Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  Twenty-five

  “So, have you made sure it won’t escape again? Those little people mean big money to me, Justin.” Robert Pettison had phoned Justin from his office, where he had been reading about market stalls selling unusual pets being shut down by local councils. All because of loony campaigners for animal rights, he thought, but it was not all bad news, as there would doubtless be increased scarcity of rare specimens and prices would rise.

  The line of supply was for the most part well hidden from the authorities, and although now and then one of the couriers was discovered and dealt with by the law, there was always regrouping and a replacement available.

  “Are you coming back to Tresham?” he asked.

  “Not Tresham, Uncle Robbo. I’m living in Long Farnden now, remember?”

  “Of course! With a careful eye kept on the lovely Lois Meade, I hope?”

  “Naturally,” said Justin. “And, by the way, on closer inspection, she really is a looker. No wonder old Inspector Cowgill is so keen!”

  “I should have thought you would prefer the daughter?”

  “Not a chance. Do you realise she is married to a policeman, one Matthew Vickers?”

  “Ah.” Pettison paused for a few moments. “That’s different. Even more important that your flat is locked, bolted and barred.”

  “Must go now,” said Justin. “Father has woken up, and Mother’s taking me to see him. He is nigh unto, I’m afraid. Back tomorrow. Bye.”

  Pettison replaced the receiver and sat without moving in his chair for a long time. “Married to a policeman, eh?” he muttered to himself finally. “Then the smoke screen will be essential. But young Justin will cope. I always knew his time at drama school would stand him in good stead, despite what his estimable father said.”

  *

  Josie had already wondered about Justin Brookes, absent so soon from his new flat. He had said he was off on an urgent trip to Lincolnshire to see his father, who was dying. He would be back tomorrow, he said, and he had seemed very upset. Poor fellow. There was something about him that attracted sympathy. So sure of himself as the young actor and executive, and yet somehow vulnerable at the same time. He could not even have had time to do any food shopping.

  Perhaps it would be a kindness to make up a basketful of essentials, with maybe one ready meal for when he returned, and leave them in the flat for him? That would mean using her duplicate key to get in and put the frozen meal in the freezer. But she was sure he wouldn’t mind. There could not be any secrets on display. Certainly, he’d had no time for that. She would do it after the shop shut. She glanced at the clock, and saw there was an hour to go.

  The door opened and a middle-aged man came in. He smiled, and asked if her vegetables were locally grown. “So nice to find really fresh veg these days,” he said, and picked up an avocado pear and squeezed it. “Nearly ripe,” he said, and put it back on the shelf.

  “I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t handle the fruit,” she said. “Most of the vegetables and fruit are locally grown, but some things obviously have to be imported.”

  “I don’t know about that, Mrs Vickers. Most things can be grown under glass in this country. In Iceland, you know, they grow bananas in huge greenhouses. Heated by natural hot springs.”

  “How interesting,” Josie said patiently.

  He picked up the avocado pear he had squeezed and put it on the counter. “That will be fine for my supper,” he said, and looked around the shop. “Nice little shop you have here,” he said. “All your own, is it?”

  Mind your own business, thought Josie, but she smiled and said, “Anything else I can get for you today?”

  “I expect you think I should mind my own business,” he said, returning her smile. “But I am looking for a small business for investment purposes. Might you be interested?”

  “Not today, thank you,” said Josie, as if he was a tiresome seller of clothes pegs.

  “Have a nice day,” she added, and handed him his avocado in a paper bag.

  Him and his heated bananas, she thought, and decided to ring her mother and tell all.

  “Hello, Mum, all well?” she said, perching on a high stool behind the counter.

  “Fine, but how about you? You don’t usually ring me at this time of day. No customers and bored to tears?”

  “No,” Josie replied, and told Lois about her most recent customer.

  “What did he look like? Maybe I would know him,” Lois said.

  Josie gave her a description, and then remembered that he had called her Mrs Vickers. “Now how did he know my name? He was no stranger, I reckon, though he pretended to be one.”

  “Did he have a van outside? Did you see him drive off?”

  “Yeah, it had a nasty great tiger on one side. Same as the one that came to collect the snake. I think it was from the Tresham Zoo. Oh Lor! Do you think he had anything to do with those reptiles?”

  “Very likely,” said Lois. “If he comes again, give me a ring, and I’ll nip down. Keep the shop door open, and don’t let him get near you. I’m sure he’s not dangerous, but there’s no harm in being careful.”

  *

  When Matthew came home to the cottage, Josie told him what had happened. He had been interested and said he would report the incident to Inspector Cowgill. “Sounds like Pettison. He’s a slimy customer, is Robert Pettison. He wasn’t offensive to you, was he?”

  Josie shook her head. “But he called me Mrs Vickers—how did he know my name?—and said he was wanting a small business to invest some money in. Asked me questions about the shop. I got rid of him as soon as possible, of course. What about that zoo? Hasn’t he been prosecuted for having wild animals in there?”

  “Oh, he’s too clever for that. Has all the right documents and valid answers. And anyway, he has spies everywhere, and by the time we get there, it’s mostly rabbits and white mice. Except the murderous king cobra, of course, but I haven’t heard the latest on that.”

  “Right. Well, I hope our new tenant will cause us no trouble. He went off to see his dying father in Lincolnshire. I took some food to the flat, including one of our ready meals, which I put in the freezer. A goodwill gesture, I thought.”

  “I should be careful, Josie. It could be construed as breaking and entering! We shall have to check whether there is a clause in the lease allowing us to have entry under certain conditions, such as fire.”

  “Oh, stuff the breaking and entering! It was just a nice welcome for a new tenant who must be very sad.”

  “Has your mother been in today? Cowgill was asking after her, as usual. The man’s besotted,” said Matthew with a smile.

  “Don’t tell her that! I talked to her on the phone, after that man had been in. Like you, she reckoned it was the man from the zoo, and told me to watch it.”

  “Very sensible. When is Brookes due back?”

  “Didn’t say, except that it would be very soon, as he had business to attend to.”

  “I might just drift into the shop, if you let me know when he’s around. I’d like to take a look at him.”

  Twenty-six

  Dot Nimmo was still eating toast and marmalade when her phone rang. It was Lois, and after apologies for ringing so early, she asked Dot whether she could give up her Waltonby job to Floss this morning, and do an emergency clean up at Cameroon Hall.

  “Pettison has been on the phone, sounding rattled. I don’t know what it’s all about, but he wants you to go up as soon as poss, to tidy up and generally clean around, as he is expecting a guest. I said that would be okay, and hope you don’t mind, Dot?”

  Dot said as long as Floss was happy, she would do anything that Mrs M asked. She said she would get ready swiftly, and be up there within half an hour. She felt a frisson of excitement, and wondered who the guest could be. If he was part of the Tresham underworld, it was quite likely that she would know him—or her. But then, why would Pettison ask so specially for her? He knew her background intimately. Maybe that’s why he had a
sked.

  She sluiced her face in cold water, and sprayed scent liberally behind her ears and on her wrists. Covers a multitude! she thought. The traffic was heavy in town, and she had to sit at traffic lights for what seemed longer than usual. She listened to her local radio station for news of road congestion, and jerked to attention at the mention of another death from snakebite. This time it was not at the zoo, but at the home of a private owner the other side of the county. She made a mental note of the name, and listened for more information. But it was a brief news item, and other, more cheerful stories followed.

  Must make sure Mrs M knows, she thought, and drove up to Cameroon Hall, thinking what she would do if one of the wriggling things escaped up to the house and confronted her on the job. Another thought struck her. Was Pettison’s mysterious guest, needing such prompt attention, anything to do with the radio news item?

  She parked her car and went quickly up to the back door of the hall. Pettison opened it almost immediately, and welcomed her in.

  “Most grateful, Dottie,” he said. “And so sorry for the sudden summons! I have my distant cousin coming from Africa, and I would like to be shipshape when he arrives.”

  “You can’t have made it so dirty since yesterday!” said Dot. “But I’ll have a go, and leave everything tidy.”

  She started on the kitchen, and realised why he wanted her services. There were newspapers everywhere, not stacked tidily, but half opened and strewn on the floor. All the crocks from his meals since yesterday were heaped on the draining board, and there was cold greasy water in the washing-up bowl.

  His cat, a large evil-looking male tabby, sat next to a half-eaten chicken leg, and glowered at her.

  “Shoo, you nasty thing,” she said, and pushed it firmly onto the floor, where it yowled and spat at her, then fled rapidly away.

  A bin labelled FOR COMPOST spilled its contents onto the floor, and she saw that it consisted mainly of a mouldy cabbage and oozing potatoes that had seen better days.

  So much for saving the planet, she thought bitterly, and tipped it away. When she reached the sitting room, it was marginally tidier, but the drawers of a music chest had been emptied, and the decorative covers of old Victorian songs had been dumped on the sofa, where they were slowly sliding off onto the carpet.

  “What a disgrace!” she said loudly, hoping he would hear. “Those lovely sheets of music are valuable to collectors.”

  “Would you like them, Dottie?” he said, appearing like a jack-in-the-box at the door.

  “No thanks,” she said. “But you should sell them, if you don’t want them. Where did you get them, anyway? I don’t remember seeing that chest before. Is it new?”

  “New to me,” he said. “Fell off the back of a lorry, as they say. I am keeping it in safe custody until a buyer comes along. Nice piece, that chest. Lovely way of keeping music, with drawers that have a front that lowers like a little shelf.”

  “Yes, well, I must get on. Coffee at eleven, don’t forget.”

  He nodded, and disappeared. His study was at the back of the house, and she heard the door shut behind him. That was where she preferred him to be, safely shut away from her until it was time to go home. He gave her the shivers when he came too close.

  She had been warned by Mrs M, and knew that at any time she would be able to refuse to do the job, and a replacement could be found. But she did not plan on that. She meant to stay until the whole business of trespassing reptiles and sudden deaths was dealt with.

  Mrs M was cheerful, but Dot knew that she worried about Josie in the shop. One snake, one toad, one frog and a rat infestation, all more than enough for the girl to dismiss as accidental. They were lucky that a tenant had been found for the flat, as damaging rumours had gone swiftly round the village and beyond.

  Pettison appeared again, this time in the guest bedroom, where Dot was dutifully making up the bed with clean sheets and pillowcases.

  “Sorry, Dottie!” he said. “Change of plan. Guest is arriving earlier than expected. Called from the station, and is hoping to be here in half an hour or so. Could you finish that, and then leave the rest until Friday? You have worked your magic beautifully downstairs!”

  Dot sighed. She picked up her cleaning things, and made for the stairs. As she passed the locked room, she saw there was a key in the door.

  “Does he get to see inside the inner sanctum?” she asked.

  “Time to go,” he replied, and almost pushed her downstairs.

  “Just watch it, Pettison!” she said. “You know better than to do anything to harm me. I know too much, so lay off. You look scruffy, if you don’t mind my saying so. Best scrub up, and have the kettle on ready to give him coffee.”

  She put her cleaning things away, and prepared to leave. She was halfway down the drive when a taxi came along towards her. The track was narrow, and it slowed down as it passed. She caught sight of a passenger seated in the back. It was a man, wearing a hat pulled down over his face. In spite of it being a quick glimpse, Dot knew that she had seen the man before.

  *

  “I might be mistaken,” said Pettison’s guest, “but I could have sworn it was old Handy Nimmo’s wife passed me on the way here. Going down your drive. What are you up to, Pettison?”

  “Up to? Why, nothing at all. And you’re wrong about Nimmo’s wife. I’m sure I saw a notice of her demise recently in the local press. Now, did you have a good flight? And your luggage got through safe and sound? We must have a glass of hock to celebrate.”

  His guest sat down in the sagging sofa, and looked around. “Certainly spruced this place up a bit,” he said. “Needs repainting right through, of course, but that would cost a bit. A bit short, are you, Robert, old son? Well, I’ve brought a treat for you this time. Very pretty, very rare. Needs careful handling, but very desirable.”

  “Only one?” said Pettison. “That’s not going to restore the hall to its former glory!”

  “Now, now, don’t be greedy. More to follow, if all goes well. Things are getting a lot more difficult in this particular market, as you know. Which means, with luck, that lack of availability will cause selling prices to rise. And that’s good for you and me. By the bye, the taxi driver had the local radio on in his cab. Something about a woman having been bitten by a snake in this neck of the woods. Anything to do with you, Robert?”

  “Of course not,” said Pettison.

  *

  Instead of going home, Dot drove out to Long Farnden on the off chance of seeing Mrs M. It was raining hard, so hard that Dot could barely see beyond the windscreen. She cut down her speed, and thought about what she had seen at Cameroon Hall. Pettison was possibly involved, maybe disastrously, in the latest reptile accident. She had heard a later bulletin as she drove along, and this had been optimistic. The woman had been taken to hospital, and was said to be doing well. She would definitely recover from the nasty bite.

  This particular snake had been a pet, kept by the woman’s husband in a shed at the bottom of their garden. Apparently it was handled regularly, and was said to be very gentle and cooperative. He was usually the one of the family who would approach the snake, and on this occasion the wife had gone into the shed, meaning to find a screwdriver and leave swiftly, but the snake had uncoiled rapidly and struck.

  A warning against keeping wild animals as pets followed on the news broadcast, and Dottie nodded to herself. Surely the time would come when Pettison would be forced by law to shut down his zoo, and return the animals to their natural habitat. The snake had been obtained locally, so the owner had said.

  She drew up outside Meade House, and went in. Lois greeted her at the door, and Gran, forcing a smile, offered cups of coffee, which Lois accepted.

  “Come on into my office, Dot,” she said. “You’ve finished very early, haven’t you?”

  Dot explained what had happened, and said she would like to discuss New Brooms involvement with Pettison and his zoo. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, Mrs M, but it’s m
y duty to warn you about that man. When Handy knew him years ago, he used to say he could be very violent, and had once or twice been in a fight. Money talks, and it had all been hushed up.”

  Lois frowned. “Are you sure you want to go on with this job, Dot? I can get you, and the rest of us, out of it today, if you have any doubts at all.”

  “Not for myself, Mrs. M. But I wouldn’t want you, or the other girls, going up there. I can handle Pettison, and he knows it. So I shall be fine, and useful too, I hope. If all goes well, I’d like to see that devil made to pay the price for all the trouble he’s caused.”

  “Very well. But I don’t want you taking any risks. It’s not worth it, Dot. Best leave it to the police.”

  Dot laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk, Mrs M, if you don’t mind my saying so!”

  At this point, Gran came in with coffee. She dumped one mug down in front of Dot, and handed the other to Lois without a smile.

  “We’re out of biscuits until I go down the shop,” she said, and Lois forbore to say that she knew for a fact that there were two packets of chocolate shortbreads in the tin.

  “So I’ll go up there again tomorrow,” Dot said, ignoring Gran’s dirty look. “With any luck, I shall see the guest. I was certain I recognised him, though he had his hat pulled down. If it was who I thought it was, then Pettison is a fool.”

  “How does he convince the inspectors?” Lois asked. She was puzzled. After all, if a dangerous dog bit someone, it was put down immediately. But these creatures of Pettison’s lived on. Did he know someone high up in the police who got him off the hook every time?

  Dot tapped the side of her nose. “Conspiracy,” she said. “Payoffs. Far be it for me to criticise the police force, but there are rumours. Always have been. Some of Handy’s friends got away with murder, as they say. Not actual murder, as far as I know. But I wouldn’t be surprised. Conspiracy was rife, Mrs M, though I says it as shouldn’t.”