Springtime for Murder

by Debbie Young

  I was afraid she might still do both.

  9 Through Rosé-Tinted Glasses

  I had to raise my voice to be heard above the hubbub of The Bluebird’s lounge bar. “Do you think Billy will be OK?” I wasn’t sure whether you could phone the police station for a progress report in the same way you could check on a person in hospital.

  Hector set down a chilled bottle of rosé with one hand and two long-stemmed glasses with the other.

  “I can’t imagine he’s got anything to worry about.” He sat down on the bench seat opposite me in our usual booth, half filled each glass, and slid one across the table to me. Then he raised the other to clink against mine in a toast to nothing in particular. “They probably weren’t arresting him. I expect they just wanted to talk to him about Bunny without Kitty earwigging.”

  “So he’s just helping the police with their enquiries?” I wasn’t convinced. He had looked so helpless in the police car that it seemed something else might be at stake. “Is there any chance Billy stands to inherit the Manor House if Bunny dies?”

  For the sake of confidentiality, Hector got up and came round to sit beside me.

  “I doubt it.” He raised his glass to inspect the wine’s colour against the light. “I presume she’s leaving it to her kids. She told me she’s made a will, but I’ve no idea who will benefit. She’s keeping them guessing, playing them off against each other.”

  “Isn’t that just asking for trouble? Especially after she’s fallen out with her other four surviving children.”

  Hector nodded. “It’s not the smartest thing to do. I just hope she’ll provide well for Kitty, after she’s spent the last twenty-odd years caring for her. But leaving Kitty the whole house might be contentious. It would be a huge house for a single person. Even the two of them rattle around in it. Besides, the two sons that she’s still on speaking terms with, from her second marriage, are both businessmen, and the type that might go litigious if she left the lot to Kitty.”

  “Do they live close by?”

  “Slate Green.”

  I took another sip of wine, enjoying the cool floral taste. I didn’t want to criticise Kitty, but our encounter that morning had left me concerned for her state of mind.

  “If I was an old lady, I wouldn’t be very confident being cared for by Kitty,” I said eventually. “She didn’t seem all there.”

  Hector laid a hand companionably on my thigh. “She is rather childlike, isn’t she? Between you and me, I suspect appointing her as carer was as much to keep her away from the drugs scene as for Bunny’s well-being. Cheaper, too, than hiring a professional. Though money might not be an issue with the sons in Slate Green. The elder, Paul, drives a Jag, and Stuart is an accountant.”

  “Which might make her more likely to leave the Manor House to the local cats’ charity.”

  He grinned. “She’s sufficiently wilful. That’s one of the reasons I like her so much. She’s got spirit.”

  He raised his glass in a silent toast to the incorrigible Bunny, smiling as he drank.

  “No wonder Kitty doesn’t seem fond of their cats,” I said. “They’re potential rivals for her inheritance.”

  “Poor old Kitty. She must be financially vulnerable – dependent, even.” Hector set his glass down neatly on a beer mat. “Even if Bunny did leave Kitty the whole house, she’d have no income for its upkeep. The only job that Kitty’s ever had that I know of is taking a ramshackle catering van round to festivals. I expect when Bunny dies, the Manor House will have to be sold.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I wonder who would buy a big house like that? Bob said Bunny’s son Paul would like to turn it into a care home. Better that than have it go to some weekender, and stand empty most of the year, or to an anti-social rock star who’ll throw noisy all-night parties.”

  We didn’t have any of those in Wendlebury, but that wasn’t to say it couldn’t happen.

  Hector chuckled. “Hark at you, Miss Not-Been-Here-A-Year-But-Not-In-My-Back-Yard Sayers!” I frowned. “Still, let’s not anticipate Bunny’s demise before she’s ready for it. Although she may look as frail as a bird, she’s got a cast-iron will, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see her back home in a day or two. If she’s still in hospital tomorrow, I’ll go and visit her and take her a good book to keep her out of mischief. Kitty won’t visit her, obviously.”

  “Can I come? I’d like to meet Bunny. Meet her properly, I mean – while she’s fully conscious, the right way up, and not down a hole in the ground.”

  “That would be a better introduction. And I expect for her part she’d like to thank you for coming to her rescue.”

  I traced a pattern in the condensation droplets on the outside of my glass. “I can’t see I did anything material, besides send Tommy for the doctor. I’m not even sure that was the right thing to do, because Dr Perkins has retired. I’ve been kicking myself for not dialling 999 straight away and asking for the police as well as an ambulance.”

  “But Dr Perkins got there before the paramedics. His precautions while you were waiting for the ambulance might have saved her life.”

  I sighed. “I suppose so.” Feeling a little chilly, I leaned in closer to Hector for warmth. Although the day had been unseasonably mild, the early dusk was making it clear that summer was still a long way off. “Do you think Kitty will be all right spending the night on her own in that big house? I’m not sure I would.”

  “I don’t suppose she’s had to do that for a long time, if ever,” said Hector. “Though she has got all those cats for company.”

  “That’s not the same as having a guard dog, though, is it?”

  The front door of the pub swung open, and we turned to inspect the new arrival.

  “Perhaps she might have a guard dog tonight after all,” said Hector. “Or at least a companion marginally less furry than the cats. Here comes Billy.” He put up one hand to attract Billy’s attention. “Want to join us, Bill? Sit down, mate, I’ll get you a pint.”

  Billy stomped over and slumped on to the bench opposite us, saying nothing. If there hadn’t been a table between us, I could have hugged him.

  “Billy, I’m so relieved to see you! You had me worried when I saw you going off in the police car like that. I thought you’d been arrested.”

  I forced a careless laugh as if that was a ridiculous idea. He scowled at me from beneath furrowed eyebrows.

  “So did I. It turns out some interfering fool reported me to the police for breaking and entering the Manor House. When the police got there, they came up with some cock and bull story about finding drugs in my jacket pocket.”

  “Why on earth would they do that?” asked Hector, returning from the bar, a pint of cider in Billy’s special tankard in his hand. Billy might have been fond of a drink and a cigarette, but that was the extent of his vices.

  He took a long pull on the pint of cider that Hector had set in front of him.

  “No idea. But it was just as well they searched my jacket pockets, because they found my key in there, too, which proved why I had climbed in the window. I had to tell them they were looking in my gardening jacket. I’d left my jacket at Kitty’s the day before because I was too warm in it after I’d worked up a muck sweat giving her lawn its first mow of the year. It has its own chair in the kitchen.”

  I bet it did.

  He pointed with both hands to his frayed lapels. “My gardening jacket, I mean, as opposed to my smart jacket.”

  If this was his smart jacket, I was glad he wasn’t wearing his gardening jacket.

  “Anyway, once the coppers started going through my jacket pockets, they discovered all manner of stuff I swear I’d never put there – a load of empty pill packets that were nothing to do with me.”

  Hector took a sip of his wine. “Must have been a quiet day at the station for them to go to such trouble over nothing. Perhaps they were bored.”

  “Bored or not, they took my fingerprints, and Kitty’s. She didn’t like that much, I can tell you.”


  “What did Kitty have to say?” I asked.

  “Nothing, silly old fool that she is. Sees things that aren’t there but misses things right under her nose. But she seemed right upset when they took me off to the station to ask more tom-fool questions. They soon brought me home, though. Couldn’t pin nothing on me. All a waste of time, if you ask me.”

  “Weren’t the police curious about Bunny’s trip to the churchyard? Especially once they found out Kitty couldn’t have taken her there due to her agoraphobia.”

  Billy drained his glass. “Kitty told them she thought it was a case of alien abduction. Away with the fairies more like. I think they think she took Bunny on some mad outing in her wheelchair in a fit of spring fever, or else they’re putting it down as a domestic squabble that they don’t want to get involved in. They might well be right on either of those counts. My sap’s definitely rising.”

  I didn’t want to think about that image.

  “And they’re always squabbling, Bunny and Kitty. Best cure would be for the cops to take ’em both away, lock ’em in a prison cell together to fight it out between ’em, and not open the door until only one of them’s left alive. That’d put an end to their nonsense.”

  I gave a hollow laugh. “Gosh, I’m glad you’re not in charge of social justice, Billy. But how is Bunny now? Have you and Kitty heard from the hospital?”

  He folded his arms across his chest.

  “My priority has been on saving my own bacon, not playing doctors and nurses. Which reminds me: I haven’t had my tea yet.”

  Hector fetched a packet of Billy’s favourite smoky bacon crisps from the bar and set it down in front of him. Billy started to stuff crisps in his mouth several at a time. After the first few mouthfuls, he paused and looked up.

  “I will say this much for the police, though – they do make a decent cup of tea.” He leaned forward and tapped the side of his nose confidentially. “Between you and me, I wonder whether they just didn’t want me to say nothing in front of Kitty. In case it made her hysterical, like. They’ve probably got her on their files somewhere, from all the mischief she got up to in her festival days.”

  Billy picked up the crisp packet and tipped the last crumbs into his mouth.

  “Still, I’m glad they’re both all right.” Billy sat back and wiped his greasy fingers on his trousers. “And I bet Kitty put the key in my pocket. She’s done that before when I’ve left it behind by mistake, so that none of those pesky cats can chase it under the dresser out of reach. No doubt she put the pill packets in there too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s used my coat as a dustbin.”

  As he thrust his hands into his present jacket pocket, I wondered whether he might find more surprises. To our mutual relief, he found none.

  “At first I didn’t see why the police were so bothered about a few empty pill packets, because Bunny and Kitty are both under the doctor for various ailments. I don’t know what for exactly, and if it’s women’s troubles I don’t want to know, neither. But then one of the policemen pointed out that the empty packets were from a legitimate prescription for Bunny, made up only a couple of days ago by the pharmacist. Carol had given it to me to deliver only the day before.”

  He leaned forward, clutching his beer glass to his chest. “And do you know what? They were sleeping pills. And although they were a month’s supply, all the little blister packets of tablets were empty.”

  I gasped. “Bunny overdosed? You think she tried to kill herself?”

  Billy drained his tankard. “No. Kitty looked after Bunny’s pills for her. With her arthritic hands, Bunny could never get them out of the packets. When I phoned the hospital from the Manor House this afternoon, they’d just had her blood test results back. They showed an unexpected presence in her bloodstream of some kind of sedative, administered early this morning. I bet it was from the packet I’d just collected for her from the village shop.”

  10 Not for the Good of her Health

  Billy clasped his hands on the bar-room table in front of him, like a high court judge presiding at the bench. “If they were sleeping pills, I reckon someone used them to put Kitty to sleep, then Bunny, so Kitty couldn’t stop Bunny being kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped?” I swallowed. “So you suspect foul play too?”

  “Why, what else do you think it might be?” said Billy. “A charity outing to give her a treat?”

  I sighed and turned to Hector. “I wish you’d gone to the churchyard instead of me this morning.” I fixed him with an accusing look. “The doctor might have listened to you more than he did to me. I think he’s a bit of a misogynist. I could have dealt with the Battersby rep’s visit, you know.”

  Without looking at me, Hector continued to question Billy. “I think you mean abducted, Billy. In a case of kidnap, there’d be someone asking for a ransom. By the way, did Tommy bring the wheelchair back? Dr Perkins asked him to, and we saw him careering down the High Street in it.”

  “Yes,” said Billy, “but the police didn’t even bother to check it for fingerprints. They said it was too covered in sherbet powder to yield useful fingerprints.”

  I grimaced. “Dr Perkins did bribe Tommy with money for sweets.”

  “On strict instructions only to spend it after he’d delivered the wheelchair,” added Hector, “but perhaps that was an unrealistic request.”

  “Either that or we’re looking for a mad abductor with a very sweet tooth and a Sherbet Fountain habit.” My forced smile quickly disappeared. “Hang on, are you sure it was sherbet? Might that have been a police euphemism?”

  I’d never seen cocaine in real life, but presumed it would look much the same as the sugar crystals in a sherbet packet.

  Hector looked unconvinced. “But never mind who did what for now. More importantly, did the hospital say whether Bunny is going to be OK?”

  “More than likely,” said Billy. “Dr Perkins phoned the Manor House after he’d spoken to the hospital. He got more sense out of them than I did. He said they’re going to keep her in for a few days while the poisons clear out of her system. I’ll keep an eye on Kitty in the meantime, to make sure she doesn’t do anything daft.”

  “Well done, Bill,” said Hector, sounding relieved. “With her brothers not being on the spot, it’s just as well you’re still close by.”

  Billy shuffled to the end of the bench and picked up his empty tankard to return to the bar. “Well, if you can’t depend on your family, who can you trust?”

  “Friends and neighbours?” said Hector gently. “By the way, I thought I might take a run up to the hospital tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

  Billy shook his head. “No, I don’t like hospitals,” he said. “Nasty places, full of sick people.” He broke into a paroxysm of coughing as he retrieved a battered pack of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket. “But give her my regards and tell her to get well soon. I’m going out for a smoke. Then I’m off to the Manor House to see whether Kitty wants me to spend the night, in case of intruders. The woman’s a bundle of nerves at the best of times.”

  “Just give me a shout if you need any help,” I called after him. “Remember, I’m only two doors away.”

  We waited until he was beyond hearing distance before saying any more.

  “Probably healthier for the hospital if he does stay away,” said Hector. “That cough of his will be as good as any barking guard dog to frighten off housebreakers. Still, I don’t think any woman should have to spend the night alone after such a traumatic day, don’t you agree, Sophie?”

  I nudged him reprovingly. “Now you’re just using the situation to your own advantage.”

  “Every detective needs a sidekick.” He winked at me.

  “OK, then, I’ll let you be mine. As long as you don’t start playing the violin at unsociable hours.”

  “All right, I’ll leave that to you,” he said, sharing the last from the wine bottle between our two glasses. “Now, drink up, and then we’d better make a move, just
in case Billy and Kitty need us sooner rather than later. It would be good to be within shouting distance tonight.”

  “You mean you’re going to spend the night at my house?” That was a surprise. He’d never done so before. Although I’d slept plenty of times at his flat above the shop, staying at my house seemed taboo to him. He claimed he’d feel odd sleeping in my aunt’s old bed, as he’d known her so well since he was a little boy, and she’d helped him set up the bookshop.

  But I wasn’t about to complain. Whoever had disrupted Kitty and Bunny’s lives seemed to be oiling the wheels of mine.

  11 Kitty’s Catty

  By the time I brought the breakfast tray upstairs, Hector was already sitting up in my bed, wide awake.

  I wondered what Auntie May would have made of this development. Never mind Auntie May, it might take me some time to get used to the idea. After longing for Hector to come and stay at my cottage, now I was having second thoughts. My relationship with Damian had started to go wrong when he’d started spending nights at mine. The nights turned into weeks and months, and soon I was his financial benefactor and sponsor as much as his girlfriend.

  I set the breakfast tray down carefully on Hector’s lap. “Hold this tray and don’t move your legs till I get back in.” I climbed back up on to the old oak bedstead and slipped my legs under the duvet. “How long do you think they’ll keep Bunny in for?”

  Hector helped himself to a slice of buttered toast. “With any luck we’ll find out today. I wonder whether we can tempt Kitty into the Land Rover to come with us?”

  I took a sip of orange juice. “As soon as I’m dressed, I’ll pop down and ask her. Worst that can happen is that she says no.”

  Hector hesitated with his coffee cup half way to his lips. “Are you sure you haven’t put any sleeping tablets in here, Sophie? Just to keep me captive in your bed a little longer?”