A Killer's Christmas in Wales

by Elizabeth J Duncan

  This evening a couple of local lads would move all the stock out of the old shop, and among her other tasks for the morning, Penny wanted to dust shelves at the spa in preparation for the arrival of the best of the old stock. The rest would be donated to a local women’s shelter.

  She had taken her time over her coffee this morning, sipping it while she got dressed and mulling over what she thought the day would bring, making a rather lengthy list of all the things she needed to do. One of the items on this list was to take the snowflake brooch Gareth had given her on the night of the spa party to the jeweler’s for an insurance appraisal. So after breakfast she unpinned the brooch from the red dress she had worn to the spa launch party and, before replacing it in its little red leather box, had taken a few moments to admire it. She loved the way the brooch felt in her palm, cool and glittering with its intricate six-point pattern. She thought about each snowflake being unique and wondered if that’s how Gareth saw her.

  She had been surprised when Victoria had asked if she had had it appraised for insurance purposes. That seems like trying to find out how much he paid for it, Penny had said. Victoria shrugged. If it’s valuable, you need to insure it. Seeing the logic in that, Penny planned to take the brooch to the jeweler’s later that morning, after she dropped into the salon to see how Eirlys was getting on.

  Although the spa would not be providing services until tomorrow, Rhian, the newly hired receptionist, was in place at the front desk, busily answering the phone, responding to e-mails, and taking bookings. The door was open and several women had come in just for a look round. It’s that irresistible fresh paint smell, Victoria had suggested. Just had to see what’s happening, and once they were inside, several young women who had peered in “just looking” had booked a manicure or a facial.

  Arriving just before ten, Penny set a small stack of file folders down on the front desk, along with her handbag, and flipped through the appointments book. Although Rhian had wanted to manage the bookings electronically, Victoria, who preferred paper, had insisted that she do it two ways, on her computer but with backup in an appointments book with a smart cover splashed with pale pink peonies.

  Penny smiled when she saw who was down for the first manicure of the day tomorrow. Well, it was Thursday, after all. She decided that as a special gesture, which she knew would be appreciated, the manicure would be complimentary. She turned around as the door opened.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lloyd,” she said with a welcoming smile. “I was just thinking about you. I’m really happy to see that you’re going to be our very first customer tomorrow.” Mrs. Lloyd shifted from one foot to the other and, unusual for her, said nothing. Penny turned to her other visitor. “Hello, Florence. How are you?”

  The two women exchanged a charged glance, and then Florence turned to Penny.

  “We were wondering if you had a few minutes to talk to us. You must be very busy, getting ready for tomorrow, we know that, and we wouldn’t bother you now if it wasn’t important.”

  She took a small step closer and lowered her voice.

  “It’s about that nasty business at Conwy Castle. Evelyn wants a word with you.”

  Penny glanced down the hall. “Right. Let me just see where Rhian has got to.” She walked down the hall and stuck her head into a room adjacent to the reception area.

  “Rhian, I’ll just be in the quiet room for a few minutes if you need me.” Penny then returned to the reception area and gathered up the two visitors.

  “We’ll just step in here.” She led them to the small sitting area, where she and Florence had spent a few minutes on the night of the spa launch party discussing her concern over Mrs. Lloyd’s increasing fondness for Harry Saunders.

  “Here we are,” she said, gesturing toward the chairs and then seating herself, facing them. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward. When Florence began to speak, without any hesitation or glancing at Mrs. Lloyd for unspoken permission, Penny realized they had talked this conversation through, probably in detail, before they arrived. Who would say what and how much would be said.

  “It’s like this,” Florence began. “That police officer you’re friendly with came to see us last night about the death of that awful man. Harry Saunders. There are things he doesn’t know yet, your police officer, but he’ll probably find them out. And when he does, we’re afraid that one or both of us might come under suspicion.”

  Florence stopped and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Go on, Florence,” Mrs. Lloyd prompted.

  “You see, the police might think I wanted Saunders out of the way because if he moved in with Evelyn, I’d have to leave. I sold the few bits and pieces I had in Liverpool, and, well, to be honest, if I did have to go, I’d be very hard pressed, on my pension, to find any kind of decent accommodation. You know all about that. We talked about the situation in this very room on the night of your spa party.”

  Penny nodded as Florence glanced at Mrs. Lloyd. “Even though I’ve had a rather attractive offer of employment, I have it very good at Evelyn’s and I know how lucky I am. I like it there. It suits me. Well, suits both of us, I think.”

  Mrs. Lloyd gave her hand a friendly, reassuring pat and Penny smiled.

  “So you think the police might think having to move out of Mrs. Lloyd’s house gave you a motive for murder?”

  “Well, from what you read in the papers, people get killed for less than that all the time. There was that story about the man who killed his dad because he ordered the wrong kind of toppings on a pizza.”

  She shrugged. “But I’d had an offer of employment before Harry was killed, so I didn’t really have any reason to wish him dead. No, it’s Evelyn here we’re worried about.” She turned to her. “Do you want to tell or shall I?”

  “You.”

  Florence squared her shoulders.

  “If you’ll remember, Penny, I knew that man was up to no good. He tricked Evelyn into giving him some money. An awful lot of money, I’m afraid, and it might look to the police like she killed him to get her money back. Or because she was angry with him.”

  “Oh, let me tell her,” Mrs. Lloyd cut in, suddenly coming back to life.

  “Well, if you’re going to tell her, then if you don’t mind, Penny, I’m just going to go along to the loo. I can’t bear to hear this all over again. It’s too painful.”

  “Down the hall, past reception, on the left,” Penny said, and then turned her attention back to Mrs. Lloyd.

  “You met Harry,” Mrs. Lloyd began. “You must have seen for yourself how he could charm the birds out of the trees.” She explained how Saunders had suggested they set up a joint account so he could invest her money and how she had waited all that snowy weekend to hear from him but he never arrived.

  “And I know I’ve been a foolish woman, so please don’t ask me how I could have been so gullible because I don’t know. What’s done cannot be undone, as they say. And as you can imagine, I’m dreading all this getting out, so I hope you’ll keep this to yourself.”

  Penny groaned.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Lloyd, Mrs. Lloyd. I don’t know if I can keep this to myself. You’re right that the police are bound to find out about the money during the investigation, and when they do, and they then find out that I knew about it and didn’t tell them, well, I’m not sure what my legal status would be, but I expect it could be considered obstruction of justice or perverting the course of justice or something.”

  “Nonsense!” snorted Mrs. Lloyd. “You’ve been watching too many of those American crime shows, you have.”

  Penny grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what I can do to help. The police are going to investigate every aspect of this case, anyway, you must realize that. It’s murder, after all.”

  “Well, what we’re afraid of is that they’ll sort it out to their satisfaction but not to ours. I know you’re just an amateur sleuth with no credentials and not much experience
, but Florence and I want you to look into it so you can get to the bottom of it. Find out the truth, like.”

  “That’s right,” said Florence, who had returned in time to catch the end of Mrs. Lloyd’s account. “We know we didn’t do it. We want you to find out who did.”

  Penny gave a big sigh. “Well, I must admit I have been rather wondering about it. What particularly puzzles me is what he was doing at the castle in the first place. Do you have any idea?”

  She sat back in her chair as they shook their heads.

  “I’ll have to think about this. With the spa just opening, the timing couldn’t be worse. So much going on. I won’t have a lot of time, you do realize that? I can’t promise anything.”

  She turned her attention to Mrs. Lloyd.

  “I think the best thing you can do is tell DCI Davies yourself. About the money.” She looked from one to the other. “And I don’t know much about these things, but you might also want to consult a solicitor.” She stood up.

  “I’m sorry, I know this is very important to you, but you’ll have to forgive me. I do have to go. I’ve got errands to run and we’ve got simply masses to do before tomorrow.”

  “Yes, of course, we understand,” said Florence, picking up her handbag. “Come on, then, Evelyn, we’ll find something nice for our elevenses, and then maybe we should think about going to the police about the, you know.” She lowered her voice. “The money.” The women walked down the hall, thanking Penny as they went.

  She watched them walk slowly out the door, unsure what to make of them, and then spoke to the receptionist who had just emerged from the storage room.

  “Where are those files and my bag, Rhian? I left them right here on your desk.”

  “Oh, sorry, hope you don’t mind, but I moved them out of the way. I put them on your desk in your office.”

  * * *

  Penny hurried up the street, past the Red Dragon Hotel, through the cobbled town square and turned right down a narrow side street. She passed the butcher’s shop with its signs urging customers to order a fresh Norfolk turkey now to arrive in time for Christmas, and stopped for a moment at the bakery, its irresistible window display filled with mince pies dusted with icing sugar, mince slices, brandy butter tarts, Eccles cakes, scones, sugar cookies shaped like pigs with bits of glacé cherries for eyes, Christmas cakes with marzipan icing, gingerbread men, custard tarts, and shortbread treats shaped like bells and tiny reindeer. Thinking how wonderfully inviting and creative most of the shop windows looked this year, carefully and lovingly decorated to compete in the local merchants window dressing competition that she and Victoria had yet to judge, she moved on and pushed open the door to the jewelry store.

  The bell attached to the door tinkled as she entered, and the jeweler, who was working behind a glassed-in enclosure, stood up, removed a loupe from his right eye, and came out to greet her, taking his place behind the display counter. A short man, he was dressed in an old-fashioned but well-pressed suit with a white shirt and striped tie. His hair was brushed back from his face, revealing deep lines running across his forehead. Something about his round face and deep-set dark eyes suggested an Eastern European heritage.

  “Hello,” Penny began. “I wonder if you can do an appraisal for me. It’s a little embarrassing, really, but a friend of mine gave me a brooch as a present, and another friend suggested I should have it appraised, in case it needs to be insured. I’m afraid I don’t know if it’s valuable or not. I don’t even know where he bought it.” She gave a little laugh. “Or even if he bought it.”

  The jeweler raised an impressive set of bushy eyebrows.

  “Oh, heavens no, I certainly didn’t mean that it might be stolen, no, nothing like that, in fact my friend, the man who gave it to me is a police officer. I simply meant it might have belonged to his mother, or…”

  “Oh, right,” said the jeweler. “Would you by any chance be Penny Brannigan?”

  “Yes, I am,” said Penny, somewhat surprised that he should know her name. “Have we met before? I’m sorry, I know in a small town our paths have probably crossed, but…”

  “No, it’s just that I remember now. Your piece’ll be the snowflake brooch with the rose-cut centre stone, surrounded by six heart-shaped settings, each holding two smaller stones, and six emerald cuts forming a-”

  Penny laughed and held up her hand. “You’re familiar with it, I see.”

  “Familiar with it? I made it!” said the jeweler, opening a drawer and removing an envelope. “He was going to give this to you, but it took me a few days to write it up, so you can have it now. He called to say he was going to suggest you come in and get it. He just didn’t want to give the appraisal to you at the same time as he gave you your gift.” He handed over the envelope and leaned on the counter.

  “So tell me, how do you like it?”

  “I love it,” Penny said. “It’s beautiful, and I will treasure it all the more knowing that you made it.” The jeweler came around from behind the counter and gave Penny a shy smile. “The police officer knew exactly what he wanted for you,” he said, “so it wasn’t too difficult. Between us we worked out something he thought you might like.

  “I told your friend that if he ever needed any other fine jewelry for you”-he gave a little open-handed gesture-“a ring, for example, to come and see me. I would create something very beautiful.”

  Penny felt the beginning of an uncomfortable blush begin to creep up her neck.

  “I don’t know about that!”

  The jeweler smiled as he held the door open for her, and as she stepped out into the street, she tucked the envelope he had given her into an outside pocket of her bag, snapped it shut, and after a longing glance in the bakery window, set off on the short walk back to the spa.

  The morning was mild, but dark clouds were gathering once again to settle on the tops of the hills and she could sense the coming of rain.

  A few minutes later, in the privacy of her office, she pulled out the envelope, opened it, and unfolded the document it contained. A little smile played at the corner of her lips at the sight of the colour digital photo of her brooch, displayed to sparkling advantage against a black velvet cloth, stapled to the piece of paper. She glanced over a detailed description of the brooch, the cut and positioning of the stones, the total carat weight, the white gold setting until she arrived at the insured value at the bottom. Her mouth opened slightly and her head jutted forward. That much, she thought. He spent that much on a brooch for me? She picked up her bag, unzipped it, and reached inside to pull out the little red box containing her brooch. It was not on top where she was sure she had placed it just before leaving home, so thinking it might have settled or shifted within the bag as it had been carried about all morning, she scrabbled around inside the bag. An icy sense of panic began to creep into her chest when she did not feel it. She touched the familiar shape of her wallet, her diary, and a small makeup bag. With her heart beginning to pound, she picked up the bag, dumped its contents on her desk, and spread them out. The box was not there. She felt in the four side pockets, hoping against hope but knowing that the smooth leather box she longed to touch would not be there. As waves of disbelief tinged with fear began to wash over her, she rushed down the hall to the reception area.

  “Rhian,” she croaked, barely able to speak because her mouth was so dry, “did you see a small red leather jewelry box this morning? It was in my bag and now it’s not there. Is it on your desk?”

  “No, I didn’t see any jewelry box,” Rhian said, looking up from her computer and then shifting her coffee mug and a few pieces of paper around on her desk. “I’ll have a look, though.”

  “Where’s Victoria?”

  “She’s, ah, let me see, did she tell me where she was going? She was here about half an hour ago and then, I think she…” Rhian held her hand to her face.

  “Rhian! Where is she? Tell me!”

  Not waiting for an answer, Penny ran back to her office and picked up her
mobile.

  It seemed an age until Victoria answered.

  “Where are you? I need to see you.”

  “Why? What’s the matter? You sound terrible.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the salon with Eirlys packing up the rest of the nail varnishes. Where did you think I would be?”

  “Victoria, come back, please, now. Don’t ask any questions. Just come back.”

  Penny pressed the button to end the call and with a dreadful desperation began turning over the things on her desk. Why is it, she wondered vaguely, when you’ve lost or misplaced something you keep looking for it in the same place? If it wasn’t there the first time you looked, why would you expect it to be there the second time? Or the third? Or the fourth?

  She checked the floor around her desk and then hurried down the hall to Rhian’s reception desk.

  “Rhian, stop what you’re doing and help me look for that jewelry box. Clear everything off your desk right now, please.”

  Rhian did as she was told, but as Penny dreaded, the box was nowhere to be seen. She stepped back from Rhian’s desk just as a breathless Victoria burst through the door.

  Penny gestured toward her office and the two women walked quickly down the hall.

  “For God’s sake, Penny, what is it? What’s happened? I’ve been imagining all kinds of awful things on my way here. Tell me what’s happened.”

  “You know that snowflake brooch Gareth gave me? It’s gone missing. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find it.”

  “It’ll turn up, surely,” Victoria said. “You probably set it down somewhere where it didn’t belong, and when you least expect to see it, there it’ll be.”

  Penny shook her head and whispered, “No. The brooch was in its little box, and I remember very clearly putting it in my bag this morning and then closing the zipper. I came here, set the bag down on the reception desk, went to the jeweler’s, came back here, and when I looked for it, it was gone. Rhian and I have looked everywhere.”