Warning at One

by Ann Purser

  Their faces cleared, but it was too late. Lois pounced. "So you'd better tell me what else has happened to Susie, hadn't you? No good keeping things to yourself. There's been a serious crime, and it has to be sorted out. Clem was murdered, don't forget."

  This was too much for Susie, and she burst into racking sobs. Words came tumbling out, and Lois had difficulty following. Something to do with being bashed on the head, tied up, and very frightened, and Douglas coming along just in time. Douglas had his arm around her and Lois silently handed her a box of tissues.

  "Take your time, Susie," Douglas said. "Mum's a very good listener. She'll tell us what to do."

  Touched as she was by this demonstration of confidence from her son, Lois was very worried. It was important that she should get this story straight, and complete. She settled back in her chair and smiled at them both. "Well, I'm glad to see you two have made it up, whatever it was," she said. "Now, when you're ready, let's begin at the beginning. Seems Douglas came into the story late, so why don't you start, Susie? Nobody'll interrupt us. Gran's down at Pickering's and Derek's gone to the pub. It's about when you went missing, isn't it? Let's start there."

  Douglas now took Susie's shaking hands in his, and she made a stuttering start. Gradually they both relaxed, and the whole sorry tale emerged, including the reason why Susie had been scared to explain what happened.

  "Don't worry, me duck," Lois said. "I'll have a chat with my friend Cowgill. I'm afraid I must do that. But he's a good old cop, though I don't tell him so, and he'll be very discreet. They're used to all of that, anyway. Nobody'd ever report anything unless they trusted the police." She crossed her fingers behind her back. There were times when she wouldn't trust a policeman as far as her front door. "But you have to admit the bloke who trussed you up was more than likely the skinny man who did a bunk," she continued. "God knows why he came back, or what he was doing in Clem's house. The sooner the police find him, the better. Looks like he's into something seriously dodgy, and not on his own, that's for sure."

  Douglas nodded. "Then are we going to give Mum the okay to do what's best?" he asked Susie.

  She thought for a moment, then said, "Yep, I suppose so. But I'm scared, Mrs. Meade."

  "It won't matter whether I tell Cowgill or not; your attacker could still come after you when he realises you got away. He was probably coming back for you later. He wouldn't want another dead body on his hands."

  "D'you think it was him killed Clem, then?" Douglas asked.

  Lois said she thought they had probably speculated enough now, and they should talk about something else. She asked Susie if her family was putting Clem's house on the market, and was impressed when she was told he'd left it to his granddaughter. She knew exactly what Gran would say, and smiled. Wonderful, she would enthuse, her eyes sparkling, so they can knock through when they get married and have a good- sized house!

  "What's funny, Mum?"

  "Nothing really," Lois said, thinking rapidly. "I just love the idea of Douglas carrying you away on his white charger. That's my boy, Douglas," she added. She could see from his face that he didn't believe her, but Susie smiled.

  "He's my brave knight, Mrs. Meade," she said, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  "Who's had a brave night?" Derek said, coming into the room. "Bin to a horror movie, you two?"

  Lois decided that it would be impossible to explain, and asked about the darts match. On hearing of the local triumph, she suggested they all have a beer to celebrate.

  THIRTY

  MONDAY AT NOON, AND THE NEW BROOMS TEAM WERE gathering in Lois's office in Farnden for the weekly meeting. So far, Sheila, Bridie, Floss, and Dot Nimmo had arrived, also Andrew Young, the new recruit. They were waiting for Hazel, who would be coming from Tresham, having shut the Sebastopol office for a couple of hours. Evelyn Nimmo, Dot's sister, who had covered for her when she had been in hospital, was also there. She was supposed to have finished when Dot returned, but had now asked if she could help out on a part-time basis. She missed the interest of meeting new people and being part of a team, she said. She, like Dot, was a widow. The sisters had married two Nimmo brothers and had remained close, treading the rocky paths of Tresham's underworld together. Life had been full of action and anxiety, and Lois never knew when they would trip up.

  "Sorry I'm late, Mrs. M," Hazel puffed, as she came into the office. "Traffic snarl as usual. Hi, everybody. Hi, Andrew."

  Lois assured her she hadn't missed anything. "You know

  Andrew already, so we can make a start. Nice to see Evelyn back, by the way. She can't keep away, you see."

  They all laughed, and in a pleasant atmosphere the meeting got going. After the routine of schedules and assigning cleaners to new clients, Lois said she had something to say. "As most of you know, our Douglas has moved into the Gordon Street house, and the one next door to him has become vacant."

  "Where that old man was murdered?" Floss said.

  "Mr. Fitch, yes," said Lois. "It now belongs to his granddaughter Susie. She'll want to rent it out, but she's young and hasn't had experience in being a landlady. The thing is, the whole house needs a thorough cleanup and redecoration. Now this is where Andrew comes in. He's an expert on interior décor—right, Andrew?—and so I've offered New Brooms' complete services. Advice on decorating an' that, and the work involved, an' then the rest of us can do a major cleanup session, and maybe a regular cleaning check once all the work is done. I've put together a package, and I reckon it'll be accepted. Does that sound all right to the rest of you? What's that you said, Hazel?" She had seen Hazel whisper something to Floss.

  Hazel flushed. "Sorry, Mrs. M. Just remarking how you'd got all the jargon. A regular high- flyer, our boss."

  "Quick thinking, Hazel," Lois said, and frowned. "Right, then," she said. "Andrew, would you stay behind for a few minutes, and the rest can go and get on with what really matters. Item number one: customer satisfaction. 'Bye, girls. Stay in touch."

  "Did you hear what Hazel actually said?" Lois asked Andrew when they were alone. He shook his head. Lois smiled, and revealed that Hazel had said, not quietly enough, "Douglas fancies the girl, so it'll be a doddle."

  "Ah," said Andrew, realising in time that this was an important test of his suitability. "Then she's obviously forgotten item number two on your list. We don't gossip?"

  "Good lad," said Lois. "You'll do."

  COWGILL HAD DECIDED IT WAS TIME FOR HIM AND LOIS TO MEET. Telephone conversations were too vulnerable. Lois had a habit of cutting off the call just when it was vital to keep going. Vital from whose point of view? he asked himself. If he was honest, the vital bit was hearing the sound of Lois's voice. Listening to her sharp retorts and critical remarks was the food of love to him. Let other people swoon at Mozart and Beethoven, he could live on a high for a couple of days after hearing Lois tell him he was a silly old fool.

  "I am also an important policeman," he said aloud, and his assistant, coming in with a pile of papers, raised her eyebrows. "Of course you are, sir," she said. She was new, and extremely respectful. He cleared his throat and looked around to the corners of the room, as if surprised that the person he had been addressing had gone. After he'd dealt with the papers, he called Lois.

  "Hello. I'm just going out," she said.

  "What's on your agenda today?" he replied conversationally.

  "Usual—hard work and looking after my family," she answered sharply. "What d'you want? I told you the latest earlier on."

  "I have been thinking that we should meet and discuss the whole picture on the Gordon Street case. As usual, my dear, you have given us some very useful information, and I would really like to use your agile mind to attempt some evaluation of what we know so far. Time to see it as a cohesive whole."

  "Come again?" said Lois. He'd done it this time. "Swallowed a dictionary, have you?"

  "Lois Meade," he said, his voice warm, "you know perfectly well what I mean."

  "You mean you want to see me,
waste my time, and dredge out anything else I might know. Right?"

  "Wrong," said Cowgill. "Now, Lois, this is the policeman talking. Not the silly old fool. We do have a lot of pieces of information which need putting together. You are the common denominator . . . sorry, you have a finger in every pie in this case. You knew Clem, your son lives next door, he's fallen for Clem's granddaughter, you and Douglas have both seen the skinny man, as you call him. Susie might very well have been tied up and abandoned by him. There's more. Your Dot Nimmo cleans in Braeside opposite, which certainly has some connection with all this. Josie has spoken to Mrs. Blairgowrie's son, et cetera et cetera. Enough?"

  There was a pause, and then Lois said, "I suppose it might be useful to chew it over. When and where? I'm sick of pleading a bladder weakness so's I can go to the supermarket loo and meet you in the staff room. They'll think I'm a right old slapper, with infections to match."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Lois! Still," he said hastily, "I see your point. You won't come down to the station?"

  "Of course not. Even you must see that it's dangerous. There's enough villains know already that I'm hand in glove with the cops. Leastways, they think I am."

  "I've just had an idea," Cowgill said.

  "Must be a lovely new experience for you," Lois said. She heard him chuckle, and smiled herself. She wondered if he was one of them that liked a bit of rough and tumble.

  "Concentrate, Lois," he answered. "You know my nephew

  Matthew. Well, he's hoping to join us here in Tresham on a permanent basis shortly. He likes the countryside round here, he says, and has just bought himself a bachelor pad. More of a crumbling cottage, actually, and he intends to do it up himself. At the moment, it's empty and remote enough. Nobody will witness a plainclothes cop and a lovely girl going there."

  "You mean Matthew and his girlfriend," Lois said, deliberately obtuse.

  "No, no. You and me, Lois. Would that do?"

  "Sounds all right. Where is it?"

  "Between Waltonby and Fletching. Stands back from the road, and the drive is all potholes. Sorry about that. It's got a huge muck heap beside it, so you can't mistake it. You can smell it from miles away."

  "Better than the Ritz, then. Can't wait, Hunter. When?"

  He said the sooner the better, and they arranged to meet next morning. "I'll bring a flask of coffee," Lois said. "Then we can have a lovely picnic by the muck heap. 'Bye."

  THIRTY-ONE

  "IT'S TIPPING IT DOWN," GRAN SAID, LOOKING OUT OF THE KITCHEN window. "You're surely not going out in this, Lois?"

  Lois smiled at her mother. Mothers never stop being mothers. She still heard herself telling Josie to wrap up warm in cold weather. And Douglas had frowned furiously at her the other night when she told him in front of Susie that he needed a haircut.

  "I've got a new anorak, an umbrella, and a watertight van, Mum. I think I'll be okay." She looked at the kitchen clock. Time to go and meet Cowgill. She was not looking forward to the muddy track with potholes, but supposed she should give it a try.

  He was waiting for her. "Put your van under that lean- to behind the cottage," he said. "Pity it's white," he added. "Very visible."

  "I'll get it resprayed," Lois said between gritted teeth. She parked it and got out, stepping straight into a deep puddle. "Bloody hell!" she said.

  "Good job you're sensibly wearing wellies," Cowgill said blandly. "Come on in. I've opened up."

  Wallpaper hung off the walls in strips, and there were wide gaps between the floorboards. A startled mouse scooted off as their creaking footsteps approached. Cowgill had brought two folding chairs with slatted seats, and indicated one to Lois.

  "Not exactly your latest design in chairs," she said, sitting down with a sigh. "Next time, if there is a next time, I'll bring cushions." She delved in her bag and brought out a thermos of coffee. "No sugar," she said, handing him a steaming mug. "It's bad for you. Especially bad for elderly people. By the way," she added, "when are you retiring? Can't be that far away. Is young Matthew hoping to step into your shoes?"

  "I'm supposed to ask the questions," he said coolly. "Now, Lois, I've jotted down what we know in chronological order, as far as I know it. Shall I read it out to you?"

  "If you want," Lois replied. "Though you may be surprised to learn I can read and write."

  "Please, Lois," he said. "Could we just get on? Now, first, Clem Fitch and his cockerel."

  She was forced to admit to herself that he was very efficient. He took her through all that had happened since she'd first bought her Gordon Street house, and as they went along she could see a connecting thread emerging. Skinny Man's house was at the centre of a web. Everything that had happened could be linked to it. Even the supermarket thefts seemed to tie in with Clem's sightings of Skinny Man dumping dozens of empty juice packets, and Lois seeing him loading up his trolley with gluten-free bread.

  There was a silence between them, and Cowgill said, "Go on, then, Lois, say something."

  She shifted her position on the uncomfortable chair, and said, "Right. Now then, what we want to know is, first, where and who is Skinny Man, and why does he need so much food? Not difficult, that one. Every so often, he has mouths to feed. Expensive mouths to feed. That theft was a big mistake, I reckon. Leads right back to him, don't it? So get him first. Second, where and who is Mrs. Blairgowrie's son? And is he? Her son, I mean. Third, what are they up to? And fourth, fifth, and sixth, is the ladylike Mrs. Blairgowrie blind, or what?"

  "You think she isn't? What makes you think she isn't?"

  Lois told him exactly what she thought, and said that Dot Nimmo had noticed odd things as well. "Quite difficult to keep up pretending you're blind with your eyes open," Lois said. "I tried it for half an hour in the house. Research, Hunter. Not as green as I'm cabbage-looking, see. Gran was in on it, and said I was useless. Anybody would know in two minutes, she said."

  They went on discussing various points, until Lois looked out of the window and said that the rain had stopped. She had some shopping to do in Tresham, and must go. This was a lie, as Cowgill knew perfectly well. He would have put money on Lois going straight to Gordon Street to snoop around. She had the perfect excuse now that Douglas was living there. But he got to his feet and thanked her for coming and for the coffee. He folded the chairs and carried them out to his car, then locked up the house.

  "You go first," he said. "I'll follow after a while. I can sit and think. Very useful session, Lois. Thanks. Take care," he added, and really meant it.

  Lois looked down at her van, now half- covered in dirty splashes. "Can I claim car-wash expenses?" she said, and was off down the track, spraying mud in every direction, before he could reply.

  COWGILL WOULD HAVE WON HIS BET. LOIS DROVE INTO GORDON Street and parked outside Douglas's house. She had noticed with surprise that Josie's car was also outside, and wondered what was up. Josie almost never left the shop unless Rob was there to take over, and Lois was sure she saw him on his way to work this morning. Gran had been fine, but lately Josie had noticed that her arithmetic was not so good. Sometimes the cash did not balance at the end of the day. She did not say anything to Gran, for fear of hurting her feelings, but no longer left her in charge for any length of time.

  Josie answered the door, and laughed. "Come in, Mum," she said, "and don't look so alarmed. Douglas gave me keys. He's not here. I shouldn't be here either," she continued, "but Susie called me and said she'd not been able to get hold of Douglas. She sounded scared and upset, so I said I'd nip over and see if I could find him. I had to go to the wholesalers anyway, so I've left Gran in charge for once. I'm going back now."

  She glanced out of the window and froze. "Hey, look," she said. "See that man getting out of a car opposite? That's the one I told you about. Him that came into the shop that day and chatted me up. Slimy character, I thought. Look, now he's going up to that house."

  Lois caught sight of a big man with dark hair and a wellcut suit disappearing into Braeside. "
Ah," she said. "That's her son, I think. You know Dot is working there now? She reported that a big man had been shouting at the blind lady, and had upset her. None of our business, of course, but Dot was worried."

  "Ah, well, all sons are not as nice as our Douglas— hey, Mum! Where are you going?"

  Lois was out of the front door and crossing the road in seconds. She knocked at the Braeside door and waited. There was no reply, so she knocked again. After a few seconds, the door opened a fraction and Mrs. Blairgowrie looked out, her face pale and anxious. "Who is it?" she said.

  "Mrs. Meade," Lois said firmly. "Dot Nimmo has reported that she left behind her watch. Took it off to do some scrubbing in your bathroom, she said. I wonder if you'd let me have a look? I shan't take a couple of minutes. Thanks." Lois pushed the door quite hard to open it, and Mrs. Blairgowrie moved back, muttering that she supposed it would be all right.