She stood up.
“And now I must be off to my bed. Thank you for the tea. Don’t worry about the cups tonight. You can tidy up in the morning.”
Florence dropped a little curtsey to Mrs. Lloyd’s disappearing back.
“Yes ma’am,” she muttered. “Whatever you say.”
Seven
“You know, Penny, when he took me in his arms, I could have danced all night!”
“You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself, Mrs. Lloyd,” Penny said as she leaned forward to apply a base coat to her client’s nails.
“Well, it wasn’t just me enjoying myself, Penny, in case you didn’t notice. Everyone was.”
“Yes, they certainly seemed to.”
Penny had barely been able to contain her astonishment when Mrs. Lloyd entered the salon for her standing Thursday afternoon manicure. Penny had quickly caught Eirlys’s eye and given a quick shake of her head. Following her lead, Eirlys returned to her client after giving Mrs. Lloyd a quick smile and, beyond the expected polite, cheery hello, said nothing.
Gone was Mrs. Lloyd’s rigidly permed, iron-grey hair, replaced by loose chestnut curls. At first, Penny had thought she was wearing a wig, but when she caught a glimpse of pink scalp, she realized Mrs. Lloyd must have spent hours that morning at the hair salon. With the dieting, hair colour, and softer hairstyle, Mrs. Lloyd was in full makeover mode. Soon would come wardrobe changes. She’s got it bad, Penny thought. If she had been married, her husband would have huge cause for concern. She was displaying all the classic symptoms.
“I’m going into Llandudno tomorrow to get some new clothes,” Mrs. Lloyd was saying, as if she had just read Penny’s mind. “Normally, Angharad Roberts makes my dresses, and a very good job she does, too, but I think I’ll go for something off the rack. I’m so tired of just about everything in my wardrobe. It all seems so frumpy and dated, and we need something new every now and then to perk ourselves up, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lloyd, we certainly do,” Penny agreed. “What are you thinking you might get?’
“Something a bit more youthful. A flirty skirt! A stylish top! Both!”
Penny grinned. “Go for it, Mrs. Lloyd! Why not?”
“Why not indeed. And that reminds me. I’ve decided that Florence and I are going to hold a little holiday open house, so you might want to mark your calendar. It’ll be from two to four in the afternoon and you and Victoria should both come. Oh, and of course bring that policeman of yours, too, if he’s a mind to come. That’s if he’s not too busy with, what did you call it, major crime.” Mrs. Lloyd gave Penny the date. “We chose the day so it wouldn’t conflict with your grand opening. But between the two of us, we’re all going to have a very busy holiday season this year. I always say Christmas will be here before we know it, and every year it just creeps up on us and proves me right.”
Mrs. Lloyd selected a rich, deep burgundy polish that she said would go nicely with a smart jacket she had recently bought.
“It’s in the Chanel style, you might say. And with my pearls, it should be just right for the bridge game tonight.”
After a moment’s thought, she leaned closer and gave Penny an intent look.
“Would you mind terribly if I asked you a question? What are your thoughts on tights?”
* * *
“Tights?”
Victoria looked up from her computer where she had been entering numbers into a spreadsheet.
“Yes, tights. She read in a magazine that they’re considered outdated and aging. She wondered if that was just true for young women or for everyone. She wonders if she should stop wearing them but wonders if it would look strange for a woman her age to go about with bare legs.”
“Oh, Lord.” Victoria laughed. “It doesn’t bear thinking about. Not in this weather, anyway.” After a moment she added, “I still wear them. Do you?”
“I do. I can’t stand the way my feet feel in shoes without socks or stockings. But I know that young women don’t wear them. I really don’t know what the rule is for older women or where the cutoff point is.”
“Well, anyway,” said Victoria, pressing a button on the computer and then sitting back with her arms folded, “the good news is that we’re still within budget on the renovation-just-and they tell me the work will be done on time. How did you get on with Gwennie?”
“Oh really well,” Penny replied. “She’s happy to do the food for the opening and she’ll take care of the other things, too, like tablecloths and plates and cutlery. I’ve given her the guest list so she knows how many are coming and I ordered the flowers.”
“And the wine?”
“Right, that’s done, too. Oh, and Mrs. Lloyd is having a little get-together a couple of days before our event, so it’s shaping up to be a busy holiday season.”
“It’ll be fun, though. I love Christmas. Such a happy time of year. Peace on earth and all that.”
“And this year, it might be a white one. They’re predicting snow and lots of it this winter.”
* * *
In Llandudno, at the North Wales Police station, Sergeant Bethan Morgan looked up as her supervisor, Detective Chief Inspector Gareth Davies, carrying a small, sickly looking plant, passed by her desk on the way to his office.
“Afternoon, sir.”
“Afternoon, Sergeant. Thanks for holding the fort. The meeting with the district commissioner went on longer than I thought it would.” He gestured at the plant. “Rescued this poor thing from his office. So what’s been happening today?”
“It all seems pretty quiet. There’s just one thing. Been some thefts reported in Llanelen.”
Davies set the plant on her desk and waited.
“I’ve had a call from one of the charity shops. Apparently a few small items have gone missing and the woman who runs it thinks there’s a shoplifter on the loose.”
She glanced down at the notebook beside the telephone and pointed her pencil at it.
“Funny stuff. Odds and ends. Let’s see.” She picked up the notebook and, after a quick look at Davies to make sure he was listening, read from a short list. “A biography of John Lennon. A serving plate with a daffodil pattern in the centre. A couple of packets of blank note cards. A wooly sheep with horns. A figurine of a shepherdess, complete with crook and lamb.”
She set down the notebook.
“The woman said there may be more items, but they don’t have a bar code kind of inventory system, naturally, so it’s difficult for her to know.”
“Did you ask her if another shop assistant could have sold any of these items?”
Morgan gave him a withering look.
He held up a hand. “Yes, of course you did,” he said good-naturedly. “How did she come to notice the things were missing?’
“She said that someone wanted the John Lennon book for her grandson but didn’t have much cash on her. The shop doesn’t do debit or take credit cards, so the woman said she’d go to the bank and do a bit more shopping and then stop back later. The charity shop woman said when the customer returned in the afternoon the book was gone, but she hadn’t sold it to anyone. They looked all through the books in case someone had moved it, but it wasn’t there.” Bethan took a sip of her coffee. “She felt bad that she hadn’t put the book aside for the customer.”
“Anybody unusual or suspicious in the store that day?”
“No, just the usual townsfolk. Some dropping off donations, others browsing. A few sales. But nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Well, I don’t know there’s much we can do at this point, but we’ll keep an eye on the situation and see if any more reports come in.” He picked up the plant and seemed about to move on.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am it wasn’t ladies’ knickers disappearing from clotheslines.” He gave a little shudder. “For a moment there when you said things have been disappearing… Haven’t had one of those cases in years and don’t want one, either.”
“Well, not too like
ly, sir. People don’t dry clothes outside much anymore and anyway, it’s winter.”
“People used to hang their laundry out to dry all year round,” Davies said. “When I was a lad, my mother used to hang out the wash in the winter and it would freeze on the line. Then she’d bring it all back in the house, frozen stiff, and hang it all up again inside. I could never understand the point of hanging it out.”
He smiled at her. “The good old days. You won’t remember them. You weren’t born yet.”
* * *
The dancing class was proving more popular than Harry Saunders had hoped. Instead of the numbers dropping off, they increased and the next week, as word got round, a few more couples showed up. Mrs. Lloyd, who was starting to fantasize about being Harry’s partner in bridge, in dancing, and hopefully, in the not too distant future, in life, was over the moon.
“I told you the dancing lessons would be a great success,” she remarked to Florence on the morning of their open house.
“Yes, Evelyn, you did and you were right, as usual,” Florence replied as she polished a glass.
“Now, have we got everything we need for this afternoon?”
“Yes, it’s all set. I’ve just a few more things to put out. Leave it to me and you get along to church. You don’t want to be late.”
Mrs. Lloyd, now looking a few pounds slimmer, gave an airy wave and disappeared into the hall. Florence heard her rustling about in the cupboard, and a few minutes later, the front door was pulled shut behind her.
Florence plumped a few pillows and then, noticing a few envelopes on Mrs. Lloyd’s desk, opened the top drawer and slid them inside. She then turned her attention to the dining room and, after straightening a row of forks, gave the table one last approving nod. Mrs. Lloyd’s benefactor, the aunt of her late husband, would have thought the table magnificent. Her fine old china, a pattern featuring fruit on a cobalt blue background, had been washed and neatly arranged on a crisply ironed linen cloth. Gleaming silverware flanked a centrepiece of silver candelabra with space in the middle for a floral arrangement of festive red carnations. A plaid table runner gave everything a seasonal look.
Florence had set out small glasses for sherry and larger ones for wine. She was determined that her spread would be at least as good as the one at the spa opening and knew that because many of their guests would be going to both events, comparisons would be inevitable. In the kitchen, she opened the fridge door and peered inside. The large cheese tray she had prepared last night, tightly covered in cling film, a fruit tray, small quiches, packets of smoked salmon waiting to be opened, sliced lemons for garnish, and more awaited their guests.
At precisely five minutes to two, Florence would place all the trays on the table and the party would begin. She was happy to look after the food and drink, leaving Mrs. Lloyd to circulate and socialize. Florence not only knew her place but liked it very much. It was definitely starting to feel like home.
And now, there was nothing to do but wait for the guests to arrive and the party to start.
* * *
As Florence set the last platter on the dining room table the sound of ambient chatter began to fill the adjacent living room.
“Oh, Penny, of course you already know my friend Harry, but, Harry, I don’t think you’ve met Penny’s friend Inspector Gareth Davies.” Saunders seemed momentarily taken aback but recovered his composure quickly and held out his hand. Davies shook it and casually asked Saunders where he was staying.
“Oh, an old friend of mine has a place not too far from here, farther up the valley,” Saunders replied. “He’s in the States for a few months and said I could use it while he’s away.”
“And how long will you be staying with us, do you think?” Davies asked.
Saunders let out something that might have been a wheezy chuckle and turned to Mrs. Lloyd.
“Does he give all your guests the third degree or is it just me?”
Davies’ eyes narrowed slightly and he smiled at Penny who gave an eloquent, apologetic shrug.
“Now, Inspector,” said Mrs. Lloyd, “I was telling Penny just the other day that you should get out and about and have more fun. Come to the dancing classes with us, why don’t you! But for today, you’re off duty and among friends so we’ll have no more of your questions. Just enjoy yourself. And now,” she said, turning to him and touching Saunders gently on the arm, “you and I need to circulate amongst our guests. There are others who would like to meet you. Oh, look, there’s Huw and Glynnis Bowen. And Bronwyn and Thomas Evans. Such a good turnout.”
The room had filled up as they’d been speaking. Penny waved to the rector and his wife who had just arrived. Davies’ eyes followed Saunders and Mrs. Lloyd into the living room. Keeping his eyes on them, he inclined his head toward Penny.
“Later, I want you to tell me everything you know about him.”
“Do you know this inspector well, Evelyn?” Saunders was saying.
“No, not really,” Evelyn replied as she led him to the food table, where they admired Florence’s spread. “I hear he’s very taken with Penny Brannigan. Now, I’d like you to come over here, Harry, and meet Bunny, an old friend of mine. We go way back.” Catching herself, she added, “Well, not that far back, of course.”
Saunders examined the table and seemed to focus on a tray of hot nibbles that Florence had just brought out of the kitchen.
“And this Penny, now, is she…?”
“Penny?” Mrs. Lloyd gave him a quizzical look. “Oh, Penny, she’s just the person who does my nails.”
Saunders helped himself to a stuffed mushroom, which he balanced on a red paper napkin, and then gave Mrs. Lloyd his best smile.
“Introduce me to Bunny, why don’t you. I’m dying to meet her.”
* * *
As the last of the guests departed, Mrs. Lloyd sank gratefully into a comfortable chair and, with a sigh, slipped off her shoes and rubbed the toes of one foot against the toes of the other.
“Oh, that was wonderful,” she said. “I enjoyed myself enormously and I think all our guests did, too.” Saunders lowered his eyes and watched Florence as she picked up several used paper napkins and stuffed them into an empty glass. She loaded several glasses onto a large tray, added the plates of leftover food, and then disappeared into the kitchen. They soon heard the sound of running water followed by the closing of the kitchen door. A few seconds later, the doorknob turned silently and the door opened an imperceptible crack.
Saunders sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him. “Come on over here, Evelyn,” he said. “I’ve got something to ask you.”
With a surprisingly shy smile, Mrs. Lloyd did as he asked. “Yes, Harry? What is it?” After a quick glance at the kitchen door, he leaned toward Mrs. Lloyd and put his arm around her.
“I thought you looked especially lovely this afternoon, Evelyn,” he said softly. “In fact, ever since I met you, you’ve been getting more beautiful in my eyes.”
“Perhaps that’s because you bring out the best in me, Harry.” Mrs. Lloyd smiled at him. “You make me feel alive again. I feel younger when I’m with you.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s anything to do with me at all. You’re a very special woman, Evelyn.” He gave her hand a friendly, reassuring squeeze and cleared his throat. Although she was bursting to hear whatever it was he wanted to ask her, Mrs. Lloyd waited.
“As you know, my dear, over the past few weeks we’ve become rather close and I was wondering what you would think about us becoming partners.”
“Partners?” exclaimed Mrs. Lloyd. “What do you mean exactly, by partners?”
“Well, we’re bridge partners and dancing partners and I’ve got something else in mind.”
“Oh, Harry, really?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m offering you the chance to make a lot of money. I thought you might like to consider becoming one of my investment partners.”
As a look of profound disappointment crossed her face, Mrs. Lloyd ga
zed down at her hands and twirled her wedding ring. Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded at her.
“Well, I say business partners, but I do hope that it might one day be more than that,” he went on. “You mean a lot to me, Evelyn, even though we haven’t known each other very long, and I think, well, at least I hope, that you feel something for me, too.”
“Oh, I do, Harry, I do!”
“Well, perhaps we could, um”-he glanced again at the kitchen door and spoke softly-“I guess it might be a little awkward if I were to stay over, what with Florence and all, much as I would want to.” His voice trailed off.
“She’ll be off to spend the weekend with her sister in Liverpool,” Evelyn said eagerly. “Oh, what are we like? Planning to spend a weekend together as if we were a couple of kids and having to wait until the grown-ups leave so we can have the house all to ourselves.” A thought seemed to cross her mind and she became serious. “If I’d known I was going to meet you, Harry, and how we would come to feel about each other, I never would have asked Florence to stay. You’re right. It does make things awkward for us, having her here.”
Harry gave her a quizzical look and lowered his voice.
“Does it have to? After all, this is your house and surely you decide who you want to have here with you.”
Mrs. Lloyd was about to reply when the kitchen door opened and Florence emerged carrying a tray full of clean glasses. She gave the couple a little nod.
“Don’t mind me. I’ve just got to put these best glasses back in the sideboard before they get broken.”
Mrs. Lloyd and Saunders remained silent as Florence lined up the glasses on the sideboard shelf. They made a soft scraping sound as she slid them into place.
“Well, give some thought to what I said, Evelyn,” Saunders said as Florence disappeared back into the kitchen.
A Killer's Christmas in Wales Page 6