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

by G. M. Dobbs

  Twice looked at Granny but nevertheless he jumped up and took the tray from the old woman.

  ‘I’ll be mother then,’ he said.

  ‘Now,’ Granny leaned forward in her seat and, looking the old woman in the eye, asked: ‘When exactly did you last see your daughter?’

  The old woman looked up and Granny noticed the sadness in her eyes, which was to be expected since she had lost her daughter in such sudden and horrible circumstances.

  ‘It’s been a long time since Carol came to visit,’ the old woman said. ‘But Carol’s always been the same, getting so wrapped up in her own life and of course her work kept her busy. She was always complaining that her work took up so much time.’

  Granny nodded.

  ‘Understandable,’ she said. Though to the best of Granny’s knowledge Carol worked part time in the local library, which left her free for most of the week. It was true that he would supplement her earnings with the odd shift as a barmaid down the Bully, but she was hardly at the cut and thrust of things and Carol had always found the time to attend meetings of the action group. If she had wanted to visit her mother then it shouldn’t have really been a problem.

  ‘We spoke quite often on the telephone,’ the old woman continued. ‘Things were starting to look up for Carol. She sounded so happy and now -,’ the old woman’s words trailed off as she tried to fight back her sobs.

  ‘There,’ Twice handed the old woman a cup of tea and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘We will find whoever did this to your daughter and they will face justice.’

  ‘Indeed we will,’ Granny said and took her own cup of tea from the constable. ‘That’s why we’re here to make sure we explore all possibilities. Now could you think of anyone who may have wanted to harm your daughter?’

  Granny was sure she saw the old woman flinch at the question and for a moment she seemed unsure of how to answer. She took several sips of her tea before shaking her head and offering a simple: ‘No.’

  Granny exchanged a look with Twice. They had both detected the hesitation in the old woman’s answer.

  ‘An old boyfriend perhaps?’ Granny prompted.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone your daughter may have had a disagreement with?’

  ‘No.’

  It was like getting blood from a stone, Granny thought and decided to change tack.

  ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Why did Carol decide to move to Gilfach?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ the old woman said. ‘Carol’s always lived her own life. I used to find it hard to keep up with her.’

  ‘She moved about a lot then?’ Granny asked.

  ‘Yes,’ the old woman nodded. ‘She once lived in London. She had a flat in Cardiff and a few years back and I think she was based in Pontypridd for a few months before moving to Gilfach.’

  ‘A restless sort,’ Granny said.

  ‘Yes,’ the old woman nodded. ‘I think Carol found it hard to settle anywhere for too long, but she seemed happy in Gilfach. And maybe with her wedding coming up she would have finally found somewhere to truly call home. That’s not going to happen now,’ once again the old woman’s voice trailed off as she became emotional.

  Wedding? What wedding? That had certainly been a curve ball and Granny and Twice exchanged a puzzled look.

  It had been quite a bombshell and both Granny and Twice were left confused as they climbed back into the car. According to the old woman her daughter had been engaged to Tudor Lewis and they were to be married early next year, sometime in the spring looked likely. The actual date hadn’t been set yet because, or so Carol had told her mum, her fiancé had a lot of business interests and they had to wait for a window of opportunity before finalising their wedding plans.

  Granny had questioned the old woman on the wedding – no, she hadn’t yet met Tudor Lewis but Carol had promised that they would visit her soon. Yes, her daughter had definitely said her fiancé’s name was Tudor Lewis. She had written the name down so there could be no mistake. It had been a few weeks ago when Carol had first told her mum of the forthcoming wedding.

  ‘I’m sure that if anything was going on between Tudor Lewis and Carol then I would have known,’ Granny said. ‘We would have all known.’

  Twice turned the ignition and checked his mirrors before pulling off into the flow of traffic.

  ‘It shocked me sure enough,’ Twice said. ‘I don’t think it’s been mentioned before.’

  ‘It can’t be true,’ Granny said. ‘It’s just not possible that Carol had been having a relationship with Tudor Lewis.’

  ‘He does seem to be a bit old for her,’ Twice said and then corrected himself: ‘Or rather would be if Carol were alive.’

  ‘We were on opposing sides,’ Granny said. ‘Carol was one of us and Tudor was the reason we were fighting to save the frogs. Tudor was at the site meeting the day before Carol was killed and they didn’t exchange a word, didn’t even look at each other. They didn’t even seem to particularly know each other.’

  ‘Maybe they were keeping their relationship secret,’ Twice suggested.

  ‘No,’ Granny insisted and pulled her pipe from her pocket and stuck it in her mouth. She couldn’t smoke in the car but simply having the pipe between her teeth helped her to marshal her thoughts.

  ‘No smoking,’ Twice said.

  ‘I’m not smoking,’ Granny snapped back. ‘I’m sucking on an empty pipe. All I seem to do these days is suck on an empty pipe.’

  Twice shook his head, resigned to the fact that Granny was quite mad. He indicated left as he took the car on to the roundabout and entered the motorway slip road.

  ‘No,’ Granny said and puffed on the empty pipe. ‘There is just no way that Carol and Tudor were in any sort of relationship. Not without any of us knowing. It’s just not possible.’

  ‘Then why did Carol tell her mother she was engaged to marry the man?’

  ‘Beats me,’ Granny said.

  Of course, Granny thought. If Carol’s wedding story did turn out to be true then it gave Tudor Lewis a strong motive for murder.

  Had they been engaged?

  And had he, a much older man, discovered that his fiancée had shared a night of passion with Mark, a man much closer to her age, and then gone into a murderous frenzy?

  That would make some kind of sense if Carol and Tudor had indeed been engaged to be married, but the problem was that there was no way that Granny could see that the story Carol had told her mother would turn out to be true. That just couldn’t be the case. The old woman must have misunderstood her daughter.

  ‘Of course the old woman was a little doddery,’ Twice said as if in answer to Granny’s thoughts.

  Granny looked at him.

  ‘So are you,’ she said. ‘Come on put your welly down.’

  It was all so complicated and Granny’s feeling was that neither Tudor nor Mark was guilty of Carol’s murder. It was true that Mark seemed more likely than Tudor and Granny couldn’t entirely rule him out, but all the same she had a deep conviction that Mark was innocent. When he had visited her yesterday she had seen it in his eyes, and although it was possible that Mark was guilty and had only visited Granny in order to discover what she knew, she didn’t think that was the case. Granny’s reputation as an amateur sleuth was well known in the village and Mark would have anticipated her getting involved in the investigation, but all the same Granny was convinced of his innocence in the murder. She was also sure that Mark’s plea for her help in proving he was innocent had been genuine.

  ‘I guess we should go and talk to Tudor Lewis,’ Twice said. ‘Though I think I should maybe inform Miskin of what we’ve learned.’

  ‘He likely knows,’ Granny said. ‘Carol’s mother said she had already spoken to the police.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Twice said, though he felt he should go and see the chief inspector all the same. The problem was that he wasn’t at all sure if he would get into trouble for accompanying Granny when she’d tal
ked to Carol’s mum. Once again he reminded himself that the chief inspector had told him to keep Granny close and to report back anything she discovered related to the murder. That would be his defence if he was ever hauled over the coals.

  ‘Let’s visit Tudor first,’ Granny said. ‘See what he says and then report back.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Twice smiled at Granny and then put his foot down to overtake the taxi in front of them which was crawling along, a steady stream of traffic building up behind it.

  Eighteen

  They had just left the motorway at junction 34, when a car, a bright yellow Ford Fiesta, came hurtling across the middle of the roundabout. Twice had to brake hard to avoid hitting the car, which sent him jerking forward, striking his head on the dashboard. The car that had very nearly killed them continued around the roundabout in the wrong direction.

  Horns sounded as angry drivers swerved to avoid the car.

  ‘After him,’ Granny said but Twice was dazed and he slumped forward over the wheel, causing the car to come to a sudden halt in the road. The engine stalled and other vehicles had to swerve around them. An angry chorus of horns sounded out.

  Granny shook Twice and his head flopped like a rag doll. He groaned and looked at Granny, a faraway expression in his eyes. He had been knocked senseless and whilst he hadn’t lost consciousness, he was most certainly away with the fairies.

  His head had struck the dashboard with considerable force.

  That much was obvious from the angry looking lump that had formed on his forehead.

  No doubt, he’d have a severe case of whiplash.

  Granny had been lucky and had noticed the car coming towards them and had gripped the edges of her seat, anticipating an impact. She had also, unlike Twice, been wearing her seat belt, which meant she was, again unlike Twice, more or less fine.

  She engaged the handbrake and got out of the car. She ran around the vehicle, having to avoid oncoming cars, and opened Twice’s door, pushed him over into the passenger seat and then jumped in behind the wheel.

  She turned the ignition key and the powerful engine immediately roared to life. Next she switched on the siren and flashing lights. Then she engaged the gears, released the hand break and revved the engine. The wheels spun as she started off in pursuit of the maniac who had very nearly killed them both.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Twice asked. ‘You can’t drive this car.’

  ‘Catching them,’ Granny said, meaning the yellow fiesta that had cut them up by coming straight across the roundabout. The driver was likely drunk, drugged or possibly a combination of both. If he continued driving like that then it was only a matter of time before he killed someone.

  Granny spotted the yellow fiesta directly ahead of them and she floored the pedal, increasing the speed until the needle started to hit eighty. Other vehicles moved to the side of the road to allow the police vehicle to pass them but the bright yellow fiesta made no sign of slowing and instead speeded up. The driver had no doubt noticed the police car in pursuit and was determined to make a chase of it. Granny, who was enjoying this, smiled at that.

  ‘Stop,’ Twice shouted, his senses starting to return. This wasn’t good. Not only were they in a high-speed pursuit but there was an old woman at the wheel.

  ‘Hold tight,’ Granny said, speaking through gritted dentures. ‘We’re gaining on them.’

  Twice whimpered, said something and then whimpered again.

  The noise of the siren was deafening and Granny couldn’t really hear a word of what Twice was saying. Not that it mattered since she was concentrating on the road as she continued to coax speed from the powerful engine and lessen the distance between themselves and the yellow fiesta.

  ‘Just sit tight,’ Granny shouted back.

  The yellow car took a sudden left, cornering on two wheels and for a moment vanished from view. A second or so later Granny reached the corner and for one awful moment she thought she was going to lose her back-end as she dropped down the gears and took the corner, but she fought with the wheel and kept control of the vehicle. She smiled as she came out of the corner and gave Twice the thumbs up before accelerating after the yellow car.

  ‘We’ve got them now,’ Granny said.

  Twice said nothing and instead sat there nodding. All colour had drained from his face and his mouth hung stupidly open.

  The yellow fiesta was no match for the police car’s powerful 2-litre engine and soon Granny was close enough to the yellow fiesta to notice the eyes of the driver in his rear-view mirror. The driver of the fiesta noticed her too and tried to coax even more speed from his vehicle and for a moment he did start to accelerate away but Granny applied a little more pressure on her own accelerator and once again found herself having to slow slightly to avoid shunting the yellow car.

  It became clear to Granny that they were now at some sort of impasse. The small yellow car was not going to pull over, and she was not going to abandon her pursuit. In theory the chase could go on until either of the cars ran out of fuel but Granny wasn’t going to chance that. At the moment the were driving along a fairly quiet street with little other traffic on the road, but as soon as they hit traffic again there was the very real chance of an accident. The driver of the fiesta was erratic enough as it was, swerving from one side of the road to the other in his attempt to shake off the police car, and as soon as there were other road users to contend with the likelihood of an accident would increase proportionally.

  Granny wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

  ‘Put your belt on,’ She yelled to Twice.

  Twice simply stared back at her, an idiotic look upon his face.

  Keeping one hand on the wheel Granny reached across and grabbed Twice’s seat belt and pulled it around him and buckled it into place.

  ‘Hold on,’ Granny said.

  Twice smiled, nodded and dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than initially thought.

  Granny floored the accelerator and drove the police car into the back end of the fiesta. There was a crunching of metal and a moment later the fiesta surged forward, leaving its rear bumper on the road. Granny had braced herself for the impact but once again Twice was thrown forward, this time though his belt saved him and he remained in his seat.

  Granny pulled away from the yellow car and accelerated so that she was driving parallel with the other vehicle. She looked across and saw the two occupants of the car – both of them were teenagers and both of them were staring open mouth at her, no doubt not believing their eyes.

  Granny smiled at them, thinking that they both looked to be high on some substance or other.

  They both continued to look at her, no doubt their drugged brains unable to comprehend what their eyes were seeing, or perhaps thinking this was all part of a crazy trip. Tripping or not though they could see that it wasn’t a police officer at the wheel of the car but rather, what looked to be, an old woman. A crazy looking old woman with a pipe clamped between her teeth.

  Granny indicated with a hand for them to pull over.

  They ignored her and tried to gain speed.

  Granny suddenly turned the police car into the yellow car, hitting them side on and sending them into the kerb where they finally came to a stop. Granny pulled forward slightly so that she was able to open her door and stepped out, leaving Twice, who looked as if he had finally passed out, belted into his seat.

  ‘Here comes the cavalry,’ Granny said, hearing the sirens from the many police vehicles that were approaching them from all directions.

  This wasn’t the first time that Granny had found herself in a police cell.

  During her younger days she had been thrown into one police cell or another on a number of occasions. There had been that time at Cardiff’s Folk Festival, when she had been arrested during Donovan’s set for smoking cannabis. She had gotten away with a caution, but not before spending an uncomfortable night in a police cell. If Granny had learned anything from that night spent
in the cell it was that a floral print cotton dress and sandals were not the most comfortable of clothing for a night in a cold police cell. Another time she had found herself involved in a scuffle at a Motorhead gig, which had resulted in her being arrested for threatening behaviour but was again released without charge, though only after spending another night in a cell. Then though she had been wearing bell bottomed jeans and a leather jacket over a “LEMMY ROCKS!” T-shirt, clothing much more suited to a period of incarceration.

  And now Granny, dressed in her usual thin leggings, T-Shirt, and fleece body warmer, sat on the single wooden bench and stared glumly at the graffiti covered walls. It seemed that sometime in the past someone called Smiffy “waz ere!” and that, “Misky takes it up the bum!!!”, and also that, “Ernie Spiggs luvs Elsie Spurgen”. These and other nuggets of information, other pearls of wisdom, kept the old woman occupied for a little time but pretty soon she grew bored with the walls and she leaned forward, burying her face in her hands.

  The police had taken her pipe from her, as well as her matches and tobacco.

  She could really do with a smoke right now but the police had ignored her requests for her pipe. What kind of fascist state were they living in where the police could take away a woman’s pipe and tobacco?

  The police had also confiscated Granny’s handcuffs and her mobile phone. The handcuffs would only add strength to the expected charge of impersonating a police officer and of course there were the photographs of Carol’s body sitting in the memory of the mobile phone. Granny hoped they wouldn’t bother going through her phone, after all they had no reason to, and she was grateful she had left the address book she had taken from Carol’s back home in the kitchen drawer. If the police found that it would be awkward explaining how she had come across it.