Beryl was not the only one in the household with an interest in writing a book. Edwina had made the mistake early on of confiding her cherished desire to become a novelist to her mother, who had immediately quashed the idea with an unladylike snort. She had suggested that if Edwina was determined to make a spectacle of herself, she should confine her efforts to a cookery book or some improving religious tracts to send along with missionaries to Africa.
When Beryl had so casually and confidently announced her intention to pen a book of her own, Edwina had felt perturbed. While she rarely allowed herself to feel envious of her famous and far more accomplished friend, she had not been content in the least to hear that Beryl had decided to turn her attention to the one arena in which Edwina dearly wished to excel.
It was just like Beryl to give absolutely no thought to her own lack of qualifications to undertake such a venture. How anyone who thought that reading was something to engage in only if one was confined to bed with a serious illness could imagine herself qualified to write a book was beyond Edwina’s comprehension.
Still, to give Beryl her due, Edwina had benefitted from Beryl’s willingness to trod without caution along unfamiliar roads. If it were not for her friend’s spirit of adventure, they would never have started the private enquiry agency. As her fingers reached out for the keys on the typewriter, she felt heartily ashamed of herself for imagining that there was not room enough in the literary world for both of them. She told herself that if Geraldine did not turn up to give Beryl her lesson, she would own up to her skill and offer to teach Beryl herself.
Chapter 34
Beryl had spent so much of her life in parts of the world that did not value the ticking of the clock as highly as the British. Still, she found her good humor had taken a bit of a beating by Geraldine’s complete failure either to appear for their appointment or to send word that she was unable to honor that commitment.
She left the morning room and headed for the telephone stationed in the hall, intent on giving the errant Geraldine a piece of her mind. She lifted the receiver, but much to her annoyance, no one on the other end of the line picked up. She felt a fiery indignation rise in her chest.
She picked up her mail from the hall table and thumbed through it. She was so aggravated that she couldn’t even bring herself to take an interest in any of the letters that had arrived by the morning’s post, including those from former husbands. Beryl was surprised at her lack of interest. Generally, she found her spirit soared whenever she read letters from old loves. They so often contained either entreaties for a second chance to win her affections or generous checks.
She felt rather disgusted with herself for wasting the better part of the day by stewing about in a foul mood. She decided to take herself in hand by heading for the telephone office to demand an explanation of Geraldine. She mounted the stairs and strode to her room. She stuffed her post into the drawer of her dressing table and faced the mirror.
Leaning towards the glass, she realized her lipstick was in need of refreshment. She selected a tube from the tray on the dressing table and began to apply it generously to her lips. She spritzed her wrists and the back of her neck with her favourite perfume, then tied a jaunty silk scarf around her neck. She always felt best prepared for confrontations when she knew she cut a dazzling figure.
With little effort, she convinced Edwina to accompany her to the village. Edwina expressed a desire to stop into the bakery. Beryl was not entirely certain if Edwina’s errand was a genuine one or if she was inventing something in order to improve Beryl’s mood. Either way, the two of them strolled into the village less than half an hour later.
“I hope you do not intend to make a scene,” Edwina said. “It simply won’t do for Geraldine to take the notion to ignore our line when it lights up on the switchboard from now on.”
Beryl had not considered that offending Geraldine might have far-reaching consequences. One of the novelties of village life was how everyday acts impacted the future. Having always lived a footloose lifestyle, she had not needed to concern herself with such small details. It hardly mattered if one spoke one’s mind to an aircraft mechanic, a sea captain, or a porter. The relationship would not be a long-lasting one, and Beryl had always found it expeditious to solve any interpersonal difficulties straightaway.
Perhaps Edwina’s attitude of placating and smoothing ruffled feathers was not simply an act of timidity, Beryl thought. As she considered the matter, it occurred to her that her friend simply used a completely different way of navigating life’s difficulties. Bearing that in mind, Beryl resolved to moderate her tone more than she would were Geraldine an impertinent shopkeeper in a dusty village in a country she would likely never visit again.
“I shall comport myself with dignity and give her every opportunity to explain her absence. For all I know, she’s been bumped on the head and developed amnesia,” Beryl said. “I am resolved to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
She felt slightly disgruntled at Edwina’s look of skepticism. She squared her shoulders and turned down the alley that led towards the telephone office. She peered once more through the small window, feeling a flicker of sympathy for her companion, as she realized that Edwina’s head did not reach the sill. As she peered inside, she noticed the office seemed empty. That certainly explained the lack of response to her attempt to place a telephone call. The lights in the office were not even switched on.
She hurried ahead and popped out the end of the alley. She mounted the steps to the telephone office and grasped the door handle. She stepped inside and called out, but no one answered.
“Is anyone in?” Edwina asked as she stepped in next to Beryl and looked around.
“Not that I can tell.”
“The telephone office is never empty at this time of day,” Edwina said. “Something is very wrong. Let’s have a look around.”
Beryl turned back towards the telephone office door. She stepped onto the stoop and looked up and down the street. She heard voices coming from the general vicinity of the butcher shop. Edwina appeared to have noticed the commotion, too, as she followed her down from the telephone office and made her way towards Sidney Poole’s establishment.
As they approached, Beryl realized the noise was not coming from inside the butcher shop or even from in front of it, but rather from somewhere around the back. Beryl had never spent any time behind Sidney’s shop. There was no reason to do so, and if she were to be honest, she was not sure that whatever happened behind a butcher shop was something she wanted to see, at least not if she wanted to continue to enjoy a roast chicken or a pork chop from time to time.
Edwina led the way, gathering her skirt closely to her slim frame in order to keep it from brushing the walls of the buildings on either side of the narrow passageway. As they popped out the end of the tight corridor, Beryl was surprised to see the number of people assembled there.
A sort of yard area lay before them. Several shops seemed to abut each other, and behind them was a spot of flat ground. Crates and refuse bins stood stacked behind the greengrocer and the butcher shop. To the right of the butcher shop was a cabinetmaker’s shop. A sort of makeshift shed was attached to the back of the cabinetmaker’s, and it housed a heaping pile of fragrant sawdust.
A young man whom Beryl recognized from time spent at the Dove and Duck stood to one side of the sawdust pile, a broom in his hand and a shocked look on his face. Constable Gibbs squatted in front of the pile and seemed to be inspecting something carefully. Her back was to Beryl and Edwina, and she took no notice of them. Beryl held a finger to her lips and motioned that they should creep up behind her to see what all the fuss was about.
Sidney Poole and Gareth Scott hovered nearby. Alma appeared out of nowhere to join her husband. As Beryl approached, Constable Gibbs shifted slightly, and the focus of her attention came into view. There on the ground, beneath the pile of sawdust, only her head exposed, lay the motionless body of Geraldine. Her eyes were open, and they b
ulged slightly from her head. Her tongue protruded grotesquely, and Beryl noted a silk scarf was wrapped tightly around the young woman’s neck.
“What are the two of you doing here?” Constable Gibbs said as she straightened up and turned around to face the two sleuths.
“I had an appointment with Geraldine this morning, and she never turned up. I tried to call the telephone office, but there was no answer, so we decided to come into the village to make enquiries,” Beryl said. “When we heard all the hullabaloo, we followed the sound, and here we are.”
“As you can see, Geraldine had a very good reason for not showing up for her appointment this morning,” Constable Gibbs said.
“When was she found?” Edwina asked.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Milton Boyers found her when he went to tidy up behind the shop about an hour ago,” Constable Gibbs said, indicating towards the young man holding the broom. “When was she supposed to have met you?”
“At ten o’clock. I had engaged her to give me typing lessons, and we agreed to meet at the Beeches this morning,” Beryl said.
Beryl felt her own throat constrict, and she reached up unconsciously to loosen the knot in her own scarf.
“It looks like you’re going to need to find somebody else to teach you to type,” Constable Gibbs said. “Now please take yourself off somewhere out of the way and leave the police business to me.”
“As you wish, Constable,” Beryl said. She turned to Edwina and lowered her voice. “While I feel terrible for Geraldine, there is some good news about this.”
“What’s that?” Edwina said.
“It’s hard to believe that two murders in Walmsley Parva in such a short space of time would not be connected,” she said.
“I hardly think that two murders in the village constitutes good news,” Edwina said.
“Certainly it does not for Hector or for Geraldine. But it may very well be good news for our client,” Beryl said.
“You mean because he is still in custody, he can’t be blamed for what happened to Geraldine?” Edwina asked.
“Exactly. Let’s go find out what people are saying,” Beryl said.
Edwina nodded, and without consultation, they headed back out towards the high street.
Chapter 35
Minnie Mumford stood at the confectionery counter of Prudence Rathbone’s shop, her head bent towards the proprietress’s own, their voices pitched low, as Beryl and Edwina entered. If anyone would have news about what had befallen the unfortunate Geraldine, it would be Prudence. From the look on Minnie Mumford’s face, Prudence did in fact have something to share.
Edwina nodded politely to Minnie as she passed on out of the shop. Edwina assumed the tea shop owner was eager to pass on whatever Prudence had shared with her own patrons. Edwina did not hold with gossip herself, but she did understand that it was the lifeblood of such a small village. There was a certain social status to being amongst the first to know about any juicy bit of news, and Prudence and Minnie were always at the forefront of any goings-on.
Having been the focus of a nasty spate of gossip the previous autumn, Edwina found this part of her new career distasteful. She had never been one to revel in the sufferings of others, and having experienced the effects of the village grapevine firsthand, she knew how debilitating such unkindness could be. But needs must, and while gossip could be wounding, being unjustly convicted of murder could easily be said to be more so. Edwina squared her shoulders and made straight for the glass countertop Prudence was making a fuss about buffing with a soft cloth.
She looked up and bestowed one of her toothy smiles on Edwina. Prudence always put Edwina in mind of a meerkat or a prairie dog, with her mousy-colored hair, bulging eyes, and long neck swiveling to and fro as she surveyed the street outside her shop for signs of nefarious activities.
While it could be rightly said that Prudence liked nothing more than to be the carrier of fresh tales, she did like to stretch out the experience and could be quite coy about sharing what she knew. Edwina had found the best way to deal with her was to express no interest whatsoever in what news she clearly wished to share.
“Good afternoon, Prudence. I wondered if you happen to have any typewriter ribbons in stock?” Edwina said.
“Typewriter ribbons?” Prudence asked, tapping the side of her face with a long, knobby finger. “Have you hired yourself out as some sort of secretary?” Edwina could see the wheels in Prudence’s mind turning as she considered the possibility that there was something else she could tell the other residents about Edwina. It was always a pleasure to thwart her.
“Actually, the ribbon is for me,” Beryl said, stepping forward. “I have hired Geraldine Howarth to teach me to type for a project I’m working on, and I thought it would be sensible to have an extra ribbon waiting in the wings.”
Edwina glanced at Beryl out of the corner of her eye. Her friend was so good at laying the groundwork for interviews. She did such a wonderful job of positioning Prudence in exactly the right spot to extract what she knew with the least amount of fuss. Prudence was practically licking her lips in anticipation just at hearing Geraldine’s name spoken aloud.
“Geraldine?” Prudence said, leaning across the counter, gripping it tightly. Edwina was pleased to notice that Prudence had left a wide smudge across the freshly polished glass.
“Yes, Geraldine, the telephone switchboard operator. Why? Do you think there’s someone who would prove a better typing tutor than she?” Beryl asked, allowing a note of concern to enter her voice. “She seemed very competent to me when I engaged her two days ago.”
Beryl turned towards Edwina, who nodded vigorously. “I’ve never heard a disparaging word spoken about Geraldine. Sensible girl, I’ve always thought,” Edwina said. Edwina could practically feel Prudence’s excitement rippling out from her in invisible waves of anticipation.
“I don’t suppose she will be available to teach you anything now,” Prudence said with a superior look on her face.
“I can’t imagine why,” Beryl said, turning back towards the postmistress. “Has she gone and got herself into some trouble?”
“I very much doubt that a nice girl like Geraldine could have gotten into any trouble,” Edwina said. It was a bit uncomfortable knowing that Prudence would enjoy correcting her, but Edwina reminded herself that the case and Frank Prentice’s interests came before her pride.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Prudence said, crossing her arms across her washboard chest. “Geraldine is in about the worst sort of trouble a person could be in.”
“I hope you’re not implying that she’s gone and gotten herself in the family way. That’s the sort of thing that can absolutely ruin a young woman’s reputation,” Beryl said, drawing herself up to her full height and glowering at Prudence.
For just a heartbeat, Edwina thought Prudence looked slightly disappointed. A dead girl was one thing. A disgraced one, who would be fodder for gossip in the coming months and even the years ahead, would have proved far juicier. She recovered quickly, however, and arched a sparse eyebrow at Beryl, as though she pitied her.
“Far worse than that, I’m afraid. Geraldine has gone and gotten herself murdered,” Prudence said. “It’s all over the village. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.”
“We can’t all be as well informed as you, Prudence,” Edwina said. A bit of flattery had been known to go a long way with the shopkeeper. “Although I can’t say as I believe the rumor. Why in the world would anyone harm Geraldine?” She turned to face Beryl.
“Nice girls like Geraldine don’t go around getting themselves murdered. I’m sure there must be some sort of a misunderstanding. Didn’t she live at home with her parents?” Beryl asked.
“Yes, and as far as I know, she didn’t have an enemy in the world,” Edwina said.
From behind the counter, Prudence cleared her throat. “That just goes to show what you know,” she said. “She had a heated argument with Mrs. Kimb
erly just yesterday evening.”
Both Beryl and Edwina turned to face Prudence once more. Edwina could see Prudence practically glow from the attention.
“Mrs. Kimberly, the woman from the condiment company?” Edwina asked.
“The very one. Nasty, it was,” Prudence said, as if she was relishing the memory.
“Did you hear this from someone?” Beryl said.
“I saw it with my own eyes. The two of them stood right outside my window, and if they weren’t having an argument, I’ll eat that roll of stamps,” Prudence said, pointing at a spool of postage on the counter beside her.
“I would not have thought they would have known each other,” Edwina said. “Did you see something that should have caused an argument between them?”
Edwina knew from personal experience that sometimes even the mildest mannered of women could become aggressive when thwarted during a shopping expedition. She was ashamed to recall it, but there was one humiliating occasion in the Woolery, where she and another customer had nearly come to blows over the purchase of the last two balls of some especially fine periwinkle-blue worsted.
Just the memory of the incident brought heat to her cheeks. She could well imagine a similar thing happening between the unladylike Mrs. Kimberly and an inexperienced young woman like Geraldine. After all, if it could happen to her, it could happen to anyone.
“I shouldn’t have thought so. It seemed to me they met right in front of my shop. It did not look as though they had been walking along together from somewhere else.”
“Could you hear any of their conversation?” Beryl asked.
“As it happens, there was a customer heading into the shop, heavily laden with packages, and I felt it my duty to offer assistance. While I held the door open, I believe I heard Mrs. Kimberly ordering Geraldine to ‘leave him alone,’ ” Prudence said.
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