“Sidney is not the only one who likes to place a bet from time to time. Lately, my losses have been outpacing my wins.”
For the second time during their interview, Beryl felt absolutely astonished. Edwina had always said that there was a hidden depth to the average village inhabitant, but Beryl had not quite understood how right her friend was until speaking with Alma Poole. Not only was the quite ordinary-looking woman seated next to her an expert dancer, but she also enjoyed gambling, to the point where she needed to keep her hobby from her husband.
“What do you place your bets on?” Beryl asked.
“Anything really. There’s a woman in town who runs a betting pool for ladies. We didn’t see any reason why the men should have all the fun, and since none of us are all that interested in most sporting events, we decided to place bets on other sorts of things, like how many times the vicar would forget his place in the sermon on Sunday morning. Or what the price of butter would be on the third Tuesday of the month, that sort of thing,” Alma said.
“And you’ve had a losing streak of late?” Beryl said, leaning forward eagerly. “What have you lost on?”
“I lost a packet on the driving lessons,” Alma said. “In a way, much of this secrecy is your fault. Yours and Edwina’s, that is.”
“The driving lessons?” Beryl said.
“Yes, the ones you are giving to Edwina. Someone in the pool suggested that we placed bets on whether or not Edwina would learn to drive your motorcar. The bet then became revised to lay odds as to whether or not she would take lessons at the Blackburns’ garage or if you would give them to her yourself.”
“And you bet she would take them from the Blackburns?” Beryl said, trying to keep annoyance from her voice.
“No. After seeing the look of terror on her face every time you whip through the village, I put down quite a bit of money betting she would never learn to drive at all,” Alma said. “I had to dip into the grocery money to cover my losses.”
“I’m very sorry to have contributed to your economic woes, but it seems to me that you are responsible for assuming that Edwina was not made of sterner stuff,” Beryl said.
“I know better now than to bet against Edwina no matter how outlandish the proposed bet would be. I don’t suppose you’d like to give me a tip on what’s next for the pair of you?” Alma asked. She gave Beryl a hopeful smile.
“I don’t think that’s very sporting of you, and to be fair, I never have the slightest notion what will be next for Edwina and for me. That’s part of the fun in life, don’t you think?”
“Knowing what is next would help with my financial bottom line. It may sound crass, but I could have come out ahead if I had had any notion to put Geraldine down for the death pool,” Alma said, shaking her head.
“You have a pool on who is likely to die next in the village?” Beryl said.
She thought she had never heard of anything so unseemly in all her life. Had the mild-mannered ladies of Walmsley Parva placed bets on who would be next to die at the hands of the enemy during the war or from influenza during the epidemic?
Beryl prided herself on refraining from judging her fellow woman, but it was enough to make her skin crawl.
“Absolutely. We did suspend it during the war years, as we felt it was not quite nice to make light of such sacrifice. But we’ve been back in full swing with it since January of nineteen twenty,” Alma said without turning a hair.
“Geraldine’s death has probably put an end to Milton’s dance lessons too, hasn’t it?” Beryl said.
“Unfortunately, he was in yesterday to let me know he wouldn’t need any more lessons,” Alma said.
“Yesterday? Did he say why?”
“He said Geraldine had told him that it didn’t matter how good a dancer he was, as she was never going to walk out with him again, and that he would be better off saving his money.”
“And he took her at her word?” Beryl asked.
“He seemed to do so.”
“Was he angry at her?”
“I think he was more hurt and resigned to her refusal. He said she told him she had her heart set on a life that was far better than the one a village cabinetmaker could offer. He simply seemed brokenhearted when he told me,” Alma said.
Beryl slid off the chair. She had a few things she wanted to ask Milton. Perhaps his disappointment had turned to rage. Maybe he had decided that if she was determined not to dance with him, he would be sure she didn’t dance with anyone else. She also needed to confirm Alma’s story about the lessons.
“Remember your promise to keep the dancing lessons to yourself. I would be obliged to you if you would refrain from mentioning the betting pool too.”
“I will keep my word about the lessons if the investigation permits. But I will only hold my tongue about the betting if you answer one last question.”
“Which is?”
“Who is the current front-runner in the death pool?” Beryl asked.
Alma raised a meticulously plucked eyebrow in surprise. “You are, of course.”
“Me?” Beryl asked. She noticed she was clutching her gloves with a straggling hold. She forced herself to relax her grip and resisted the urge to crack her knuckles. “Surely I am not considered old enough to be next on the list.”
“The pool isn’t based simply on age. There are many other factors to consider, like drinking habits, driving proclivities, and the likelihood of being killed during the course of a normal day’s work. You have been the safest bet since you arrived last autumn.”
Chapter 39
After selecting a half dozen currant buns and one loaf of whole-meal bread, Edwina exited the bakery with her purchases tucked securely down into her wicker shopping basket. She had every intention of heading straight back to the Beeches to confer with Beryl about the status of the case. Any earlier noise Edwina had noticed on account of the investigation into Geraldine’s death seemed to have died down. As she neared the telephone office, she spotted Eva Scott slipping furtively out of the building.
Edwina quickened her pace and hurriedly followed Eva up the street towards the cinema. She could always say that she was there to offer a word of condolence. Eva and Geraldine were known to be good friends since childhood, and surely the young woman was not unaffected by her death.
The truth was, Edwina was surprised at how Eva was behaving. She was usually such a sensible girl and one who was likely to follow the rules. In fact, Edwina had always noted a sort of kinship between herself and Eva Scott. She was rather surprised at the young woman’s demeanor as she kept casting a glance over her shoulder as she walked swiftly up the street.
As soon as Edwina saw Eva turn into the cinema, she slowed her pace. She told herself that she was getting slightly soft and that it was high time she made more use of her bicycle than Beryl’s motorcar. She checked her hat to be sure it was held firmly in place and dabbed a stray drop of perspiration from her forehead with a lace-trimmed hanky. It would be easier to intimidate Eva into telling the truth if she looked like a well-groomed and upstanding citizen.
Confident that her appearance did her credit, Edwina made her way to the glass and brass door of the Palais and pushed her way inside. Eva jumped when Edwina said her name.
All the more proof the young woman had something weighing heavily on her mind, Edwina thought as she stepped decisively towards the ticket counter and placed her shopping basket upon it.
“I wanted to stop and tell you how sorry I was to hear about your friend Geraldine,” Edwina said. “What a shocking loss.” Eva’s lower lip wobbled, and Edwina noticed tears welling up in her blue eyes.
“She was my best friend,” Eva said. “How could something like this have happened to her?”
“I’m sure Constable Gibbs is working very hard to answer that,” Edwina said. “Has she been in to interview you yet?”
Eva shook her head, sending a cascade of tears running down her face. Edwina was about to look in her handbag for a clean hand
kerchief to offer to the young woman, but Eva dashed the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I hope she doesn’t ever get to me,” Eva said.
“Most people find it distasteful to be interviewed by the police. I’m sure you will comport yourself credibly,” Edwina said.
“It’s just that the truth is horrible, and I don’t want it to be a matter of record,” Eva said.
Edwina’s body tensed from head to toe. Had Eva been involved with the murder?
“Is the truth the reason that you were just sneaking out of the telephone office?” Edwina asked.
Eva looked at her, a startled expression on her face.
“It’s part of it, I suppose. In a roundabout way,” Eva said. Edwina reached across the counter and patted Eva on the back of the hand. The girl began to sob in earnest. Edwina searched her handbag for a clean handkerchief, then passed it to the overwrought young woman.
“I think you had better tell me all about it,” Edwina said. She pointed to a pair of velvet-covered chairs at the far side of the cinema lobby. Eva followed her like a small child and took a seat where Edwina indicated.
“We argued the last time we saw each other,” Eva said. “I was envious of her, you see.”
Edwina was surprised to hear that Eva had envied her friend. Both girls were well liked, and each had a respectable job involving decent pay and some measure of responsibility. There was only one thing that came easily to mind to cause an argument between the pair.
“Did you argue about a young man?” Edwina asked.
“Geraldine was just so much more popular with the young men than I am. I didn’t usually mind, but I hated to see the way she treated one in particular,” Eva said, dabbing her eyes with Edwina’s handkerchief.
“Which young man was that?” Edwina asked.
“Milton Boyers,” Eva said. “He was head over heels for her, and she just strung him along because she could.”
“So you rather fancied Milton yourself, then?” Edwina asked.
“I always had, but he never look twice at me when Geraldine was around. I didn’t mind so much when she seemed to be interested in him, but I was angry with her when she decided he was no longer worth her time,” Eva said.
Edwina wondered why Geraldine could have lost interest in young Milton. He was a decent-looking boy with a respectable job and all his limbs. After the war a specimen with so much to recommend him was not easily to be found.
Edwina could well see why Eva would be angry at the way Geraldine treated him if she was interested in a relationship with the young man herself. As much as she disliked considering it, it sounded as though Eva would benefit from Geraldine’s death.
“Did she tell you that she was no longer interested in Milton, or did you simply surmise it from her actions?” Edwina asked.
“She told me herself that she was going to ask Milton to stop pestering her. That was the exact word she used. Pestering,” Eva said.
“When was this?”
“Yesterday. She came to tell me all about it before she planned to tell him. She seemed almost proud of herself,” Eva said.
“Did she give a reason why she had decided to speak to him with so much finality?” Edwina asked.
“She told me she had a far more serious suitor and that she was tired of Milton following her around like a big puppy,” Eva said.
“Do you know who this new suitor was?”
“She wouldn’t tell me anything about him. She just said it was serious,” Eva said with a sniff.
“She didn’t say anything else that gave you any idea as to his identity?” Edwina said. “It might be important to the police investigation.”
“What do you mean?” Eva said.
“From what you have had to say, Milton is a strong suspect in Geraldine’s death. If you could help to offer a different suspect to the police, you might be doing him quite a favor,” Edwina said.
Eva shook her head slowly. “I really wish I knew more about him, but all she would say was that she had fallen in love with his voice before she ever laid eyes on him.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else you can tell me?” Edwina asked. “Did you argue about anything else?”
“I told Geraldine that she should not have kept Milton dancing attendance on her if she had another man in her life. She said that he would simply have to get over it, because she was planning to elope with the other man,” Geraldine said. “She told me I should try to win him for myself, since she no longer wanted him.”
Edwina thought about Geraldine’s willingness to take Beryl on as a typing student. Beryl had mentioned the young woman was eager to earn a little extra money. Could a wedding have been what she was saving up for? Even an elopement would require funds. She would want a new dress at the very least. Most young women would want a great deal more.
“If that’s all that you argued about, what were you doing in the telephone office? Surely you had no business in there.”
“I was putting a letter in Geraldine’s cubby in the office cloakroom,” Eva said.
“Why would you leave her a note if you knew that she was dead?” Edwina asked.
“I wasn’t leaving a letter from myself. I was returning one that she had asked me to hang on to for safekeeping. She asked me to hold on to it until she returned from Gretna Green on her husband’s arm,” Eva said.
“Why would you put it in the cloakroom?” Edwina asked.
“I was hoping that the police would find it and I would not have to get involved. Milton is a rather traditional young man, and I didn’t think he would be interested in a girl who had been mixed up in a police investigation,” Eva said.
“I’m afraid that no matter what, you are going to be central to this investigation,” Edwina said. “If Milton can’t see past that, you’re better off without him.” Edwina stood and smoothed her skirt. She left the young woman sitting alone with much to think about.
Chapter 40
Milton Boyers sat on a tall stool at a workbench with his back towards Beryl. In one hand he held a block of wood; and in the other, a piece of sandpaper. He wasn’t making use of either one.
“I wondered if I might have a bit of your time, Mr. Boyers?” Beryl said.
He turned slowly, and from the red rims around his eyes, she could tell he had been crying. But were they tears of grief or tears of concern for himself? He would not be the first young man to kill a woman who had rejected his advances.
“I don’t have anything else to say about Geraldine,” Milton said. “If you’re here to do some investigating, I don’t have to talk to you.”
“It’s not really you I’m interested in,” Beryl said. “I am actually here to confirm an alibi for Mrs. Poole. Could you do that for me?”
Milton placed the sandpaper in the woodblock on the bench and got down off the stool. He took a step towards her, and Beryl was struck once more by how desperately unhappy he looked. He seemed nothing like the vivacious young man she had often seen at the pub, laughing and joking with the other men and throwing back pints of beer.
“Did Mrs. Poole send you?” he asked.
“She knows that I’m here and has given her approval for you to speak to me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Beryl said. “I promised her that if her alibi had nothing to do with Hector Lomax’s murder, I would keep what I knew to myself.”
“So you want to know if I was with Mrs. Poole at the time of Hector Lomax’s death?”
“It would be a great help if you would tell me the truth,” Beryl said.
“I was in her hairdressing shop with her. She was giving me dancing lessons I no longer need,” Milton said.
Beryl placed a hand on Milton’s sagging shoulder. “I know that you are feeling her loss acutely, but I hope you will keep something in mind.”
“What’s that?” he said, looking at her with sad eyes.
“Learning new skills is never wasted. A good-looking young man like you must have plen
ty of young women who are eager to dance with him, especially in a small village like this one. Do your grieving and then look around and see if there’s somebody who was especially nice to you while you got back on your feet,” Beryl said.
With that, she turned and walked out of the workshop. As she heard the bell jangle behind her, she spotted Clifford Hammond in front of the pharmacist’s shop. Right before her very eyes, she noticed him tapping out a pipe on top of the stone hitching post mounted at the side of the street.
She waited for him to turn his back and walk away before crossing the street and bending over the pipe ash. She leaned in closely and inhaled deeply. She was absolutely certain it was the same brand of pipe tobacco that had been left in the churchyard, on the headstone. She straightened and hurried to catch up with him.
Mr. Hammond was a spry man, and his long legs carried him quickly along the street and away from the center of the village. Beryl caught up with him when he paused on a stone bridge spanning a sparkling creek. She thought once again how out of shape she had become and how embarrassed she was by her breathlessness. She would have to undertake an exercise regime immediately. Perhaps she could borrow Edwina’s bicycle instead of using the automobile every time she needed to leave the village.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hammond,” Beryl said. “I assume you’ve heard about what happened to Geraldine Howarth.”
“I don’t usually go much in for gossip, but I needed to stop into the post office for some stamps, and Prudence Rathbone had to tell me all about it the minute I stepped through the door. I wouldn’t have taken you for one who was similarly inclined to gossip, though,” Mr. Hammond said.
“I’m not. All my questions have a point,” Beryl said.
“Are you asking me if I was involved in that girl’s death?” Mr. Hammond said.
“Now that you bring it up, were you?” Beryl asked.
Mr. Hammond threw his head back and roared with laughter. “You are a brazen one, aren’t you?” he said. “No, I didn’t have anything to do with her death. Is there something about me that makes you think I’m a raving lunatic?”
Murder Cuts the Mustard Page 24