Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  “Um, about what, my dear?”

  “The zoo business. I’ll fill you in on the latest from this end. Shall I come in and tell you personally, or will you pay my telephone bill?”

  “Both! But you know you will never accept any payment from us here. And, yes, it would be best if you came in. About half past ten this morning? I do have one or two more items to report to you.”

  Almost immediately after she had ended the call, Lois’s phone rang, and she picked it up again.

  “Mrs M? It’s Dot here. Just thought you’d like to know that the scarlet woman returned home late last night. Very stroppy, and more or less told me to mind my own business. Old Ted didn’t even meet her at the door, so I expect she got a rocket. Anyway, I’m off now to my Waltonby job. Bye.”

  *

  At half past ten precisely, Lois walked into the tresham police station, and said she had an appointment with Inspector Cowgill.

  The young policeman jumped to attention, and with a knowing smile accompanied her to the lift.

  Cowgill was waiting as she came out, and walked with her to his office. “I’m really glad you came in this morning, Lois,” he said. “There’s been an important development, and I need your help.”

  “So what’s happened?” Lois said, as she sat down opposite him at his desk. “Found a scorpion in your coffee cup?”

  “Not funny, I’m afraid. One of the zookeepers has been bitten by a king cobra, and died on the way to hospital.”

  “Died? A king cobra! Now will you take some action?”

  “Yes, of course. You have to believe me when I say we have been busy on this case all along, but not always apparent to the general public.”

  “I’m not the general public! And a ruddy great snake turned up in my daughter’s stockroom. And now this! Surely you could tell me exactly what’s going on?”

  Cowgill nodded. “You are quite right, and I don’t forget the considerable help you have given us in the past. But this is dangerous territory, and I am not prepared to risk any damage being done to my Lois.”

  Lois calmed down, and said that they should get on with the matter at hand. “Though what with Derek and Gran, and now you, I’m beginning to think I should give it all up, and take up knitting,” she said.

  “You won’t,” said Cowgill. “Now, let’s begin.”

  He told her that his men had been called in early this morning, when Pettison had gone down to the zoo and found the keeper. He had been on duty last evening, and was barely alive on the concrete floor outside the cobra’s quarters. He had a severe bite on his arm, and although resuscitation was tried, he had died within an hour. Before the poison had taken hold, he had managed to get out of the snake’s quarters, and locked the door behind him.

  “He was a brave man,” Cowgill said, “and was often willing to do night duty when no one else would. He loved the snakes, so Pettison says, and was planning a breeding programme for this particular species, which is under threat from depletion of its natural habitat. I quote. King cobras are deadly, said to be able to kill an elephant, and will eat a female cobra if he doesn’t fancy her.”

  “Now you’re making it up to frighten me!” Lois said. “So is the zoo going to stay closed?”

  “Until we have arranged for the cobra to be made safe, then we’ll go ahead with Pettison and let him open it up again. He’s being very cooperative, I must say, and is losing quite a lot of business while it’s shut. These two accidents are the only ones I can remember since he first opened the zoo. Could be bad luck.”

  “Just as a matter of interest, Cowgill, when you say ‘made safe,’ do you mean killing it?”

  “Not sure yet,” he said. “It might mean doubling up security. Anyway, keep in touch on that one. Now, what do you have to tell me?”

  Lois gave him an account, short and to the point, of Dot’s encounter with Betsy Brierley and her husband. “And then there was their snake, and not a cobra,” she said.

  Cowgill groaned. “Not another slithering snake?” he asked.

  “Yep,” she answered. “And this one was returned to the zoo late last evening.”

  “Tell me the rest,” said Cowgill. “And then you and I are going along to Cameroon Hall.”

  Twenty-one

  It was finally agreed that Lois should arrive to see Pettison on her own, so that she could talk to him about Dot coming to work for him, and then Cowgill would arrive about an hour later to do his questioning and observe what was going on at the zoo.

  Lois approached the gate, and was surprised to see it was open.

  “Morning!” said Margie Turner, smiling from the entry kiosk. “Just the one ticket, is it?”

  “No, I’m not going to the zoo. I have an appointment with Mr Pettison. Lois Meade. He is expecting me.”

  “Oh yes, go on through, and straight up to the hall. You’re the lady from New Brooms, aren’t you? My friend, Dot Nimmo, works for you.”

  “That’s right,” said Lois. “I’m considering sending her to work at the hall for Mr Pettison.” She paused, hoping for some useful snippet from Margie.

  To her surprise, Margie laughed. “Don’t worry, Mrs Meade,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on her. And, anyway, our Dot is well able to deal with the likes of Robert Pettison!”

  “Do you think she will need to do so?”

  “You can never tell with the boss. Lots of rumours fly around, but he’s never been anything but a gentleman with me.”

  “What rumours?”

  “Oh, you know. Some say he’s gay, and others that he’s had every attractive woman in Tresham. Lowlifes, not the upper classes! But as far as I’m concerned, he’s a good employer and never put a foot wrong. Off you go then, dear; there’s a couple waiting to go in.”

  Lois walked slowly up the drive to the house, thinking about what Margie had said about Pettison. Lots of rumours, she had said. She thought of his grim mausoleum, and his obsession with rare animals. Obsession? Maybe it was more than that. Collectors became obsessive to the point of breaking the law. A painting, say an old master hanging on the wall of a private mansion. Worth a fortune. Expert burglars employed to steal it, and in some cases, it is never seen again. Some collector somewhere is gloating over his latest acquisition.

  She arrived at the front portico, and once more Pettison was standing outside, waiting to greet her.

  “Good morning! I hope you are bringing me good news? Come along in, Mrs Meade.”

  “Thank you,” said Lois politely. “As for bringing you good news, I hope we may be able to help you in the house.”

  They settled in his office, and Lois started the conversation by saying how sorry she was to hear the terrible story of the keeper found dead in the reptile house. “Coming on top of the accident with poor Mrs Richardson?” she said.

  “She is fortunately recovering well. But no, the keeper was a brave fellow, Mrs Meade. I am afraid he was foolhardy, too. Countless times I have had to warn him about being overfriendly with a king cobra. No other keeper is willing to go near it, but he would enter the cage and let it get really close to him, sometimes stroking its neck. He was always very calm and quiet with it, and I believe it trusted him.”

  “So why did it suddenly turn nasty?” Lois was beginning to feel decidedly queasy. She had had just about enough of snakes.

  “We don’t know. Something must have frightened it, or him, or he could have forgotten to remain vigilant. A man is no match for a snake of that sort, once it is on the attack.”

  “But you’d have thought he’d be extra vigilant, after the chimp attack on Mrs Richardson. Anyway, have they been put down, put to sleep, or whatever it is we say? They are clearly a danger to every person who goes into the zoo.”

  “Not at all. We have very strong security for our visitors. I am afraid it was human error on the part of my keeper. I myself deal with the snakes from time to time, and I am very careful indeed. There is no possibility of visitors being harmed.”

  “Right, w
ell, we’d better talk about cleaning. I have decided we can take you on as a client of New Brooms, and a very responsible and reliable member of my team, Dot Nimmo, has agreed to do the work.”

  “Nimmo? Not old Handy Nimmo’s wife?”

  “She is the widow of Handel Nimmo, yes.”

  “Well, I’m blowed! Old Handy! One of the best, he was. I’ll be very glad to have her working here. We can talk about old times.”

  “Not too much talking, I hope,” said Lois severely. “I expect my girls to work steadily for the time they are allotted, with a break for coffee or tea, but not gossip of any kind, Mr Pettison.” A forlorn hope, she said to herself. But that’s why I’m sending in Dot, to keep her eyes and ears open.

  They then discussed hours and rates of pay, and Pettison confirmed everything as being wonderful, and then Lois said she would be going, as she had other potential clients to see.

  “Do you ever do the cleaning work yourself, Mrs Meade? Sometimes I need an emergency blitz on the house at times other than when Dot will be here.”

  “I can assure you that Mrs Nimmo will never leave a house in a state needing a blitz, Mr Pettison. But if you require extra help, I am sure we can cooperate. Good morning.”

  Evil old sod, she said to herself as she went off to collect her car and return home. I must remember to wear trousers next time I have to go there. As for Dot, thank goodness she would have drastic remedies for disabling him if he tries any tricks on her!

  At the gate, she met Cowgill about to go in.

  “How did it go?” he said.

  “Fine. I must say he sounded very reasonable.”

  “Just make sure that if Dot is off sick, you choose carefully who you send instead.”

  She looked at him, and said lightly that she herself always filled in at such times.

  “Lois! Don’t—”

  “Excuse me,” said a belligerent father of four small boys, “but is there any chance I can get into this place? Perhaps you two could make up your minds whether you are going in or out. Thank you.” He hustled his boys through, and Lois set off for her car. Cowgill walked towards the hall, looking thoughtful.

  Before going home, Lois decided to call on Dot to see if she was back from her morning job. She would break the news to her, and watch her reaction.

  *

  “So when do I start, Mrs M?” Dot had opened the door and spoken before Lois had a chance to begin.

  “Tomorrow, if you’re sure, Dot. Mr Pettison seemed very pleased to hear it would be you going to clean for him.”

  “You can leave me to it with a quiet mind, Mrs M. He was an old friend, or should I say colleague, of Handy. Public school, a degree from Oxford, so he says, though some doubted that. He was one of them charmers who could turn nasty in a second if something didn’t please him. Don’t worry, I shall be fine. Handy taught me a thing or two about self-defence.” She laughed, and asked Lois if she would like a ham sandwich. “Fresh from the deli, Mrs M?”

  “Thanks, but no, I must get home. Gran will have lunch ready, and Derek’s there, too. They’ll be waiting with the latest in a campaign to get me to give up taking on Robert Pettison. One thing, Dot,” she added firmly. “You are not to go anywhere near the zoo. No call for that. I have made it clear to Pettison that you are not to be sent down with messages, or anything that takes you near those animals. Understand?”

  Dot nodded. “You can rely on me, Mrs M. I’ll make a really good go of it.”

  Twenty-two

  “Handy Nimmo’s wife? You must be mad, Robert.” Justin Brookes was relaxing in Pettison’s most comfortable chair, smoking a sweet-smelling cigarette.

  “Not at all mad. Better to have Dot Nimmo where I can see her than wondering what tales she’s told to all and sundry, especially Mrs Meade, who, as we know, works as a nark with old Cowgill. And he, by the way, came to see me this morning about my latest disaster with the king cobra. That stupid keeper would never listen to me. Always knew better. A very arrogant sort of chap.”

  “Mm,” said Justin. “I’m still waiting to hear from Mrs Meade whether I can have the shop flat. I went there on my very best behaviour.”

  “And wearing your very best suit, I hope. None of the flamboyant actor with questionable friends?”

  “No, of course I was the perfect young executive. You know how well I can perform. If it had been young Josie by herself, I’d have been in there right away. But she said her parents are the landlords, and so I had to talk to them, too.”

  “She recognised you as the actor delivering fliers, of course?”

  “Yes, she did. But I kept up a very sober character.”

  “Ah well, I very much hope you get it. It could be very useful if you keep your ear to the ground. Literally! The shop on the ground floor could yield very good snippets of information. And you could keep an eye on Lois Meade. I must say I wasn’t too sure about the garden shed, but as long as you are careful . . .”

  “A perfectly innocent hobby. A lifelong interest in small animals. I made that clear. And they don’t use the shed themselves, so there will be no problems. Besides which, Uncle dear, we all know that we don’t notice what goes on under our noses.”

  “We shall see,” said Pettison. “But now we have to talk business. I have had policemen wandering all over the place during the last few days, and it’s been tricky making sure they don’t find anything untoward. First of all, our gardener and his wife. Old Richardson is still spending all hours that God gives in our flowerbeds. Fortunately, the latest on his wife’s recovery is good. The police seem to have accepted that for some reason she went into the zoo to say farewell to a keeper.”

  He paused, and reached for a glass of whiskey at his side. “I can make a guess,” he continued. “We had had words up here when she suddenly gave in her notice, and she probably went down to the zoo to stir up trouble. She was a great stirrer, you know, and I am well rid of her.”

  “Has Mr Richardson given in his notice as well?”

  “No! He’d be heartbroken if he had to. No, I reckon her sharp tongue drives him out in all weathers. Still, he’s tough as old boots. Must be the fresh air.”

  “I suppose you’ll want us to keep a low profile for a bit? I hope you’ve warned the Brierleys. Best not to give them any specimens at the moment?”

  “I’ve dealt with that,” said Pettison grimly. “To change the subject, how are your parents? I have one special little creature arriving shortly. Your father is so good at keeping them alive until I need them. Good old Brooksey!”

  Idiot, thought Justin. He had always suspected that Pettison had some kind of hold over his father, and that’s how he’d persuaded him to be part of his “team.” I’ll wipe the smile off his face one of these days, he thought.

  “Dad’s had a serious collapse, and Mother is naturally thinking mostly about him. But I come and go to the farm in Lincolnshire as often as I can. The small barn there, where I keep the stuff, is kept heated, so all should be well. And if I can get the shop flat, I should be able to have them in the future nearer to us.”

  “Good lad,” said Pettison.

  “It has occurred to me, Uncle Robert,” Justin continued slowly, “that you may soon have enough kosher exhibits in your zoo? I know it is dangerous to have them too crowded. You might have mutiny in the colony. And in that case, will you dispense with my services as a middleman?”

  “Ah, but you are on the other side of the business, Justin, my boy. As you know, I now have a number of regular clients for my special little people, all very hush-hush, of course, but also very lucrative. They are never on show in the zoo, and there’ll always be a need to shelter them temporarily, and that’s where you will continue to be a vital member of the team.”

  Justin sighed. He supposed he must be satisfied that for the moment there was still money to be made from associating with his uncle, and he got to his feet. “Can I sell you a ticket to the play, Uncle?” he said. “Excellent performance from yours truly as a
butler. I have one line—‘Anyone for tennis?’—but it always raises a laugh.”

  Pettison waved a dismissive hand. “Away, Justin! I have to make an important call to Africa.”

  *

  At Meade House, Lois, Derek and Josie were having a conference over a late supper. Lois had been with Josie to the Women’s Institute meeting, and Derek had prepared a risotto with prawns, a dish he was particularly proud of.

  “Yum, this is good,” Josie said. “Are you planning to put Gran on a pension, and take over the housekeeping? Where is she, by the way?”

  “She went off with her friend Joan. Something to do with photographs of Joan’s new grandchild. She’ll be back soon.”

  “I don’t like her being out late on her own,” Lois said. “She’s not all that steady on her pins, and you know how dark it is in the village. More streetlights might be a good thing, if the council could afford it, which is unlikely. Anyway, are we going to talk about the flat?”

  “I think I’ve decided,” Josie said, “but you and Dad must make the decision. The property is yours.”

  “So what’s your suggestion?” said Lois, thinking that she knew Josie’s preference already.

  There had in fact been only one other applicant, and that was a single mother with two small children. Lois was all for settling for her, but Derek was not keen. He had worried about the rent being paid regularly, and whether having children up there would be storing up trouble.

  “My suggestion,” said Josie, “is the young executive in the smart suit. Mr Justin Brookes. He seemed ideal to me. I’m not keen on the single mother and two children. The kids are small at the moment, but they were very noisy, and I’m afraid they’d be all over the place. I’m sorry for the mother, but I have to think about security for the shop. How about you, Dad?”

  “Much the same as you. The smooth businessman was not altogether to my liking, but we’ve had no more enquiries. No, I tell a lie, there was one, but she rang back to say she’d heard about the snake, and she couldn’t possibly come anywhere near us. I tried to explain it was all safe and tickety-boo, but she put the phone down on me. So I say we should go for Mr Brookes.”