A Pasty In A Pear Tree

by Daphne Neville

  Once in Penzance they looked for suitable gifts for Kitty Vickery and Tommy Thomas. For both had accepted the sisters’ invitation to dinner on Christmas Day. At first Hetty and Lottie had proposed just to cook for themselves but when they learned that Tommy would be alone for the first time in his life, they asked him to join them and then Kitty too for she also lived alone.

  After a brief look around they settled on a pair of diamante earrings for Kitty and for Tommy they bought a dark green fleece top for such a garment seemed to be his favourite item of clothing. They then went in search of a café or pub in order to have some lunch.

  To their surprise, as they passed a tattoo parlour, Shelley and Ginger stepped out onto the pavement.

  Lottie tutted. “You’ve not spoiled your lovely bodies with nasty ink I hope.”

  “Lottie, the girls must do as they please,” Hetty rebuked, “after all it is a free country.”

  “We’ve only had little ones done,” said Shelley. She lifted the leg of her jeans to reveal a small butterfly on her ankle.

  “And I’ve a flower on my shoulder,” said Ginger, “but it’s too cold to show you out here.”

  “Very nice,” said Hetty. “Not too intrusive and being small they should still look good when you’re old and wrinkled, like us.”

  “You’re not old and wrinkled,” said Shelley, “I think you’re both amazing.”

  “Hmm, well, yes, that’s as maybe,” said Hetty. “Anyway, more importantly is there any more news of Aimée’s whereabouts?”

  Ginger squirmed as she resisted the temptation to scratch the new tattoo which itched. “Sadly not. In fact to be honest, we’ve come into town today to try and forget about it for a while. It’s keeping us awake at night, I must admit, and the same goes for poor Misty. She’s really worried and we’re worried about her as she’s been through a lot lately.”

  Lottie tutted. “Wherever can Aimée have gone? It can’t be far if she’s not taken her belongings.”

  “We don’t think she’s gone anywhere of her own free will,” said Shelley, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear which was being tousled by the wind. “Having said that, I can’t believe that she’s been kidnapped by the man who made the phone call or anything like that because there have been no ransom demands.”

  “Yes, and after two days there would have been by now if that were the case,” Hetty agreed.

  “I hate to say this,” said Shelley, “but there are rumours that as Wonderland is closed today the police might be going to drag the lake but I hope it’s not true.”

  Hetty gasped. “Oh no, surely they don’t think she’s taken her own life?”

  Shelley shook her head but Ginger answered, “No, we don’t think anyone suspects that at all. But from what we gather the police believe it’s possible that someone may have had cause to hold a grudge against both her and Simeon and for that reason she might have gone the same way.”

  After a couple of pints in the Crown and Anchor and sausage and chips for his lunch, Sid wandered along the main street in Pentrillick wondering how best to spend the rest of the day. He didn’t want to go back to his caravan as he knew the police intended to drag the lake looking for Aimée Dupont. Sid shuddered at the thought. As he reached the bus stop a double decker bus pulled up and its destination board said Penzance.

  “Fate,” said Sid, and hopped on board. He’d never been to Penzance but liked the thought of a quick look round.

  After wandering along the sea front he walked up towards the town. As he passed a charity shop he saw a bright yellow highly patterned shirt in the window which greatly appealed to him, for he reasoned that it was like the sun and therefore would be a happy shirt. Hoping that it was his size he went inside to enquire. The elderly gentleman in the shop was very obliging and took the shirt from the window to check the label. To Sid’s delight it was extra-large and so he bought it. With shirt inside an old supermarket carrier bag, he turned to leave the shop, but before he reached the door, he saw two garden gnomes standing on the floor next to a basket of plastic flower pots. He chuckled for one of them had the name Sid on his green pointed hat. Sid picked him up. “You look a bit like me, mate when I’m wearing my elf get-up. I think I’d better buy you.” And then being an old softie he bought the other one, too, feeling it would be unkind to separate them.

  Once back at Pentrillick House, oblivious of the gnome thefts in the area, Sid stood the two gnomes on either side of the steps leading up to his caravan. Pleased with his purchases, he gave them the thumbs up. “Now you’ll be able to give the ladies who queue to see me something to coo over.”

  On Tuesday evening it rained but Hetty and Lottie went to bingo for no other reason than to see if there was any news regarding the whereabouts of Aimée Dupont. They took the car and also a prize for the raffle which they put with other donations when they arrived.

  To their dismay there was no news of Aimée but they did learn from their next door neighbour, Ginny, that the lake at Pentrillick House had been dragged that afternoon and that thankfully nothing was found.

  Just before play commenced at eight o’clock, Patrick and Patricia from the fair arrived. Both were dressed smartly and Patricia seemed unusually subdued.

  “What do you reckon’s up with Mrs Hookaduck?” Hetty hissed, “She’s even talking quietly.”

  “Goodness knows, and I must admit I’m rather surprised to see them here.”

  “Me too, but then they were probably just bored and wanted to get out. It can’t be much fun being stuck in a caravan on a wet evening and I don’t suppose they want to go to the pub every night as it’d cost a fortune.”

  “True.”

  “Having said that, they’re probably quiet because they witnessed the lake being dragged today. That wouldn’t have been a very nice experience.”

  “I think that’s unlikely as I’m sure the police wouldn’t have allowed them anywhere near the lake and they certainly wouldn’t have been able to see anything from their caravan.” Lottie reached into her handbag and took out her reading glasses. “It’s just a thought, but I wonder if she looks glum because she’s feeling guilty for some reason.”

  “Guilty.” Hetty looked puzzled, “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, I’m keeping my options open but if you remember, Mrs Hookaduck was no fan of Simeon as we witnessed on a couple of occasions and so perhaps she had something to do with his death. She might even know where Aimée is.”

  Hetty shook her head. “Don’t be daft, that’s ridiculous. I mean, not liking his pastries is hardly a motive for murder, is it? Anyway, you know my thoughts over the poor bloke’s passing. I think it was an accident and you’ll never sway me from that.”

  “But they live on site,” Lottie persisted, “and so would have been at Pentrillick House on the night that he died. They could easily have pushed him into the lake.”

  “Yes, they live on site but so do all the fair people. Anyway, they would have been questioned by the police and no doubt have an alibi. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Lottie, and it’s best to say no more.”

  With a sulky face Lottie glanced over towards the fairground people. When something caught her eye she sat up straight and then pulled a tissue from her pocket. To Hetty’s surprise, Lottie then stood up, walked over to the rubbish bin and dropped a tissue inside. As she walked very slowly back she glanced down at the Hookaduck’s table.

  “What are you up to?” Hetty asked as her sister sat back down.

  “I just had to check something out,” said Lottie, excitedly, “You’re never going to believe this, but Mr Hookaduck is wearing a Rolex watch.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Wednesday morning, half an hour before Wonderland opened for the day, Jeremy Liddicott-Treen sat on the grass bank which overlooked the car park at Pentrillick House hoping to see some rare or interesting cars amongst the day’s visitors. He was happy to be alone for it also gave him time to think and there was much to think abo
ut. However, when a yellow Vauxhall Corsa drove in and stopped well away from the cars already parked, all thoughts slipped from his mind, for he was intrigued not by the car itself but by the fact it had parked so far away from all other vehicles. It remained on the same spot for several minutes with its engine ticking over and then suddenly it moved forwards and slowly drove towards the nearest row of cars. To Jeremy’s amazement, it then made several comical attempts at parking in a huge gap between a Land Rover and a green mini. He was mesmerised, for the occupants of the car appeared to be elderly. At least one, the driver, had grey hair, the other lady’s hair was dark brown. Jeremy looked at his watch in order to see how long it took the driver to park. To his amusement, it took fifteen minutes and countless attempts. He chuckled to himself and wondered if George, the head groundsman, was right in his claim that women were inferior drivers, although he had to confess that his mother was very competent and probably an even better driver than his father. It wasn’t until the car pulled out of its parking slot and drove away that Jeremy noticed the L plate on the back.

  Shortly after the Corsa left, a white transit van drove in which Jeremy knew belonged to Nick who sold dresses which his sister and her friends drooled over. As he stepped from the van, Nick spotted Jeremy and waved. Jeremy waved back and watched as Nick walked away towards the chalets whistling the tune of the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas.’

  The next vehicle Jeremy saw was Steve from the Test Your Strength challenge. Jeremy sat bolt upright and watched as from the back of his van Steve took a cardboard box. Jeremy couldn’t see what was in it but it jangled as Steve walked across the car park and so he assumed it was bottles.

  “Bottles!” Jeremy whispered as Steve disappeared from view. Without waiting to see more vehicles he sprang to his feet and made his way over towards the fair. For the previous day he had heard the girls that sold candles and cosmetics talking about the death of Monsieur Dupont. They had mentioned the possibility of the red wine that he had been drinking in the maze on the night he died, being laced with vodka.

  In the early afternoon, Tess Dobson took a short break from her waitressing job in the café and walked up to the fairground to deliver pasties to fair people who ordered them daily.

  “Thank goodness,” said Patrick, who had left Patricia to manage the Hook a Duck stall on her own and was chatting to Steve, “I’m famished because Patricia dropped the last couple of eggs this morning and the dog ate them before we had a chance to try and rescue them. So all I had for breakfast was a slice of toast because we ran out of bacon yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Steve, “my stocks are getting low and I can’t be bothered to go shopping after I finish here. Although to be fair, Nick has offered to do some shopping later because he wants to take his jacket in to get it dry cleaned.”

  “Just as well we’re here then,” reasoned Tess, handing them each a pasty, “at least you can be guaranteed lunch.”

  “True enough and you’re a godsend,” said Steve, opening the paper bag containing his pasty and taking a sniff, “Hmm, heavenly, and tell Chloe if ever she decides to ditch her old man that I’m first in the queue to marry her.”

  “Will do,” said Tess, who was used to the cheeky chat of the fairground people.

  On her way back to the café she glanced over towards Sid’s caravan to see how many ladies there were in his queue. When she spotted the two gnomes standing at the foot of the steps she stopped dead in her tracks. Knowing of the mysterious disappearances of gnomes in the area she thought it only right that she should investigate and so went to take a closer look. To her amazement she saw that one of the little men held an umbrella and he looked very much like the gnome which had been taken from her friend, Gail’s garden at the end of November. Her first thought was to ask Sid from what source he had acquired them for she was pretty sure that they had not been there for long and certainly not when she had had her fortune told during the first week after Wonderland had opened. However, rather than confront him herself, especially when he had a queue of eight ladies waiting to see him, she decided it would be best for the authorities to question him and so she went over to a quiet part of the grounds and called the local police.

  Sid was counting out the money he’d made that day when he heard the sound of a car approaching his caravan. Knowing no cars other than emergency vehicles were permitted to drive over the grass, he pulled back a curtain to see who his visitors might be. His shoulders slumped when he saw it was the police again but he was relieved to see there was only one officer and that he had not put on the sirens and alerted everyone on the site.

  Sid went to the door and opened it completely baffled as to why the police were about to call yet again, for as far as he was aware he had not made any other predictions regarding death and disappearances. In fact since he’d been questioned about his prophecy for Misty Merryweather he’d kept his forecasts on more mundane matters such as travel, love and prosperity and he had been particularly careful when he had told the fortune of Miss Jemima Liddicott-Treen.

  “Good afternoon, officer,” said Sid, with a forced smile, “and what can I do for you today?”

  “Good afternoon to you, Mr Moore,” replied the young officer, as he tried to keep a straight face, “I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may regarding this little fella with the umbrella.” He pointed to the gnome in question. “We have reason, you see, to believe he may have been stolen from a property in the village.”

  Sid opened his mouth to reply but for once in his life he was speechless.

  Early on Wednesday evening, Hetty slipped out through the back door of the cottage to put two glass jars into the recycling box in the garden shed. It was December the twenty first and the shortest day of the year. While outside she paused to look up at the clear night sky. The fading moon was shining brightly and surrounded by millions of twinkling stars. There was not a breath of wind and the stillness of the early evening seemed to be gripped in a mystical aura.

  “Look at that,” she said to Albert who had followed her outside. “It’s skies like that that make me feel glad to be alive. It almost feels like I should be hearing angelic voices singing ‘Silent Night.’”

  Feeling chilly, Hetty then turned to go back indoors, but when she reached for the handle, she heard the sound of a car on the track which ran alongside Tuzzy-Muzzy. Hetty frowned. It was too late for the farmer to be going to his fields and there was no-one living in the house.

  Inside the sitting room, Lottie reached for the box of matches hidden behind the clock on the mantelpiece so that she could light the candles on either side of the fireplace. She paused when she saw the puzzled expression on her sister’s face.

  “What the matter, Het?”

  “I’m not sure but I think there might be something fishy going on next door. Tuzzy-Muzzy that is, not Hillside. And when I say next door I actually mean the track that runs alongside it. I just heard a car, you see.”

  “Well, I expect it’s the farmer,” said Lottie, opening up the match box.

  “At this time of night and in the dark. No, it can’t be and no-one other than the farmer would have reason to go up there because the track only goes as far as a five bar gate.”

  “Hmm, I suppose you’re right and there are no animals to care for anyway, just cauliflowers and you don’t cut them in the dark.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So what do you reckon?”

  “I don’t know but I feel uneasy so I think I’ll pop round and have a quick look. It won’t take a minute.”

  “Well, you’re not going on your own in the dark so I’d better go with you.” Lottie closed the matchbox and dropped it into her pocket.

  “Okay, but you must stay here, Albert,” said Hetty. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  She switched on the television so that he would not feel lonely and then without bothering to put on their coats the sisters left their warm cottage and went to investigate the vehicle Hetty ha
d heard. They didn’t bother to lock the cottage door and to save time they took a short cut through the gardens of Tuzzy-Muzzy, for the farm track ran by the side gate of the empty old house.

  “We should have brought a torch,” said Hetty, rubbing the back of her hand scratched by a spiky berberis, “although now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark I think there is just about sufficient light from the moon to see by.”

  “I’ve got matches in my pocket,” said Lottie, in a reassuring manner, “so if we need to look at anything in detail they should give enough light. It would be foolhardy to have a torch anyway if there are likely to be any dodgy folks around here.”

  “True and I suppose in case there is anyone here we ought to keep our voices down.”

  Tuzzy-Muzzy was in total darkness as they crept up its driveway and crossed in front of the house and over towards the side boundary beyond which ran the farm track.

  “Where’s the gate?” Lottie whispered, as she followed Hetty along a garden path part-hidden by leaves that had fallen from a large horse chestnut tree, “I can’t see it.”

  “I can, we’re nearly there.”

  Everything was quiet as they slowly opened the gate and looked out into the muddy lane where to their surprise, they saw a van parked nearby in the shadows.

  “I wonder who that belongs to,” whispered Hetty.

  “Could be anyone,” said Lottie, wishing she was safely back inside Primrose Cottage, “I mean as yet we don’t really know who drives what. Not that I’d be much help anyway. My recognition of cars and whatnot doesn’t go much beyond colour.”

  “Yes, same for me although I’m pretty good at recognising registration numbers but that one means nothing. Come on, there’s no cause for concern, let’s go home.”

  As Lottie closed the gate, Hetty looked up at the house. She squinted and reached for her sister’s arm. “Look up at that small window, Lottie. Am I imagining it or is there a dim light shining from inside?”