“I will, Harry,” Mrs. Lloyd replied. “What exactly do you mean by business partner? What would I have to do?”
Harry waited for the sound of the kitchen door closing before he spoke.
“Well, I run an exclusive syndicate of carefully chosen investors. We pool our money equally so we have more to invest. We buy hedge funds on margin and derivatives when they’re down and then we sell them when the market rebounds. All in U.S. dollars, of course. Sound as a bell. So far I’ve made quite a bit of money for the investors, I can tell you. As for you and me, we’d just need to set up a joint account at the bank, we contribute equally to it, and then I take care of everything,” he said. “And then a few weeks later, I give you a nice cheque. Your original investment back, plus a tidy profit.”
Mrs. Lloyd cleared her throat.
“Well, I don’t know. Huw Bowen at the bank manages my investments for me. I don’t know very much about that kind of thing.”
She hesitated.
“And while we’re speaking of money, Harry, I hate to bring this up, but there is one thing,” she began tentatively. “That night we had dinner at the Red Dragon Hotel, you remember, the night you lost your wallet, you did say you would reimburse me and I am so sorry to mention it but…”
“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed Harry. “Did I not… well, here, let’s sort that out right now.” He shifted forward on the sofa and withdrew a sleek, black leather wallet from his back pocket. He held it in front of him for a moment revealing a glimpse of the two intertwined Gs for Gucci, then opened the billfold section allowing Mrs. Lloyd to see at least an inch of folded bills. He withdrew several and gave them to her.
“There you are, my dear, that should cover it. And please accept my apologies for being so tardy in repaying you. Forgot all about it! Won’t happen again, I promise!”
Mrs. Lloyd settled deeper in the sofa and leaned her head on Saunders’s shoulder. He moved his arm to accommodate her, and then turned it ever so slightly so he could check his watch.
* * *
“How did you sleep?” Mrs. Lloyd asked Florence the next morning. “What time did you go to bed? I didn’t hear you come up.”
“I wanted to leave the kitchen shipshape,” Florence replied. “I can’t abide coming downstairs in the morning to a sink full of dirty dishes. No matter how late, I like to have everything tidied away before I head off to my bed.”
She held a steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee in her right hand and reached for Mrs. Lloyd’s cup with her left. At that moment, the post dropped through the letterbox and Florence set down the coffeepot. She trotted down the hall, picked up the cards and letters, and returned a few minutes later.
“Your letter opener wasn’t on your desk,” she said to Mrs. Lloyd as she handed her a few colourful envelopes. “I looked in the most likely places but didn’t see it.”
A small frown creased Mrs. Lloyd’s forehead as she picked up an envelope and tugged it open with her fingers.
“Well, it must be somewhere,” she said. “You probably put it in a drawer or something when you were dusting or tidying up. We’ll have a good look for it after breakfast.” She shrugged and turned her attention to the Christmas card in her hand. “Oh, look, it’s from Huw and Glynnis. How nice of them to send the card through the post when I saw them only yesterday.” She stood the card on end and admired the image of a plump robin sitting on a little branch lightly dusted with glitter.
She picked up the next envelope in the little stack and, after a quick glance, offered it to Florence.
“I think this is your invitation to the opening of the Llanelen Spa.”
Florence smiled as she tucked the envelope in the pocket of her blue-and-white-striped apron.
“Well, good,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “I take it you’re pleased and I expect that means you’ll be going.”
“Oh, yes,” said Florence, giving her pocket a pat. “I can’t wait.”
Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes narrowed slightly as she shifted in her chair.
“Harry will be joining us for dinner this evening. He likes chicken and has a good appetite, I’ve noticed. Do you think you could make that casserole with the dumplings? It was very good last time and I’m sure he’ll enjoy it. Oh, and as we’ll be discussing pressing business matters, it would really be best if it were just the two of us. You wouldn’t mind having your dinner in the kitchen, would you?”
“Of course not, Evelyn,” Florence replied. “I understand completely. I could even have a tray in my room, if that would suit you better.” She slid into her chair and placed her napkin on her lap.
“Evelyn?”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Lloyd looked up from her plate. “Yes, Florence, what is it?”
Florence hesitated. “Well, it’s about that Harry Saunders. You will be careful, won’t you?”
“Careful? Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, it’s just that I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all, and-”
Mrs. Lloyd interrupted her. “Oh, and I’m a big girl, Florence, and I can take care of myself. Careful! Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, there’s something about him that I don’t think is completely trustworthy. In fact, I-”
Mrs. Lloyd held up her hand. “That’s enough now, Florence. I won’t hear anything said against him.”
Florence nodded. “What time would you like me to serve dinner?”
Eight
Penny finished applying her lipstick and stepped back to examine her reflection in the mirror. When she thought about it, she found it difficult to believe that she was in her fifties, and she was always mildly astonished that the woman in the mirror who looked back at her was not in her mid-twenties. Where did those years go, she asked herself with a resigned sigh as she replaced the cap on her lipstick and set it down in a little pewter dish on the vanity table.
With a small, satisfied smile, she took in the tranquility of her new bathroom with its gleaming shower, soft lighting, fluffy white towels, and pale grey walls. After taking possession of the cottage, Penny had lived in it for a few weeks to get a feel for the place before tackling the renovation, and now that the work was complete, she was very pleased with the results.
The downstairs had been opened up, so the formerly small sitting room, dining room, and kitchen were now one generous living space with what real estate agents liked to call open flow. A thoroughly modern kitchen with custom cabinetry clad in wenge paneling and stylish lighting fixtures had been installed, but Penny had insisted on keeping the original slate flooring and the now highly prized Rayburn cooker. Above the cooker, attached to the ceiling, was a laundry drying system, with a complicated set of ropes and pulleys to lower the rack for loading and then hoist it back to the ceiling where towels and sheets could dry in the warmth from the range. Emma had told her once that the airer, as the British called it, was also sometimes known as a Sheila Maid.
In the living area, the outdated, brown soft furnishings were gone, replaced by a cream-colored sofa highlighted with plump floral pillows and a pair of elegant wing chairs. Small side tables had been repositioned, and with Emma’s clutter and collectibles gone, the space was airy and inviting.
Gareth Davies sat now in one of the wing chairs and looked around him. In the early fall he had sat in the same place, knowing that once Penny had completed her renovation the cottage would resemble something right out of the pages of an interior design magazine. And he had been right.
He stood up when he heard her footsteps on the stairs and his eyes lit up when he saw her.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said, as she stepped off the bottom stair and into his arms. A moment later he held her at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.”
Penny was wearing a long-sleeved woolen dress in a soft red. A narrow red ribbon encircling her waist and tied in a neat bow at the front provided detail and interest.
Gareth reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red leather box.
“I got you a
little something to mark the opening of your new business,” he said as he handed the gift to her. “I hope you like it.”
Penny smiled at him as she opened the box and then gave a little gasp.
Nestled on a bed of midnight blue silk was a brooch in the form of a delicate, sparkling snowflake.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as she pinned it to the shoulder of her dress. “I love it. Thank you.” She gave it a little pat and then smiled up at him.
“Would you mind if we skip the drink and just go? I’d rather be off now so we can get there a little early.”
“Of course.” He helped her on with her winter coat, and together they walked to his car. The night was cold, with the promise of snow before morning.
Davies, who had been banned from the spa for weeks in the run-up to the big reveal, was astonished by the transformation. While the conversion had maintained the character and charm of the old stone building, inside it was now unrecognizable. Gone were years of decay and decrepitude, peeling paint and worm-eaten floorboards, replaced by light, style, and the promise of a wonderful experience.
“Hello, Victoria,” he said as she greeted them at the door. “You look lovely tonight, too.” With her shoulder-length blond hair tied back in a small black velvet bow that complemented her little black dress, makeup expertly applied, and wearing rather high heels, Victoria looked expensive and well cared for. The spa’s clients would identify perfectly with that look.
“Thank you, Gareth. Coats over there,” she said, gesturing to a small room off the main hall where a large coatrack brought over from the hotel had been set up.
“Now then, the bar’s over there and Eirlys will be along in a few minutes with food. But Penny will look after you. I’ve just got a few last-minute things to see to.” She smiled at both of them and disappeared.
“Let me show you around,” Penny said. “We’ll start over here, at the manicure salon. It’s like the old place, only better.”
Besides the manicure salon, their ground-floor tour included a hairdressing salon with two stations, three massage/treatment rooms, walk-in supply cupboards, and a restaurant-quality kitchen filled with gleaming stainless-steel appliances. As they entered, a small woman in a white uniform artfully arranging canapés on a silver tray stopped what she was doing and stood back from the table holding her tiny hands in front of her bosom.
“Don’t let us interrupt you, Gwennie,” said Penny. “Just giving Inspector Davies here a quick look round before the guests arrive.” She took a closer look at the prepared trays waiting to be sent out and then gave Gwennie a broad smile.
“They look wonderful, Gwennie. You do such wonderful work. But those trays you’re using, they aren’t ours. Did you…?”
“Yes, I did, Miss Penny. They’re from the Hall and the finest silver they are, too. I asked Mr. Emyr if we could use them tonight and he said certainly we could. Said I could borrow anything I needed.” She sighed. “It’s not as if he ever does entertaining, rattling around like he does all by himself in that big house. When he’s home, that is.” Her meerkat-like eyes moved from Penny to Davies. “I don’t know what’s to become of him, or the Hall, to be honest. Since his fiancée died last summer, he’s just had no interest in anything. He travels a lot, but his heart doesn’t really seem to be at home or anywhere else, far as I can tell.”
“Well, you know that we want you to come and work for us,” Penny said. “Victoria’s explained everything to you, and we need you. If there’s not enough work at the Hall to keep you busy, there’s plenty for you to do here.” She shot a guick glance at Davies who was reaching toward the tray Gwennie was working on.
“Yes, sir, do take one,” Gwennie said to him. “Two, if you like. There are lots more. And these ones with the smoked salmon spread are quite nice.”
She checked her watch.
“And Eirlys is coming in to pass them round, is she? I’d expect to see her any minute now. It’s almost time.”
A light bustle in the doorway signaled that Eirlys had arrived, and with a broad, excited smile, she bounded into the room.
“Hi, Penny, Gwennie,” she greeted the two women, adding, “I wore the white blouse and black skirt just like you told me to, Gwennie.”
“Hi, Eirlys,” said Penny. “This is my friend Detective Chief Inspector Davies. I don’t think you’ve met him.”
“Oh, hello,” said Eirlys, extending her hand. “I’m happy to meet you.”
“Right, well, we’ll leave you to it,” said Penny as Gwennie held up the tray so Davies could sample a couple more canapés before they moved on.
“Where would you like me to start?” Eirlys asked Gwennie.
“First things first, young lady,” said Gwennie as she set the tray down. “What’s the first thing we do in the kitchen before we touch food?”
“Oh, right,” said Eirlys as she immediately turned and walked toward the sink.
Penny and Gareth left the room to the sound of running water as Eirlys washed her hands.
* * *
The reception area had begun to fill up and several guests were sipping wine and gazing around in awe.
“Well, it certainly has that wow factor,” Mrs. Lloyd was saying to Harry Saunders. “You would never have believed what this place used to look like. Disgusting it was. It’s amazing what money can do, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, Evelyn,” he replied, pursing his lips. “Absolutely amazing.”
Florence Semble trailed after them, left out of the conversation. But she didn’t mind. She’d been to lots of parties on her own, and she wasn’t so much interested in the socializing as she was in the food.
She helped herself to a small sandwich from the tray that Eirlys was passing around and, after examining it critically, took a delicate nibble and then ate the rest of it. Across the room a flash of red caught her eye, and recognizing Penny, she headed over to her.
“Oh, hello, Florence,” said Penny, “so glad you could make it. How are you? Getting something to eat? Can we offer you a drink?”
Florence took a step closer and shook her head. “No, thanks, nothing to drink for me right now. But I was hoping to have a word with you. When it’s convenient, like.”
Penny and Victoria exchanged glances and Penny stepped away.
“Is there something the matter, Florence?”
“You know me well enough by now, Penny,” she said in a low voice, glancing slightly behind her. “Some folks might think I’m a little blunt, but I speak as I find and you always know where you are with me, so I’m going to come right to the point.” She looked across the room where Mrs. Lloyd, holding Harry’s arm, was talking animatedly with the rector and his wife, Bronwyn.
“Is there someplace we can go for a quiet word?”
“Yes, there is,” said Penny. “Just through here. Follow me.”
She led the way down a well-lit hall and into a small room that faced the river. She switched on a lamp and then turned to face Florence.
“We had this bit of extra space so I decided to make it into a little reading room. Please, have a seat.”
The room was a serene little haven with two comfortable chairs, bookshelves displaying a few best sellers, and a low coffee table with new fashion and style magazines. It would be the perfect spot for a quiet chat over a cappuccino with a new friend, or if a guest wanted a private place to check e-mail, think, or read.
“Oh, this is very attractive,” Florence said, impressed despite herself. “But it’s Evelyn I wanted to talk to you about. Evelyn and that man.”
“Harry Saunders.”
“Yes, Harry Saunders.” His name curdled on her lips. “That’s the one. He’s a charmer. What used to be called a cad. He’s wormed his way into her affections and she can’t see it. It’s so obvious he only wants her for her money.”
“Well, maybe he does,” said Penny, “but I don’t think there’s anything you or I can do about it.” She thought for a moment. “You know, maybe you should s
peak to Mrs. Lloyd’s niece, Morwyn. Have you met Morwyn? They’re very close and perhaps she could have a word with Mrs. Lloyd.”
“I thought of that,” said Florence, “but she’s just gone to Spain for six weeks. On holiday, like.”
“Well, listen, Florence, if you’re that concerned, maybe you should suggest that she come home.”
Florence pinched her lips together. “I don’t know how I would contact her. I have no idea where she’s staying and I don’t have her mobile number. And if I tried to get it, Evelyn would want to know why.”
Penny acknowledged the truth of that.
“What makes you think he’s after her money?” Penny asked.
Florence groaned. “You’ve met him! What’s he like? Comes across with all that charm, but I see him for what he is, even if no one else can. There’s so much about him that’s not right.” She leaned forward. “He says he’s from some posh family in Florida. Old money. Ha! He’s got about as much class as a reclaimed brick. He makes you feel like you want to count your fingers after you’ve shaken hands with him.”
She gave her fingers a little twiddle and then raised a hand to her cheek.
“You know, I came from a very poor family and we didn’t have much, but my mother always used to tell us that good manners cost nothing. She made sure we grew up knowing what a butter knife is for and little things like that. Now the first time that Saunders character came to the house he didn’t seem to know enough to use a coaster. What kind of civilized person puts a wet glass down on a nice wooden table? And last night, when he came for dinner, he cut his bread roll in half and buttered the whole thing. Just slathered it on!”
She sat back with a triumphant look.
Penny inclined her head. “And the bread roll is important because…”
“Because anyone his age who came from a fancy Palm Beach background would have been taught that you break a little piece off your bread roll and butter that. You don’t slice the thing in half.”
A Killer's Christmas in Wales Page 7