‘You idiot. How will you manage? Is there a shop in wherever-it-is? It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake.’
‘I’ll survive. I brought lots of stuff with me. There’s dog food here, and tins and things.’
‘Mum? You sound very weird. You’re not drunk, are you?’
‘Of course not. What a thing to suggest!’ But she did feel giddy and confused, unsure of exactly which words would emerge from her mouth next. ‘Are you at Jocelyn’s now?’ she managed to ask.
‘Not yet. We decided I should go down tomorrow morning. I suppose I could call in on you, actually. It must be pretty much on the way. Why didn’t we think of that before?’
The temptation added to her feebleness. Jess could bring supplies, sympathy, suggestions. She might even sort out the car people for her. But she would also make a great fuss about the flu and the murder and the rats. ‘You forget the rats,’ she said.
‘I could cope for an hour or so, if I didn’t have to go into the same room. I could buy some provisions for you. Or has somebody else offered to help?’
‘Not really. It’s all a bit chaotic here at the moment.’
‘Oh?’ Jessica repeated ominously. ‘In what way?’
‘A woman was killed yesterday. Next door. It’s rather a complicated story.’
‘It usually is. How involved are you?’
‘Not at all. I never even saw her. I’ve seen Jeremy Higgins …’
‘Who?’
‘He’s the detective inspector who was so kind over the thing in Lower Slaughter. He’s investigating this one, with Gladwin.’
Jessica had uttered a little mew of distress at the mention of Lower Slaughter. It had become an intensely personal catastrophe for the whole family, following very closely on the death of Thea’s father, and was seldom mentioned as a result. ‘No wonder you sound so strange,’ said the girl.
‘I know. But it’s a nice house, in a very pretty little village, and I’ve got all I need, really. You don’t want to waste time doing a detour tomorrow. The traffic’s going to be horrible.’
‘Okay, then,’ agreed Jessica, far too readily. ‘I expect they’ll fix the car for you by tomorrow, anyway. They’ll want to get things clear before Christmas, won’t they? And it doesn’t take long to drain the engine and get it back to normal. When did it happen?’
Thea had to concentrate hard to answer that. ‘Yesterday morning. Higgins brought me home.’
‘Home,’ repeated Jessica softly. ‘You think of it as home, after two days, do you?’
‘Of course not. I just …’ She couldn’t think what to say. Home was a cold, empty little cottage in Witney, where she and Carl had been an ordinary happy couple for twenty years before calamity befell them. ‘Home is where my dog is,’ she finished, with a quick little laugh. The truth of it stabbed her viciously. The dog was already almost halfway through its life. What sort of a dependency had she let herself get into when her only anchor was a slightly scruffy spaniel?
‘Right,’ said Jessica, with a hint of impatience. ‘As Granny would say,’ she added with a little laugh. Self-pity was taboo throughout the family, largely thanks to Thea’s mother having had a tendency that way while her children were growing up. Whatever they said, she would make little effort to take a more tolerant view. But since her own widowhood, she had improved considerably, much to everyone’s surprise. ‘So I’ll stick to Plan A, then, unless you call me tomorrow with a change of heart. I’m leaving at eight, so you’ll have to make it early.’
‘That’s fine, Jess. Have a lovely time at Jocelyn’s. At least the weather’s not too bad.’
‘Rain, they say, for the rest of the week.’
‘Really?’ The prospect was far more lowering than it ought to have been. ‘That’s a pity.’
‘Well, I expect you’ll keep yourself occupied, as always. I suppose you have to walk the dog?’
‘Dogs, plural. Yes.’ Two days now and the wretched animals had barely stepped outside. But she wasn’t going to admit that. ‘I don’t suppose it’ll rain the whole time.’
‘No. Okay, then. See you sometime in the New Year.’ And she rang off.
Thea was left with a swirling mass of unpleasant emotions. She had concealed her state of health for no very noble reasons, probably hoping subconsciously that Jessica would somehow divine the truth without being told. She had had a glimpse of herself as a stubbornly isolated martyr, when she could quite easily have been part of a lively, noisy family celebration. Although not with flu, she reminded herself. Jocelyn would not have welcomed her presence if there was a risk she’d infect five children and their parents. She had casually mentioned a murder, with no hint of the tragedy and wrongness that went along with a violent death. Yet again she assessed herself harshly, unable to deny the less attractive elements of her character. She couldn’t even give the long-suffering dogs a decent time. Well, as a penance, she would definitely release the rats that evening, for their customary run. That was the very least she could do.
Blondie was whining at the front door, she noticed, and probably had been for a few minutes. ‘What do you want?’ Thea asked the dog.
The reply was unmistakable. I want to go out for a walk, said the pricked ears and steady gaze at the invisible street outside.
‘But I’m poorly,’ Thea told her. ‘And it’s cold out there.’ But it wasn’t, really. And hadn’t she just spent several minutes outside without a coat? What a waste that had been, when she might have been giving the dogs some fresh air. Her own animal was watching her closely, head cocked sideways. It was beyond anyone’s power to resist. ‘Oh, all right, then. Just a little way. And don’t pull.’ She wasn’t sure she had the strength to restrain them if they both decided to take control.
When she reached for the leads hanging on a hook next to the coats in the hallway, both dogs went crazy with excitement. She had not seen Blondie anywhere near as animated since she arrived. She turned in small circles and wagged her heavy tail. ‘Wait,’ Thea ordered. ‘I’ve got to get my coat on this time. I need to keep warm.’ She looked at the hooks for a moment, unable to locate her garment. A blue woollen coat with big buttons was next to it, which confused her. When did I rearrange them? she asked herself, remembering that her own jacket had been sharing a hook with a brown coat. The skirmishing continued as the Alsatian was attached to her lead and let out through the front door. Hepzie was permitted to stay free, given the paucity of traffic and her disinclination to run off, as a general rule. ‘Steady!’ Thea shouted.
What happened next was utterly, horrifyingly unexpected. Hepzie was jumping at Thea’s legs, while Blondie started to head along the street, towards the higher ground at the end. The larger dog gave a snarl as Hepzie landed awkwardly, bumping against her. Just what the snarl expressed in dog language would be forever a mystery, but the spaniel took great exception to it, and totally gratuitously began to snarl in response. Furthermore, she opened her jaws and clamped them shut on Blondie’s pointed left ear. Then she shook and pulled as if she had a rat in her mouth.
Thea was slow to grasp what had happened. Blondie screamed a long blood-curdling protest, full of pain and shock. Hepzie just shook and pulled some more, creating a gash from which bright blood spurted onto the thick white coat. ‘Stop it!’ Thea screamed and kicked hard at her own dog. ‘Let go, you bloody fool.’
When nothing changed, she called ‘Help!’ as loudly as she could. Blondie’s screams were considerably louder, and surely more likely to bring rescue. Inside all those houses, just feet away, there were strong men who did not have flu, and who could prise open a spaniel’s soft jaws with ease. Nobody came. Not even Dennis Ireland emerged from his front door, yet again summoned by noises in the street. A car came into view around the gentle bend, and Thea waved frantically at its occupant, while still kicking at Hepzie, and watching blood splatter everywhere.
‘Good God, Thea – is that you?’ came a familiar voice. Before she could answer, strong hands had grabbed the spani
el by the throat, squeezing her until she let go of the ear. ‘Let go, you little beast,’ she ordered. ‘What the hell are you thinking of?’
‘Gladwin,’ breathed Thea, before tottering backwards and slumping against the wall of the house. ‘Thank heaven!’
The detective superintendent lifted Hepzie bodily into the air and thrust her at her mistress. ‘Here. Hold her,’ she ordered. Thea obeyed clumsily, clasping the wriggling dog to her chest in arms that felt quite unequal to the task. The shock of what Hepzie had done was numbing her brain. With no previous hint of anything resembling aggression, Thea would have trusted her spaniel with a newborn baby, without a second thought. Or a litter of blind kittens. Though perhaps not with a rat. The idea that she would attack a dog five times her own size, for no reason at all, would have been dismissed as ludicrous less than ten minutes previously.
Blondie was whimpering miserably, shaking her bleeding head, sinking down onto her stomach like a collapsed sheep. Gladwin peered closely at the torn ear. ‘It’s not so very bad,’ she judged. ‘The blood looks worse on the white coat. She’s lovely, isn’t she.’
‘She’s a wimp,’ said Thea.
‘Alsatians often are. I expect she was taken by surprise. What’s her name?’
‘Blondie. She’s been pining for her people ever since I got here. She seems to have a reputation locally for biting, but I don’t think she deserves it. She does a sort of smile that looks like a snarl.’
Gladwin crooned over the wounded dog, soothing bits of nonsense that seemed to have some effect. Thea remained propped against the wall, clutching her wicked pet. ‘I can’t imagine why she did it. They were terribly excited about going for a walk, and then something just flipped.’
‘It’s very common. I’ve seen it lots of times. We had Irish setters when I was young, and they did it. Best of friends one minute and snapping and biting the next. And I was called to an incident just like this, some years ago, in a park. A Jack Russell tore an Alsatian’s ear right off, and all he did was cry.’
‘Oh, well, a Jack Russell,’ said Thea. ‘What do you expect? But Hepzie’s a spaniel.’
‘True. But they’re both bitches, and that’ll do it. Has Blondie been spayed?’
‘I have no idea. How could I tell?’
Gladwin moved to the white dog’s rear end, and unceremoniously lifted her tail. ‘Ah! That’ll explain it. She’s coming onto heat, look. Hepzie won’t have liked the hormonal vibes, for some reason.’
Thea leant closer for a look at the Alsatian’s genitalia. ‘It looks a bit swollen,’ she admitted.
‘Right. I imagine she’s not just pining, but feeling a bit queasy. I swear dogs get period pains, the same as people do.’
‘So does she need a vet? For the ear?’
‘I’m afraid so. It’ll have to have a few stitches. First we’ll stop the bleeding. Can we go in?’
Stumblingly, Thea led the way. This, she told herself, was what she was being paid for – to summon help if her charges got into trouble. But it was definitely not part of her remit for her own dog to inflict that trouble. The shame and embarrassment made her hotter than the flu had done.
Gladwin efficiently mopped the gashed ear, having located Dettol and a sponge under the kitchen sink. The hair all around the wound was wet and dirty with blood. The good ear drooped in sympathy, the dark eyes wide with reproach and self-pity. ‘Poor Blondie,’ sighed Thea. ‘She’s going to be scarred for life.’
‘It won’t show for long, if they sew it up properly.’ She gently fingered a flap of flesh that had almost separated from the rest of the ear. ‘But we ought to be quick.’
‘I haven’t got a car,’ Thea remembered. ‘I can’t take her. And where’s the nearest vet, anyway?’
‘Stow, I suppose. Isn’t there a number somewhere? Haven’t the people left a list?’
‘Oh, yes. Everything’s written down.’ Thea rooted in the drawer beneath the phone where she had put Philip’s instructions for safe keeping. ‘Here it is. Will they come out, do you think?’
‘Not a chance. I’ll take you.’
‘Oh.’ Outside it was close to dusk, and very uninviting. ‘Actually, I’m not very well. I’ve got flu.’
‘So I gather. Higgins told me about it. But I don’t think you’ve got a choice, have you? I absolutely must be somewhere at four-thirty, which gives us just over an hour. I can’t risk being late, so I’m going to have to drop you at the vet and leave you to get a taxi back. Shouldn’t be too difficult.’
‘But …’ I’ve got flu, she wanted to whine. But she knew she would get scant sympathy. Gladwin had doubtless worked through innumerable viruses and injuries without complaint herself, and expected no less from other women. She probably believed, as Thea more or less did too, that the best treatment for illness was to ignore it.
‘Leave your dog in the house. Get your bag and phone. I’ll put Blondie in the car while you do that. We’ll be off in exactly one minute.’ The briskness brooked no argument. Thea found the necessary objects, gave Hepzie a stern command to stay where she was, and slammed the front door behind her. Only then did she wonder whether she had a key to get in again.
‘Key!’ she flustered. ‘I don’t think I’ve got the key.’
‘Coat pocket?’
By some miracle, it was there, and not alone. There was a jingling collection on a brass ring. Front, back and garden shed padlock could all be accessed, after all. ‘Phew!’ said Thea.
In the car, Blondie panted and whined on the back seat with Thea while Gladwin sped through the darkening lanes. Thea’s mind remained uncharacteristically blank. ‘You should phone ahead to say we’re coming,’ Gladwin said.
‘I can’t. I forgot to bring that sheet of paper.’
‘Here it is.’ Gladwin produced it from her jacket pocket. ‘You’re really not firing on all cylinders today, are you?’
‘I’ve got a horrible headache and all my joints hurt. Plus I’ve got a temperature. I keep going all hot and cold. It’s not easy to think, with all that going on.’
‘Just tell them you’re bringing in a dog with a torn ear. There’s someone living over the surgery, I expect. We’ll be fifteen minutes.’
Thea manipulated her phone, her thumb seeming much too big for the delicate little keys. A person answered, the tale was told and promises made. It took very little time.
‘The murder,’ Gladwin said, the moment the phone call was finished. ‘In the next house to yours.’
‘What about it?’
‘Any ideas? Any observations? Higgins thinks you’re our most promising witness so far.’
Thea’s mind resisted this appeal quite strenuously. ‘How can I think about that now?’ She stroked the injured dog remorsefully and crooned reassurances.
‘Easily, if you try. You’re doing all you can for the dog – with my help, I might remind you. All I’m asking is that you repay me with any snippets you think we should be aware of.’
Thea made an effort to comply, but nothing came to mind beyond the events of an hour or two earlier. ‘Did Higgins question Juliet?’
‘I expect so. She’s not very relevant.’
‘He thinks it was her.’
‘What do you think?’
‘If it was, her mother would know about it. She’d have washed the blood off her and told her to stay quiet. Any mother would.’
‘She’s not a child, you know. It wasn’t Juliet Wilson. At least, it’s highly unlikely. She was seen in Laverton by three different people during Saturday afternoon. She’d have needed to move incredibly fast.’
‘Higgins seemed to know about her.’
‘Oh yes. All you have to do is key “Stanton” into the database and she pops up. For about twenty years now, she’s been regularly reported as lost, trespassing, causing a nuisance, in need of protection, doing all kinds of things the locals think are worrying.’
‘So what’s her problem?’
‘She was never quite right, apparently.
But there was an incident when she was in her teens, something deeply traumatic that she’s never got over. Caused a lot of very nasty feeling at the time, accusations flying. I must say her church have been brilliant. Everyone rallies round as much as they can. It’s a staunchly Methodist family.’
Almost too much information, Thea felt, when the central issue concerned the Callendars and Miss Natasha Ainsworth. She acknowledged Gladwin’s generosity in sharing so much, before going back to the main point.
‘I saw the wife, Mrs Callendar, today. She came to Stanton and tried to get into Natasha’s house to collect some CDs. She seemed a bit mad to me.’
Gladwin slowed the car and gave Thea a startled look. ‘You’re joking! CDs? That really does sound crazy. Was she by herself?’
‘No, one of her sons was with her. Edwin. And I met Ralph this morning as well. They all keeping turning up on my doorstep,’ she finished crossly. ‘And I really wish they wouldn’t.’
‘She’s obviously the one we’ve got our eye on. We’re looking into the death of her husband a lot more closely now, needless to say.’
‘I hope he was buried and not cremated, then.’
‘What? Oh, no need for that. He definitely died from electrocution while in the bath. The question is, did someone chuck that defective radio in with him, or did it just fall in?’
‘How can you ever know?’
‘Good question.’
‘It must be tempting to see it as a straightforward case of the jealous wife killing her husband and his lover, then? Except she’s a magistrate and a school governor and a matriarch with three fine sons.’
‘Two fine sons and a black sheep, actually.’
‘Oh? I saw them all on Friday, going to the funeral. They all looked okay.’ She tried to remember what Ralph had said about his brothers that morning, but it only came back when Gladwin explained.
‘The middle one has served time in prison for fraud. He only got out a month ago. I suppose they could hardly shun him at the funeral of his father, but I don’t think they’ve treated him like a prodigal son, exactly.’
Trouble in the Cotswolds (The Cotswold Mysteries) Page 12
