A Killer's Christmas in Wales

by Elizabeth J Duncan

  “That food looks delicious, Penny. I’m glad you brought it. I’ll bet Gareth was disappointed, though.”

  “Disappointed and hungry, that’s for sure. Anyway, let’s get these photos on your laptop and see what we’ve got.” Victoria pointed to her computer on the coffee table, and Penny switched it on and inserted the memory stick while Victoria cleared a few books and papers off her dining table. She laid out two placemats, set a couple of dinner plates on them, added some cutlery and napkins, and then joined Penny on the sofa. She leaned in to her slightly. Penny turned the computer screen toward her so they could both see. They stared at a series of carefully framed images.

  “This is so sad,” said Victoria, “I can hardly bear to look at them. It’s hard to believe that the man who took these photographs has just died.”

  Penny nodded as she leaned forward to get a closer look.

  “Who’s that?” she said, pointing at a blurry figure disappearing through an entranceway to one of the staircases that led to the wall walk. “It could be anybody, and I can’t really tell which stair set this is.”

  She sat back and gestured at the computer. “It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. The stairs all lead upto the wall walk, and we know who was up there at the time. I can’t see how these photos are going to help.”

  “When did Brian give them to you?” Victoria asked.

  “Yesterday. Why?”

  “Well, maybe somebody else thinks there’s something in the photos that could help solve Harry Saunders’s murder. After all, you said Kenley’s computer was all smashed up.”

  “Hmm.” Penny opened a new file and began copying all the images from the memory stick onto the computer’s hard drive.

  “Just to be on the safe side, we’ll copy the pictures onto your computer, and then I’ll make sure Gareth knows about them.” She looked up. “That food’s starting to smell really good. Do you think it’s hot enough?”

  Victoria stood up. “Should be. I’ll see to it.”

  Penny followed her and stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “Why don’t we go over our notes for the window display competition while we’re eating and do the judging tomorrow so we can call in the results to the newspaper tomorrow evening? The shop owners will want that extra bit of publicity while there are still a few shopping days left.”

  “Good idea,” said Victoria, handing her a pair of oven mitts. “You put the food on the table and I’ll get the notes we’ve made so far.”

  Half an hour later, Penny set down her pen. “So we have our criteria?”

  Victoria nodded. “Most creative, most beautiful, and best in show.”

  “Not everyone will be happy with our decisions,” said Penny, “but I think we’ll make the right choices.”

  Victoria picked up Penny’s plate and put it on top of hers. “Tea?”

  “Love some. And while you’re doing that, I’ll make a phone call.”

  Victoria returned from the kitchen with a tea tray that she set on the table. She gave Penny an inquiring look.

  “Bethan’ll be here any minute. To pick up the memory stick. The police have all kinds of high-tech enhancement capabilities, and they might be able to make something of them.”

  Victoria poured the tea. “Do you think she’ll say anything to you about not giving the photos to them earlier?”

  “I don’t think so. I just got them myself yesterday, and I thought Brian had already given them to the police.”

  Victoria sipped her tea. “This case has really got me confused. So many bad things going on. Thefts, murders, I don’t know what’s important and what isn’t,” she said. “Or if things are meant to be connected to other things.”

  Penny nodded. “Me, too.”

  “Would it help if we go over what we know so far? I know you’re determined to find out who stole your brooch.”

  “It’s more than that,” said Penny. “I think whoever stole my brooch killed Harry Saunders.”

  “Why on earth would you think that? I mean, you may be right, but it seems like an awfully big leap to me.”

  “Because Mrs. Lloyd’s letter opener was the murder weapon. And we know there’ve been thefts from the charity shop. Things with not a lot of value being taken. I can’t remember them all, but there was a John Lennon biography, I remember that, and a shepherdess figurine. That sort of thing. So Mrs. Lloyd’s letter opener would fit right in with that lot. But my brooch is different. It’s valuable.”

  “Unless whoever took it didn’t know it was valuable. Just thought it was costume jewelry.”

  Penny leaned forward. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “but it was in its case, so whoever took it knew it came from a proper jeweler, so must have known that it had some value.” She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head slightly and giving out a little groan. “But what are the chances that a town this size would have two thieves at work?

  “I’ve just had an idea. Have you got a calendar?”

  “There’s one on my laptop.”

  “No, not that kind. A paper kind. Even better, go get your appointment book. You know, that little black one you can’t live without. There’s something we need to check.”

  Victoria rose and picked up her handbag from the table near the door. She brought it over to the sofa, opened it, and handed Penny a thin black diary. “Here you go.”

  “Right,” said Penny. “Let’s see. Saunders was killed on the Tuesday…” She ran her finger backward over the dates. “This was the big snowstorm, and here”-her finger came to rest on the Sunday of the weekend before-“this was the day Mrs. Lloyd had her open house. So anyone who was there could have taken the letter opener.”

  She looked triumphantly at Victoria.

  “And a day or two after the open house Florence notices the letter opener is missing. So, I think the letter opener was stolen by someone who attended that open house.” She handed the diary back to Victoria. “What do you think?”

  “Maybe,” Victoria replied slowly. “Unless of course it’s Florence. Do you think…”

  “Funny you should say that. I asked her a little while ago to try to remember the last time they saw the letter opener, and she never got back to me. You don’t suppose…”

  As they looked at each other, the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs startled them.

  “Oh, that’ll be Bethan, come for the memory stick.”

  Victoria returned a few minutes later and showed Bethan into the room.

  “Hi, Penny,” she said with a broad smile.

  “You’re looking awfully chipper for someone who’s just come from a murder scene,” Penny said. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve just had the DNA results back from the lab on Harry Saunders,” Bethan said. “We ran his results against all others on file. It’s routine, just in case. And the lab team found a match.”

  “Really?” said Penny.

  “With who?” asked Victoria, almost at the same time.

  Bethan shook her head slightly. “You’ll not believe this, but to the skeletonized remains of the woman found in the ductwork of your spa. And to a ninety-nine-point-eight percent certainty, that woman was none other than Harry Saunders’s mother.”

  Penny and Victoria looked at each other in stunned silence.

  “Could that explain what he was doing here?” asked Penny. “Was he looking for his long-lost mother?”

  Twenty-two

  “But Penny, you can’t,” wailed Victoria. “We’re that close to Christmas and the ladies want their manicures! You’ve got to come in. We need you here.”

  She listened for a few moments.

  “Penny, you promised me you’d let the police handle this. All of it. Everything. You said you wouldn’t let any of it interfere with the business, and we’re going to lose at least an hour today judging those shop windows for the competition. We have to get that done today.” She listened for a few more moments and then said in a softer tone, “Well, yes, I can see that. Of course, you
do. OK, see you later. We’ll do the rest of the windows this afternoon.”

  A minute later she rang off, put the phone down, and walked the short distance from her office to the reception desk.

  “Rhian, Penny won’t be coming in this morning. Can you see if Eirlys has any openings and, if so, call Penny’s clients to reschedule? She says she’d be happy to do evening appointments or later in the afternoon. She’ll be in just after lunch.”

  The spa receptionist called up the appointments page on her computer screen. “Just three ladies,” she said. “I’ll call them now.”

  Victoria came around behind the desk and peered over Rhian’s shoulder. “Like this booking program, do you?” she asked.

  “Oh, it’s great,” said Rhian. “Once you’ve entered a client’s information, you just have to enter the name again and the phone number pops right up. Like this.” She clicked on one of the women’s names and her phone number appeared. “Not only that, but watch this!” She clicked on the phone number, and the phone beside her desk lit up and rang a few moments later.

  “Hello, Mrs. Bowen, it’s Rhian here from the spa. I’m sorry, but I’m calling to ask if you would mind if Eirlys took your appointment this morning. She’s very good.” A few moments later Rhian replaced the receiver and turned to look at Victoria.

  “She insisted on Penny, so she’ll come in this afternoon instead. No problem.”

  Thinking about the practical applications of the software booking program, Victoria returned to her desk.

  Shortly after nine, Penny paused at the window of the charity shop where she had bought the replacement plate for Brian Kenley and where she had spotted her brooch. Her heart began to beat faster when she saw it was no longer on top of the little Christmas tree that formed part of the window display. She pushed the door open.

  “Hello,” she said to the woman behind the counter. “The police were trying to reach you yesterday about the brooch that was on top of your Christmas tree. It was stolen. It belongs to me.”

  “Does it now?” the woman replied. “Well, as a matter of fact, they’ve already rung about it and I’ve just this minute taken it off the tree.”

  “Thank you,” said Penny. “I’m that relieved I am to know it’s safe.” She smiled at the woman. “You know, something funny’s been going on in this shop lately, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to spend an hour or two here to see how things work.”

  She gestured at the crowded shelves. “I wondered if you could use a volunteer.”

  “Carwyn,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Come out here, please. You’ve got a helper this morning.”

  As a short, smiling woman emerged from the back room, the woman behind the desk turned to Penny. “Are you sure you can spare the time? Don’t you have a fancy new massage parlour to be running?”

  “It’s not a massage parlour, it’s a spa,” said Penny, “although we can certainly do a healing, deep-heat massage. Might be just the thing for you after a long day here.”

  She groped around in her handbag.

  “Here,” she said, holding out two envelopes. “A gift certificate for each of you.” The two women exchanged glances.

  “Well, that’s very nice of you, I’m sure,” said the second woman, who seemed the friendlier of the two. “I’m Carwyn and it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Penny Brannigan.”

  “Well, then, Carwyn, fetch Penny a duster or something!” said the first woman. “Let’s get stuck in.” She turned to Penny. “I told that policewoman who rang me that I have no idea who stuck that brooch on our Christmas tree. We didn’t even realize it was there. I wrapped it up in a nice bit of silk and put it away for safekeeping. The policewoman said she would pick it up this morning and return it to the owner, so I’m afraid I’ve got to hold on to it, but I can show it to you if you’d like to see it.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Penny. “I’ll wait until the police return it to me.” Sensing that she was starting to build a rapport with the woman, she gave her an easy smile. “Now, why don’t I make myself useful, and perhaps you could tell me who you think is behind those thefts you were experiencing. Do you have any regulars who’ve been acting suspiciously lately?”

  As the overhead bell tinkled to announce someone entering the shop, three heads turned to see who it was.

  “Here’s a regular now,” the woman said in a low voice. “She’s only started coming in over the past month or so but comes in a lot now. Doesn’t always buy something. Just browses.”

  “Morning, Florence,” said Penny.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” said Florence, looking at Carwyn, then back to Penny. “Helping out, are you?”

  “Just for the morning,” said Penny.

  “Well, I’ve come in to see if you’ve got such a thing as a letter opener,” said Florence. “I want to get Evelyn one for Christmas. Cheap, if I can.”

  Carwyn motioned to a plastic box filled with odds and ends. “You might find something in there.” She turned to the woman who seemed to be in charge of the shop. “Have you seen any letter openers? You don’t see those around much anymore, do you, now that I come to think of it.” She thought for a moment. “It’ll be all that e-mail, I guess.”

  “Well, there is this one,” said the woman, reaching behind the counter and pulling out one with a Plexiglas handle and silver-coloured blade. “We could let you have it for, oh, say, two pounds.”

  “Two pounds! You must be joking!” said Florence, reaching out for it. She turned it over in her hand. “I’ll give you fifty pence for it and not a penny more.”

  “Oh, very well.”

  The transaction complete, Florence tucked the letter opener in her handbag, thanked the staff, and reached for the door handle. “Let me get that for you,” said Penny, adding, “I’ll show you out.

  “I’m glad you came in this morning,” Penny said, pulling the door closed behind them. “I want to ask you to do something for me.” Florence waited. “I need you to give me the guest list of everyone who was at Mrs. Lloyd’s open house.”

  “Well, let’s see. There was the Reverend Thomas Evans and his wife…”

  “No,” said Penny. “Not now. I need you to write down the names of everyone who was at the party. Even better would be the original guest list or a copy of it. Make sure no one’s left out.”

  She folded her arms and hugged herself. “It’s freezing out here. I’ve got to get back inside. But please put that list together for me. I’ll be in touch.”

  She turned to go.

  “Important, is it?” Florence asked.

  “Could be very important, Florence.”

  “Right, then. I’m on it. See you later.”

  “Oh and, Florence, just one thing. Remember I asked you a little while ago to try to think of the last time you saw the letter opener? You didn’t get back to me, so please get this list for me.”

  Florence looked surprised. “Did I not? I have to write everything down, me, or it just vanishes.” She made a brushing gesture past the top of her head. “I thought I did. Anyway, as near as we could remember, the last time we saw the opener was just before the open house.” She gave her cheek a little scratch with a gloved hand and nodded slowly. “Yes, because Evelyn remembered being somewhat annoyed that she didn’t have the opener on the Monday for her Christmas cards.” She shrugged. “Don’t know how much help that’ll be, though. Half the town was at the open house.”

  “And, Florence, Mrs. Lloyd has told the police about the twenty thousand pounds, hasn’t she?”

  Florence nodded. “She has, although she didn’t want to. But she said afterward that when they told her that her coming forward might prevent the same thing happening to some other poor woman, she felt better. She thought maybe some good might come of it.

  “But can you imagine giving up a sum like that? Twenty thousand pounds!”

  * * *

  Penny spent the rest of the morning sorting through boxes, straight
ening shelves, and doing a little dusting. A few people came in. A woman she did not recognize bought a small blue-and-white milk jug. Some of the pieces in the store were clearly old tat, but others, she had to admit, were rather nice. She was just thinking about buying a small figurine of a black-and-grey dog when the door opened and a large cardboard box presented itself, held by Huw Bowen.

  “Morning, ladies,” he said.

  “Oh, it’s almost noon,” said Carwyn. “Morning, Mr. Bowen.”

  Bowen set the box down on the counter. “Would you like it here, or shall I carry it through to the back for you?”

  “Well, if you wouldn’t mind just carrying it through, that would be most kind,” Carwyn said. “You can set it down anywhere.”

  Penny instinctively turned her back, hoping he wouldn’t see her. For some reason that she didn’t understand, she didn’t want him to recognize her.

  “Well, I’m meeting my good lady wife for lunch, so I must be off,” Bowen said after setting down the box. “I hope you’ll find a bit of profit in there.”

  “He brings us in all the bits and pieces from the bank’s lost and found,” Carwyn explained when Bowen had left. “Astonishing, really, the things people leave behind in the bank. Pens, books, children’s toys, mobile phones, gloves. Gloves!”

  Penny peered into the box.

  “This lot will all be things left behind since the summer. The bank staff keep it around for about six months in case folks come looking for it, then donate it to us.”

  Penny reached into the box and pulled out a small bag from the local chemist and peered inside. A brand-new lipstick with the receipt. She pulled the top off the lipstick and wound it up. It was a nice colour, but she doubted the shop could sell it.

  “Still, it’s nice of Mr. Bowen to bring these things over to us,” Carwyn said as Penny closed the lid on the box. “I’m a bit surprised to hear he’s taking his wife for lunch, though. Rarely leaves the bank during the day.” She shrugged. “Oh well, maybe the Christmas spirit is getting to him.”

  “Well,” Penny said to Carwyn as she put on her coat, “thanks very much for letting me work with you this morning. I’d best be getting off to my own work now.”