Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  “Then it’s settled,” said Lois. “On balance, I agree with you two, though I did like that young woman. She was very nice and neatly turned out, and the kids were spotless.”

  “Right, then. I’ll ring Brookes, and tell him he can have it, okay?”

  *

  “Hello? Oh, it’s you, Mr Meade. Nice to hear from you. How are the ladies?”

  “What ladies?” said Derek, immediately wondering if they had made the right decision.

  “Mrs Meade and Josie, of course. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your daughter’s surname. Vickers? Must have been difficult for her husband when he was at school!”

  “Very likely,” said Derek. “Now, about the flat. We have talked it over, and decided that you can have it on a six-months lease, to be renewed if all is satisfactory. Does that suit?” He sounded reluctant, and Justin hoped there would be no snags.

  “Excellent!” he said, grinning broadly. “May I plan on moving in more or less straightaway? And could I just confirm that I shall find the shed very useful, if that is included in the lease?”

  “Yes, that’s okay. We’ll clean it out a bit for you. It’s all rubbish in there, anyway.”

  “I’ll be in tomorrow morning, then, to have a good look at things. Have you a solicitor handling the lease?”

  “Yes, that’s all in order. You’ll be hearing from him.”

  “Goodbye, then, Mr Meade. I’ll look forward to meeting you again. Goodbye.”

  “Yippee!” he said aloud, and smiled as he thought about the reptiles. He knew Pettison had disapproved, saying it sounded like a boarding-school jape. “Like putting a dead mouse in the head prefect’s bed,” he had said.

  Now Justin reckoned he could tell from Meade’s voice that they had had no other applicants. The thought of reptiles reappearing must have done the trick.

  Twenty-three

  On Monday morning, at the same time as Justin Brookes was driving over to Long Farnden with the final installment of his belongings, Dot Nimmo made her way cheerfully up the drive to Cameroon Hall. She had had a quick chat with Margie Turner on the gate, and said she would see her again on her way out.

  Justin had spent all weekend ferrying the contents of his bed-sitter to the shop flat, and now looked around with pleasure. It was a really pleasant little place, he realised, once he had arranged things to his liking. The sitting-room windows looked over the rooftops to the village hall and playing fields beyond, and if he leaned to one side through an open window, he could just see the front of Meade House, about a hundred yards up the road. Even as he watched, he saw Lois Meade’s New Brooms van come out and disappear off towards Tresham. If a spy was needed, he would be Robert’s man.

  Now for his parents. He would call about visiting, and hope there would be good news about his father.

  Meanwhile, Dot Nimmo had arrived at the hall, and after a preliminary chat with Robert Pettison, she had begun work upstairs in the bedrooms.

  “I always start at the top and work down,” she had said to him. When he replied that he could think of circumstances where that policy could be very pleasurable, she snapped at him that she was a respectable widow and that was quite enough of that.

  As she worked steadily from one room to another, she came across a locked door. She went downstairs and found Pettison in the kitchen.

  “Can I have the key for that locked bedroom?” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, Dot, I’m afraid that is always locked. Not that I’ve got Miss Havisham shut up in there! No, it’s just that we’ve lost the key. I must get a man to change the lock sometime, but there’s only boxes of books I don’t want in there, so there’s no urgency. Just give it a miss,” he said, and changed the subject. “What time do you have coffee? Would half past ten suit you? Then I have to go down to the zoo to check that all is well.”

  “That’s fine by me,” said Dot. “And what about that zoo? You got another person in trouble in there, I heard. My dear old Handy used to say one death could be explained away, but two was careless.”

  “I remember Handy well! But in this case there is only one death. My ex-cleaner, Mrs Richardson, fell out with one of my chimp people, but the police are satisfied that there is a good explanation. In the sad case of the keeper attacked by his majesty, the king cobra, my man made a ridiculous error in going into the cobra cage alone and at night when no one else was around.”

  “Made the front page, though, didn’t it,” Dot said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get on. If you want a handyman to fix that lock, I can recommend one of my nephews.”

  She disappeared upstairs, and Pettison reflected that he would not allow any of Dot Nimmo’s nephews anywhere near the place. A good thing they’d got the mausoleum dealt with straightaway. It would be a disaster if she was confronted with a hanging gorilla and surgical specimens of splayed-out creatures.

  By the time Dot had finished her four hours, she was ready for another coffee, and as Pettison had gone out, and had said no need to lock up, as he would be back very shortly, she decided to call in on Margie Turner and see if she had a free lunch hour. They could go to the zoo snack bar and have a gossip. She had not forgotten that Mrs M had expressly forbidden her to do either of these things, and if challenged, would remind her boss that she was in her free time, and could choose whatever she liked to do.

  “Yes, okay, Dot. My replacement for the lunch hour should be here in a couple of minutes. You go and get us a seat, and then I’ll join you,” said Margie.

  Dot made her way to the snack bar, passing a roomy cage full of brightly plumaged birds making unfamiliar chattering squawks, and then the famous monkey enclosure, where a tiny wizened face looked slyly at her. She quickened her step and found the snack bar, where she ordered a coffee and a sandwich, and sat down to wait for Margie.

  *

  The line to Justin’s parents was busy every time he tried to ring them, until he had their phone number checked, and was told the receiver must have been left off the hook. Mother was getting really absentminded. The burden of Dad clinging on to life, and not knowing when the end would come, was becoming too much for her.

  Now his phone was ringing, and it was his mother. “Justin? Have you tried to get hold of us. Sorry! I left the phone off. Done it several times lately. How are you, dear? Are you coming up to see your father? He’s much the same.”

  “Yes, I’ll come very soon. Glad to hear he’s no worse. Now, have you got a pen handy? I’ve moved into a new flat, and I’ll give you the address. I shall get cards printed to send out, but in case you need to know sooner. Ready? Right. The Flat, General Stores, 25 High Street, Long Farnden, Tresham, WZ1 2GB. Yes, that’s right. A new phone number, too, but you can easily ring my mobile. That’s always with me.”

  His mother wanted to know all about the new flat, and he gave her a brief description before signing off and saying he’d be in touch very soon. Before he switched off, she said something that bothered him considerably.

  “What did you say, Mother?” he asked anxiously. “It escaped while you were feeding it, and you couldn’t catch it? It’s still in the barn somewhere? Right, well, keep the door firmly shut, and I’ll deal with it when I arrive. Thanks a lot, Ma, and don’t worry about it.”

  He turned the radio on to a classical music station to calm his nerves, and sat down to think. He knew it was a rotten trick of Pettison’s to ask his father to house Robert’s consignments, but the money was good, and though his mother was not keen, his father had seemed quite happy about it. In fact, he had been fascinated by some of the creatures, and had taken it for granted that he mustn’t mention them to anyone. Pettison had reminded Justin that he must stress to his parents how valuable they were, and that collectors could break in and do damage if they knew where they were.

  Now, to his dismay, he heard his mother’s voice breaking into tears as she said how much she was looking forward to seeing him, and he opened his diary to suggest a date.

  Loud voices caus
ed him to look down into the street, and he groaned when he saw Robert Pettison’s car. He thought of locking his door and pretending to be out. Then the loud voice was outside on the stairs, and he knew that would be hopeless. Robert would know exactly where he was. Robert had a knack of knowing, and so he crossed to the door and opened it, forcing a smile of welcome.

  “Very nice, boy,” said Pettison, as he looked around. “I really think that with Dottie coming to clean for me, and you being up here well within earshot of the irritating Lois Meade, we should have that little problem solved. Nip in the bud any forays into enquiring too closely into our activities, won’t you?”

  “I have already logged in the time she disappeared off to Tresham,” Justin said. “But no, only joking. I can see up to her house, though, and who knows, that might be useful.”

  “Good lad,” said Pettison expansively. “Now, when will you be able to receive some very small people? Silent but deadly, as the saying goes.”

  Twenty-four

  “Morning, Mrs M!” Dot always spoke on the phone as if she had to shout loud enough to cover the distance, however near the unfortunate person taking the call.

  Lois held the receiver away from her ear, and said there was no need to bellow. She said this almost every time Dot phoned her, but to no effect.

  “Is that better?” yelled Dot.

  Lois sighed. She had had a worrying night, after the team meeting yesterday. She dreamt that Justin Brookes had enticed Josie upstairs into the flat, and was about to have his wicked way with her when she drew a knife from her pocket and stuck it in him. She awoke with her heart beating wildly, and it took her a little while to come back to reality.

  But now, thank goodness, here was Dot, yelling in her ear that she had nothing but good to report about her first day at Cameroon Hall.

  “Well done,” Lois said. “Anything at all you’d like me to check on?”

  Dot thought about her snack with Margie from the kiosk, and decided to mention it, stressing that it had been in her own free time. She described having seen a small child stick its fingers through a gap in the monkey cage, and she had pulled it free, only to be told by its parents that she should mind her own business. They came to the zoo regularly, they said, and sometimes the little monkey took a piece of bun from the child.

  “But apart from that, all went well, Mrs M. There is one room I couldn’t get into, but Pettison said they’d lost the key and would get the lock changed. Anyway, it’s full of old books, and he said it didn’t matter.”

  Lois thought about the hanging gorilla and the dozens of dissected animals around the room, and shivered. Just as well Pettison had decided not to give Dot the guided tour.

  “Right, well, you’ll be there again on Thursday. If Pettison has any complaints, which I am sure he hasn’t, I’ll let you know before then. And don’t forget to be vigilant. Ears and eyes open, Dot. You know the form.”

  *

  Justin Brookes set off once more for the Lincolnshire fens and his parents’ farm. He had not wanted to visit so soon, but his mother’s anxious account of the escaped rodent made it imperative that he should catch the wretched thing and return it to captivity. Pettison would be furious if it escaped beyond recall. All his people, as he called them, were valuable specimens. What a man of contrasts his uncle was! On the one hand, he was cold and ruthless, never to be trusted, and on the other, he could be charming, even childishly twee with his ridiculous “people” thing.

  The flat fields, soon to be showing the fresh green of spring, were still drearily devoid of colour, and time went quickly by, as he accelerated the little Fiat to its top speed. A drive through the long, straight roads was soporific, and he was well aware that if he did not have loud music blaring, he could easily drift off and end up in the deep dyke at the edge of the road.

  At last he reached the entry to his family farm, and drove slowly down the track towards the house. He was sad to see signs of dereliction. His father had been ill on and off for a year or so now, and the grass edges to the lane had not been cut, nor had the ivy, climbing vigorously over the garden walls. The Virginia creeper, which covered the front of the house, now obscured half the bedroom windows. One or two slates had slipped from the roof, and a gutter hung crazily from the wall beneath. He supposed that when his father died, the farm would be sold and his mother would buy a bungalow in the nearest village. All her friends were there, and he hoped she wouldn’t be tempted to move near him.

  Now he arrived in the farmyard, and the old dog came to meet him, wagging his tail.

  “Hello, Scamp! Where’s the missus?”

  “I’m here, Justin. Did you have a good journey?” called his mother from the steps into the house. She looked older than when he last came, and he knew that must be because his father was worse.

  “How’s Dad?”

  She shook her head. “Not so great today. He doesn’t seem to recognise me anymore. It’s quite upsetting, Justin.”

  Her lip trembled, and she turned away, leading him into the warm kitchen. He glanced back towards the secure barn where the special consignments were kept.

  “Did you catch the little rodent?” he asked.

  “No, you said not to attempt it until you came, so I haven’t. Why don’t you have a cup of tea, and then see what you can do?”

  He agreed, and said he would like to see his father first of all. “He might recognise me,” he said.

  “At least you look more like our Justin in those jeans and sweater. You know he never talks about your acting? No job for a grown man. That’s all he says. Anyway, come on in, and I’ll take you up.”

  His father was lying on his side, facing away from the door, and Justin thought how pitiful he looked, a small, skinny figure, and on the back of his bald head one or two strands of white hair sticking damply to his skin. Justin’s heart thudded. Surely someone so obviously absent could not still be alive?

  His mother leaned over, and tried to tell him that his son had come to see him. “Justin’s here, dear,” she said, and stroked his brow.

  “Help me turn him over,” she said to Justin. “I have to do it regularly because of bedsores. The nurse comes morning and night, but I try to do it by myself between times. He weighs almost nothing now, so it isn’t too difficult.”

  The old boy surfaced as they gently turned him onto his back. “Water,” he said. “Drink of water.”

  Justin picked up a glass from the table by the bed and lifted his father into a semi-upright position. He held the water to his lips, and a few drops trickled in. He swallowed, and then moved his head fractionally from side to side.

  “Enough. Is that you, Justin, home from school?” His voice was no more than a whisper, and Justin bent closer.

  “Yes, it’s me, Dad. Home from school. Mum’s here, too. Are you warm and comfortable? Time for a little sleep, maybe. I’ll come and see you later.”

  The old man’s eyes flickered open for a couple of seconds, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Don’t forget your homework,” he said, and his eyes closed again.

  “He’ll sleep now,” Justin’s mother said. “We’ll leave him for a bit. Come down with me, and I’ll find you something to eat.”

  Leaving his father’s door open so that they would hear him should he shout for help, Justin followed his mother downstairs. She carefully turned away to the cooker as he wiped his eyes and sniffed back tears.

  “He’s a good age, Justin,” she said. “Now, how about that escaped creature? Go and catch it now, while it’s still light. I’ll have a meal ready when you get back.”

  Justin approached the barn thoughtfully. He was worried about his mother and her ability to keep things going. They had a farmworker who had been with them for years and years, but he was an old man, too, though still able to be active on the farm.

  Anyway, there was nothing to be done until his father had died. The upheaval of selling up and moving house would be quite out of the question at the moment. />
  He peered in through the barn’s darkened windows, but could see nothing. That was intentional, of course. Pettison did not want windows that could be looked through. He sighed. Sometimes he wished his uncle was out of the way for good. Then he could escape, like the little animal, from the bonds that bound him. In even his own thoughts, that sounded overdramatic! But when he was still living here on the farm, he had helped his father with the occasional arrival of strange little animals, and had taken it for granted that in due course he would take over that little job from his father.

  He unlocked the barn door and opened it; slipped into the dark, warm interior; and shut the door quickly behind him. He had a torch, and shone it round the room. He could see a cage with the door open, and knew that it must be where the creature had been before making a bid for freedom. He continued examining every corner of the barn, and suddenly came upon a pair of tiny eyes shining at him. There it was!

  Moving one foot a fraction caused the eyes to disappear. He remained motionless, and in a few seconds they were back. Now he could see the shape of it, crouching behind a feed sack. He reached into his pocket, and once more the eyes disappeared. Taking a small piece of cheese, deliberately saved from his sandwich lunch, he placed it on the ground about an arm’s length away from him, then sat back on his heels and waited.

  The trap worked, and Justin held the tiny, warm body in his hand and looked at it before replacing it in its cage. It stared back at him, its whiskers twitching. “Sorry old lad,” he whispered. “One day, a great big rat will come along and catch Uncle Pettison by the throat, an’ that’ll be your revenge.”

  He put it back gently, and noticed its water dispenser was empty, so he refilled it and then shut the door firmly. He secured the barn, and made his way back to the kitchen, where good smells of rabbit pie were filling the room.