Small Town Trouble (Some Very English Murders Book 4)

by Issy Brooke

  “Perhaps it was chance. I don’t think it was deliberately against Tina. He just wanted to borrow a big car. Anyway, just look at the state of his business. He hardly had a great fleet to choose from.”

  Cath launched herself to her feet. “I need to walk this cake off. Come on. Let’s go on down to the garage.”

  “Really? I thought we were talking.”

  “We are going to look and to talk,” Cath said. “Solvitur ambulando and all that.”

  “Solve-what?”

  “This thing you have about Alf and his garage. Come on.”

  * * * *

  “Look at it,” Penny said. They stood in the shade of the buildings opposite to where Alf’s garage squatted on the corner of two roads. There were no vehicles on the forecourt at the fuel pumps. Behind a rickety-looking wire fence, there was an old Nissan. The door to the office and shop stood open but inside was dark.

  Cars whipped past them, probably to get their fuel at the cheaper, cleaner and altogether nicer twenty-four hour garage on the north side of town, by the roundabout and bypass.

  A metal sign, tall and thin, spun lazily in the wind on its weighted base. “MOTs” it said on one side, and “SERVICING” on the other.

  No evidence of either activity showed itself.

  “Seriously, that place needs tumbleweed,” Penny said. “Do we even get tumbleweed anywhere in the UK? We need some. Just for this sort of thing.”

  “It is sad,” Cath said. “I don’t really know how he makes a living.”

  “Me neither. Why doesn’t he just sell up? And what about the security? Anyone could get into that compound at the back. I’m really surprised that Tina left her car here for repairs. Don’t you find that suspicious?”

  “He’s cheap for workshop stuff, and he’s good,” Cath said. “Honestly, although it doesn’t look it, he is highly thought of, still, for that sort of thing. And he’s always been there. He’s a habit.”

  “He hasn’t always been there, though,” Penny pointed out. “And he only owns the building and the business.”

  “I’m sorry – what?”

  “He owns the business there, but someone else owns the land. Who do you think owns the most land around here? Snake oil man and Mr High Flyer 2000, Brian Davenport. It is odd, though. They used to be childhood friends but as far as I can tell, they don’t get on anymore. I wonder how that argument came about?”

  Cath said something indelicate.

  Penny turned to look at her. “What?”

  “I mean to say, oh my goodness. Thanks for the information, Penny. But I’m going to have to go.”

  “But–”

  “I owe you, all right? Just stay out of trouble. Leave it to us.”

  And Cath turned around and walked briskly away, pulling out her mobile phone as she did so.

  Penny entirely wasn’t sure whether they had parted as friends, or not.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drew rang Penny that night, and they talked about anything but the drugs issue and the murder, and it was like old times. They arranged to have dinner the following night, Wednesday, but Drew had to call Penny just three hours before they were to meet, and cancel their night out.

  “Brian’s sending me on a business trip,” he’d explained.

  Penny had snorted with laughter, but Drew said it was both serious, and useful to his career, and he’d tell her all about it when he came back.

  So then she called Ariadne to see if her sister would like to accompany her to the pre-booked table at the gastro-pub. But Ariadne had plans, a revelation which totally took Penny by surprise.

  “What plans?” Penny had demanded.

  Ariadne sounded almost apologetic. “I’m going over to see Lucy from the dogs’ home.”

  “Glittery Lucy? Lucy that believes the world is full of lizard men or fairies or unseen realms at ninety-degree angles to our own?”

  “She’s very sweet,” Ariadne said defensively.

  “Well, yeah, I like her but … what are you going to see her about?”

  There was a pause before Ariadne said, “Oh, it’s just a friendly coffee.”

  “Oh really? What are you plotting?”

  “I don’t know why you would think that. I’ve got to go. Bye.”

  So then Penny had phoned Francine, and said, “I suppose you’re busy tonight, too.”

  “No, I…”

  “That Inspector Travis treating you to lots of meals and so on?”

  “No, we…”

  “Life is all too hectic to… oh, wait. So you’re free, then?”

  “Sure. Let’s meet up.”

  And that’s what they did, the two old friends, using the dinner reservation. It had been good to catch up with Francine, but Penny didn’t tell her old friend about the troubles with the murder case. Francine asked, but Penny brushed it off. The rumours were not mentioned, and Penny wondered if it was because Francine was the one person in Upper Glenfield who hadn’t heard them. Then again, Francine did admit to spending rather a lot of time in Lincoln, in the company of Inspector Travis.

  Yet although they didn’t talk about the case, Penny couldn’t shake her worries from her mind. She worried about the money she’d seen in Owen’s van on the night of his murder; Alf wanted it. She worried about what Alf would do to get it. She worried about the rumours and also about the way she had betrayed Gaz’s confidence in her by blabbing to Cath.

  Thursday and Friday passed in a long, slow slog, the time becoming treacle. She worked on her watercolours, and Wolf came over to read her books, complaining that he’d already read all the interesting ones in the local library. Destiny seemed to occupy herself by walking Kali, and browsing the internet. Penny had quickly become lost when Destiny tried to explain all the different social networks she was on. Her phone was constantly beeping.

  “Not just Facebook, then?” Penny had asked, and received only an eye roll in reply.

  And now it was Saturday morning, another weekend rolling around and still the police seemed no closer to solving the mystery of Owen’s murder, and it was driving Penny insane.

  She wandered through town that morning, stopping briefly to chat with Agatha who assured her that, “I don’t believe a word of what they are saying about you! But tell me, you can trust me, did you really…?”

  She shook her head and extricated herself. She walked on, past Alf’s garage. She was so deep in thought about him that when he suddenly emerged from the darkened workshop, and yelled at her, she stopped dead. She’d heard his voice but had no recollection of what he had said.

  “Er … hello,” she squeaked as he lumbered towards her. Her pulse shot up as she realised he was holding a tyre lever in his hands.

  “Has she got my money for me yet? Eh? EH?”

  “Oh – what, Ariadne? Look, you need to go through the proper channels,” she said, stepping back and wishing she’d brought Kali out with her.

  “What proper channels are they, then?”

  She put her hands up. “I don’t know … small claims or trading standards … I’m sorry, Alf.”

  He growled and lunged towards her. She had wanted to linger and peep inside the workshop again, but there was no way she was staying anywhere near him while he brandished the long, heavy lump of metal. She shouted, “Bye, then, I’ll pass it on…” and ran as fast as she could into the busier open market area, her calves soon burning with the effort.

  She risked a glance back but he hadn’t followed her. A few concerned passers-by put out their hands as she began to slow down. “Are you okay?” people said.

  “Yes, thank you…” She came back down to a walk, breathing heavily and feeling suddenly silly. She would be bright red in the face, she knew.

  “You want to sit down, love.”

  She staggered to the indicated bench, and smiled. “Thanks.”

  Then the solicitous member of the public looked around, and dropped his voice. “By the way, can you get me any … you know, herbal…”

>   “No!” She sat bolt upright and glared.

  The helpful pedestrian frowned and turned their back.

  Penny sighed. Even complete strangers seemed to “know” she was the local dealer, now. It was madness.

  She looked around. She didn’t think Alf would pursue her here, in the bustling open paved area. The weekend market stalls were all set up, and people were rifling through the assorted bagged sweets and feather dusters and fake leather handbags.

  He hates me, she thought. Me, and my sister.

  I have got to get into his garage. Not for the police, or even for Ariadne. For myself and my own peace of mind. I want to know about him, and his history, and that money, and his connection with Brian. But how can I do this, and when?

  Oh – she thought, suddenly. “When” is obvious. I can do it this afternoon.

  She gazed around at the crowds, seeing through them, past them, looking instead at the lamp-posts and walls. Today was Brian Davenport’s Grand Fete For The Community, and absolutely everyone would be there.

  Even Alf?

  Surely, yes. Everyone.

  And then she’d break in to his garage because she already knew his security wasn’t up to scratch. No CCTV, for a start.

  And her stomach fluttered with fear-tinged excitement, and now she was smiling again, with real feeling. She closed her eyes and began to plot.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Penny.”

  She jerked her eyes open again, her stomach lurching in surprise. “Ah! Had I been asleep?”

  Edwin and Gaz stood side by side, two scruffy, casual men with slight smiles on their faces. Edwin said, “Yeah, maybe. You weren’t snoring though. Just a bit of dribble.”

  She had touched her mouth before she caught the twinkle in his eye. “Oh, shut up.” For Edwin, that was hilarious.

  Gaz leaned back, resting his lower back against a bollard that bordered the market place. It didn’t look comfortable yet he seemed relaxed. He bent one leg and cocked one foot against the other. “Are you heading to this marvellous fete later?”

  “No. Are you?”

  He snorted. “It’s really not my type of thing. But why aren’t you going? There’s supposed to be lots of free food.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Edwin laughed a little, and slapped his friend’s belly with the back of his hand. “He means that everyone likes free stuff, and he is also rubbish at talking normally with people. He’s not suggesting you eat a lot. Which isn’t a bad thing, anyway. If you did, I mean.”

  “Yeah, she knew what I meant,” Gaz said, looking puzzled. “Didn’t you?”

  She chose to look dignified, and ignored the comment. “I don’t think the fete is my sort of thing, either,” she said. I have plans, she thought. Of the criminal sort.

  She briefly considered letting Gaz and Edwin in on her plans. Gaz would have had experience in breaking and entering, surely. But she couldn’t work out how to casually drop that into conversation, so she kept it to herself.

  Edwin looked thoughtful. He nodded at the space on the bench beside her, and she shifted over, letting him sit down. She half-turned so she could face him.

  “We’ve been hearing a lot of gossip about you, Penny,” he said. “It’s bizarre and unbelievable stuff about some drugs ring you’re supposed to run. Everyone says if you want any stuff, you are the one to approach. I don’t believe it, but can you tell us how it started? I’d rather hear it from you.”

  “Thank you for the courtesy,” she said. “Well … I don’t actually know who started it, and how they got the rumours to be so popular. All that happened was…”

  * * * *

  Gaz was shaking his head as she finished her tale of woe. “You have certainly made some kind of enemy,” he said.

  “Alf,” she said. “It’s him.”

  “Maybe.” He looked at Edwin, who shrugged.

  “I couldn’t say,” Edwin commented mildly. “I’d rather not start any unfounded rumours of my own, you know. What does your Drew think?”

  She ignored the “your” Drew comment. “He’s out of town at the moment. I am not sure what he thinks.”

  Edwin smirked. “You probably haven’t told him all this, in case he worries.”

  “Why would he worry? We’re just friends.”

  “Well … that’s what friends do. They worry. Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure. Brian sent him on some kind of training course.”

  Edwin snorted and Gaz shook his head. “Brian Davenport. Now there is a man you wouldn’t want as an enemy. As I’m sure his ex-wives would agree, or so I hear.”

  “Now who’s rumour-mongering?” Gaz said.

  “I don’t like him,” Penny confessed. “He’s just too … sorted, calm, clever and in control.”

  “That just sounds like jealousy.”

  “Maybe.”

  Edwin slapped his broad hands onto his thighs, and got up sharply. “Whatever. You’re right not to like him. I wouldn’t trust him to give me a glass of water unless there was something in it for himself.”

  Gaz kept his face blank, and Penny couldn’t read him at all. They bid her farewell, and left her alone on the bench as the crowds thinned out around her.

  Everyone – except Gaz and Edwin – was off to the fete, it seemed.

  She thought about Alf, and Brian. Brian was a smarmy so-and-so but Alf was the one with the grudge.

  How likely was it that Alf would go to the fete? If Alf and Brian were business partners, yes. If they were rivals, maybe not. Brian had spoken about business rivals in the past, and something in his words was half-remembered and obscured. She stood up and began to walk carefully back towards his garage. This time, she kept her distance, and tried to gauge what he was up to. Was he preparing to go to the event?

  The large double doors to the workshop were open, and a silver pick-up truck was half in and half out of the bay. Alf was there in his stained overalls, bending over the engine, the open bonnet like a trap above him, waiting to slam shut. For a fleeting moment she played out a dramatic scenario in her head, complete with movie soundtrack: she’d run across the road, leap into the air, kick away the strut that held the bonnet up so that it closed on his head and pinned him in the engine while she was free to rifle through his effects in the office, finding a notebook entitled “How I did it.”

  Sadly, almost all of that was unlikely.

  It also seemed unlikely that he was going to go to the fete. After all, she realised, who would look after the fuel pumps? No one worked there any longer – no one except Alf himself.

  Where else could she go to find evidence about Alf?

  Alf was linked to Brian.

  This is it, she told herself. If Alf is here, and Brian is busy with the crowd-pleasing, then Penelope May, you shall go to the fete. Come on.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The great stone lions atop the pillars at the entrance to the hotel were decked out with balloons and ribbons, and a large banner had been stretched along the wall: “Celebrating Upper Glenfield.” To her surprise, the field opposite – now vacated by the protestors – was serving as a car parking area, although she noticed that half of the area had been cordoned off with orange tape, presumably to protect newts and other fauna. And to prevent the cars from sinking into the boggy ground. Nevertheless, a tractor was on standby, under a tree, with a boiler-suited man sitting in the cab with the door open, playing on his smartphone. She hoped it was Farmville.

  The morning had been grey and overcast but now the sun was peeking out, though it was not as warm as it had been. Of course, September was a matter of days away, now, and soon the leaves would be turning and falling.

  Summer in Lincolnshire had been hotter and rainier than she had expected, and with far more irritating black flies than was comfortable. She was curious to find out what winter was like in this eastern county; she’d been assured that she would not see any snow. If she was very lucky, though, the rivers would freeze.

&nbs
p; She imagined some delightfully Victorian scenes of the whole town skating on an icy lake.

  “Penny! How … nice to see you. What a … surprise,” said Tina, appearing with a long glass of lemonade in her hands. She was dressed as immaculately as ever, but was accompanied by an unremarkable mousy man in jeans, and a willowy daughter with a book under her arm.

  “Hello. Everyone else is here, so I thought I’d come along,” Penny said.

  “Quite, quite. Er, this is my husband, Ross. He teaches in Lincoln. And this is Casey.”

  Casey glanced up. Penny could see her thinking, You don’t look like a drug dealer. She bit her tongue, though, unlike Ross who blurted out, “So you’re … oh, I am so sorry.”

  “I am not the sort of person that you think I am,” Penny said stiffly. “Do have a lovely afternoon,” she declared to Tina and Casey. “I must go and … mingle.”

  Mingling was hard when people were so clearly torn between curiosity and outrage. It was infuriating because Penny didn’t think that anyone really believed in the rumours, but on the other hand, there was an awful lot of “There’s no smoke without fire.” They wanted to believe the rumours. It made things more interesting.

  It was also human nature to be attracted to gossip, a fact which she had exploited in the past during her informal investigations.

  Now she was on the receiving end of it, and it was not pleasant.

  Penny mooched her way around the edges of the gardens which had been laid out with stands and stalls. She had to concede that Brian had laid on a good show, and allowed local groups and charities to display information and distribute leaflets and sell things to raise funds. She spotted the red-and-white livery of the dogs’ home all across one stall, and made her way over.

  “Penny! We haven’t seen you for such a long time!” That was Lucy, a mass of metaphorical fluff hanging around her like barely perceptible angel dust.