Granny Smith and the Deadly Frogs or The little old lady solves another crime

by G. M. Dobbs

  ‘What’s this?’ Granny asked and lifted out a thick and impressively long vibrator. She knew very well what it was, she’d been to several Ann Summer parties in her time, but anticipated the reaction the device would get from Twice. The special constable looked horrified as he took in the object in Granny’s hand and then he blushed and walked out of the room. How was he to explain what the object was to the old woman? She’d likely suffer a heart attack if he told her.

  Granny smiled, dropped the vibrator back into the box and quickly went and opened the wardrobe. The contents were as to be expected but amongst the functional items of clothing hanging from a brass rail, Granny noticed some rather racy nightwear and a whip. The old woman grabbed the whip and took a look at it. The handle was polished steel but the whip itself was made of incredibly soft leather. The old woman placed it back over the rail and was about to close the wardrobe when she noticed a pair of handcuffs on the small shelf behind the clothing rail. She grabbed the cuffs. The key was in them and the old woman pulled on them, testing them. They seemed to be strong and of good quality, and although the old women knew they were intended for sex games she supposed they could be used in a real life situation.

  Could prove useful, the old woman thought and pushed the cuffs into one of the voluminous pockets of her body warmer.

  She went through to the living room where she found Twice standing looking out of the window. He didn’t turn around when Granny entered. Likely still embarrassed over the sight of a seventy odd years old woman holding up a vibrator of positively mammoth proportions.

  Granny noticed a pile of mail on the mantelpiece and she crossed the room and took a look. All of the letters had been opened and they were all bills. There was also a postcard reminding Carol that she had an appointment with her dentist this coming Wednesday. It was an appointment that she wouldn’t be keeping.

  ‘Come on,’ Twice said as he turned to face Granny. He seemed to have now managed to compose himself after his shock.

  Granny nodded. She had the address book hidden away in her pocket, as well as the handcuffs, and she was eager to get home and take a look through the address book.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing much here worth seeing.’

  ‘I could have told you that,’ Twice said.

  Granny smiled. All in all the old woman felt that visiting Carol’s flat had been extremely worthwhile. For one thing she had discovered that Carol had rather exotic tastes when it came to sex, not to mention reading materials, which made it highly likely, that Mark had not been her only sexual conquest. The old woman was starting to believe that Carol’s murder had been down to jealousy, a spurned lover seeking revenge perhaps. And, Granny suspected, whoever that killer was then his name could very well be in the address book she now carried in her pocket.

  Thirteen

  ‘Why?’ Mark asked. ‘I’ve already made a statement. Told you everything I know. Why do you want me back down the station?’

  Chief inspector Miskin smiled tightly and looked Mark directly in the eyes.

  ‘You didn’t tell us that you’d slept with Miss Hamish the night before she was killed,’ he said and the two constables with him moved to the door, blocking off any exit should Mark try and make a run for it.

  Mark stared back at the policeman, open-mouthed. He made gurgling sounds from the back of his throat as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. For a moment he was speechless, the chief inspector’s word having taken by completely by surprise.

  ‘Now why is this?’ Miskin asked.’ Why didn’t you tell us.’

  ‘You didn’t ask me,’ Mark said, the usual bluster was back in his voice. Over the years he’d had many experiences of dealing with the police and he wouldn’t allow himself to be beaten down. The bastards had tried too many times before and Mark’s working class upbringing had taught him to always be on the defensive where the police were concerned. ‘You asked me about the night Carol was killed. I told you where I was then.’

  ‘Yes,’ Miskin smiled again. ‘For most of the day you were locked in police cells for attacking Tudor Lewis. You then spent the evening in the Bully and went home alone to an empty house and spent the night alone.’

  ‘So?’ Mark glared at the chief inspector.

  ‘So it hardly gives you a cast iron alibi.’

  Mark shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I didn’t kill Carol,’ he said.

  ‘I never said you did.’

  ‘Then why all the questions?’

  ‘Because I need to establish all the facts and the best place we can do that is back at the station, where you can make a formal statement. Another formal and much more detailed statement this time.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’ Mark asked, he realised that it must have either been Amy or Sue who had told the police of his fling with Carol, since outside of himself they were the only ones who knew about it. One sodding night was all it had been, not even that if the truth were told. He should have kept his mouth shut. Bloody women couldn’t keep anything to themselves.

  ‘Then I’ll have no option but to arrest you,’ Miskin said, smugly.

  ‘Just because Carol and I had a thing,’ Mark said. ‘It was nothing really, just a drunken moment. That doesn’t mean I killed her.’

  ‘No it doesn’t,’ Miskin agreed. ‘But you should have told us when you gave a statement, which is why I need you down the station.’

  ‘It was personal,’ Mark said. ‘And nothing to do with Carol’s death.’

  ‘And as soon as we get you down the station we can establish that,’ Miskin said, smugly.

  ‘This is absurd,’ Mark really didn’t want to go back to the station, but he knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

  ‘Are you coming?’ Miskin prompted.

  Mark looked first at the chief inspector and then at the two uniformed policemen. He smiled and shook his head.

  ‘I’ll get my coat,’ he said.

  At the very same moment that Chief Inspector Miskin was leading Mark into the police station, Granny was sat at her kitchen table, giving Carol’s address book her full attention. Twice had dropped her off only minutes ago and the old woman had immediately put a CD (AC DC’s Back in Black) into the stereo, made a cup of tea and sat herself down to go through the book.

  ‘I’m a rolling thunder, a pourin’ rain. I’m coming on like an hurricane,’ Granny sang along as she flicked through the pages of the address book. Music helped her to concentrate and the old woman nodded to the rhythm as the driving beat filled the air around her.

  Granny remembered Carol once saying that she had been brought up in Cardiff, yet her mother’s address, together with a landline number, was scrawled down in the book as being in Caerleon, which meant the family must have moved since Carol was a child. There was also an entry marked, “Sis”, and Granny figured this likely meant Sister; this time there was both a landline and mobile number with the entry but no address. There were a dozen other listings and apart from two entries, one marked Doctor and the other Dentist, all the others were men’s names. Just Christian names, sometimes not even that in the case of Rog and Bob, with telephone numbers but no addresses. On the inside page the section for personal details had been left blank, though Carol had written her own name across the top of the page.

  Granny thoughtfully turned the book over and over in the hands for several moments before placing it back into her pocket. She began to realise how little she truly knew of Carol. The few times she had spoken with her the subject of past lives had not really come up.

  They had been too focused on saving the frogs for idle chitchat.

  Wrongly focused as it had turned out.

  The old woman went and switched the kettle back on and swilled her mug out under the tap. She figured she’d ring both Carol’s mum and sister, but first it would help to find out a little more about the woman.

  The old woman tapped her feet to, Givin’ the Dog a Bone, as she dropped a te
a-bag into the mug and waited for the kettle to boil. By the time the kettle hit off the album had moved onto Let Me Put My love into You, and Granny decided that was enough of AC/DC. Given all she had seen today the song currently playing was painting rather disturbing images in the old woman’s mind.

  She went and stopped the CD. As the music died it occurred to her that Sue and Amy would likely know a bit about Carol’s past. Both women were close to Carol’s age and had spent much more time with her than Granny had. Indeed the old woman recalled the three of them going into Bridgend for the nightclubs on several occasions.

  She would need to talk to them and Mark too.

  It was imperative she talked to Mark.

  Granny finished making the tea and took a sip.

  She began debating with herself who to approach first – Mark, Amy or Sue - but couldn’t make up her mind. Mark had slept with Carol and was allegedly hurt at the way Carol had then treated him.

  Did that constitute a motive for murder?

  Possibly, Granny supposed. It was a crazy world full of crazy people and nothing would surprise the old woman. She took a tin of Peterson’s Nutty Cut tobacco from the bowl on top of the refrigerator and sat down and filled a pipe with the finely cut leaves.

  Truly a three-pipe problem, Granny thought as she mulled over the question of her next move.

  Fourteen

  By the time Arthur arrived home from the allotments Granny had made a list of possible suspects. It wasn’t a very long list, featured only two names and both seemed unlikely to the old woman but at the moment, with the little she knew, these two names were her only guesses as to the possible identity of Carol’s killer.

  Granny had written:

  Mark - a one night stand leads to a confrontation that turns violent (possible but seems a little unlikely.)

  Tudor Lewis – got into an argument over the rare frogs thought to inhabit the pond results in him strangling Carol (Again possible but very far fetched. Sounds like bollocks!)

  Granny put the list into her pocket and went to the freezer. She had spent the entire afternoon mulling over Carol’s murder, and hadn’t prepared anything for Arthur’s dinner. He’d have to make do with frozen chips and couple of sausages and tough if he didn’t like it.

  She wasn’t put on this planet to be at his beck and call.

  Not when she had a murder to solve.

  Arthur came into the kitchen and waved his hands to clear the dense cloud of smoke that engulfed him. He coughed and frowned at his wife.

  ‘That bloody pipe,’ he moaned. ‘It’ll be the death of me.’

  Granny removed the pipe from her mouth, it had burned out in any case and all that remained in the bowl was a fine layer of ash, and placed it on the windowsill to cool off.

  ‘I’ll be the death of you,’ she retorted. ‘If you don’t get those mucky hands washed up.’ The old woman supposed it was something that her husband had at least removed his Wellington boots before coming into the house. He didn’t always do so which usually earned him a clip across the back of his head.

  ‘What’s for dinner,’ Arthur said. ‘I could eat a horse.’

  ‘Then I’ll do you a beef burger fourteen hands high,’ Granny quipped. ‘Now go and wash your bloody hands.’

  Arthur gave his wife the same Nazi-style salute he had been giving her for years, stamping one leg as he did so, and made his way upstairs to the bathroom.

  Granny smiled to herself and threw a handful of frozen chips into the deep fat fryer. It was hardly healthy eating, but the old woman didn’t hold with all the modern ideas about nutrition. Every time she saw an article about low fat this, or low fat that, she would reason that she had been eating fatty food for years, dripping sandwiches being a particular favourite, and it had never done her any harm. In fact she considered herself to be in remarkably good health for her age considering she indulged in everything the health experts said was bad for her. It was her vices that actually kept her young; least Granny had convinced herself that was the case.

  The Bully had a good crowd that evening and Granny took her drink, leaving her husband with his usual bunch of cronies and went over to sit with Sue, Amy and Mansall. The fact that Mark was not with them registered with the old woman. He was very much conspicuous by his absence.

  ‘Evening,’ Granny sat down on the empty seat next to Mansall. The others acknowledged her with polite smiles but no one said anything. There was an oppressive atmosphere hanging over the table that the old woman couldn’t help but pick up on.

  ‘No Mark?’ Granny asked.

  All three of them looked at her with expressions upon their faces that Granny could only read as surprise. Had something happened to Mark? She’d spent the afternoon at home with Arthur and hadn’t heard anything.

  ‘You don’t know?’

  The speaker had been Amy and Granny looked at her.

  ‘Know what?’ she asked.

  ‘Mark’s been arrested,’ Amy said.

  ‘We don’t know he’s been arrested,’ Sue chimed in. ‘He’s with the police, helping them with their enquiries I think it’s called.

  ‘They took him in this afternoon,’ Mansall said. ‘I saw him getting into the car with that chief inspector. He’s not come back yet.’

  ‘What time was this?’ Granny asked.

  Mansall shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘About half twelve, I think. It was somewhere around there because I’d only just got back from feeding my pigeons. I always feed my pigeons at eleven thirty on the dot and it usually takes me about a hour by the time I’ve had a sweep around and put fresh straw down.’

  It was gone eight thirty now which meant that Mark had been at the police station for the best part of eight hours. Granny wondered why Twice hadn’t telephoned her to inform her of this development. You’d think he would especially after calling her this morning with the findings of the post mortem, and then accompanying her to Carol’s flat.

  ‘Just because Mark’s down the station,’ Granny said. ‘Doesn’t mean it’s anything to do with Carol’s death. It could be some other reason.’

  ‘Like what?’ Amy asked, keeping her gaze directed down at the table.

  Granny shrugged her shoulders, said: ‘It could be something to do with him attacking Tudor Lewis.’

  ‘They’d already questioned him and released him with a caution,’ Amy pointed out. ‘Why would they want to talk to him about it now?’

  Granny had to admit that Amy had a point. Again she wondered why Twice had not called her.

  ‘Did any of you mention anything to the police about Mark and Carol’s little fling?’ she asked.

  ‘We had to,’ Amy said. ‘You said so yourself. But I only told the police that they had had something together. I didn’t say how upset Mark was afterwards,’ she turned to Sue. ‘Did you?’

  ‘No,’ Sue shook her head and took a sip of her drink. ‘I just stuck to the facts.’

  ‘Then that’ll be it,’ Granny said. No doubt the fact that Mark and Carol had shared a night together, the last night that Carol had ever shared with anyone, would warrant investigation.

  ‘What fling?’ Mansall, who obviously knew nothing about Mark and Carol’s one night together looked at each of the women in turn, hoping that one of them, any of them, would enlighten him.

  ‘Excuse me a moment,’ Granny said and got to her feet. She pulled her mobile phone from the pocket of her body warmer and made her way to the smoking shelter, which was situated in the garden at the rear of the pub.

  Once outside she quickly scanned to Dai’s number and called. He answered on the third set of rings.

  ‘Granny?’ obviously he’d read the caller display.

  ‘Dai,’ Granny said. ‘What’s happened with Mark? Why didn’t you call me? I’ve just been told in the Bully. It seems it’s common knowledge.’

  ‘Slow down,’ Twice said. ‘You’ve lost me. Now start again.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me Miskin’s taken Mark back
in for questioning or God alone knows what.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  ‘No. I didn’t.’

  ‘And you call yourself a policeman.’

  ‘I am a policeman. I devote a lot of my time to being a policeman.’

  ‘And yet you’re several steps behind the people in the pub. Miskin led Mark from his house earlier this afternoon.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Yes,’ Granny frowned. ‘Can you find out what’s going on?’

  ‘I suppose I could.’

  ‘Okay. Call me back in an hour,’ Granny said. ‘I’m going to chat with the others, try and find out more about Carol’s past.’

  ‘I won’t know in an hour,’ Twice said. ‘I’m off duty and we’re having a roast. It’ll have to wait until morning.’

  ‘Morning,’ Granny was about to go into a tirade, questioning whether Dai Twice was a policeman at all and not just a glorified errand boy in uniform but, deciding that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, she took a deep breath and said: ‘Okay you enjoy your supper and I’ll look forward to hearing from you tomorrow.’

  ‘Good,’ Twice said. He supposed he could give the station a quick ring and see if anyone knew what was going on with Mark. ‘I’ll find out what I can and then give you a call.’

  ‘Right,’ Granny said. ‘In the meantime I’ll continue with my investigation.’

  ‘Don’t get in any trouble,’ Twice warned. ‘Remember you have no official standing and you will end up arrested if you overstep the mark.’

  ‘As if,’ Granny said, ended the call and dropped the phone back into her pocket.

  She made her way back into the pub and resumed her seat. The mood between the others had not lifted, and each and every face at the table looked thoughtfully dour.

  Granny guessed that while she had been gone the women had filled Mansall in on what had gone on between Mark and Carol because he was sat there, gazing off into space, while Sue and Amy chatted amongst themselves.