by Ann Purser
Lois shook her head and said she would love a coffee, but she was on a Tollervey-Jones errand, and had to get back more or less straightaway.
“As I said on the phone, we are to go on a Sherlock Holmes–type hunt, bearing some intimate garment of Aurora’s, and accompanied by a sniffer dog. She seems very confident, and sometimes she is right. So do you mind?”
“Of course not! Why didn’t we think of that?” She smiled a wobbly smile, and disappeared upstairs.
When Mrs. T-J returned, she instructed Milly to go off somewhere within reach. “Why not go and call on a friend? Come back in an hour or so, and don’t worry; we shan’t disturb your mother’s personal things. Off you go now.”
Milly set off reluctantly, leaving the two standing in the shop. When she was out of sight, they began work. Lois was full of admiration with the way Mrs. T-J seemed to know exactly how to handle Henry. Nose to the ground after a good sniff, he went from place to place, tail wagging. Then out of the bedroom and downstairs, picking up scents all the way. Finally they ended up in the shop, and Mrs. T-J said nothing unexpected had happened. Naturally, scents of Aurora were everywhere. Then she opened the door, and led Henry out into the road.
He immediately turned around and headed back into the shop.
“No, no lad, come along, this way. We’ll go over to Aurora’s car. Come along, this way, Henry!”
Henry refused to move. He sat down by the shop door, a mutinous expression on his face.
“Now what?” said Lois. “Why won’t he follow her scent to the car, or to anywhere else outside? She must have gone somewhere.”
“Unless she was lifted up and carried. Don’t mention that to Milly, but it begins to look like the most likely explanation. I’ll let Henry off the lead and see where he takes us.”
The dog pottered about the shop for a few minutes, sniffing in all corners, then he returned to the bakehouse and sat down by the oven.
“For heaven’s sake!” said Lois. “He’s found himself a nice warm billet and given up. Look at his face! He looks very pleased with himself. I think that’s it, isn’t? We’d better get him back in my van and wait for Milly to come home.”
“He’ll do no harm there, Lois. Let him stay. We’ll keep an eye on him.”
They sat chatting for a while, until they heard the shop-door bell, and Lois went to see who was there. It was Milly back again, and she was told that Henry had failed. She nodded. “I thought so,” she said. “I can’t see how he could pick up a single scent from all the others around since Mum went missing. Never mind, it was worth a try. Where is he now?”
In the bakehouse, Henry was still sitting in guarding mode beside the oven, and when Milly approached to give him a stroke, he growled at her, baring his teeth with his ears back.
“Henry!” said Mrs. T-J. “This is Milly, a friend. Come along; we’ll put him in the van and be on our way. Thank you, dear, for being so accommodating. We shall keep in touch, eh, Lois? Goodbye now.”
* * *
“Wasn’t that rather odd?” said Lois, as they drove back to Farnden. “I mean, Henry had picked up the scent so obviously going in all the places where Aurora would have been.”
Mrs. T-J glanced into the back of the van, where Henry had dozed off, unaware that he had been a disappointment. He had an old gardening glove of Aurora’s, the only thing that would get him into Lois’s van.
“Where did Milly get that glove from?” Mrs. T-J asked Lois.
“From a pair on a high shelf in the kitchen. He does seem specially attached to it. Perhaps we should have given Henry more time?”
“Not sure, Lois,” Mrs. T-J said. “I suppose it is possible there were too many traces. But it is odd that he wouldn’t budge from the bakehouse. We must think some more. Now, if you could drop me outside the shop, I must pick up a few odds and ends from Josie. I’ll take Henry, and return him to his owner. She may have other suggestions.”
FORTY-FOUR
Back home in Farnden, Lois had offered to take Gran and Joan into town in the van to collect the jewellery for the party, but admitted that the single extra seat in the back was very uncomfortable, and so she agreed to go with Gran in Joan’s car. Joan was a careful driver, and although Lois longed to put her foot on the accelerator on long stretches of dual carriageway, she settled in the back of the Rover and thought about Aurora.
Milly had been so disappointed that Henry had given them no pointers to the direction Aurora might have gone. But remembering the big oven where he sat down on guard, something was wrong there, thought Lois, as they cruised at thirty miles an hour along the empty road leading into Tresham.
“Now, Joan, it’s first left after the lights. Or is it right? No, it’s second on the left and then sharp right,” said Gran.
Lois cleared her throat. “Don’t think so, Mum. It’s next left; then halfway down is the jeweller’s shop. You can’t miss it. It’s got a large old clock hanging outside.”
“That’s what I said,” protested Gran.
Fortunately, Joan knew exactly where it was, and pulled up smoothly under the clock. “Here we are, then, Elsie. Out you get.”
“Is it safe to leave the car out here?” said Gran.
“Oh yes. Mr. Trinder has everything alarmed, being as it is a jeweller’s,” said Lois.
The three were welcomed in, and invited into a room at the back of the shop, where the jewellery ordered had been laid out for inspection on a large dining table covered with green baize.
“Gosh! That all looks very lovely,” said Lois dutifully.
Actually, she thought that Mum and Joan had chosen very well. “I wouldn’t mind that silver star brooch myself. How much is it, Mother?”
“Oh, we haven’t worked out prices yet,” said Gran. “I am going round to Joan’s this evening to sort it all out. We reckon on a one-third profit. What do you think, Mrs. Trinder? This is just for fun, and making a little bit on the side. Nothing like the pyramid wallahs.”
After they had packed the jewellery carefully, and handed over a card to pay for it, Gran and Mrs. Trinder had a nostalgic chat about the days when Gran and family had lived in town. Then Lois led the way out of the shop and into a darkening twilight.
The car was parked on the wrong side of the road, and Lois walked round to open the rear passenger-side door.
“Lois!” shouted Joan, as she was about to get in to drive them home. “Lois, look out! Car coming fast behind you!”
“Lois!” shrieked Gran. “Watch out! Come back here!”
Too late to move, Lois flattened herself against the car and covered her ears. A terrible squeal of brakes caused her to press herself even harder as the whine of an engine out of control reached her.
Then it was gone, with much revving of the engine and angry hooting.
“Oh my God, what a wicked thing to do. Are you all right, Lois?” said Gran.
* * *
Lois was not all right, but she made a big effort and said she had caught sight of the driver. “One of Tresham’s finest, I reckon! That gang of louts always around the Purple Dog. Out of control. He’ll kill somebody, sure as eggs is eggs. If he doesn’t kill himself first.”
“Let’s get home, Joan. I’ve had enough for one day,” said Gran. “Thank God we don’t live in Tresham anymore. At least we can walk down the street in Farnden without being mown down. Or can we?”
Lois knew her mother was thinking about her own narrow escape in the dark night so recently. “Real bad luck, Mum. But we shall be fine now, shan’t we, Joan? We’ll get Derek to give us a restoring cup of tea, and then we’ll look at your lovely jewellery. Very well chosen, you two,” she added, hoping to change the subject.
As Lois and the two others walked into the kitchen at Meade House, they found Derek talking to a tall man with his back to them. He turned, and Lois said flatly, “Inspector. How did you
know?”
Derek held up his hand. “Not yet, Lois. Not until we’re all safely settled in Gran’s warm kitchen with a glass of something in front of you.”
The first thing Cowgill said was that they had picked up the young idiot. He was doing one hundred miles an hour along the straight stretch out of Tresham. Drunk and belligerent.
“Did Mr. Trinder tell you, Inspector, what had happened?” said Joan.
“Yes, they called us as soon as you had gone. Fortunately, John Trinder has a photographic memory, and knew the number plate. Car stolen, of course.”
After that, Joan shook her head, refusing the whisky, saying she had to drive on home. “Only round the corner, I know, but we all had the fright of our lives, and if I’m driving even a short distance, I shall not touch a drop.”
Not bound by Joan’s vow of temperance, the rest sipped and gulped and felt a whole lot better afterwards. Lois realised they must all be suffering from shock, and asked her mother to make cups of tea all round. “Plenty of sugar, too, please,” she added.
They each gave their own account of what they had seen, ending with Gran, who took a deep breath and said, “I think I’ve seen him before.”
“What? What do you mean, Mum?”
“Like what I said. I’m fairly certain it was the young fool who sent me flying into the field down the road, and you rescued me.”
Inspector Cowgill frowned. “Could you see him clearly that night? I thought there was a lot of spray as he came towards you. It must have been difficult to see inside the car.”
“Yes, it was. But I remembered at once that he had his hair done in a funny kind of hairdo brushed up. All the lads have it now. It’s the latest fashion.”
“In that case, how can you be sure it’s the same chap?”
“Well, I am. But if you want to be sure, Inspector, maybe you could show me a photo of the youth you caught up with, and I can tell you if it’s the same.”
FORTY-FIVE
Lois had spent most of yesterday in a kind of loop of thoughts. She would have to stand by her promise to report to Cowgill. What should she tell him without all hell breaking loose in the police station? Her new friendship with Gloria, if she could call it that, would alarm him, no doubt. But Lois was convinced it could be productive. Already she had had a call from Gloria. Not particularly friendly, but very interesting.
The doorbell had interrupted her thoughts, and Gran had admitted Douglas with his two children, saying he was father and mother today as Susie had wanted to go alone to visit her sick sister.
They had stayed for lunch and tea, and then, after they had gone, Lois began to think again. The loop had finally ended when she fell asleep, but as it was still there when she awoke, she decided she would get to see Cowgill first thing, and be back in time for the team meeting at noon.
Now, fortified by one of Gran’s working-day breakfasts, she dialled his number, and was pleased to hear him.
“My Lois, you must have been up with the lark, whose voice, though sweet, is not as sweet as yours. To my ear, anyway!”
“Cut the rubbish, please. Can you see me in about half an hour’s time? I need your help in deciding what to do. I can’t come to the station, so could we meet somewhere private?”
“Lois! Are you serious?”
Lois was losing patience. “Of course I am. It is to do with Aurora Black, and her unlovely husband.”
“Ten thirty. I’ll be waiting for you in our usual café, but ask them to show you to a back room. Mention my name.”
“Fine. I’ll be there. Oh, and actually I do have a reasonably acceptable singing voice. Back row in the sopranos in the Tresham Choral Society.”
“Good heavens, is there no end to your skills, my clever Lois?”
* * *
Lois arrived at the café as the Town Hall clock struck half past ten, and as she came up to the counter, the girl manning the till hailed her in a loud voice.
“Morning, Mrs. Meade! The inspector is here already. Come this way, please.”
So much for a private assignation, thought Lois. She shrugged, and hoped that Gloria or one of her friends had not seen her disappearing into a back room that smelt strongly of fish.
“Ugh! What a disgusting pong,” she said, sitting perched on the edge of a plastic folding chair that threatened to collapse beneath her.
“Can’t be too choosy in this job,” said Cowgill. “Let’s get out of here as soon as possible. Meanwhile, what’s new?”
“It’s to do with Aurora. Apparently, Donald Black was an even nastier character than we already thought. Almost as soon as they moved here, he began what can only be called the humiliation of Aurora Black, with his public assignations with other women. Sylvia Fountain was the only one at first, and was, so far as I know, the longest survivor.”
“Are you telling me he killed other women and Sylvia was the last of the line?”
“No. I am only telling you what I know. I can’t tell you my source. But Donald made no attempt to hide his affairs from Aurora. Sylvia idiotically fell for him, and she would do anything he asked. It must have been an awful time for Aurora. I wonder if this is why they moved here. But, of course, the problem moved with them. She must have been permanently on edge, with customers coming into the shop with knowing smiles. You know what gossips are like.”
She was silent, and finally he said, “Is that it, then? You haven’t risked being asphyxiated by fish pong to tell me only that?”
“No. This is the important bit. Linked to that. I am assured that the reading of the last will and testament of Donald Black will be a big step forward in our investigations. And no, I haven’t told Derek or Mum that I was coming here. I must get back home now. Team meeting at noon.”
“Of course. Now, come with me and I’ll show you the back way out of here. And thank you, Lois. I can only say how very grateful I am. This thing about the will is important, and I will act straightaway.”
* * *
On the way home, Lois wondered how exactly Cowgill was going to act. She supposed the police would be allowed to look at wills, even before the beneficiaries. Something to check.
She arrived home as Dot Nimmo was parking outside, ready for the meeting.
“Morning, Dot! Unlike you to be first.”
Dot frowned. She knew that she was usually the last, but this morning she had a piece of news for Mrs. M, a private and important piece of news, she hoped.
Lois looked at her watch. It was a quarter to twelve, and she ushered Dot into her study. “I need to go upstairs,” she said. “Shan’t be long.”
“Can it wait?” said Dot. “Please. I’ve got something to tell you before the others get here.”
“Fine. Carry on, Dottie.”
“Well, my friend who works at the Mill said she didn’t want to be mixed up with the police. Her husband would kill her, she said. So I promised not to mention her name. Anyway, she said she was working late the night Sylvia Black was killed. She passed by her bedroom door, and heard sounds of a struggle. That’s how she put it.”
“Is she reliable?”
Dot nodded. “I’d trust her from here to Jerusalem,” she said.
“I’ll tell Cowgill, Dottie. Thanks.”
“Well, she don’t want nothing to do with it. Leastways, not unless it’s something to help you, Mrs. M. I know you really like Aurora Black and would like to help clear up the whole business.”
* * *
Floss was the next to arrive, and then Sheila and the others in a bunch. Hazel was last, apologising for being late, but saying she was interviewing a new client.
“Recommended by Mrs. Prentise,” she said. “Another well-off widow from those posh houses in millionaire’s row in Fletching.”
“Sounds good,” said Lois. “Thanks, Hazel. Now, shall we start with reports? Do you want to begin, Flos
s? How’s it going with the Prentises?”
“Very well. Mrs. P has stopped following me around, which is nice. I think she trusts me now. Coffee’s real and good, and I wash my hands with gorgeous soap from Covent Garden! I think that’s about it. Oh no, I did actually meet the daughter, Gloria, again. I admired the little silver heart locket she was wearing, and she said she bought it from Mrs. Weedon at the agricultural show. I’d love to see who she’s hiding in there!”
“So would I, Floss. So would I,” said Lois.
The rest of the meeting went smoothly, and before they all started to move out, she asked them to sit down again as she wanted to ask a favour. “Of you all,” she said
“Fire away,” said Andrew. He had begun his decorating job in the Mill, and began to feel he knew the local environs well. He had spoken several times to Milly Black, and felt really sorry for her because she was clearly very worried about her mother.
“Well,” said Lois, “it’s like this. You must all be aware of the disappearance of Mrs. Black from the bakery. I would be most grateful if you could all keep eyes and ears open for any possible leads to finding her. Any mention of her or her husband. Or of Milly, come to that. The smallest thing may be useful. If you do hear or see anything, don’t wait until next Monday meeting. Give me a ring straightaway. I have this odd feeling that there’s something quite close to home that we haven’t noticed.”
“I might hear something at the Prentises,” said Floss. “Mrs. P is always on the phone. Will that help?”
“Exactly that. Thanks, Floss. Anyone else?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “Um, well, I don’t know if this has anything to do with Aurora’s disappearance, but I have noticed in the hotel that the bedroom where the woman was strangled is permanently locked. I asked for a key, as I wanted to include it in my plan, but they said it had been locked, and they did not have a duplicate. The police, I suppose. All the other bedrooms have duplicate keys, and I know where they are kept. And that friend of Dot’s was in there cleaning around. She’s not exactly a ghostly sylph!”