by Purser, Ann
“Very good. Now, I’ll fill you in on the Farnden village shop case, and then I want you and Matthew Vickers—who knows all the circumstances already from his wife, Josie, who is the shopkeeper—to go along to the zoo and look around. Ask a few questions. Then report back.”
*
Lois drove down the road leading to the Tresham Zoo, keeping an eye on the cardboard box on the seat beside her. She noticed that a small hole had appeared in the corner of the lid, and she put her foot down on the accelerator. The last thing she needed was a female wolf spider and family running free in her car.
She was directed up the long drive to the house, and there was greeted at the entrance by the owner, Robert Pettison himself, tall and slightly stooping. He smiled a toothy smile, and thanked her for bringing back one of their prize exhibits. “We were so worried for Lucilla and her babies. We discovered she was gone this morning first thing, and alerted the police. So kind of you to bring her back. Handed her in at the gate, did you? That’s fine. Do come in and have a coffee and tell me how you found her. Perhaps you would like to take a look around her friends and relations before you leave?”
Lois gulped and said yes, that would be nice. And she certainly had time for a coffee. She followed him through a splendid portico at the front of the house and into a lofty drawing room, furnished with what Lois guessed were valuable antique pieces. He invited her to sit down, but while he went to organise coffee, she had a quick walk around the room, watched by steely-eyed portraits of, presumably, his ancestors. Or were they ancestral portraits by the yard? He sounded posh, but wacky, and she would not have said he had quite such illustrious-looking forebears.
“Here we are, then,” said Pettison. “Do you take cream in your coffee? Now, tell me all about Lucilla’s adventure.”
Lois described Gran’s encounter with the large and fecund spider, and asked if he had other similar interesting animals in his zoo. “I know you have snakes?” she said.
“Beautiful, sinuous creatures,” he said. “Oh yes. You must see them, too, if you have time. I will give you a personal tour. Snakes are my favourites, you know. Such elegant people!”
People? thought Lois. Looks like we’ve got a right one here. “Not so sure about elegant,” she said. “Are they lethal? That’s what I want to know.”
Pettison chuckled. “Of course they are, my dear,” he said. “That is their most interesting characteristic. Swift to move, swift to strike, and swift to vanish.”
“You may remember that we returned a cobra to your zoo a short while ago, and I’m sure you will agree that two visits to Long Farnden from your resident people is strange, to say the least?”
“Ah yes, the cobra. Splendid chap! We had the police round, but none of my staff could explain its escape.”
“If it did escape,” said Lois, adjusting her skirt in an attempt to redirect Pettison’s fixed gaze at her legs. “Or had it been stolen and placed where my daughter found it, in her shop storeroom?”
“Possible, but unlikely. All my staff are closely vetted, and would never do such a cruel thing to one of our people.”
“Animals, you must mean,” said Lois crossly. “Well, I must be getting on. If we find any more on our property, we shall be consulting our lawyers.”
“Oh, come now, my dear! Can you not regard it as a privilege to come across such rare specimens?”
“No, we can’t. And I can’t waste any more time this morning. I’ll have a brief look round, and see myself out. I expect you’ll be hearing from the police soon. Oh, and can I have the box back, please? The police want it.”
“Of course, my dear. I’ll get through to the gate and have it ready for you to collect.”
After she had gone, Pettison smiled to himself. A feisty young person. Just as he liked them. And Justin seemed to be handling the situation very well. It was a risk, of course, that he would somehow lose the specimens, or the shopgirl would turn them loose. But so far, so good. The Meades had been responsible about returning the snake and the spider. “Nevertheless,” he said aloud to one of his ancestors on the wall, “I shall be glad when nephew Justin is safely settled in their flat, and we can resume business as usual.”
Justin had been offered accommodation in his large mansion, but he had refused, saying he wanted to be away from the zoo premises. He was looking, he said, for a self-contained flat, with somewhere to keep the rare specimens he handled for Pettison. So when he heard about the flat over the shop, he was immediately interested. He had surreptitiously looked around the premises, and had seen a large shed at the back, which could be just the job. And he had devised a plan that would secure it for him.
*
Walking down the long drive to the zoo itself, Lois found her way in and had a quick look round, but could see no immediately obvious way any of the animals could have escaped. She had explained her appointment with Pettison on her way in, but now she could find no members of the staff to talk to, except for the same ticket woman at the gate, and she said they were not really open yet. All the keepers were in a meeting. She produced Lucilla’s box, now empty, and hoped Lois would call again.
Back in the sane world of the town, Lois parked her car and made for the police station, carrying the box. Cowgill was waiting for her in reception, and on taking one look at her face, told the sergeant on duty that he did not wish to be disturbed for at least an hour.
In his office, which overlooked the main street of Tresham, he drew up a chair for Lois and sat down behind his desk.
“You look explosive,” he said. “Is it safe to ask how you got on at the zoo?”
Lois banged the box down on his desk, and said, “The owner is stark, staring crazy, for a start. Have you met him? Mr Robert Pettison? He should never be in charge of a zoo full of dangerous animals! You have to do something, Cowgill.”
“We are already making preliminary enquiries, my dear Lois,” he said. “And don’t worry, we are very familiar with Pettison. Nutty as a fruitcake, as my chaps say. But he’s harmless. It’s all a performance. Eccentric toff who owns valuable animals. He is really a very astute operator, and his zoo is beyond reproach, according to inspection reports. Your encounters with the snake and now the spider are the first indications of anything wrong there.”
“He may be harmless,” said Lois bitterly, “but his animals definitely are not! Did you know he calls them his people?”
“No, I didn’t know that. But he has every right to do so, as far as we are concerned. Did you talk to any of his staff and look round the zoo?”
“Very briefly. Nobody around for a chat. In a meeting, supposedly, but I did wonder if Pettison had got word around to them not to talk to me. One thing, though, how did he know I was going to be there? I didn’t ring first, or anything like that, but he was waiting for me at the entrance to the house. Did your lot tell him?”
“Of course not, Lois. It was probably the woman on the gate.”
Lois sighed deeply, and subsided into her chair. “I suppose so,” she said. “I must say I’m seeing snakes and spiders round every corner. He’s really got me rattled.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll sort it all out very quickly. It’s got to be someone who’s around locally and found a way to get into the animal cages and pens without anyone knowing. And Derek’s changed the locks at the shop, did you say? Splendid. Leave it with me, but keep your eyes and ears open. And stay in touch.”
Ten
The Fiat 500 sped along the straight fen road, past small farm cottages huddled against the strong winds that swept the fields, with no hedges or trees to hinder them. It was a bleak landscape, and Justin Brookes felt the usual lowering of spirits as he entered the long drive down to his family farm a few miles outside Boston. Wonderful skies, people always said of the Lincolnshire fens, but this morning the sky was low and a depressing uniform grey.
He had cut short his usual tour around villages delivering fliers, having received a message that his father was very ill. He had been ab
le to contact his uncle, Robert Pettison, and rearrange a meeting for next week. Their shared involvement in the business kept them in touch, and he always looked forward to seeing new additions to the zoo’s extraordinary collection of rare animals. Sometimes he thought Robert was daft enough to be one of them, but he kept that thought to himself.
He arrived in the yard behind the farmhouse, and saw his mother waiting for him, an anxious expression on her face.
“Thank goodness you’ve come, Justin,” she said, accepting a light kiss on her cheek. “Your father was asking for you yesterday, and we don’t think he has long to go.”
“Let’s go in straightaway,” he said. “It’ll be good to get in out of this wretched fen wind.”
They went into the house, and up the stairs to his father’s room. “Here’s Justin, dear. He’s just this minute got back.”
Justin looked at his father’s ashen face on the pillow, and wondered if he was too late. But his mother patted the thin hand lying on the sheet, and the old man opened his eyes.
“Hello, lad,” he said. “Still wearing that silly cravat thing round your neck?”
*
Miles away in Long Farnden, Josie sat in the shop, chatting to her mother on the telephone. The lunchtime rush of customers had finished, and she had time to catch up on Lois’s visit to the zoo this morning. Matthew had rung to say he and Chris, Cowgill’s assistant, were also off to see Robert Pettison, and Josie was anxious to know what had been discovered.
“So did he explain how those horrible things could have got here in the shop?” she said now to her mother.
“No. He seemed to think we should be delighted to have housed them for a while! I’m afraid I took a real dislike to him. One of those slightly mad kinds of people. And, by the way, that’s what he calls those creepy crawlies. His people! I mean, I ask you, Josie.”
“Sounds like he should be locked up in a cage himself!”
“However, I went to see Cowgill after, and he said Pettison is as sharp as the next man. The wacky bit is all an act. You know what I thought, duckie?”
“Yep. You thought the act was to cover up something sinister going on. Some nasty business that involves frightening nice young shopkeepers like me!”
“That’s exactly right. He wasn’t sorry enough for what had happened. After all, he is responsible for those dangerous snakes and spiders. If they’d bitten any of us, he’d be in big trouble. I don’t call that being as sharp as the next man, do you?”
“Maybe it’s a risk he’s prepared to take,” suggested Josie.
“Anyway,” continued Lois. “I’m taking the whole thing on, and shall be ferretin’ around to see what I can dig up to explain it all. One thing, though, Josie. I doubt very much if there will be any more escapers. He’ll know better than that. Police eyes are on him, and all of us watching out. No, I’m sure you’re safe from any more nasties.”
“Thank God for that! Oh, there goes the shop bell. Must go. See you later, Mum. Bye.”
Josie went through to the shop, and found Gran leafing through the pile of newspapers. “Hi, Gran,” she said. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, dear. I’m just looking through the local paper. Joan rang me earlier and said there’s an interesting story in this week’s issue.”
“Not about escaped reptiles, I hope!”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Seems somebody’s dog was nosing around in a barn over Waltonby way, and got bitten by something so bad that it killed it. Poisonous bite, they reckon. And from something big enough to get away without the dog getting at it first.”
All the colour had gone from Josie’s face. “A little dog, was it?” she asked.
Gran looked closely at the newspaper. “Here it is; look. No, it was a big German shepherd. See, here’s a picture. Looks a lovely dog. But really big, and should’ve come off best in a fight.”
Josie looked closely at the photo, and the news story beside it. The police had been informed, and the dog taken to an animal mortuary for further investigation. The report said that the owner had seen something moving behind a pile of sacks, and thought it must be a rat. They had had an infestation of rodents, but these had been dealt with recently. The dog had been only too keen to investigate, and had seemed to pounce on something behind the sacks. Almost at once it had yelped and collapsed, and the owner had seen some movement over by the door of the barn, but couldn’t say what it was.
“Oh Lor, Gran,” Josie said. “I know what I would suggest! A sodding great cobra snake! I hope it’s not on its way back here,” she added, and her voice wobbled. “It’s all getting a bit much. I’m going to phone Mum and tell her to read about it. Now then, Gran, do you want your usual raisin loaf this week?”
“Thank you, dear. I’m on my way home, so I’ll take this paper to your mother. But you’re not to worry. It could have been one of them giant rats that did for that dog.”
This wasn’t much consolation for Josie, but she decided to get on with unpacking a new delivery of groceries and try to put dangerous animals from her mind.
*
Robert Pettison had overseen the closing of the zoo at the appointed time, and went for his usual walk around the perimeter to check all was safe and secure. It was beginning to rain, and his rare-breed sheep were huddled under an ancient spreading chestnut tree. They looked happy enough, and he walked on and into the next enclosure, where small horned cattle were lying down in the shelter of a tall hawthorn hedge. All well there, then, he said to himself.
He walked on, thinking about his nephew Justin, who was coming over for a meeting next week. A strange one, that. Always the same elegant fellow, if slightly raffish. It was the cravat that did it! The only time he had seen him looking different was when they met with others in a big London hotel, where he had hardly recognised him. On that occasion, he had worn a beautifully tailored grey suit, white shirt and old-school tie, and looked every inch the city banker.
Pettison had been close to Justin’s father, until the poor man had fallen ill. They had been at the same school, and over the years had kept up their friendship. Young Brookes, by then a farmer, had fallen for Pettison’s sister, and they had married and produced Justin. The farm had been ideal for Pettison’s developing rare trade in wild animals. They had only the small specimens to house on the farm, of course. He smiled to himself at the thought of a gorilla loping over the flat fields of Lincolnshire.
It was raining now, and Pettison quickened his step. So Justin would be living in Long Farnden. The thought took him to the visit from Mrs Meade, who lived in that village. A very attractive sleuth! He had every reason to call her a sleuth, since she had become known throughout the Tresham underworld as a woman to avoid at all costs. She had a special relationship with top-cop Cowgill, and had a knack of homing in on matters that were necessarily kept secret from the police.
He had found her sharp-tongued and impatient, and decided it would take all his undoubted charm to win her over to his side. She could be very useful, he thought, nodding to himself. Very useful, indeed. She could also be dangerous, and he hoped Justin had taken that into account.
He arrived at the main gates again, and made sure all was well, before returning to the house, where he dried off, retreated to his kitchen and set about preparing himself an exquisite meal of escargots in a French dressing, followed by smoked trout and a salad of fresh endive from the kitchen garden. For Justin’s arrival next week, he decided to serve up roast lamb, with all the trimmings. The lad should be bringing him valuable goods, and would deserve the best.
Eleven
“So this morning I’m going to rough out an ad for the flat. I shall put it in the local evening paper in Tresham, and one or two freebies that go out to the villages. Is that okay with you, Josie?”
Lois was talking on the telephone from her study, and she could see through her window a police car drawing up outside the shop. “Looks like Matthew’s on his way home for breakfast. I can see him drawing up o
utside. I’d best go now and leave you to say hello.”
“He’s only dropping in, Mum. He wanted to pick up the local paper with the story about the dog with the poison bite. Anyway, talk soon. Bye.”
Lois settled down to write the advertisement, and was still chewing the end of her pen trying to get it right. “‘Charming one bedroom flat, quietly situated above the village shop in Long Farnden. Use of garden, and parking space at rear of building.’ No, that won’t do,” she said aloud as Gran brought in her usual offering of coffee and biscuits. “Here, read this, Mum, and see if it sounds right.”
“Do you have to start with the bedroom?” Gran said. “I should describe the delightful sitting room with views of the village playing fields, then go on to one spacious bedroom, then modern bathroom and kitchen. Parking space at rear of shop, and use of landscaped garden. That’s more like it, isn’t it?”
“Mum! The bedroom’s no bigger than a box room, the bathroom has a lavatory that could have been designed by Thomas Crapper himself, and you couldn’t swing a cat in the kitchen. As for the garden, nothing’s been grown in it since Josie took over the shop. No, it’s better not to arouse expectations. Better the other way round; then a viewing will be a pleasant surprise.”
“We don’t want no more surprises in that flat!” Gran said. “Pleasant or otherwise!”
“Of course not,” Lois said crossly. “Anyway, thanks for your help. And the coffee. I must get on now.”
“Dismissed,” said Gran, her nose in the air. “Don’t forget that actor man who might be interested,” she added, and stomped out, leaving the door ajar, knowing that nothing was more calculated to annoy Lois. She was sure her daughter was wrong. All estate agents exaggerated the wonders of the properties for sale or rent, so why should they be any different?
After Lois had written the advertisement, she sent it by email to the newspapers and relaxed. Job done. Now she had to tackle the flat itself. Perhaps she would do a quick repainting job, and get Derek to smarten up the bathroom. She could even make a virtue of the antique lavatory, with its flowery printed bowl and wooden seat. A few flowers strategically placed in the tiny hallway and sitting room would work wonders, and she would make a list of necessary pieces of furniture to replace. The dump in Tresham, now elevated to a recycling centre, had the most amazing bargains. Secondhand chairs and tables in good condition, and loads of other things. They even had a section for practically new curtains.