The Trials of Sally Dunning and a Clerical Murder

by Miller Caldwell

  The atmosphere changed. Elsie thought Eric might enlighten her with his thoughts on this grim matter but suddenly there was a shout. Sally had jumped into the pool near Tom and they were splashing around like five year olds.

  ‘They are kids enjoying the moment. It’s what they live for,’ said Eric placing his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Yes, when we both die, we hope our son will take on Tom. His wife is fond of him and we see that as the best option.’

  ‘I’ve two children and I suppose they will come to some agreement. A shared arrangement perhaps. But I feel I should also be part of the decision-making. Death is such an inhibitor,’ said Elsie scratching the back of her head. Eric nodded slowly and thoughtfully. It was an understanding they had already reached. It felt good to have had it validated.

  Dawn was breaking. Donkey looked at her watch. ‘Let’s not try and have breakfast here. 8.30 a.m. is the best time to leave. Join the flow of workers to work. And boy do we have some work to do this morning.’

  ‘Yeah? What you got planned?’ asked Bones rubbing his hands together.

  ‘Let’s get to the auctioneers with the booty before Sally and her mum get back. But first let’s make sure we have cleared our tracks.’

  They started in the attic leaving the red balls in their triangle at the top of the board just as they had found them. The cue and its rest were returned to the cue stand and the cue ball positioned with the accuracy of a gloved professional, on the spot at the far end. They thought they had made a good spring clean of the attic and were pleased that the blood stain on the cushion was minimal to the eye and unlikely to draw attention. It would dry in the sunshine of the lounge from where it had been taken and returned. They closed the attic door, just as they had found it. They entered each bedroom once more to ensure drawers were closed and contents left in the way they had found them. But with light increasing, they could not risk a sighting from the nearest house.

  They walked bent like the backs of hod carriers.

  They gathered all their booty and set the house alarm back on. They were mighty relieved when the security bell stopped and silence reigned around the back door. The backdoor key was returned to where it had been located. They had each stolen four Tesco bags from the pantry for their plunder. There must have been over a hundred bags there. Donkey loitered a while in the driveway shrubbery to give Bones a head start. They considered it to be too suspicious if they walked together with such baggage. They agreed to meet at their home in one hour.

  6

  A Surprise for Sally

  It was early evening. The pool still had a few swimmers doing lengths. Both families had eaten and were sitting in a semicircle of the reception area, relaxed, and at perfect ease with Eric gulping his Heineken beer, while Elsie and Beth each sipped their Hendrik’s gin. Sally sipped a fizzy orange through a spiral straw while Tom had a half pint shandy of Adman’s lager and lemonade.

  ‘Sally?’

  Sally looked up at Eric with an abrupt staring pose.

  ‘I hear you have brought your harmonica with you.’

  Sally smiled happily and nodded a few times in agreement.

  ‘Which one is it?’

  ‘My favourite,’ she replied gripping the sides of her chair.

  Eric smiled and continued to pry.

  ‘I see. Is it in F or G?’

  ‘No, it’s the chromatic one.’

  ‘Ah yes. Difficult to play all those semitones I bet.’

  ‘No, it’s easy,’ said Sally looking coldly at Eric then watching her juice spiral its way to her mouth through her fancy straw. How dare he say it was difficult when it wasn’t?’ she thought.

  ‘What if I played the piano over there, would you play with me on your harmonica?’

  ‘Yes, on my harmonica.’

  ‘Then can you bring it down and we can make some music?’

  No sooner had she been asked than Sally was on her way to her room to get her instrument.

  ‘What sort of music does she like to play, Elsie?’ Eric asked with a sudden realisation it might be in the order of Jack and Jill went up the hill. Maybe even Frère Jacques.

  ‘That’s a good question. She plays so many things I don’t know all the tunes she produces.’

  ‘Where has Sally gone?’ asked Tom whose eyes were scanning round the area like a spinning top.

  ‘Gone to get her mouth organ, dear,’ said Beth.

  Elsie smiled then chuckled. ‘Don’t let Sally hear you calling a harmonica a mouth organ. They are the same thing I suppose but she told me off about that once. I’ll never forget.’

  Beth smacked the back of her left hand. ‘I must remember.’

  Sally arrived having brought the harmonica down. It was in its case. She handed it to Eric who opened it to see a gleaming bright instrument bearing the name of Unica Young. He lifted the instrument out and looked closely at it. Sure enough the slide key was in position on the end of the harmonica. It was indeed a chromatic instrument.

  ‘I see it’s made in Japan. It feels good to touch but I can’t play it. I hear you play well.’

  It was a compliment but Sally didn’t do compliments well. Instead she pointed the instrument at the piano.

  ‘Okay, let’s go and make music,’ said a contented Eric.

  Eric sat down at the Bechstein piano and ran his fingers up and down the keyboard. This was no honky-tonk piano. It had depth and feeling. Not a note was flat or sharp. Eric was surprisingly pleased with its condition and tone. He thought for a moment, wondering what Sally might be able to play. He decided to play an introduction and then perhaps a few well known bars. If Sally had not caught on, then he’d ask her what she wanted to play.

  Eric began to play Adele’s Chasing Pavements. Immediately Sally began to play along with him. Tom began to clap, not entirely in time and Elsie smiled. She had often heard Sally play but never accompanied. It sounded good. The song took almost four minutes to play during which a growing group of holidaymakers had started to gather round to hear the impromptu live performance.

  ‘Okay Sally, that was good. Your turn, do you want to play something?’

  Eric’s fingers hovered over the piano in readiness. He waited to see what tune might emerge. He noticed Sally shield the harmonica by the end of the instrument and he soon heard why. It was the sliding action underway which lent itself to the sharps and flats that Sally required to play Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

  People were mesmerised with Sally’s performance and Eric gave up playing as he had never attempted this classic masterpiece. The audience grew and in silence they listened to Sally seeing her contort herself to reach lower notes and arch her eyebrows to hit the high ones. Sally was in her element. The audience was enthralled.

  When she reached the last note there was an instant of pure silence then the clapping and cheering filled the vestibule.

  ‘More please. Encore,’ was heard a dozen times but Sally did not smile or acknowledge their delight. She returned to the table where her mother was still applauding. The audience smiled feeling she was shy.

  ‘They want you to play another tune, Sally,’ her mother said with a nod of encouragement. And to please her mother was one of Sally’s delights. She returned to the exact spot where she had stood to play Gershwin. Meanwhile holiday makers found chairs to sit down quietly and the large flower pot lips became seats too as the evening entertainment seemed to be developing. Children sat cross legged on the floor.

  Once more her lips met the instrument and a silence descended over the area. She gave no announcement. The audience wondered what she would play.

  Sally worked her way through Vaughan Williams’s The Lark Ascending. It was a piece which heard the harmonica fully stretched to find each trill and sustained note. Everyone could imagine the hovering lark. It was once more a note perfect performance and
again she returned to her mother’s table without acknowledging the audience’s applauding gratitude. Instead Sally went to the toilet after pocketing her instrument.

  That night a lady approached Elsie. She smiled as she appeared.

  ‘Excuse me I gather you are Sally’s mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said taken aback while looking at the tall tanned figure of a woman in her mid-thirties dressed in a tracksuit and mauve Tee shirt bearing the logo: I’m not arguing; I’m just explaining why I am right.

  The lady pulled out a chair and sat down beside Elsie. ‘I hope you don’t mind me barging in. My name is Carolee, Carolee Meredith. I am a music agent. Yes, on holiday of course but work is always on my mind. Your daughter is a gifted musician you know. Not many play the harmonica and as well as that. I’d like to take her on to my books. Would she agree?’

  ‘Well...er...an agent....what does that mean?’ flustered Elsie who was somewhat taken out of her field of comfort.

  ‘I arrange tours for entertainers, musicians and some six authors. I make the booking arrangements and provide their accommodation. I feel sure Sally will be a great attraction,’ she said opening up her iPad sitting on her lap.

  ‘But you don’t understand. Sally has autism. She’s fine tonight because she knows I am here. But take her to a new place to play to strangers then return her to her hotel room and she is likely to freak out. Like a fish out of water. I do know what I am talking about, you know.’

  ‘Your name is?’ she asked, lightly touching her arm.

  ‘I am Elsie Dunning.’

  ‘Mrs Dunning, I assure you I know what Autism is. My nephew has it too. He has concentrated on constructive art. He has built the Angel of the North in fine detail with matchsticks; he works with my late father’s Meccano set building moving cars too. He is always creating constructional art. That’s his ability. That’s when he is in that autism zone. Your daughter, Sally, has concentrated on music...... and that sells.’

  It took a moment for Elsie to swallow what she had heard.

  ‘It is good to know that you understand her condition. So I must thank you for your kind offer but I just can’t see it working, I’m sorry.’

  There was an awkward moment of silence. Elsie thought the dialogue had ended. This young woman would surely leave.

  ‘Mrs Dunning, then let me make a different offer. I’ll arrange a hotel for you and Sally and you will be off stage when she is performing. Let’s keep it simple. Let’s try it at one venue, one local one for you. And assess afterwards how it has been for us all. Now that can’t be a worthless offer.’

  Elsie felt shepherded into a sheep’s pen. ‘I suppose then I have nothing to lose.’

  ‘Well, this is my card. Are you on-line?’

  ‘Yes, we are.’ Elsie gave her the email required and they parted with a handshake.

  ‘I have every confidence in Sally, Mrs Dunning.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you very much indeed.’

  Bones and Donkey spread out their ill-gotten gains on the carpet. It was one of the larger hauls their housebreaking career had produced. And it could continue if Sally, their golden egg, did not shatter. They hoped not to break the egg and like a productive hen, the golden eggs would keep laying.

  ‘The comics. We should repack them. Get them in the right order.’ Donkey threw a plastic bag to Bones. ‘One each. Got to find a plausible story for them too,’ said Bones, and they did.

  Donkey entered auctioneers Harper & Pierpont Ltd. at the Robin Park light industry area of town the following day. She placed on the office desk both boxes of Beano magazines. Mr. Harper opened one box.

  ‘This looks a very interesting collection. How long have you had this, madam?’

  ‘They belonged to my uncle. He died last year and his widow gave them to me,’ she lied with the confidence of a professional trickster, which she was. Her confidence grew. ‘Well you see, I’ve no interest in keeping children’s magazines and wondered if they were worth anything?’

  Mr. Harper put on white gloves and ran his fingers down the spines of the collection. He took out copies randomly to check their condition.

  ‘Your uncle took great care of them, madam.’

  ‘Yes, he did. He was like that, a very careful man.’

  ‘Was he local, I might have known him?’ he asked without raising his head.

  ‘Er...no, not local. He was from Cardiff,’ Donkey replied feeling her pulse beat stronger.

  ‘Ah a Welshman.’

  ‘No, his wife was Welsh, he came from here. But he left to go to Wales just after he left school,’ she lied, as her lies took off on a journey of their own.

  Mr. Harper looked up and over his horn rimmed glasses ‘And you are?’

  ‘I’m Donna Riley.’

  ‘Ms. Donna Riley, I seem to have heard that name......,’ he said, wondering where he might have come across it in the recent past. In the local paper perhaps, he wondered. But it would be too nosey to ask.

  ‘Er ....Riley is quite a common name. There are quite a few of us in the telephone book,’ Donkey said feeling for her cigarette packet in her pocket and tapping it in time with her breathing. She’d have to wait till she was outside.

  Mr. Harper returned the comics to the box. ‘Well Ms. Riley, do you have an address or email you can give me?’

  ‘Why?’ asked a suddenly nervous Donkey.

  ‘Because, Ms Riley, you have an interesting collection here and I intend to contact a special comic auction in London. That is if you agree of course. I’ll let you know if they are interested and if they go to auction, as I am confident they will, so you can attend if you wish. How else may I contact you?’

  ‘Of course, I was not thinking. My email address is braytimegal@hotmail.com so how much do you think it will make?’

  ‘The market is difficult to second guess. That’s why I am waiting for a comic auction as opposed to a local sale. This may take some time. And of course, the auctioneer receives his percentage too.’

  ‘Yes, but after the deductions, what is it likely to be?’ Donkey asked to have a greater idea of its worth.

  ‘On a poor day it might be around £800 but if there is interest on-line, as there are real collectors of magazines, you know, and your uncle kept them from the very start in an almost perfect condition, then we could be talking upwards of even £10K and even more if there are international on-line bids.’

  ‘Ten thousand?’

  ‘Yes, you heard me correctly. That’s if the market is interested. Yes, that’s what I said the comics could definitely make. Are you surprised?’

  Donkey swallowed her shock. ‘Yes, I don’t think my aunt knew their worth. I should make sure she gets some of the proceedings,’ she said like a wonderful, loving niece.

  Mr. Harper smiled as he proffered his hand forward. ‘Yes, that would be very thoughtful, Ms. Riley, very thoughtful indeed.’

  ‘I’m pleased to have done business with you,’ said Donkey in the most professional voice she could muster as she withdrew her hand.

  No sooner had the auctioneer’s door closed than the first deep draw of nicotine hit the back of Donkey’s throat. She had got rid of the comics and for possibly an amount that could see them sunning themselves on a Floridian beach before too long.

  Sally returned from the loo to join her mother and their new friends.

  ‘I hear you will be playing to a larger audience, Sally,’ said Eric approvingly.

  Sally looked at her mother with the anxiety of a cow at its slaughter.

  ‘Yes dear, a lady came to arrange a local night for you to play the harmonica in front of some people just like this evening. Wouldn’t you like that? I would, I am sure.’

  A green light had been given for her reply. ‘Yes I‘d like that, mum,’ she said without showing any surprise or pleased emotion.

&nb
sp; Eric smiled at Sally. Sally ignored him as she thought through the prospects of another public performance suggested by her mother.

  ‘I’d come along with you of course, dear.’

  Sally started to roll her thumbs round each other in clasped hands.

  ‘It is to be a local performance, Sally,’ said Beth.

  Sally stared at Beth with piercing eyes. ‘In Wigan?’

  ‘Well, I was wondering if you would like to play in Bolton.’

  Sally’s eyes turned from Beth to Tom.

  ‘Play in Bolton,’ she asked raising her voice in delight?

  Tom smiled at her and Sally managed to smile back. ‘Yes, Bolton is good.’

  Elsie was relieved. It seemed like a new dawn for Sally. If it worked well then.....but that was jumping ahead too many fences.

  ‘Eight hundred minimum, that would do us nicely,’ said Bones.

  ‘Might take some time though.’

  ‘We can wait. Yeah, so eBay the rest?’ was Bones’ instant suggestion.

  ‘Suppose so, but the jewellery. Perhaps we can sell to guys we know and trust. Good quality prezzies for mums and girlfriends.’

  Bones rubbed his hand together. ‘Izzy whizzy let’s get busy. Let’s start with eBay.’

  The pair was not short of money. Sally’s investments were the ready cash for drugs, food and drink and that kept them happy and under the radar of the local police. That’s where they wanted and needed to be.

  7

  Harmonica

  Before they flew home, Carolee Meredith met Sally and learned of her motivation to go to Bolton and see Tom again. This made a contract to play at the Octagon in Bolton with their Symphony Orchestra feasible, she told her. Sally had simply to email Carolee with a selection of her intended music to last no more than 20 minutes. She told her that her mother would do that. She would arrange a pre- and post-interval performance. Sally learned that she would be with a full orchestra for the latter performance. Elsie who sat in on the discussion was excited and reserved at the same time. Sally regarded it as a real challenge but did not say so. Carolee felt the risks were worth taking.