A Pasty In A Pear Tree

by Daphne Neville

  “Oh for God’s sake, no. Look the girls are here,” groaned Woody, as Shelley and Ginger walked into the bar, “better try and behave as though everything’s normal, I suppose.”

  “Ah, there you are,” said Ginger, unzipping her jacket as Shelley went to get their drinks and order some food. “We left you a note at the cottage to say we were coming here.” She frowned. “Why do you both look so glum? Were your takings poor today?”

  “No, they were brilliant,” said Woody, with an obvious false laugh, “In fact today was probably the best day we’ve had so far.” He tried to look cheerful.

  “That’s alright then. So where have you been all evening? We haven’t seen you since we got back.”

  “What? Oh, here and there. In fact we’ve been here for quite a while now?” Finn was finding it hard to be sociable.

  “Just as well because we couldn’t be bothered to cook anything tonight and so made do with microwave meals. Trouble is we’re still hungry so we’ve popped in here for some cheesy chips. Hope you’ve had something to eat. You shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, you know.”

  Woody scowled. “Stop nagging, Ginge. We’re alright because we each had a pasty from the café before we left and a couple of doughnuts.”

  “Oh good. Anyway, I better go as we’re going to have a game of pool, so see you later.” She walked towards Shelley who held two pints of lager in her hands.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Woody, what are we gonna do,” said Finn, with a deep sigh of exasperation. “We can’t leave those sodding women locked in the bathrooms for ever, especially the French woman. She’s been there for four days now and must have long ago eaten the pizza we bought for her and the biscuits and crisps we found in the van.”

  “That was the whole idea of going up there today, to give her some doughnuts.”

  “Yeah, I know and she’d have got them as well if the two old biddies hadn’t turned up.” Finn groaned. “I wish it was January then we could scarper.”

  Woody’s face brightened. “Yes, of course, that’s the answer. We must do a runner now before the women are found. I mean, what’s to stop us from getting our clobber from the cottage and then driving up to Pentrillick House and grabbing our stuff from the chalet. If we did that we could be out of the county by the time anyone was up tomorrow morning.”

  “But we’ve been drinking and so are well over the limit.”

  Woody snorted. “I think that’s the least of our worries.”

  “Yeah, okay, but what about the three women? I mean, if they’re never found they’ll all die and I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”

  “We’ll ring the police anonymously when we’re safely away from here,” said Woody, “it shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll ring from a phone box in Devon and will be miles away before they’ve traced the call.”

  “Okay, what you say makes sense, but if we do it that means I won’t have a chance to say goodbye to Misty.”

  “Humph, I think that girl’s caused us more than enough trouble already, don’t you?” He drained his glass and banged it down on the table. “Come on, drink up, Finn. It’s time to get out of here.”

  “Yeah, alright, I suppose so.”

  As Finn lifted his glass to finish his beer, he saw two police officers over its rim. He froze as the officers spoke to the landlord, glanced around the bar and then walked towards their table.

  “Don’t try and make a run for it,” said one of the policemen, seeing Woody reach for his jacket, “I’ve more men outside. Quietly stand, please, and come with us. We’ve a few questions we’d like you to answer regarding the kidnapping of Madame Aimée Dupont, Mrs Charlotte Burton and Ms Henrietta Tonkins and also the murder of Monsieur Simeon Dupont.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tommy was in a very good frame of mind on Thursday morning as he cleaned Kitty’s upstairs windows. She had agreed to his offer of doing them as she was unable to clean them effectively herself, being afraid to climb a ladder. Hence, for years she had cleaned them from the inside by leaning out, which meant there was always a corner on each pane that her cloth couldn’t reach. Tommy on hearing this had said his work would cost her nothing. It was to be an act of kindness to someone he considered to be a friend, especially since that evening in the pub when she’d allowed him and a few others to call her Kitty.

  After he finished the two windows on the front and was descending the ladder in order to move it round to the back of the house, he spotted Hetty and Lottie walking along the garden path below with a huge bunch of flowers for Kitty.

  Tommy waved. “I’ve been hearing all about you and your Tuzzy-Muzzy adventure this morning from Kitty. I’ve nearly done here then I’ll be down to hear what you have to say.”

  “Okay,” said Lottie, “but you be careful. Seeing you up there makes me nervous. You’re not as young as you were, Tommy.”

  “Yes, and don’t I know it.”

  While Kitty invited the sisters into the house, Tommy moved his ladder round to the back garden to finish the windows. The first one he did had frosted glass and so he assumed it was the bathroom. The second was on the landing and the last appeared to be a spare bedroom for there were several boxes on the bed and numerous objects all over the floor. When the glass was clean, Tommy put his face close to the window to see what the objects on the floor were. He nearly fell from his ladder when he realised they were gnomes. Dozens of them standing in rows.

  Kitty, sitting downstairs in her living room drinking coffee and chatting with Hetty and Lottie suddenly remembered the gnomes. With haste she excused herself and flew up the stairs to draw the curtains but it was too late. Her heart sank when she saw Tommy’s face peering in the window, his expression one of disbelief.

  When Tommy walked into the living room at Meadowsweet, he found Kitty sitting in an armchair in floods of tears. Hetty and Lottie were trying to console her but had no idea why she was crying. Without being asked, Tommy sat down opposite her.

  “Kitty, please don’t cry,” he said, “I don’t know why you did it but please talk to me and see if I can help you.”

  “Did what?” asked Hetty and Lottie together.

  “Gnomes,” said Tommy, as Hetty and Lottie returned to their chairs.

  Kitty stopped crying and sat up. A tear dripped from her chin as she reached into her pocket for a handkerchief. “It’s not what it seems,” she said, drying her eyes. “Honestly, I’m not a thief.”

  Lottie gasped. “Thief. You mean, you took the gnomes?”

  “Shush,” said Tommy, “it looks that way.” He took Kitty’s hand. “So, why did you do it, Kitty?” he asked.

  Kitty tried to smile but failed miserably. “It all began back in the summer when I was out walking on a route I’d not taken before and in the garden of a small cottage were a couple of gnomes near to the garden gate. They had cheeky little faces and seemed to be looking at me as I passed by and so I wished them good day and after that did the same every time I saw them.” As she spoke she kept her eyes focussed on the floor to avoid looking at her friends.

  “Go on,” urged Hetty, her voice tinged with embarrassment as she recalled saying on the morning Kitty had called in for coffee that whoever took the gnomes was stark staring mad.

  “Yes, of course, sorry.” Kitty continued. “Anyway, as the summer went on the gnomes began to look a little careworn. Both were covered with dry grass which I assumed had flicked onto them when the lawn was cut and one had bird droppings on his little green hat. Poor things, I began to feel sorry for them. And then one day I saw that one had toppled over and his arm was chipped and what’s more there was heavy rain forecast and the weather was getting colder. It was October by then.”

  Lottie bit her bottom lip. “So you picked them up and brought them home with you.”

  Kitty nodded. “Not straight away. I didn’t want to be seen, you see, so I waited until it was dark and then crept back. Once back here I gave them both a bath, mended the chip with Polyfilla and
touched up their paint. But it was never my intention to keep them. I shall return them soon.”

  “And all the others?” Tommy asked.

  “After taking the first two it seemed that there were gnomes everywhere. Admittedly, I looked out for them and they all seemed the same, downcast by the impending cold weather.”

  Tommy chuckled. “So you started to go out in the dead of night and bring them all back here.”

  Kitty smiled. “Yes and they’ve all been cleaned and repainted. I sort of see myself as having given them a home for the winter. It’s not theft…I’m just caring for them until springtime when I shall put them back in their rightful places.”

  “But how will you know which go where?” Hetty asked, “I mean, it sounds as though there are rather a lot of them.”

  Kitty nodded. “I’ve stuck a label on the base of each one and on it is written the address from which it was taken and whereabouts in the garden it had stood.”

  “You old softie,” said Tommy, beginning to laugh, “There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Katherine Vickery.”

  Kitty smiled. “You don’t think ill of me, do you? All of you, I mean. I should hate it if you did.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Lottie, “and in a funny sort of way I admire you. I mean those little chaps are often quite heavy so it must have been a real labour of love.”

  “Yes, and it took me a fair while to gather them all in as I could only ever carry two at once.”

  Tommy leaned forward in his chair. “Well, it’ll be a lot easier when it’s time to take the little fellas back to their homes because I shall help you.”

  “So shall I,” said Hetty.

  “And me,” Lottie added, “because I like gnomes and always have done.”

  “Of course you know poor old Psychic Sid got a visit from the old Bill over a gnome he bought in a charity shop in Penzance, don’t you?” Tommy chuckled recalling Sid’s account of the police visit told to him while in the Crown and Anchor.

  “Did he?” Kitty looked shocked.

  “Yes, but fortunately, the gnome in question failed to be identified by its owner. Its umbrella was the wrong colour or something like that.”

  “Oh dear,” said Kitty, “poor Sid, I shall have to make it up to him somehow without him knowing why.”

  “Well,” said Tommy, “it looks as though all of Pentrillick’s mysteries have been solved at once. We know where the gnomes are now, not that we’ll tell anyone, Aimée Dupont has been found and the police have the blokes who murdered poor old Simeon.”

  “Oh no they haven’t,” said Hetty, “I don’t think for one minute that Finn and Woody killed Simeon or anyone else for that matter. Certainly they’re guilty of kidnapping his widow and tying us up like trussed chickens, but from what we’ve heard this morning they’re denying all knowledge of Simeon’s murder if indeed murdered he was. Remember, we still don’t know for sure. It’s pure speculation.”

  “Well, the police must think that he was or they wouldn’t be questioning Finn and Woody about it, would they?” persisted Lottie, “And don’t forget Simeon’s Rolex watch is still missing as well.”

  Hetty shook her head and tutted noisily. “Yes, and I hope for your sake, Lottie, that the Hookaducks never find out that it was you that told the police Patrick had a Rolex.”

  Lottie giggled. “Okay, so it was fake but it could easily have been the real thing. And then of course there are the empty vodka and wine bottles. As far as I’m concerned they’re solid proof Simeon that was murdered.”

  Hetty remained obstinate. “Humph, the bottles mean nothing. It seems to me that were it not for Sid’s silly predictions then there would be no reason at all to doubt his death was anything other than an unfortunate accident.”

  Before Sid opened up for another day’s fortune telling, he forced himself to tidy out the cupboard beneath the seating in which he chucked everything that he didn’t want lying around. Much of it was of no use like receipts and packaging, a radio that no longer worked and his old mobile phone. There were also a few pairs of shoes, stuff that needed mending and a collection of old newspapers.

  Sid put the shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe where they belonged. The receipts and packaging he placed in a heap for recycling along with the old newspapers. The items in need of repair he put back in the cupboard along with the radio and his old phone. After finding the old carrier bag in which he’d brought back his shirt from the charity shop in Penzance, he picked up the newspapers and packaging and dropped them inside, but as the last one slid into the bag the name Mimi Monfils caught his eye. Sid pulled out the newspaper; one he had bought while in France for the football. He sat down. The article told of the theft of designer clothing from a warehouse in Paris amongst which were dresses by French designer, Mimi Monfils.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Standing in front of their chalets before Wonderland opened up for the day, Nick was avidly listening to Ginger and Shelley tell how Finn and Woody had been taken in for questioning the previous evening in connection with the kidnapping of Aimée Dupont and the murder of her husband, Simeon. However, both girls were emphatic that their acquaintances were in no way guilty of murder and were willing to provide alibis when asked so to do to prove the point. For on the night that Simeon Dupont died, Finn and Woody were in the Crown and Anchor with the girls and all four returned together to Sea View Cottage where they ate pizzas and watched a late night film on television which finished at two twenty five; an hour after the estimated time of Simeon’s demise.

  “So they’re off the hook,” said Nick, “that’s good because I rather liked them.”

  “What, even though they appear to have kidnapped poor Aimée?”

  “Well, yeah, I suppose that wasn’t very nice. Any idea why they did it?”

  “Not very nice?” Shelley was appalled by Nick’s flippant response.

  “They tied up the two old dears as well,” said Ginger, “apparently they live next door to the house where Aimée was hidden but we don’t know any more than that at present.”

  “And to answer your question, Nick, no we don’t know why the boys kidnapped Aimée either,” said Shelley, “but no doubt an explanation will be doing the rounds pretty soon.”

  As Nick opened his mouth to ask another question, a police car drove into the grounds.

  Shelley frowned. “Oh no, they’re not visiting poor old Sid again, are they?”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched as the police car drove past through the avenue of trees and pulled up outside the fortune teller’s caravan as on three previous occasions.

  “For God’s sake,” said Ginger, “what’s the poor bloke supposed to have done now? I wish they’d leave him alone.”

  “Dunno,” said Nick, as he fumbled with the lock on the double doors of his chalet, “but Sid’s porkies certainly seem to get him in a lot of trouble.”

  The police were with Sid for less than half an hour and to everyone’s relief they left without the fortune teller as on the three previous occasions. Sid even stood on his doorstep and waved to the police as they left; one officer driving, the other speaking on the car radio.

  “Thank goodness,” said Shelley, watching as the car disappeared round a corner, “for a horrible moment then I thought they might have found another reason to think he’d murdered poor old Simeon which is daft because Sid wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Why do you think that?” Nick asked.

  “Because he has a heart of gold. You see, he bought the gnomes that got him into trouble recently from a charity shop in Penzance. He really only wanted the one with Sid written on its hat. But being kind-hearted, he bought both because he couldn’t bear to leave the other on its own because it might have been lonely.”

  “Really,” said Nick, “what a nutcase.”

  Shelley scowled, annoyed by his jibe.

  Ignoring the comments of Shelley and Nick, Ginger thoughtfully glanced down towards the lake. “I don’
t know about you two but it gives me the creeps knowing that Simeon’s death is still unsolved. I mean, we know for sure it wasn’t Finn or Woody so whoever it is, is still at large and since there appears to be no motive he might be a serial killer who will strike again.”

  “Tosh. I reckon it was an accident,” said Nick, as he pulled back the chalet’s doors and spread out his racks of clothing. “I mean, as you say, no-one appears to have a motive and none of the locals knew him until he turned up down here, did they? As for him being a serial killer, it’s unlikely as Simeon’s death lacked gore and brutality.”

  “Ugh, that’s gross.” Ginger was repulsed.

  Shelley nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Nick.”

  “Okay,” said Ginger, “good point and I hope you’re both right. I mean it would be horrible to find out it was someone we knew from up here.” She looked towards Finn and Woody’s closed up chalet and sighed. “I wonder if we’ll ever see the lads again.”

  “We might do,” said Shelley “if they’re let out on bail.”

  “You two certainly keep some dodgy company,” said Nick, with a laugh, as they watched the first of the day’s visitors emerging down the avenue of trees. But to Ginger’s surprise she noticed the laughter didn’t reach Nick’s eyes and that his clenched hands were shaking.

  After their visit to Kitty at Meadowsweet, Hetty and Lottie, having fully recovered from their ordeal in the Tuzzy-Muzzy bathroom thought it would be a good idea to go out especially as the weather was fine and sunny. After brief deliberation, Lottie agreed to have a driving lesson, for the fact that she had been able to free them from the ropes binding their wrists the previous evening had left her with new found confidence and she felt ready to tackle anything.