Chapter 23
As Fay said goodbye or Orla and went on her way, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
A glance at the screen told her that the Island Gallery had finished its valuation of Lolly Granger’s paintings. There was a spreadsheet attached to the message, so Fay tapped on it to see more.
The paintings she had been interested in buying for the Cat’s Paw were valued at the upper end of what the top local artists usually sold their work for. Fay mentally adjusted the number of paintings she was planning to buy from five down to three. Yes, her B&B was finally turning a profit after more than a year in business, but she couldn’t afford to splash out on artwork. Still, even though they were expensive, Fay knew she would be getting a bargain for the three artworks. As the art world became more familiar with Lolly Granger’s work, it would only go up in value.
A note at the bottom of the spreadsheet said how thrilled the gallery were to discover this exciting new artist. They offered to buy four of her paintings outright and to display the rest on a consignment basis. The note was signed by the gallery owner who trusted that Fay would ask Lolly to get in touch as soon as possible.
Fay was deep in thought as she turned off the High Street. It had occurred to her that she had the opportunity here to kill two birds with one stone.
On one hand, she couldn’t wait to give the good news to Lolly Granger. Even though the Grangers lived off the grid and were not motivated by money, the extra income would definitely be welcome. On the other hand, Fay needed to put the focus of her investigation back onto Baines Farm.
She had seldom known an investigation that was this difficult to pin down. On the face of it, Baines Farm and Galliano’s fencing studio had nothing to do with each other. But Edward Mayweather had been closely connected to both. Just when Fay thought she had identified where the focus of her investigation should be, it shifted again.
It had occurred to her that Lolly Granger was in a good position to know what was going on at Baines Farm. They were next-door neighbors, after all, and had a business agreement whereby the Baineses sold products from Elf Farm at the farmers market.
Lolly would be a good person to ask about what was happening behind the scenes with the Baineses.
But darkness was already falling. The Grangers would be busy with all the many evening chores that went along with running a farm. It would be better to speak to Lolly in the morning.
As the road rose steadily upwards, Fay sent a text to Doc Dyer.
Fay: Do you think you and David could stop by at my place after dinner tonight? I need to talk to you about something. Can promise pumpkin pie and whipped cream for dessert.
The reply came so promptly that he had probably finished consulting for the day.
Doc Dyer: Of course! But I’m sure you don’t need me there. I’ll send David on his own.
Fay: No, you need to be there as well. This concerns both of you.
Doc Dyer: David can tell me all about it. I don’t want to be a third wheel.
Fay sent him a whole row of eye-roll emojis.
Fay: This is not a romantic assignation. I need to talk to both of you urgently. Please say you’ll come or I’m rescinding the offer of pumpkin pie.
Doc Dyer: I’ll come for the pie.
After dinner, Fay let herself into the box room to spend time with Spooky.
This time she left the oven mitts and backscratcher outside.
“Hello, Spooky,” she said as she closed the door behind her. He lifted his head and answered her with a trill. Then he stood up on his look-out post and arched his back as she approached. She held out her hand to him and he rubbed his head against it.
“Look at you. You’ve gone from slasher to cuddler in just a few days.” She stroked his back and listened to him purr. “I made an appointment at the v-e-t for you tomorrow morning. She’s a nice lady. She’ll check you out and give you your shots, so we can start looking for a new home for you.”
After a while, Fay got tired of standing. She sat cross-legged on the floor and leaned her back against the wall. When she called to Spooky, he hopped down from the scratching post and approached her cautiously. It took a lot of coaxing but soon he was settled in her lap, looking sleepy. Fay kept up her stroking as his body relaxed.
She was feeling quite tired herself. Her head sagged backwards against the wall and her eyelids drooped shut.
Fay woke up twenty minutes later to the sound of someone tapping on the door. Spooky jumped off her lap and went to settle in his basket instead, radiating indignation. Fay saw the faces of the Dyers looking at her through the glass.
Scarlet with mortification, she scrambled to her feet. The dryness of her mouth told her that her chin had been hanging open in a no doubt highly attractive fashion.
She let herself out of the box room and rubbed her hands over her face.
“Sorry. I must have fallen asleep with Spooky on my lap. I just hope I wasn’t drooling.”
David laughed. “No more than absolutely necessary. I see you’ve made great strides with His Spookiness here.”
Fay collected her wits. “Yes, he’s a darling. He loves being stroked and cuddled, which makes me think he couldn’t have been feral for long.”
David peered through the glass with what could only be described as a goofy expression on his face. “I’m so glad he’s doing well.”
His father winked at Fay.
“And so, the grinch’s heart grew a little bit bigger,” he quoted.
“First of all, it’s Halloween, not Christmas,” said David. “And second of all, I was never a grinch.”
“No,” agreed Doc Dyer. “But you did date one for a while.”
Fay caught her breath, wondering if David was going to take offence. He just shook his head. “She wasn’t a grinch either. Not exactly. She was more of a fish out of water. I hope she finds someone more suited to her than I ever was.”
“So do I,” said Doc Dyer. “In fact, Fay and I used to spend hours constructing the perfect man for Laetitia. Remember that, Fay love? We even decided what kind of children they were going to have.”
Fay swallowed. With a great effort of will she managed to meet David’s eye. “We were just … kidding around.”
There was an unreadable expression on David’s face. “I’d be a lot more offended if I hadn’t come to the realization that staying with Laetitia would have been the biggest mistake of my life.”
“But your children would have been so gifted,” said Doc Dyer, looking down to hide his smile.
“Just one child,” Fay reminded him. “One perfect child who would have learned Mandarin from the age of three.”
“And violin.”
“And who would have attended a pre-school with an excellent track record for admissions to Ivy League universities.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” David smothered a smile. “Fay didn’t invite us here to talk about my imaginary offspring. Or even to admire Spooky’s progress.”
“That reminds me,” said Doc Dyer. “I was promised pie.”
“So you were.” Fay opened a door of the wood-burning oven. “I’ve been keeping it warm for you.”
With her usual efficiency, she took the pie out of the oven, cut three slices, slid them onto plates, and added dollops of freshly whipped cream. Then she set them on the kitchen table and invited her guests to sit down.
“Not going to lie.” She prodded her slice with a fork. “I am slightly over pumpkin pie at the moment. My guests have wanted nothing else for breakfast and tea for the last ten days.”
“Well, it’s still a novelty to us.” David dug in with enthusiasm. “This combination of spices is delicious. Better than anything I tasted when I lived in the States.”
Doc Dyer made assenting noises through a mouthful of pie.
“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I don’t think I can finish this slice.” Fay pushed away her plate and laid a piece of paper on the table. “This is why I asked you here this evening. I re
ceived a hand-delivered letter a couple of days ago. I’ve already given the original to Sergeant Jones. This is a copy. You can see the letter on the left, with Maggie Binnie’s interpretation on the right. It’s a riddle, and she’s my go-to person when it comes to riddles.”
David pulled the piece of paper closer, angling it so that he and his father could both see it. “Okay … so that’s a coffin, definitely. And that’s a candle, wouldn’t you say, Dad?”
Doc Dyer nodded. “Yes, that’s an old one. I recognized it immediately. It seems almost too easy. And I agree with Maggie that the signs point to our surgery. Where else do you get a prescription for tablets?”
“The only problem,” said David. “Is that we don’t keep a coffin outside the surgery. Not even on Halloween night. That would be in extremely poor taste.”
Doc Dyer scooped up a piece of pie, along with a lavish blob of whipped cream. “Absolutely. A doctors’ surgery with a coffin outside? Not a good advertisement for our business.”
“So, what decorations do you usually have?” asked Fay.
“We usually put up a skeleton dressed in a white coat with a stethoscope around its neck,” said David. “And we only put it out on Halloween night.”
“Tell me you don’t hand out fruit to the trick or treaters,” said Fay. “To encourage healthy eating as doctors. Please tell me you don’t do that.”
Doc Dyer sat up straight, a cream moustache decorating his face. “As if! We hand out full-size candy bars. Only one per child, but still.”
“Good.” She turned her attention back to the letter. “This seems to suggest that the clue will be hidden in a coffin outside the doctors’ surgery. It will provide proof that Massimo Galliano killed Edward Mayweather. It will be discovered on the night that the trick-or-treaters are abroad. And things will get messy if I bring anyone else along on the night. What am I supposed to do with that information?”
“I don’t know,” said David. “All I know is that we’ll be right there with you trying to figure it out.”
Chapter 24
Fay got back from taking Spooky to the vet at around eleven o’clock the next morning.
It had all gone smoothly. Spooky had been well behaved throughout, probably because he was nervous. Fay was relieved that she and the vet had come through the process scratch-free. There had been moments when Spooky could have lashed out, especially when he was given his shots and had his temperature taken. Instead, he had endured these indignities patiently.
“How do you feel like a change of scene?” Fay asked the cat as she pulled the carrier out of her car. “I think you’d enjoy hanging out in my bedroom. It’s big and has lots of things for you to play with. And we can see how you react to other cats. Maybe this afternoon I’ll take you down to the garden of remembrance so you can have some outside time.”
Spooky hunched down in the carrier, apparently unmoved by this suggestion.
“How did it go?” Morwen asked as Fay walked into reception.
“All good. The vet thinks he’s about eleven years old. Somehow, she could tell that from looking at his teeth and gums. He has now been dewormed and deflead, and has had all his shots. She says he’s in good health apart from a slight touch of arthritis in his right hip. It doesn’t affect his mobility, so she’s not too concerned about it.”
“Poor thing. That’s probably from living outside in the cold and damp. I don’t suppose he was microchipped?”
“Unfortunately, not. Anyway, I’m going to put him in my bedroom today. I think he’s ready to graduate from the box room.”
“He’ll love it,” said Morwen. “It’s a cat playground up there.”
Fay took Spooky upstairs and released him into her room. The only one of her five cats present was Ivan the Siberian. He was curled up on her bed. He gave the newcomer a slow blink and proceeded to ignore him. Fay waited with Spooky while he sniffed his way around the room. He was somewhat suspicious of Ivan, but relaxed when it became clear that the huge cat had no aggressive intentions.
When Spooky settled down on a chair to take a nap, Fay felt that it was safe to leave him. She took Ivan with her. There was a litter tray in the room, but she knew Ivan would not appreciate being shut in for the morning.
It was time to visit Elf Farm again.
Fay pulled up outside the Grangers’ farmhouse and switched off the ignition with relief. There had been moments coming up Mountain View Road when she had doubted that the car would make it. She put it into first gear and chugged slowly up the steep slope.
She greeted the friendly farm dogs and smiled at Lolly who had appeared at the door to see what the commotion was about.
“Sorry to drop in again, but I’m bringing good news this time.” Fay showed her the spreadsheet she had printed out. “This is the current value that Island Galleries has put on your paintings. I’d like to buy three of them, and the gallery wants to buy four. They’re offering to display the rest for sale and to advertise them on their website as well. They even said they would have them framed at their own expense. They are very keen to sign you exclusively.”
Lolly looked a little shell-shocked. “You’d better come inside.”
They settled in the bright, comfortable kitchen while Lolly made tea.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she admitted. “I’ve always just painted for my own satisfaction. It never occurred to me that anyone outside my family would be interested in seeing what I create.”
“They are more than interested. They want to make you one of their biggest featured artists.”
“The money will be welcome – I can’t deny that. It looks like both my children will need orthodontic treatment in the future. We’re all for living off the grid, but not to the extent of denying our kids straight teeth. If I sell a few paintings, that will help a lot.”
Fay had a feeling she would end up selling more than just a few paintings. “I’m glad. I hoped you would see this as a good thing.”
“I do, but I’m worried that my life is going to change, and I really don’t want that to happen.”
“I don’t see that it has to. You can stay right here, living your life. As long as you keep the gallery supplied with paintings, they’ll be happy.”
Lolly poured hot water into the teapot. “But they’re going to want to have meetings and do publicity and awful things like that.”
“Not necessarily. You can be a reclusive artist. It will add to your mystique. You can refuse to give any interviews or do any publicity. That will probably drive the value of your paintings up even more. The point is that you can dictate the terms. You’ve got something they want, so you are in the driver’s seat.”
Lolly thought about this. “I hope you’re right. I’ll discuss it with my husband, but I already know he’s going to tell me to do it.”
Fay was halfway through her cup of tea when she felt able to raise the subject of the Baineses.
“How are your neighbors doing since the fire?” She nodded in the direction of Baines Farm.
Lolly sighed. “From a damage point of view, everything is back to normal. The most serious problem that the fire caused was to melt the electrical wiring. But that’s already been replaced and repaired. I’m more worried about what it has done to them personally.”
“When I was there on the night of the fire, I kept hearing that Farmer Baines was to blame. I’m not sure how true that is.”
“It seems to be what everyone is saying. Including Mr. Baines himself. It’s quite worrying.”
“You’ve been neighbors for a long time. When would you say the trouble started? Has Mr. Baines always been a heavy drinker or is this a recent thing?”
Lolly sipped her tea. “He always enjoyed a glass of whiskey in the evenings, as far as we knew. No more than a glass or two, mind you, and we never saw him the worse for drink.”
“Well, it clearly accelerated from there. When I was at the farmhouse in the middle of the afternoon, he was already drinking. His wife seemed upset by
it.” Fay didn’t feel like she was telling tales because Lolly was clearly aware of the situation.
“I’d say it got out of control about eighteen months ago. There were some staff changes on the farm that seemed to upset Mr. Baines. The next time we saw him, he finished half a bottle of whiskey in one sitting and could barely walk straight after that. It seemed to get worse from then.”
“People who drink are often trying to escape from some kind of painful reality. Do you have any idea what that might have been?”
Lolly shrugged. “The commercial farming industry was going through a dip. Of course, there are those who say that it has been in a continuous dip since the Second World War. And that’s true enough. Farming has always been a precarious way to make a living. The Baineses managed to survive by staying on the cutting edge of technology and constantly diversifying their crops according to what the market wanted. There were farmers who were still growing old-fashioned crops - like spelt - because that’s what their great-grandfathers grew. But they went under and were forced to sell up. The Baineses kept going.”
“I heard that they were doing so well – the most successful farmers on the island. What went wrong?”
“I don’t know exactly. It had something to do with reduced government subsidies for farmers. And there was the year that some pest or other got into their crops. We don’t grow cash crops, so I don’t know much about it. But I know it hit them badly.”
The Cat That Got the Cream Page 14