Cotswold Mystery, A

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘That’s right. They call it a TIA – transient ischaemic accident. Doesn’t that sound marvellous? It’s like a mini-stroke, and Gladys knows it’s a sign that there will be a big one sooner or later. It’s like the rumblings of a volcano before the eventual eruption. We’ve talked about it, haven’t we lovey? There’s one of those living will things tucked in her desk, saying she doesn’t want to be rushed to hospital and resurrected when the time comes.’

  Thea began to realise that Gussie was a closer friend to Granny than had first appeared.

  Jessica still hovered with her phone. ‘I’ll try to get hold of Uncle James then,’ she said. ‘If it isn’t too late. I’d have thought they’d be here by now.’

  ‘Are you talking about the police?’ Gussie asked her.

  Thea and Jessica both nodded. Gussie laughed. ‘You’ll be lucky. Haven’t you heard the news?’

  Blank looks answered the question. ‘There’s been a bomb in the middle of Birmingham, at nine-thirty this morning. Every available cop from six counties is going to be fully tied up for days to come. Arresting one old lady, even for an unlawful killing, isn’t going to feature on their to-do list for quite some time. No sense in trying to phone anybody, either,’ she added to Jessica. ‘You’d never get through.’

  ‘Good God!’ Thea conducted the automatic mental trawl through all those she most loved, checking whether any of them could have been in central Birmingham in the morning rush hour. The person at the top of the list was the most likely to be a victim. ‘Phil!’ she gasped. ‘Phil could have been there.’

  Jessica gave her a look. ‘Why would he? He doesn’t live or work in Birmingham. Don’t be paranoid, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  Gussie looked from one to the other. ‘If he’s OK, he’ll call you,’ she said. ‘Meanwhile, we’ve got work to do.’ She looked at her hand, gripped like a lifeline by old Granny Gardner, and flourished the other one towards the oak bureau. ‘Look in there for instructions. If we go against her wishes, she’s sure to come back to haunt us.’

  Cautiously, Thea peered into the row of cubbyholes, pulling out bank books, chequebook stubs, insurance documents. ‘I can’t see anything,’ she reported.

  ‘Keep looking,’ Gussie ordered.

  In the final section, there was the leather-bound notebook she had seen before. ‘There’s this,’ she said, producing it for Gussie to see.

  ‘That won’t be it,’ said Gussie.

  But Thea opened it anyway. The first page had a list of names and dates. ‘Birthdays, I think,’ she said.

  The second page was blank, and on the third, in large print, were the words, Letter for Frances.

  Thea took it to the sofa, showing it to Gussie and the recumbent Gladys. ‘What does this mean?’ she asked. Both looked at her blankly.

  ‘Whatever it is, it isn’t important now,’ said Gussie. ‘Keep looking for her will, there’s a good woman.’

  Thea placed the notebook on the table, and returned to her quest.

  Behind her, Granny spoke thickly. ‘Can I please have a drink?’ she said.

  Then her head seemed to slump sideways, causing even the stalwart Gussie to panic.

  ‘Can you go to the bathroom and find her pills?’ she said tightly. ‘There’s something she’s supposed to take when this happens.’

  Jessica followed the order with a look that said Don’t blame me if she goes and dies on us, returning with an orange plastic canister of tablets. ‘These?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t expect there was much of a choice,’ said Gussie. ‘Gladys hasn’t been one for medication in recent years.’

  Jessica nodded and Granny was given two of the pills with a glass of water, her mouth working spasmodically as she swallowed them.

  Gussie organised everything for the next half hour with the efficiency of a practised nurse. Granny was propped semi-upright on several soft cushions. Thea, having failed in her search for the living will, but willing to believe Gussie’s insistence that the last thing they wanted was an ambulance, turned on the television, with the sound low, watching the scenes of spectacular destruction in England’s second city. The death toll was, however, smaller than first feared. Twelve people killed and fifty injured. Jessica’s insistence that Phil Hollis was unlikely to be amongst them finally persuaded her. The news quickly turned to speculation and punditry, infuriatingly repetitive and insubstantial. After ten minutes, she turned it off again.

  ‘OK,’ said Gussie. ‘This is what we’re going to do. Gladys is no worse, is she? You can see that for yourselves. Right?’

  Her assistants both nodded cautiously.

  ‘I happen to know that there’s a doctor due at a gathering here in the High Street, which has probably started by now.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s sure to involve lunch. It’s some women’s group meeting – I’ve no idea what it’s about, but they were talking about it in the Post Office on Tuesday. A woman called Suzy Collins was mentioned, and she’s qualified as a GP. She’s not working at the moment, because she’s got two young children and has opted to stay at home with them.’

  Thea made a winding-up motion with her hand, suggesting that Gussie get to the point.

  ‘So, I suggest one of us nips along to the house and asks her to come and have a look at Gladys.’

  ‘But why so unofficial?’ Jessica asked. ‘What’s wrong with just calling her regular doctor to come and check her over?’

  ‘Because her regular doctor struck her off his list when she started proceedings against him five years ago, and no one else will touch her. It’s Suzy or an ambulance, basically. I know Suzy slightly. She’ll do as she’s asked.’

  ‘She’ll get into trouble,’ Jessica warned. ‘This is not the way to do things at all.’

  ‘We’ll face that when we come to it,’ said Gussie. ‘Now, for reasons I needn’t explain, I think it would be best if one of you went, rather than me.’

  Thea found herself all too clearly imagining reasons why Gussie might not be welcome in certain Blockley homes. The woman exuded an aura of trouble and conflict and outspokenness, despite her gentle treatment of Granny Gardner. ‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘Which house is it?’

  Gussie gave directions, and Thea set out, muttering ‘Suzy Collins’ to herself as she went. She turned up the broad driveway of one of the houses in the quieter stretch of the High Street, before it disappeared into The Warren. She could hear loud female voices as she approached the house, pierced with sudden laughter. The meeting was clearly a lively one. The front door stood very slightly ajar, and she pushed it open.

  There was a wide hallway, with a door off to the left, where the gathering was in full swing. A single voice was dominating the others: ‘When Frank sees this, he’ll think he’s died and gone to heaven. And if he doesn’t, then what the hell! I’ll be OK on my own with one of these, won’t I.’

  ‘But how does it work?’ came a different voice. ‘I never thought I was naïve, but I really don’t…’

  ‘Just feel this silk,’ sighed another.

  Thea stood close to the open door, listening with growing alarm. She almost retreated without showing herself, until she remembered Granny’s plight. The next ten seconds were spent reminding herself that she was as broad minded and sexually active as any woman might expect to be at her age.

  And then she walked straight into the Ann Summers Party.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Nobody noticed her at first, and Thea had time to take in the scene before her. On one table an array of underwear was displayed – scarlet and black seemed to be the dominant colours. But much more compelling was the selection of objects laid out on the floor in the centre of a circle of women rather awkwardly kneeling, crouching, sitting and handling the things with little sign of inhibition.

  Thea reminded herself again that there was no reason to disapprove of anything she was seeing. A healthy sex life was a highly desirable part of anyone’s existence, and if some sensuality helped to ke
ep it going, then so be it. The fact that the gadgets mostly appeared to be designed to bring pleasure to women whether or not a man was involved gave rise to social and moral questions that Thea was not tempted to go into at that point.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, quite loudly. ‘Is Suzy Collins here?’

  Even the discovery of a stranger in their midst did not appear to disconcert the gathering. ‘Suzy?’ said a woman close to Thea. ‘Yes – that’s her. Suzy! Somebody wants you.’

  Suzy looked up and smiled. ‘Oh?’ she said. She was holding a device that included straps and a switch, which she had just activated. The women either side of her were screeching their amusement at the result. At the sight of Thea’s face, Suzy got to her feet and went towards her, still holding the gadget.

  The room fell silent as Thea embarked on her rehearsed speech. ‘Could you please come and look at a friend of mine? I think she might have had a small stroke?’

  It sounded both idiotic and impertinent as the words echoed in her own ears. Why bother a young woman at a party when there were proper services available at the end of a phone?

  ‘A friend of yours? Who are you? How did you know I was here?’ asked Suzy. She was very young, with curly black hair and a curvaceous body.

  ‘It’s only just down the street a few doors,’ Thea urged her. ‘I know it’s a terrible imposition, but we thought it would be the quickest and easiest thing to do.’

  ‘I haven’t got anything with me. All I could do would be to look at her. And I’m not practising at the moment. I couldn’t…’

  Thea had managed to draw her out into the hall. In the doorway, Suzy had turned and lobbed the dildo at the nearest woman, who caught it deftly.

  ‘We’d just like your advice, that’s all. It’s all a bit complicated, you see.’ Thea was floundering. Whatever she had planned to say had deserted her.

  ‘It sounds like something in the French Resistance,’ Suzy smiled. ‘Is your friend a spy, or a runaway criminal?’

  ‘Well,’ Thea began, habitually literal and wanting to be an honest as possible. ‘Not really.’

  ‘An illegal immigrant? An asylum seeker? Here in Blockley? Surely not!’

  It was proving easier than Thea had feared to lead the young doctor to Granny’s cottage. Something about the instinctive need to tend the sick, she supposed. Or perhaps it was sheer unadulterated curiosity.

  ‘Good God, it’s not Gladys Gardner, is it?’ Suzy stared at the building as if it might be about to burst into flames. ‘I might have known. You must be the Montgomerys’ house-sitter. Bloody hell, I can’t attend to her. I’d never hear the end of it.’

  ‘Oh, please,’ Thea begged. ‘She really isn’t very well. And she doesn’t want to go to hospital. We didn’t think we’d got much choice.’

  ‘But how did you know about me? Who told you?’

  The question was answered by Gussie’s appearance at the door. ‘Oh-oh,’ said Suzy. ‘Now I get it.’ She seemed to have already accepted defeat and stepped into the cottage with a sigh.

  The first difference Thea noticed was the absence of Jessica. ‘She said she has to leave by two,’ said Gussie. ‘She has to be in Manchester at five.’

  ‘Oh God, so she does,’ Thea remembered. ‘The last thing she needs is to get into more trouble.’ She looked at her watch. ‘That gives her ten minutes,’ she realised with alarm.

  The next change was Granny herself. Although her mouth was still crooked and her left arm dangled awkwardly over the edge of the sofa, the look in her eyes was a lot brighter. ‘Feeling better?’ Thea asked her.

  The old woman nodded, and attempted a grin. ‘Yerrth,’ she mumbled.

  Thea sat down on one of the armchairs, leaving plenty of space for the doctor to perform her examination. The avalanche of events, impressions, connections and worries accumulated over the past twenty-four hours or so was weighing her down. There was so much to think about, so many threads to keep hold of, so much still waiting to be faced. A multitude of unanswered questions thronged her mind. What about Upton and Icarus and Nick, for a start? Thea still hoped and believed that Julian’s murder was associated with that muddled story, despite the stack of evidence against Gladys Gardner. The confirmatory exhibits at the photographic show needed to be properly processed, too. Had Jessica managed to explain what they’d seen to James? Was the entire police investigation now suspended because of some infuriating terrorism in Birmingham?

  After two minutes of distracted thinking along such lines, Thea gave up and concentrated on the present moment. Suzy Collins was taking Granny’s pulse, peering into her eyes, testing the muscle tone of the limbs on the left side. She seemed frustrated and unsure. ‘I can’t even listen to her heart without any equipment,’ she complained. ‘She’s going to have to have a proper check-up.’

  With some energy, the old woman shook her head on the cushion, in an emphatic rejection. ‘Nononono,’ she blathered. ‘Talk, mutht talk. Hoollan. Killed Hoollan.’

  But the old woman never got a chance to make what promised to be a deathbed confession. Jessica called hurried goodbyes, and as Thea stood at the front door waving to her departing daughter, she was approached by a pale thin woman in her late forties.

  ‘Hello,’ she said shyly. ‘Are you the house-sitter? I’m afraid I don’t know your name. Nick Jolly phoned me.’

  Thea guessed instantly who she was. ‘Yes, I’m the house-sitter,’ she said. ‘Thea Osborne. And you must be Frances, come to see your mother?’

  The woman gave a curiously reluctant little nod. ‘How is she?’ she asked. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen her.’

  Thea escorted the woman into the hallway of the Montgomerys’ house, and detained her for a few moments. ‘She isn’t at all well,’ she said. ‘There’s a doctor with her now. Why did Nick phone you? What did he say?’

  ‘Um…quite a lot, actually. I’m afraid he’s very upset.’

  Thea’s head was throbbing with impressions, remembered remarks, suspicions, all jostling for urgent examination. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I really need to ask you something,’ she said. ‘The police are likely to be here any time now—’

  ‘They’ll arrest her for murder, won’t they?’ Frances had a hand to her throat, her voice a breathy whisper.

  ‘Did Nick tell you that?’

  ‘In a way. They’ve read the will, you see. I didn’t expect them to do it so soon…but of course they’d need to find out what kind of funeral he wanted. I thought there might be more time.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Thea. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  Frances gave her a confused look, which rapidly mutated into something sterner. ‘No, of course you don’t. But then, it isn’t really your business, is it? I’m sure you’ve done a great job with the old lady, but really you needn’t know all our family business, need you? I’d like to see her now, if it’s all right with you.’

  ‘But—’ Thea wanted to know so much more, while accepting the reprimand for her curiosity.

  With a hesitancy she could barely understand herself, she stood aside as Frances went through the connecting door. Instantly the newcomer was kneeling beside the old woman on the sofa, clutching her hand and repeating, ‘Mum! Mum – it’s me, Frances. Open your eyes and look at me.’

  Thea and the doctor exchanged glances and by mutual consent withdrew to the side of the room, taking Gussie with them. Slowly, Mrs Gardner responded to the voice in her ear.

  ‘Frances!’ she sighed, when recognition dawned. A tear trickled down a lined old cheek. ‘You’re not to be here. Go, lovely, go away and hide.’

  ‘Too late, Mum. I can’t let them do it. It isn’t right. And do you know – he’s left it all to me, after all. I never thought he would. All but that stupid car. Thomas can have that, and welcome.’

  Granny Gardner gave a feeble smile and nodded. ‘He loved you. I always said so.’

  Frances looked at Suzy. ‘Is she seriously ill? She looks as if she ought t
o be in hospital.’

  Before the doctor could reply, Granny gave a strange sighing gasp, and stretched her arms out stiffly along her body for a few seconds. Then she went limp, and the half-open eyes lost all focus.

  The doctor rallied first and grabbed the limp left wrist. She put her ear close to the bony old chest. She raised the head and blew gently onto an open eye.

  ‘My God, she’s gone,’ she said.

  Nobody moved for half a minute, each waiting for one of the others to break the spell. Then Gussie stepped in front of Frances. ‘Remember me?’ she said. ‘I knew you twenty years ago.’

  But Frances was in no state for social exchanges. She knelt limply on the floor, clinging to her mother’s frail hand. ‘She can’t be dead,’ she pleaded, looking from the doctor to Thea and back. ‘Tell me she isn’t dead.’

  Thea tightened her jaw with resolve. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry,’ she said. ‘But really we need to clear a few things up before the police get here. And you…’ she addressed Suzy ‘…you’ll be in trouble if you don’t contact someone right away, won’t you?’

  ‘I’m in trouble as it is,’ said the doctor calmly. ‘But yes, I need to make some calls. I’ll go outside and do it.’

  Gussie seemed at a loss. ‘Poor old Glad,’ she murmured. ‘What a way to go.’ Then she looked at Frances. ‘Made it at the last minute, didn’t you. She thought she’d never see you again.’

  ‘She saw me on Sunday,’ said Frances in a flat tone. ‘When we killed Julian.’

  * * *

  That afternoon consisted of a medley of telephone calls, questions, people in and out, more questions. Both mobiles and the Montgomerys’ landline were in constant use. Thea could almost feel the air crackling with all the words, real and electronic, flying to and fro. The police were summoned, the doctor quizzed, Gussie and Frances treated with bemused courtesy. Granny was taken away by two respectful men in dark suits, and Thea wept to see her go. But at the front of her mind, insisting and clamouring, was a string of questions for Frances. Why? How? But the more urgent necessity of dealing with Granny Gardner’s death required that she hold her tongue for the time being.