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

by G. M. Dobbs

  Eventually Granny steered the conversation around to Carol and what each of them knew of her life prior to her coming to live in the village, and it became apparent that none of them really knew anything, and what they did know, or thought they knew, was only what Carol had told them. It soon became apparent that Carol had told each of them widely differing stories. The only thing Mansall could contribute, all he knew about Carol was that she had told him she had come to live in the village following a messy divorce, and both Sue and Amy had been told likewise.

  That was all the two women could agree on though.

  Sue claimed that Carol had left her husband but only after suffering years of physical abuse.

  Amy said that Carol’s husband had run off with a teacher.

  Sue had been told that Carol’s husband was a doctor and had been a good ten years older than Carol.

  Amy thought he had been younger.

  Amy also said that Carol had long been an environmental activist and had taken part in many protests over the years.

  Sue swore blind that the action against the Tudor development was the first thing Carol had been involved in.

  ‘Why would Carol tell us different stories?’ Sue asked.

  ‘Maybe she told each of us what she thought we wanted to hear.’ Amy said and gave Sue a pointed look.

  ‘She told me she’d been an environmental activist too,’ Granny said. ‘She claimed to have been involved in vandalising several animal experimentation facilities in her younger days.’

  ‘Why would she lie to us?’ Sue seemed to be struggling with her emotions and once again there were tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. She took a sip of her drink and shook her head.

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Mansall put in. ‘Carol and Mark. The dirty dog.’

  Grannies sat back in her chair and said nothing, allowing the others to talk amongst themselves while she started to build a picture of what Carol had really been like. It was getting more and more intriguing by the moment and Carol was proving to be quite the mystery woman.

  The old woman decided that come morning she would telephone Carol’s mother. Maybe then she’d learn something concrete about the woman’s past.

  ‘Sue,’ Amy said. ‘Wait up. This is getting ridiculous.’

  Sue stopped, turned. She had left the Bully on her own, but it was no real surprise to see Amy had come trailing after her. She stood there and watched as Amy ran to catch up with her.

  ‘Look,’ Amy said, catching her breath. ‘I’m so sorry about Carol. I know she must have meant a lot to you.’

  ‘To all of us,’ Sue said.

  ‘Yes,’ Amy smiled and then looked up at the night sky. ‘I know how hard it is to lose someone you truly love.’

  Sue nodded, said nothing in reply. She looked at Amy and once more her eyes started to well up.

  ‘Shall we walk home together?’ Amy asked.

  Sue nodded, said nothing.

  The women walked in silence, their footsteps echoing out on the cobbled pavements. From time to time Amy would glance at Sue but said nothing, not wanting to spoil this moment. In the end it was Sue who finally broke the silence.

  ‘I’ll miss Carol,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Amy said. ‘I know. I know.’ Now it was her turn to get emotional and tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.

  Sue reached out then and took Amy in her arms. She didn’t think about it but acted on the wave of emotion. She felt Amy snuggle in closer to her and she squeezed her tightly, feeling great comfort with her in her arms. Amy’s head was buried in Sue’s chest and when she looked up, she locked eyes with Sue.

  Then they kissed.

  Fifteen

  The following morning being a Saturday meant that Arthur didn’t go to the allotments as he did most days, but he was still out of the house by eleven. He liked to get to the betting shop on a Saturday and then spend the rest of the day in the pub.

  Granny was glad to see the back of him since she wanted a little privacy while she telephoned Carol’s mother. She also needed to chase up Twice and find out what had happened to Mark. She had tried to phone Mark several times this morning, but each time the call had gone directly to answering machine, indicating to the old woman that he was likely still in police custody.

  Once Arthur had left the house Granny waited a full ten minutes before going to the landline and punching out the number from Carol’s address book. She placed the handset back on the receiver though, suddenly realising that she didn’t have the faintest idea what she was going to say to Carol’s mother.

  What could she say?

  The old woman took her pipe and tobacco from her pocket and thoughtfully filled the bowl. She’d have a smoke, think about what she was going to say, before she called Carol’s mother.

  At the precise moment the front door opened and Gerald’s cheerful voice prompted Granny to quickly place the address book back into her pocket.

  ‘Cooeey,’ Gerald shouted. ‘Mummy, I’m home.’

  Wonderful, Granny thought. With everything that had been going on she’d forgotten her son had been due home this morning.

  Gerald’s head appeared around the living room door.

  ‘Hello Mummy,’ he said as he came into the room. ‘I’ve brought my future bride with me.’

  ‘You bitch,’ Wayne playfully slapped Gerald across the face. ‘I’m the groom, darling.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Granny said, thinking she’d better keep her new handcuffs away from these two. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  A Few moments later Granny came back into the living room with a tray containing the tea and biscuits.

  ‘Party rings,’ Gerald said. ‘My favourites.’

  Wayne slapped the back of Gerald’s hand as he reached for the biscuits.

  ‘I call dibs on the pink one,’ he said.

  Granny sat back in the chair, looking at her son. She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about his forthcoming wedding, his gay wedding, or as she had come to think of it, the Royal Wedding. But as she sat watching him and Wayne together she could see that they looked so happy, and that was all she truly wanted for her son. If he had happiness then everything else would follow, and that, she supposed, was all that was truly important. She had no right to judge and knew she would have to accept her son for what he was.

  Accept them for what they were - two people who were very much in love. It was a very different world to one Granny had been born into, and although there were many things the old woman didn’t like about the modern world -political correctness, speed cameras and Simon Cowell, to name but a few - she supposed there were some improvements on the way things had been. At least people like her son would be able to live full and open lives without fear of petty prejudice.

  If only they weren’t so bloody poofie, Granny thought. It wasn’t their homosexuality that bothered the old woman, but sitting here, both of them being so excitable, was like sitting between Graham Norton on steroids and Stephen Fry on helium. The old woman found it exhausting, and she couldn’t really concentrate on what was being said because the best part of her mind was still trying to figure out how best to approach Carol’s mother.

  ‘So Mummy,’ Wayne leaned across the table and tapped Granny on the knee. ‘I suppose you’ll be getting a new frock for our wedding?’

  ‘Yes,’ Granny said and then a horrible thought occurred to her. ‘You won’t be will you?’

  Oh, Mummy you are a one,’ Wayne said moved a hand as if to slap an invisible fly from the tip of his nose.

  ‘I’ll be wearing the frock,’ Gerald said and then added upon noticing the horrified expression upon his mother’s face: ‘I’m only teasing. We’ll both be dressed very smartly. In suits.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Wayne put in with a giggle. ‘Mind you I can’t say what undies I’ll be wearing.’

  Again the front door opened and them Granny heard Leanne’s (her daughter) voice calling out. A second later Timmy and Tiffany (Leanne
’s twins) burst into the living room and immediately starting jumping all over Wayne and Gerald.

  ‘What did you get us?’ Timmy asked, knowing that his Uncle Gerald would have brought him a present back from his holiday. He always did, whenever he went away, even if it was only on a day trip.

  ‘Timmy,’ Tiffany scolded her brother. ‘Wait. It’s rude to ask out like that,’ she looked at Gerald with her adorable eyes and he laughed and ruffled her hair.

  A moment later Leanne and her elder daughter, Suzy (a very mature thirteen year old) made a more refined entry.

  ‘I believe congratulations are in order,’ Leanne said, Granny having told her of her brother’s announcement that he and Wayne were to get hitched, and Gerald jumped up and they hugged. Wayne then joined them, putting his arms around them both.

  ‘Uncle Gerald and Auntie Wayne,’ Suzy said with a broad smile and Gerald lovingly slapped her across the head.

  ‘Cheeky little madam,’ Gerald teased.

  ‘Cooeey,’ Maud shouted as she came through the front door and a moment later appeared in the living room. Maud lived across the street and had seen the happy couple arrive, but had waited a few minutes, figuring she’d give them enough time to get indoors, before popping across to offer her own congratulations. She’d never been to a gay wedding before and was very much looking forward to the experience.

  Granny sighed and looked at the clock, feeling the day ticking away.

  A Royal Wedding, indeed.

  It was late afternoon before Granny again found herself alone in the house, and thus able to start her investigation. Leanne and the children had gone back to their own house several streets away, Maud had also gone home and Gerald had accompanied Wayne to his mother’s house where they were expected for dinner. Arthur was still out, which was no surprise and Granny knew she wouldn’t see her husband until well after six. His routine of a Saturday was to stroll in around six thirty, wolf down his dinner and then spend the rest of the Saturday evening snoozing in front of the television.

  Granny still hadn’t decided how best to approach Carol’s mother, and so she decided to chase up Twice instead. He had promised to find out what was happening with Mark and let her know, but thus far zilch. The old woman took her mobile from her pocket and was just about to scan her contacts list when there was a knock on the front door.

  ‘Bugger,’ Granny said, wondering who it was at the door. Most people didn’t bother knocking but simply shouted out a greeting and then walked right in, so it wasn’t any of the usual crowd. The old woman again dropped her phone into her pocket and went to answer the door.

  It was Mark.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’

  Granny was taken aback. She stood there for several moments, looking at Mark, but saying nothing.

  ‘I’d like to talk to you,’ Mark prompted. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes,’ Granny said, regaining her composure. She stepped aside to let Mark in.

  He was unshaven and bleary eyed. He clearly hadn’t slept recently and there was a frightened look about him as he stood in Granny’s living room, waiting for the old woman to invite him to take a seat.

  ‘You’d better sit down,’ Granny said, realising that Mark would collapse if he stood in the one spot any longer. He was beat on his feet. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, make us a cup of tea.’

  ‘Please,’ Mark said and gratefully sank down onto the sofa.

  ‘Do you take sugar and milk?’ Granny shouted through from the kitchen.

  ‘Two sugars,’ Mark shouted back. ‘And milk. Thanks.’

  ‘A cup of tea will perk you up,’ Granny shouted back.

  Granny was from the generation where tea was almost considered to be the elixir of life, and a cure for almost all ills. Depressed? Have a cup of tea. Wife left you? Have a cup of tea. Lost your job? Have a cup of tea. Lost a couple of fingers in a gardening accident? Have a cup of tea. No matter what the trauma a good cup of tea would somehow make everything better. As Lu Tong, the Tang Dynasty poet, once said, I am not interested in immortality but only the taste of tea. Granny knew that quote well and not because of any familiarity with early oriental poetry, but rather because it, together with an image of a Chinese man drinking a cup of tea, was printed across her teapot.

  Granny came back into the living room with two mugs of tea. She handed one to Mark and then sat down so that she was directly facing him.

  ‘Thanks,’ Mark said and took a sip of his tea. He fished in his pockets and pulled out his tobacco tin. ‘It’s okay to smoke?’

  ‘Yes,’ Granny said and went and got him an ashtray. She took her pipe from the mantelpiece and filled it from the bowl that contained the aromatic blend she kept for smoking in the living room, figuring its blend of cherry and apple aromas acted as an air freshener and left a pleasing room note.

  ‘The police think I killed Carol,’ Mark said, drawing on the thin cigarette he had put together.

  Granny looked at him, remained silent.

  She wasn’t at all sure why he had come here to tell her this. It was not as if she and Mark were particularly close and as far as Granny could remember this was only the second time Mark had been to her house, the first time being when they had held a meeting of the action group in her kitchen because the Bully was hosting a dinner and dance for the local branch of the Buffaloes, and couldn’t accommodate them.

  ‘I didn’t,’ Mark said, fighting to hold back the tears. ‘I didn’t kill her. I would never do anything like that.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll clear itself up,’ Granny said. ‘But I don’t understand why you have come here.’

  ‘Because,’ Mark said. ‘You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to clear my name.’

  ‘Me?’

  Mark nodded.

  ‘The police are convinced it’s me,’ he said. ‘They won’t look anywhere else for the killer. They’re gonna’ get me for it.’

  ‘If you didn’t do it,’ Granny said. ‘Then they won’t be able to charge you. They need evidence for that.’

  ‘They are convinced I did it,’ Mark insisted.

  ‘Convinced and proving are two different things,’ Granny said.

  ‘There are plenty of innocent men in prison.’ Mark rammed his point home.

  Granny had to agree with that. There had been a number of high profile news stories during recent years in which people had been released from prison, often after serving many years, because it was decided by the appeal court that the original evidence hadn’t been as strong as it had seemed or, in at least one case, had been falsified by the police.

  ‘You found Carol’s body,’ Mark said. ‘You’ve solved crimes before. You are well known for your amateur detective skills. It’s the talk of the village.’

  ‘Yes,’ Granny smiled from within a cloud of fragrant smoke. It meant a lot to her that her skills were being recognised. ‘I’ve had my moments.’

  ‘Then you’ve got to help clear my name,’ Mark was now pleading. He may often come across as the hard, no nonsense type, but at this precise moment he seemed to be as helpless as a small child.

  ‘I’m already investigating the case,’ Granny said.

  Mark smiled.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’d like to help.’

  ‘I work alone,’ Granny said. ‘But if I can think of anything then I’ll certainly contact you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mark said. ‘I’d like to help, though. It’s my neck on the line.’

  ‘As I said I work alone,’ Granny held Mark in a steely gaze. ‘I’ll help you but I need to be left alone to do so.’

  ‘I understand, ‘ Mark said with a grin. ‘As the great bard said, he who travels alone travels fastest,’ he drained the last of his tea and did seem to perk up a little.

  ‘Actually it was Kipling,’ Granny said. ‘He who travels the fastest who travels alone. But you’re welcome.’

  Silence fell between them during which Granny drained her tea and smoked the pipe down to the
bottom of the bowl. And then the old woman stood up and took Mark’s mug from him.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Why did you attack Tudor Lewis?

  Mark looked up at Granny.

  ‘It’s kind of personal,’ he said.

  ‘If you want me to help,’ Granny said. ‘Then you shouldn’t hold anything back.’

  Mark sighed, nodded his head.

  ‘It was my brother.’

  ‘Your brother?’ Granny looked at Mark.

  ‘Yeah, Steve,’ Mark said. ‘Tudor was in school with him, they were around the same age. Steve was brilliant at school, and not only academically but as a sportsman too. He seemed to have everything and although he was older than me I knew mostly mostly everyone considered him top dog. The village girls used to go crazy about him and most of the other boys were jealous of him. Great things were expected for our Steve but something happened to him when he left school, changed him almost overnight.’

  ‘But what’s that to do with Tudor Lewis?’ Granny asked. She did vaguely remember Mark’s brother but hadn’t really known him.

  ‘Steve went off the rails, took to drink and drugs. One moment he was his old self and then next he had taken a road that led him to an early grave. He eventually drank himself to death but only after years of living like a bum.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what that had to do with Tudor Lewis,’ Granny said.

  ‘Tudor knew what had happened to Steve and when he told me he’d known my brother he had a smirk on his face. I felt he was mocking me and I just wanted to wipe that bastard smile off his face. I don’t know, maybe I imagined it but I felt Tudor was judging me, as if he was saying my brother was a loser and that I was too. It just felt as if he was laughing at me.’

  Granny smiled, nodded her understanding.

  ‘It still hurts about my brother,’ Mark continued. ‘It’s just when Tudor brought Steve up I saw red. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. Who knows?’

  ‘I tell you what,’ Granny said. ‘I’ll make us another cup of tea and you can help me by answering a few more questions.’