Grace Smith Investigates

by Liz Evans

  By this time I was aware that quite a few of next door’s guests were more interested in our party than their own. I also had a pretty good idea that that was the whole idea.

  It was a theory I tried out when Barbra and I paid a visit to the little girls’ room upstairs. ‘What’s the occasion next door?’

  ‘Wedding anniversary. Ruby.’

  ‘Looks like the whole village is in there.’

  ‘Except me, yer mean? Yeah, I noticed that too.’

  She helped herself to a cigarette from a box on the landing table and lit up, leaning against the loo door. Blowing a stream of smoke down her nostrils, before saying: ‘What do you think of the front? It was seeing Vetchy again gave me the idea. You should have seen their faces. I was watching from the window up here.’

  ‘Have things always been like that?’

  ‘No. They were OK when I was the live-in help. It was when I started to get...’ She ran one pink-tipped nail from hair to waist. ‘Designer clobber and make-up sort of tipped off that me and Barney weren’t sticking to our own bedrooms any more. It wasn’t the sex that bothered them, you understand. It was the idea of losing an available bloke. Eligible widowers are rarer than Hell’s Angels around here. And then Barney’s brother dripped a bit more poison into the wounds when he got caught with a severe case of credit shortage.’

  It was the first I’d heard of Barney having any living relatives. Somehow I’d got the impression that his first wife’s death had left him alone in the world. Hence all his goods and chattels to Barbra when he dropped off.

  ‘They weren’t close,’ Barbra said curtly. ‘At least they hadn’t been for years. Then Barney came into all that money and suddenly brother Karl and his family are popping up all over the place like an eczema outbreak. They’d talked him into putting money into some daft business scheme. Said it needed a cash injection. More like the whole flaming blood bank. Even got the contracts drawn up. And a will in their favour - just in case he died before they’d conned the lot out of him. That was when I decided we’d have to get married. So I popped the question.’ ‘You asked him?’

  ‘Sure. Don’t tell me you’re one of those old-fashioned girls that think blokes should make all the running?’

  ‘No.’ (Yes, actually. I don’t care how far equal opportunities have come, that was one of two things I don’t think I could ever do. Admitting it was the other.) ‘This wasn’t a popular move with the in-laws, then?’

  ‘Like hell. Even started to put it about the village that I was looking for the fastest way to see Barney out of this world. In a way, they did me a favour. Soon as Barney got to hear, he told them not to bother calling round again.’

  ‘And did they?’

  ‘Came to the funeral. Kicked up a fuss when they found out I’d got the lot. Made a few threats. It was pussy-cat stuff. That will’s watertight, I saw to that.’

  ‘Talking of threats ... any activity in that direction from Lee?’

  ‘Not as far as I can tell. No rat poison in the milk; no leaky car brakes.’ She lit another cigarette from the fag end of the previous one and offered the box.

  ‘No thanks. I don’t.’

  ‘I didn’t. Gave it up years ago. Started again after Barney ... you know. I don’t half miss him. I hate this bloody dump without him.’

  ‘Then move.’

  ‘Why should I? I’m not letting them push me out and win. I’ll stop here as long as I want to.’

  ‘But you don’t want to.’

  ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ Opening the door behind her, she flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the toilet bowl. ‘You really not got any further with me photos? No names at all?’

  Asked straight out like that, I had to admit to Harry Rouse being a local farmer. ‘I can’t say for certain, but I think it’s unlikely he’s ever been involved in anything criminal. The local grapevine has nothing on it.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Divorced. Short of cash. His dad’s on the fast track to senile. Needs professional care. They could really use some help now, I’d say.’

  ‘No dice. I told you, no hand-outs until I’m gone. You haven’t told him about me?’

  ‘No. That was the agreement.’

  ‘Too right it was. What about the two women?’

  There was no way I was going into the Daniel/Rainwing saga. ‘I’m following some leads on the Indian squaw. Nothing on the first woman yet.’

  °S funny. I had a sort of feeling I knew her from somewhere. Couldn’t place her though. ’Spect she works in one of the shops or something.’

  That was the first good news I’d had on Numero Uno. At least it sounded like she might be fairly local.

  ‘Look, I’m bursting here. Can I go first?’

  ‘No. I’ll not be a sec.’

  She whisked inside. Definitely not the hostess with the mostest. I jigged around the landing until she finally re-emerged, and bolted inside gratefully. My skin was flushed with a touch of sun and a sheen of perspiration. After splashing cold water over my face and neck, I dabbed dry and re-opened the bathroom door.

  The entire space was blocked by Lee. He was so close his nose must have been pressed against the wood.

  ‘Are you desperate? Or do you just get your kicks out of listening to people tinkling?’

  ‘I know who you are.’

  ‘Of course you do. We just had lunch together. It’s good to know there’s nothing wrong with your short-term memory.’

  ‘She’ll leave them naff-all, you know. You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘No, actually, I’m wasting your mum’s time. At an excellent daily rate.’ He was leaning with his left forearm above his head on the door frame and his crossed feet touching the bottom of the frame on the opposite side. Despite missing out on his dad’s nose, he really wasn’t a bad-looking bloke. If he could just stop giving the impression he had more chips than McDonald’s on his shoulders, he would have been halfway fanciable.

  ‘She’s only doing it to wind me up.’

  ‘You really do think you’re the centre of the universe, don’t you, Lee?’

  ‘No. I just know me mum. She’s narked ’cos of something that happened - or didn’t happen, rather - a few weeks back. She can be a sulky bitch.’

  ‘From what I heard, she had every reason to be upset. This will isn’t so much sulking - more self-preservation.’

  ‘What d’yer mean?’

  I’d apparently overestimated the depth of the mother/son confidences. Barbra hadn’t had the nerve and/or the assurance to accuse her only offspring of trying to push her under moving traffic.

  ‘Talk to Mummy. And get out of my way. Now.’

  He eyeballed me for a moment just to establish he wasn’t the sort to be intimidated into backing off. Then he backed off. ‘It won’t do you no good. I know exactly how to fix her little game if I wanted to.’

  ‘And do you want to?’

  ‘That’s for me to know, ain’t it? Wait and see.’

  ‘With bated breath, Lee.’

  18

  In the kitchen, they were on the coffee and petits fours. Barbra was pouring whilst Andreas was up to his armpits in soapy water. Looking at the debris of gourmet dining spread around the serving area, I had a nostalgic yen.

  ‘I could murder a cheeseburger.’

  ‘Me too,’ Barbra said unexpectedly. ‘Or egg and chips. That mate of yours in the rock-and-roll cafe does the best egg and chips I ever tasted. It was a belting party you missed there. Coffee.’

  It sloshed in the saucer as it was thrust in my hands. Picking up another cup and the plate of petits fours, Barbra marched into the garden. She didn’t exactly call ‘heel’ but the implication was there. I made up my mind to bill her for every hour of this farce.

  Vetch was sprawled in one of the garden chairs with his little legs stretched out in front and his hands over his stomach. The resemblance to the plumper gnomes out front really was amazing.

  Barbra seize
d his face in both hands and planted a pink-lipstick smacker on the bald top. ‘Knew it was a good idea to invite you. I wish I’d done it months ago. You’ll come again, won’t you?’

  ‘Who could resist such an inducement? However, I do think it’s time we were making a move. I have rather a lot of work on at the office.’

  ‘Not Sundays? You’re turning into a right little workaholic, Vetchy.’

  I started to explain: ‘It’s since the—’

  A fast raise of Vetch’s eyebrows warned me he hadn’t mentioned the break-in. He must have kept her downstairs when she came round with my replacement snaps yesterday. I suppose it doesn’t inspire confidence in the clients to discover their murkiest secrets are open to browsing by anyone with a crowbar and a head for heights.

  ‘Since the recession,’ I finished. ‘Competition. The job is full of amateurs. I blame those PI correspondence courses.’

  ‘Oh? OK. I’ll give you a call, then, lover. Fix up another date.’ Vetch agreed that would be best. They explored each other’s tonsils again while I stood around feeling surplus to requirements. Then Vetch headed for a last call in the bathroom and I wandered out to wait at the car. There was no sign of Lee, but Barbra came through to the front with me.

  Perhaps it was the food and wine, or perhaps it was simply that the sun had had several more hours to beat down since we’d arrived, but the temperature in the square seemed to have climbed at least ten degrees. Heat was palpably radiating from the bricks and asphalt and there didn’t seem to be a breath of wind anywhere. Sweat started trickling between my shoulder blades and rolling into the cracks around my nostrils.

  ‘God, it’s bloody unbearable out here,’ Barbra groaned. ‘I wish the storm would break and get it over with.’

  ‘Speaking of storms and breaking things - when did Lee turn up?’

  ‘Same day I came to see you. He was sitting on the doorstep when I came back from our breakfast. Told you he would, didn’t I? He’s like a recurring cold sore.’

  ‘And you told him about the new will? And the photos?’

  ‘Course. Wouldn’t be no fun otherwise, would it?’

  ‘So he’s right. You are trying to wind him up.’

  Barbra shrugged and used her fingers to massage the nape of her neck. ‘Why shouldn’t I? He’s done it to me for long enough.’

  ‘You don’t think it might encourage him to try something before you sign on the dotted line?’

  ‘Not now he knows you and Vetch are watching him. You’re my insurance.’

  It was what everyone tended to think. Unfortunately, it’s a theory that doesn’t allow for the fact that a hell of a lot of people assume they’re much smarter than they really are and there’s no chance they’ll ever get caught.

  ‘Has Lee seen the photos?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered. You’re holding copies here ... he could have taken a look. Checked out the competition.’

  ‘He’s had a search around. I’ve seen him doing it. But he ain’t found them yet.’

  There was a gleeful note in her voice. It was beginning to seem more and more as if Lee was right. This was one of those strange family games that outsiders have to play without getting a look at the rules. Which was fine, unless it involved my personal possessions. The office address was listed in the phone book. And for all I knew, Vetch had mentioned my home address to his latest girlfriend. Had Lee already come calling, looking for those snaps?

  She darted back inside as Vetch and I climbed into the oven- hot car and then reappeared just as we were pulling out to thrust a carrier-bag through the window into my lap.

  ‘Here. They’re new; never worn, I promise. You can’t wear your old stuff, can you? Not after someone’s turned them over. Makes yer sick.’

  I investigated. There were half a dozen bra and pantie sets; all seductive designs in silk, satin and lace. Vetch cast a sideways look and informed me they’d probably cost her not less than two hundred pounds for each set. It was the classiest lingerie I’d ever owned.

  I asked Vetch if he’d given her my home address.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, sweet thing. You should know me better than that. I assume you’re entertaining the theory that the lovely Lee trashed his way through Seatoun on Friday night? Why would he do that, exactly?’

  ‘Teenage tantrums? He strikes me as twenty-four going on fourteen. Maybe he thought I’d already found the names and addresses of those legatees. Perhaps he intended to carry the showing-off to the enemy. You know - yo dudes, don’t think you’re going to enjoy my inheritance. I - Lee Delaney — will be in your face every time you take out a chequebook.’

  ‘ Yo dudes? Good heavens, who have you been mixing with?’

  ‘Pseudo Red Indians - or Native Americans if you prefer. And a half-American film producer. That reminds me, can we stop off in St Biddy’s? I’ve left the bike at his place.’

  ‘Your every wish is my delight, sweet thing.’

  ‘Great. Can I borrow your mobile phone then? I want to check on Annie. Have you heard from her since last night?’

  ‘The only way I’m going to hear from Annie at present, I fear, is via a message tied to a brick.’

  ‘Something’s up with Zeb. I didn’t get the details.’ I punched in the number for Annie’s flat and listened to the answerphone inviting me to leave a message. It was the same with the mobile service again. On an impulse I dialled the local CID office. Even if Zeb was undercover somewhere, the local grapevine might know what was supposed to be wrong with him. Given the state of my relations with most of the police around here, I decided to pretend to be one of his other sisters (I had a choice between Tennessee or Tallahassee, if you’ll recall).

  As it turned out, however, I didn’t get the chance to decide which unlikely alias I preferred, because I recognised the voice that picked up at the other end. And he knew me.

  ‘How come a chief inspector is working Sunday afternoon?’

  ‘Even the great and the good have to take their turn on the duty rota,’ Jerry Jackson informed me. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Smith?’

  ‘I heard Zeb was in trouble. And I can’t get hold of Annie. Any idea what’s wrong with him?’

  ‘DC Smith isn’t working in this office at present.’

  ‘I know that. Annie said,’ I added quickly, in case I got Zeb into trouble for blowing his cover. ‘But I thought you might have heard something.’

  ‘I think it would be best if you waited until you are able to contact his sister.’

  Little tingles of alarm connected the beads of sweat rolling down my spine. Something was wrong. I was quite fond of Annie’s youngest brother, in a big-sister sort of way. ‘Do you know where Annie is now?’

  ‘If I see her, I’ll tell her you’re trying to reach her,’ Jackson said. Did he think I might not notice how he’d ducked the question? Or maybe he realised there was nothing I could do about it. The latter, probably - as demonstrated by the fact he then hung up on me.

  Even the draught zipping through the open car windows wasn’t making much impression on the stifling heat now. My head was starting to pound. I prayed for the storm to break and was answered by a roar as a flash of forked lightning ripped down and appeared to strike the heart of the village just as we approached the turn down to St Biddy’s.

  ‘Next left, opposite the shop,’ I instructed Vetch over the roll of thunder that followed a few seconds later.

  He steered the car down the rutted track. We bumped up on the narrow verge by Brick Cottage just as the first welcome spots of rain splashed down. The bike was where I’d dumped it, held upright by the stone wall and the row of bushes. Vetch helped me haul it back on to the lane. Then we hit a snag.

  ‘What do you mean, ride it back? I thought you could put it in the car?’

  ‘Be reasonable, sweet thing. It won’t fit inside and I don’t have the roof rack fitted.’

  ‘Luke tied it to his boot.’

  ‘Then I assume h
e wasn’t driving this model.’

  He was right, of course. The smooth, rounded lines of Vetch’s car provided no obvious holds on which we could lash the damn thing.

  ‘The exercise will be good for you,’ Vetch said.

  ‘Pneumonia won’t. And the crispy-fried look is right out this season.’ The thunder and lightning were now letting go with a vengeance. And the raindrops would shortly merge into a full-¬blown downpour. There was no way I was cycling three miles in that lot.

  I considered the cottage. If Luke was in, then perhaps I could persuade him to offer shelter to a woman in distress until the downpour was over. After which, with any luck, I’d be able to cadge a lift for me and the metal monster. Or at least the loan of some clothes more appropriate for cycling than four-inch stilettos and what was beginning to feel like the shortest dress in the hemisphere.

  There was no answer to my ring. I knocked and tried the door. It opened.

  ‘Anyone in?’ My voice echoed back at me. There was no scuffle or creak of floorboards inside the house as someone responded to my intrusion. ‘Luke?’

  The rain was coming down hard now, the parched lawns and overblown flowerbeds absorbing it gratefully and the meandering stones of the path bouncing it back to break into rainbow- coloured droplets. I was debating whether to make a dash for the car when Vetch solved the question by racing up and joining me under the mini-porch.

  ‘Do you think your friend would mind if I used the bathroom?’

  ‘I don’t suppose so.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that. I really must cut back on the fizzy water. It seems to have the oddest effect on my bladder. Where is it?’

  ‘Your bladder?’

  ‘The lavatory, sweet thing.’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘I thought this was a friend’s house.’

  ‘We’ve not done home visits yet.’