Ruth’s house was much better cared for than Larry Senior’s had been.
Her driveway was clear of overgrowth, and the outside of the house was an inoffensive white that wasn’t too dirty. It wasn’t up to Allie’s standards of course, but the building itself didn’t seem to be an immediate health hazard.
“Ring the door,” said Allie to Jackie. She’d left her bag in the car and didn’t have a tissue to use to press the button. The building may have been cleaner than Larry’s, but not so much that you’d actually want to go and touch it.
Jackie did as she was told, and they could both hear the annoying novelty Christmas tune that the doorbell played. It was Jingle Bells, despite Christmas still being months away.
The door opened, and Allie decided to be friendly and funny. “Merry Christmas!” she said in greeting.
Jackie immediately poked her in the side. She probably didn’t get it, thought Allie.
The pear-shaped woman who opened the door looked to be in her fifties. She had shiny hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and was wearing a pink tracksuit in the style of the early 1990s. Judging from how threadbare it looked, it was probably the genuine article.
“What?”
“Merry Christmas! The bell, it was playing—”
“It’s not bleedin’ Christmas.”
Allie shut up but kept smiling.
“Are you Ruth?” asked Jackie, skilfully changing the topic.
“Who wants to know?” Her beady eyes had narrowed into suspicious slits.
“She does,” said Allie helpfully, pointing at her sister. “She’s Jackie.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“We want to talk to you about Larry,” said Allie.
“About Larry? Well, you’re out of luck. He’s dead.”
Allie nodded in understanding. “We know he’s dead. That’s what we wanted to talk to you about.”
Ruth began to lean against the door, the act of standing apparently becoming a little too much for her. “You’re not police,” she declared with a self-satisfied nod. A strand of hair sprung out from her pony tail and flew to the front, sticking to her forehead.
“But we’re working with the police,” said Jackie.
Allie kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t much of one for lying.
“I already spoke to them.”
Ruth pushed herself off of the door and went to slam it shut. Jackie quickly stuck a trainer in the door and gave her a charming smile.
“We just have a couple of questions. We won’t take long. It might help find out who killed him.”
Ruth peered down at Jackie’s foot that was blocking the door. With a soft sigh, she gave up her resistance.
Weak-willed, thought Allie to herself. Can weak-willed people be killers?
“Go on, then. What do you want to know?”
Before Jackie could begin to ask her first question, Ruth pushed off of the door and stepped outside. Allie and Jackie both stepped backwards to give her room. Ruth sat down on her doorstep with a heavy sigh.
“Me knees. I can’t stand around all day. I got to sit down.”
“Oh dear,” said Allie with a sympathetic smile. “It must be because of your diet. Do you eat too much salt? That’s bad for the knees.”
Jackie jabbed her again. Allie frowned. Why did that deserve a jabbing? It was true, wasn’t it?
“Ignore her,” said Jackie. “So, you were Larry’s girlfriend, right?”
Ruth nodded sadly. “I was. ‘Ladyfriend’, that’s what he used to call me. He said he was too old to be having girlfriends.”
“He was older than you, wasn’t he?” said Allie.
Ruth tilted her head in agreement. “He was older. We always knew he’d be the first to go.” She stopped as if lost in thought, then shook her head. “But not like that. Not like that,” she repeated.
“We spoke to his son. Do you know him well?”
Ruth squeezed her hands together tightly so they went almost white. “Oh yeah. Useful as a chocolate teacup, that one.”
They both giggled. “We saw him in a pub today,” said Allie.
Ruth let out a snort. “Yeah, well you can find him in a pub any day of the week, and twice on Saturdays.”
“He must have a lot of free time,” said Allie thoughtfully.
“Yeah. A lot of free time,” said Ruth, shaking her head at the thought of her deceased paramour’s son.
“He mentioned that you’re both in Larry’s will.”
“Oh, he did, did he? He’s lucky he’s in it at all. Larry was threatening to cut him out entirely. You know what he said?”
Allie and Jackie shook their heads and urged her to continue.
“Larry said there was no point in leaving anything to his useless deadbeat son. He’d only go and throw it all away on horses and drink.”
“Was he a kind of jockey?” asked Allie. Larry hadn’t really seemed the equestrian type to her. Too big, for one.
Ruth nearly fell off the doorstep as she let out a mighty guffaw. “A jockey!?”
“I don’t think he was a jockey, Allie,” said Jackie giving her a nudge and wry smile.
“Gambling. On the horses. If he’s not in the pub, he’s in the bookies. A waste of space, that’s what Larry used to say he was.”
“But he was still in the will, right?”
“Yeah. It’s me that told Larry to keep him in there. I said, even if he’s going to waste it, it’s his right. He’s the son, after all. Honestly, I thought my Larry might outlast his deadbeat son. Maybe he would have, if he hadn’t...” Ruth looked down at her hands.
“Been murdered instead of dying of old age,” Allie finished for her.
Ruth sighed sadly.
“Would you say Larry was a generous man?” asked Jackie.
The corners of Ruth’s lips turned up, but she didn’t laugh out loud. “Generous?” She was thoughtfully silent for a moment. “He treated me all right. Bought me stuff. But I don’t think you could call him generous in a more general sense.”
“No?”
“Last year we had some Christmas Carollers ‘round. He listened to them do all of Good King Wenceslas, then he chucked a banana in their bucket and told them to jog on.”
Allie peered at Ruth carefully. “Well, Wenceslas was actually a duke, not a king, so it’s not a very accurate carol. I can understand why he’d tell them to jog on. But still, that wasn’t very nice to give them a banana. I suppose he didn’t have any cash on him.”
“Nah, he just wanted his cash to stay on him.”
“And can you think of anyone who might have wanted to do him harm?”
“Apart from the carolers? And everyone he annoyed over the years? Oh, I couldn’t think of more than two dozen.”
Allie brightened. “Really? Can you write them down for us?”
Jackie and Ruth both gave Allie a look.
“Nah,” said Ruth with a shake of her head. “He annoyed people, and he was curmudgeonly and a bit mean and pretty rude, but those aren’t things you kill someone over, are they? If they were, he’d ‘a been dead decades ago. I don’t know anyone who really hated him.”
“Well, thanks. You’ve been a great help,” said Jackie.
Allie looked at Jackie and was about to point out that she hadn’t really been all that helpful at all, but she caught Jackie’s warning look just in time. Allie would never understand why being honest was rude; it just didn’t make any logical sense.
“You two better watch yourselves though.” Ruth put her hands on the step on either side of her, and with a heaving push she launched herself to her feet.
“Watch ourselves?”
“Yeah. I never met you before, but I know who you are. Everyone does. Word is, you’ve been poking around in everyone’s business. Luckily you met me today, and I’m pretty nice. But you keep an eye out. Not everyone appreciates it.”
“We’re only trying to help!”
Why are people so negative about us helping
out? wondered Allie. Surely everyone in Hawthorne should be pleased that they were trying to find out what happened to their murdered fellow resident.
“Yeah, well. Some people—not me, mind you—some people are saying you’re just looking for someone else to pin the murder on.”
Allie pursed her lips in thought before replying. “Well, that is what we’re doing.”
Jackie came to the rescue again. “She means we want to find out who did it. Not pin it on any old person.”
“Right,” said Allie with a jerk of her head. Surely that had been obvious, hadn’t it?
Ruth pushed her door open again.
“Watch yourselves, and good luck.”
“Thanks!” they both said as she shoved the door closed behind her.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. There’s a bath with my name on it back at the B&B,” said Allie.
With arms linked, she and Jackie strolled back to their car.
Chapter 12
When they went downstairs to Bree’s café the following day to meet Grandma Em for a morning mug of tea, it was about three-quarters filled with people.
Even from outside, they could hear the patrons happily chatting while plates clinked together, knives and forks clanged and clashed, mugs were set down with thumps, the kitchen bell dinged with orders, and Bree and the waitress called out to each other.
Then, Allie pushed the door open.
When the bell above the door gave its usual ting-a-ling, every head swivelled towards them like they were on stalks.
The chattering dropped to murmured whispers, forks loaded with food hung in mid-air, and the customers exchanged knowing glances.
“Good morning!” said Allie brightly.
The customers slowly went back to their meals, their voices more subdued, and their eating more careful. By entering the café, it was like they had dropped a wet blanket on the patrons.
“This is awkward,” said Jackie to Allie as they made their way to the front corner table that Grandma Em was sitting at.
The life around them soon revived itself further, and by the time they were sitting down again the café was almost—but not quite—as full of chattering hustle and bustle as it had been before they entered.
“Good morning, girls,” said Grandma Em with a smile that betrayed a hint of caution.
“Hi. It suddenly doesn’t seem so friendly here, does it?” said Jackie.
Allie just shrugged her shoulders. She already knew people were weird, so today’s welcome hadn’t overly surprised her.
Grandma Em reached over and patted both of the girls’ hands. “Not to worry. I’m sure this will all blow over soon.”
“Unless they never find the killer and we’re treated with suspicion for the rest of eternity.”
Grandma Em continued to pat Jackie’s hand. “No, these things always blow over. Everything does. And I’m sure the police will catch the killer soon. They’re very good.”
“Are they?” asked Allie, wrinkling her nose. After their tea with Eddie, she wasn’t convinced that was the case.
Grandma Em shrugged her shoulders. “Well, the ones on telly are. I’m sure our local constabulary are just as good.”
That pronouncement did not fill Allie with confidence. “Have you seen Richard today, Em?”
She shook her head. “Nope, not today. Why?” The final word was very pointed. It wasn’t a general, vague, question asked out of politeness.
“He said he might help us. Didn’t he, Jackie?”
Jackie’s nod had a touch more reluctance than Allie would have liked to have seen. And she didn’t bother with a verbal answer to go with it.
“Is that why you’re investigating? To impress him? I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dear.”
Allie shook her head too fast and too quickly and immediately felt a wave of dizziness. Grandma Em and Jackie both gave her a strange look. “No. I just mean that we haven’t found out who killed Larry yet. And he said he might help. That’s all. I’m not trying to impress him.”
The other two women continued to look at Allie impassively. Neither of them spoke. They just waited for her to carry on.
“I’m not! I just want to find out who killed Larry! The police said we’re the only suspects still. I don’t want to go to prison for a crime I didn’t commit!”
Jackie cocked her head at her. “Only for a crime you did commit?”
“Ha. Ha.” Allie sounded out the words to really emphasize how unfunny Jackie was. Then she had an amusing thought. “I bet that’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”
“Eh?”
“Commit a crime so Eddie will pay some attention to you! That gives me an idea. Maybe I could frame you for something!”
“What!?”
Allie giggled. She was on a roll now. “I said I’d play matchmaker for you. What better way to get you and Eddie together, hmm? I’ll frame you for something fun, just a little crime, and you’ll be forced together!”
“All right girls, that’s quite enough of that. No one’s committed, or is going to commit, any crimes. And neither of you are framing each other.” Grandma Em had on her sternest, most grandmotherly face, the one that made Allie suddenly feel twenty years younger than she was.
“Yes, Grandma Em,” said Allie with contrition.
“Okay, Grandma Em,” intoned Jackie.
Under the table, Jackie punched Allie’s leg just above the knee. This pleased Allie; it basically meant she’d won.
“So, you’re not going to do anything foolish to impress a man, right?”
They both nodded in response.
Allie was being truthful, as she never did anything she regarded as foolish, though sometimes other people took a different view of her actions.
The bell rung again as another customer entered. If he sat down, then the whole place would be full—every table occupied. The thought of this pleased Allie. At the moment, the only empty table near the middle looked awfully lonely.
The man by the door was another tourist.
This one was even more obvious than the last one they’d seen in there. He was a chubby but jolly-looking late middle-aged man, and he was wearing a white T-shirt with a big red heart on it. Above the heart was the single word I, and underneath The Cotswolds. Not exactly standard attire for locals.
“The poor thing looks completely lost.” There was a twinkle in Grandma Em’s eyes. “Back in a jiffy, my dears.” She stood up and was off like a whippet before they could even respond.
“I assume she’s not trying to impress a man,” said Jackie with a grin.
Allie watched as Em went over and greeted the man. Within seconds she was holding him by the arm and sitting down with him at the last free table.
“I think you assumed wrong!”
They watched Grandma Em working her magic on the man for half a minute or so before Bree turned up, notepad and pen in hand to take their order.
“Busy today, Bree?” asked Jackie, looking around the room with a smile.
She nodded back. “Been rushed off my feet! But everyone’s got their order now. Just you two and the tourist left to serve.”
“Just two mugs of tea please, Bree,” said Jackie with a smile.
“Won’t be two ticks.” She started to leave but then turned back to them. “Sorry about the reception you got earlier. You know what people around here are like—once the rumour mill gets going, it can be hard to turn it off. I’m sure they’ll forget about you two soon.”
“I sure hope so. It would be a shame if we no longer felt welcome in Hawthorne.”
“Don’t you worry. Just as soon as the police find out who did old Larry in, everyone’ll forget all about you. In six months, they’ll all be claiming it wasn’t them gossiping, it was everyone else.”
“I sure hope so,” said Allie. “Did you hear anything else from the police? Do you think they’ll catch the killer soon?”
Bree shrugged her shoulders. “They always do, don’t they?”
<
br /> “Do they?” asked Allie with a frown. She wasn’t sure about that. She’d been looking at rates of crime and rates of crimes solved, and they weren’t really all that encouraging.
“Well, they do on telly!”
With a happy smile, Bree turned and left them.
Allie tapped her fingers on the table. “I think everyone around here gets their knowledge about police work from TV, Jackie.”
“That’s not surprising. The only crime they have around here is people stealing tractors and spraying graffiti. They don’t have experience with serious stuff.”
“They do now.”
When they’d finished their tea, Grandma Em still hadn’t returned, so Allie suggested they return to the B&B for a brief rest before they continued their investigation.
“You’re not going to vacuum again, are you?” asked Jackie, clear suspicion in her voice.
“Maybe,” said Allie defensively.
Just before they had left the room that morning, a pigeon had flown through their open window and completed three circuits of the room and treated them to several loud coos before landing on the table by the window, strutting up and down, and finally, having completed his inspection, exiting via the window again.
“That pigeon didn’t do anything. It just flew around a bit.”
Allie shook her head. “I think its wings were dusty. You can never be too careful.”
“Can wings get dusty?”
Allie gave a confident nod. “Definitely. Anything can get dusty.” She reached out a hand and began slapping at the shoulder of Jackie’s tracksuit top.
“Hey! My clothes are not dusty!”
Allie grinned at her. “Not now they’re not. Come on!”
They re-entered the building through the B&B’s entrance door and headed up the stairs. There was no one at the desk Michelle used as a kind of reception area and office space. She was probably still doing the rooms.
“It’s quiet, isn’t it?” said Jackie as they went through a small door and up a narrower, wooden flight of stairs that led to the floor above, where their room was located.
“Well, people don’t come to Hawthorne to sit in their rooms all day. They’re out walking or visiting tourist sites.”
An Alibi A Day Page 8