakehouse?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So what would you like to know?” Hetty was curious.
“I just wondered if her handbag was with her. You see, when she left the house for the last time she took nothing with her which seemed odd back then. Now of course we know why. I mean, she wasn’t intending to go anywhere, was she? But she still must have had her handbag with her because she never went anywhere without it. It just occurred to me that it might have been, well, you know with her when she was found.”
The sisters both slowly shook their heads.
“There was nothing actually wrapped up with your mother in the eiderdown but there were two rings on one of her fingers and a pair of clip-on earrings and the remains of her outfit,” said Lottie, “which the police still have.”
“And a watch,” Hetty added, “which had stopped at one o’clock.”
“That’s right and then separately to her there were a couple of cardboard boxes but they contained just general things from around the house although there was a dress and a pair of white sandals in one but definitely no handbag.” For some reason Lottie glanced at her own handbag as she spoke.
“What was it like?” Hetty asked, “Your mother’s handbag, I mean?”
“It was dark brown patent leather, capacious, with a bow on the side and a large brass clasp to close it with. Mum adored it and so did I. I’d love to see it again.”
“Of course,” said Lottie, “I’ll get Sandra to look out for it because it might be somewhere else in the house although I think they’ve been through most of the stuff that was left behind now.”
“And how about shoes?” Irene asked.
“Shoes! There weren’t any shoes, were there, Het? Which I must admit does seem a little odd now I come to think of it.”
“Mum loved her shoes, she must have had dozens of pairs. I used to clomp around the house in her older ones but was forbidden to put on any of the new ones.” Irene smiled dreamily, “I’d wear some of Mum’s old clothes too. When I was dressing up, I’d look in the mirror and see myself as a proper little lady instead of the gangly ten-year-old that I really was.”
“So do you know what the missing shoes were like?” Hetty was curious.
“Brown patent leather to match her favourite handbag. I used to sit in the bottom of her wardrobe and smell her dresses after she had gone because they reminded me of her. They smelled so nice you see. Just as she used to. I played with her shoes too but I never dared try them on because it didn’t seem right. I knew her shoes off by heart and the brown patent leather ones were the only pair that I could see were missing.”
“So what did your father do with all your mother’s things after she’d gone?” Lottie asked.
“He kept them until we moved to Portsmouth a couple of months later and then he chucked them out. If I remember correctly they all went to the village school for a jumble sale.”
“That must have raised a few eyebrows,” commented Hetty.
Irene shook her head. “It might have but everyone knew she’d gone and I suppose it was inevitable that she would have left some of her things behind.”
“But no-one knew that she’d left everything,” tutted Lottie.
“That’s right and Dad said I must never tell anyone that that was the case. Looking back I think he was desperate not the lose face and liked to give the impression he’d sent her packing. He was a very proud man.”
“So who looked after you when your mother left? While your father was working, I mean.”
“He’d drop me off at school before he went to work and somehow managed to get away early so that he was home when I came out. It was only for a while anyway because shortly after we moved to Portsmouth where he met someone from his past and before long she’d moved in with us.”
“And was she kind to you?” Lottie asked.
“Yes, she was and I really liked her. Her name was Madeleine and she had a great sense of humour which kept my spirits up. Sadly she died on my sixtieth birthday.”
Chapter Fourteen
“So,” said Debbie, when she arrived at Primrose Cottage on Tuesday morning to discuss the latest developments, “it looks very much to me as though someone is trying to bump off the competition as regards the money from the sale of the Old Bakehouse.”
“My thoughts entirely,” agreed Hetty, as she accompanied Debbie into the sitting room, “but everyone else seems to think that Biddy was taken ill, her husband included.”
“That’s what Gideon said but I disagree because I’m sure that if I suspected I was about to have a heart attack I would make sure I got well away from the water even if I had to stagger up the beach.” Debbie sat down heavily as if to emphasise her point.
“Precisely.”
“I’m glad you agree because as I said if she was attacked then the others with a claim on Joe’s estate could be in danger too.”
Hetty sat down at the table opposite Debbie. “It wouldn’t surprise me if someone is planning to bump them off one by one.”
“Poppycock,” spluttered Lottie, “If anyone planned to do that, when he or she was the only one left he’d get nicked. Anyway, why are you so sure that it was attempted murder and not an accident? At present we don’t know so you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Besides if it was attempted murder I’m sure we’d have heard by now and the place would be swarming with police doing house to house enquiries and stuff like that.”
“But how do we know they haven’t been doing house to house enquiries?” Hetty reasoned, “In fact they might be doing so right now but we wouldn’t know because we’re well away for the beach and the crime sce
ne.”
“Crime scene. Humph!” Lottie dusted the mantelpiece with unnecessary vigour in an attempt to hide her disdain.
“Well my money is on it being attempted murder.” Hetty folded her arms to emphasise the point made, “What’s more, I reckon there’s a lot more to all this stuff to do with Joe and his will than meets the eye.”
“And I still say you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, either of you,” hissed Lottie without turning her head.
“But you’re jumping to conclusions by saying she was ill,” snapped Hetty, “so I can’t see the difference.”
“Come on, come on, ladies, stop arguing,” tutted Debbie, “it’ll achieve nothing and we’re all entitled to our own opinions.”
“Alright,” Hetty agreed, “so humour me, Lottie, and let’s pretend for now that it was attempted murder and then if we hear anything to the contrary we’ll review our ideas and I’ll admit I was wrong.”
Debbie nodded. “That’s a reasonable compromise. So where shall we begin? I think we ought to make a list of all who might benefit from old Joe’s will.”
“I already have.” Hetty produced a piece of paper from the pocket of her cardigan and handed it to Debbie. “Sadly it’s very short but I don’t think I’ve left anyone out.”
Lottie tutted. “When did you write that?”
“This morning before you were up.”
“Come and sit down with us, Lottie,” begged Debbie, not wanting her friend to be left out, “there’s no dust left on that mantelpiece now.”
“Okay, but I’ll go and get us all a coffee first. It should be ready by now.” Lottie left the room.
Debbie looked at the sheet of paper. “Irene Hewitt, Norman Williams, Lucky Jim Bray and I see you have Biddy down too, poor soul. Not many to go on though, is it?”
“I think there are more,” said Hetty, “but I don’t know their names. Can you help?”
“Not really but I know that several have been and gone because their DNA tests were negative.”
“I could hear what you were saying while I was in the kitchen and you’ve missed out the two chaps from Penzance,” Lottie entered the room with a tray of coffee mugs.
“Two chaps from Penzance,” repeated Debbie, “Who are they?”
“Ah, well remembered, Lottie,” Hetty added the names to the list, “They’re builders, Debbie, but not staying in the village. Sid was telling Bill and Sandra about them yesterday while he fitted an outside tap at the Old Bakehouse so that Sandra can water the garden when she’s knocked it into shape. They’re twins apparently and their names are Harry and Larry. Sid said they’re really nice blokes.”
As Lottie handed out the coffee mugs, there was a knock at the front door.
“I’ll go since I’m on my feet.”
On the doorstep stood their neighbour, Kitty.
“Hello, Kitty, come in, come in,” Lottie stepped back to make room for Kitty to cross the threshold, “I’ve just made coffee. Would you like a mug?”
“Yes, please, it’s quite chilly out.”
“Okay, the others are in the sitting room. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Hello, Kitty,” Hetty stood up and pulled out a chair from beneath the table, “You’re just in time. We’re discussing likely suspects for Biddy’s attempted murder.”
“Assuming that is the case,” added Debbie, knowing that Lottie was in earshot.
Kitty removed her coat and draped it on the back of the chair. “I didn’t know anything about the Biddy incident until I was in the village just now where everyone’s talking about it. How are you, Hetty? It must have been a bit traumatic for you.”
“I’m fine, really I am. I got a bit cold waiting for the emergency services but I’m over the shock now.”
As Kitty sat down she glanced at the names on the sheet of paper.
“That’s a list of people who are in for a share of Joe’s legacy,” said Hetty, having followed Kitty’s eyes, “We’ve made it because if Biddy’s condition is the result of attempted murder then we think these people might be in danger too.”
Kitty sighed. “I see your point and sadly it looks as though it was attempted murder and that’s the reason for my visit. Well, that and to commiserate with you, Het.”
“What!” Debbie shouted.
“I knew it,” shrieked Hetty.
“That’s terrible,” said Lottie, as she returned to the room.
Debbie pushed the list to one side as Lottie put down Kitty’s coffee along with a plate of biscuits.
“So what can you tell us?” Hetty asked, “How was she attacked?”
“It’s reckoned the poor soul was suffocated and left for dead but I must admit that’s pure speculation because no-one will know for sure ‘til we’ve spoken to her husband. I know the police are definitely treating it as attempted murder though whatever the method of attack used.”
“Are you sure it’s definite?” Lottie sat down; her knees felt weak.
Kitty nodded. “Yes. As I walked along the main street this morning I met one of the chaps who puts together items in the Pentrillick Gazette. I asked him if there was any news and he told me what I’ve just told you. What’s more there were several police cars parked along the street.”
Lottie shook her head. “I concede defeat then but what a to-do.”
“It certainly is. I met Pamela and Jim as I was walking up Long Lane and they asked if there had been anymore developments. When I told them what I’ve just told you Jim went as white as a sheet and said he thought it might be wise if they went home but Pamela wasn’t bothered and said they must stay until after the deadline.”
Hetty tutted. “That one’s certainly determined to get her share.”
“Do you know how Biddy is?” Debbie asked.
“She’s still in a critical but stable condition and her husband is at her bedside. It’s said the poor chap was devastated when he was told it was attempted murder.”
“I’m not surprised,” cried Lottie, “Poor Geoff.”
“So, not only do we need to find out who murdered Geraldine Glover and put her in the oven we now need to find out who suffocated poor Biddy and left her for dead.” Hetty picked up her mug of coffee.
“Well, one thing’s for sure, with a sixty year time span it certainly won’t be the same person,” chuckled Lottie.
“No, it won’t and I don’t think many have any doubts as to who killed Geraldine,” said Debbie, “Even the police think it was Joe. But Biddy, well, it could be anyone although my money is on it being one of her new found siblings.”
“But they’re all really nice,” insisted Kitty.
“In which case perhaps there is one we’ve yet to hear about.” As Hetty spoke a sudden image flashed across her mind. “Oh, my goodness, I’ve just remembered something. Last night before I found Biddy I met someone along the main street. I said hello but whoever the person was just grunted in response and carried on walking. To be honest I’ve no idea who it was but we were near to the alleyway so it could easily have been the attacker coming up from the beach.”
Lottie was shocked. “For goodness sake, you must be able to remember something about the person, Het. I mean, what was he wearing? How tall was he?”
“I really don’t know. My head was bowed because of the wind. I had no reason to take in any detail and I only saw his feet anyway.”
“Okay, so what was on his feet?”
“A pair of flashy white trainers with blue squiggles on the sides.”
“Well, that’s something,” conceded Kitty. “You must tell the police.”
Chapter Fifteen
In the evening, Hetty and Lottie gave bingo a miss; Debbie was unable to go because it was her husband Gideon’s birthday and she was taking him out for a meal. Instead the sisters walked down to the Crown and Anchor hoping to hear more news.
Earlier in the day, Hetty had told the police that she had seen someone in the vicinity of the beach on the night of Biddy’s attack but because she w
as unable to give a description of any kind, other than that the person in question had worn flashy white trainers with blue squiggles down the sides, she conceded her input was next to useless.
As they entered the pub they saw that the bar was very busy. “Listen to the chatter.” Hetty looked around as she unzipped her coat. “You grab that table, Lottie before someone else does and I’ll get the drinks.”
Behind the bar, Tess Dobson was working alongside licensees, Ashley and Alison Rowe.
“Judging by the loud chatter I’d make a wild guess and say most are trying to work out who tried to kill poor Biddy,” said Hetty, after she had ordered two glasses of red wine.
Tess tutted. “Not like you to be behind with the news, Het.”
“Behind. What do you mean?”
“There’s been an arrest.” Tess left Hetty wondering while she stepped away and poured the wine.
“Who?” Hetty looked Tess in the eye as she stood the two glasses on the bar.
“Irene Hewitt. You know, the daughter of the woman who was found in your nephew’s oven. She was arrested earlier this evening.” Tess kept her voice low because Ashley the landlord didn’t like his staff to gossip while at work.
“But that’s ridiculous,” hissed Hetty. “There must be a mistake. Irene is lovely.” She took money from her purse.
“That’s as maybe but the police found a silver necklace in Biddy’s hand which has been identified as Irene’s. In fact Irene confirmed it herself. It’s assumed Biddy pulled it from her neck during the attack.”
Hetty’s jaw dropped as she recalled seeing something clasped in Biddy’s hand. After Tess gave her the change from a ten pound note, she returned to her sister in a daze.
The following morning dawned dull but dry with a strong autumnal wind blowing from the east. Looking out into the back garden of Primrose Cottage, Albert sat on the granite doorstep and watched the leaves as they fluttered over the boundary wall from Ginny and Alex’s cherry tree and settled on the pond and surrounding lawns and flower beds.
The Old Bakehouse Page 11
