Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  “Sounds as if we should pull out, then? Please tell me honestly what you think, Dot. We’re not conducting a crusade on behalf of wild animals here. I have a cleaning business, and it is my duty to look after my team. And that goes for you, too.”

  Dot shook her head. “Trust me,” she said. “I come from a different world from the other girls, and Andrew, and I know how to look after myself. I promise I’ll tell you if it gets too hot.”

  When Dot had gone, Lois picked up her phone and dialled Inspector Cowgill. When he had heard what she said, he answered seriously.

  “I think you should let me make some enquiries and then you come in and we can see what’s to be done. I must say Dot Nimmo is probably the best spy we’ve got!”

  “And I’m anxious not to lose her. I’ll see you about four o’clock this afternoon.”

  Twenty-seven

  Justin sped through the flat fens, heading for Spalding, where he planned to stop for a snack, and then on home. Home? For him, home was now the small flat above a village shop, a paradise compared with the flea-infested bed-sitter in Tresham.

  His mother had been in tears, and had clung to his hand as he tore himself away. Promising to return soon, and at any time she needed him, he had jumped into the Fiat and waved as he drove off. He had collected two island mice from the barn, put them in a small carrying case in his car, and gone back indoors to say a last goodbye to his father, but the small hump under the bedclothes had not moved, and his eyes had been closed. Surely he could not last much longer? He was taking only liquids, and this morning not even the creamy gruel his mother had prepared had been touched.

  As a sudden flurry of rain hit the windscreen, he slowed down and thought about the farm. He had tried to persuade his mother to sell it, once his father had gone. The idea of a bungalow had seemed to appeal to her, but then she had wept again, and said the Brookeses had owned the land for generations, and she dreaded being the one to hand it over to someone else. She had once more asked him to think about taking it over.

  The idea did not please him. A part of him liked a life of action and excitement, walking on the edge of things. Being an actor gave him that kind of life. It was a struggle to make ends meet with the scarcity of good parts to play. The one thing he regretted more than any other, however, was his association with his uncle, Robert Pettison. The man was a monster, and a ruthless one, as well as an affectionate and generous uncle.

  Apart from taking over from his father in the animal trade, Justin had got himself into gambling debts as a young layabout, and had helped himself to a small amount of untended cash in his uncle’s office. Pettison had discovered it, refused to regard it as a loan, and had held it over him like the sword of Damocles, threatening to inform the police. It had been a small offence, and he had subsequently repaid the amount in full, but it had been a theft, and Pettison let it be known that Justin’s parents would be most upset if they heard about it. Perhaps he had thought his way of dealing with it would be good for Justin’s character. In any case, here he was, still beholden to his uncle.

  Parking by the river in Spalding, he walked along the path beside the flowing muddy water into the centre of town. He found a café for a snack, and sat on a stool by the window, watching the inhabitants going about their business. Lucky people! Living lives of innocent work and family life, he thought, and felt very lonely. He made a decision, one made many times before, that he would cut himself off from his uncle, at least from his illegal pursuits. Then he could build a new life, find a wife, have children, join the rest of the human race.

  *

  “He’s back,” Lois said, coming into the shop. “I saw him getting out of his car round the back. He looked as if he had all the cares of the world on his shoulders.”

  “He’ll be glad of the goodies I left for him, then,” said Josie. “I put in a bottle of wine, too. On the house, that’ll be. Perhaps his father has died, or is going fast? He’s an only child, he said, so it’s even worse, carrying the burden of grief, and supporting his mother at the same time. We had a chat before he left, and he’s worried about who will carry on the farm.”

  “Him, maybe? If so, you’ll be looking for a new tenant shortly. Now can I have some of that grapefruit marmalade your dad likes?”

  “Doesn’t Gran have a monopoly on homemade marmalade in Meade House?”

  “Yeah, but she only makes orange. A couple of jars, please.”

  The door opened, and Justin came in. “Hello, I’m back,” he said. “I need a few supplies, when you’re ready, Josie.”

  “A good fairy has left a box in your flat,” said Lois, and watched his reaction.

  “You’ve been in my flat? I’m not sure—”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Josie. “I didn’t look around. I just put the box in your kitchen, and a ready meal in the freezer. How was your father? Any improvement?”

  Justin shook his head. “Afraid not,” he answered. “I’ll be going upstairs, then, and thanks for the groceries. I’ll settle up later.”

  Up in his flat, he looked around. Thank heavens he had tidied up before he left! Nothing incriminating left out. He went into the kitchen and found the box of groceries, and a bottle of red wine. He read the note beside it. “On the house! Welcome back. Josie V.”

  He looked out of the open window across the houses and to the playing field beyond, where a young boy kicked a ball about with his father. Both were shrieking with laughter that travelled to where he stood, and he could not stop the tears squeezing out from under his eyelids.

  *

  At Cameroon Hall, Dot was cleaning silver, and asked Pettison if his guest was still upstairs, as she didn’t want to disturb him with the vacuum if he was asleep. But he had gone, apparently, quite early in the morning.

  “He recognised you, Dot,” Pettison said. “I told him you had died recently, just in case.”

  “In case of what?” Dot replied.

  “In case you would rather not have been recognised. He is a dangerous person to know, but we get on well together.”

  “Wasn’t he that man from the Far East somewhere, the one that crossed Handy’s path once or twice? If so, you’d be far better using someone else. He’d slit your throat as soon as look at you!”

  Pettison laughed. “Not if I’m ready for him,” he replied. “No, he brought me a very beautiful person to add to my collection. And don’t worry; she’s put away in a safe place.”

  *

  At four thirty precisely, Lois sat down opposite Cowgill at his desk, and said that she had one very important question to ask.

  “Ask away, my dear Lois. And may I say how lovely you are looking, as always?”

  “I can’t stop you, but I’d rather you didn’t. Now concentrate, Cowgill. It is very simple. I want to know why Pettison has not had his zoo with its dangerous animals closed down by the law, long before this?”

  “Good question, Lois. But the answer is not so simple. He has animal-protection organisations inspecting him, and we have been called in on a number of occasions when a visitor has been mildly hurt. Usually a child sticking its fingers in where it shouldn’t. We have insisted he tighten up security, and he always obliges. The animals’ papers are beyond reproach, all bred in captivity and so legal. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t have some spy who warns him when we do spot-checks.”

  “Well, can’t you find out?”

  “Difficult. Everything points to a bent copper. Now, we arrive at an even more complicated place. The police officer in charge of such checks and inspections is Josie’s husband, Matthew Vickers. You see my difficulty? Even more complicated, Pettison occasionally pleads exemption because he has breeding programmes in place, helping to increase the numbers of rare animals.”

  “But if you’re worried about Matthew being a member of my family, why don’t you take him off that particular case, and put him elsewhere? Maybe hunting for real criminals. He’s a clever fellow, our Matthew, as well as being your nephew and my son-i
n-law.”

  “That’s just it. Matthew is by far and away the best cop to be communicating with a slippery character like Robert Pettison. And I could swear Matthew is no double agent! No, I shall arrange to monitor Pettison myself, alongside Matthew, and we should be able to trip him up. The surest way of doing this is to catch him in the act of receiving or handing over the wretched animals. Now, we go on to Dot Nimmo’s reports from Cameroon Hall. Can you help me out there?”

  Lois nodded. “She has already told me some useful things. First, Pettison is very jumpy when she is there. Follows her from room to room, or hides in his study. She has discovered the locked room that I told you about, but doesn’t know what’s in it. I decided not to tell her, and hope that he doesn’t think of showing it to her himself. Dot is quite sensitive in her way, and not fond of creepy crawlies.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Patience, Cowgill. There was another very interesting thing. Pettison had a guest who stayed overnight and then departed early in the morning. Dot was in her car going down the drive on her way home when the taxi carrying the guest passed, going towards the house. She thought she recognised him from the early days when her husband, Handy, was active in the underworld. From Africa or some such. Nasty and dangerous, according to Handy, apparently.”

  “Name?”

  “She couldn’t remember, or get near pronouncing it. Anyway, Pettison told Dot the next day that his guest had recognised her, and been sad when told that she was dead. Pettison thought he was doing the right thing, so he said. But the most important thing is that this guest brought “a beautiful person” with him. There was no lady guest, and Pettison said she was put away safely. I suppose you know about his ‘people’ thing?”

  “Thanks, Lois. That confirms our fears that Pettison is actively trading in illegal wild creatures, keeping some out of sight in transit, and selling them on to wealthy collectors and individuals who fancy an unusual pet.”

  “So what are we going to do about it? Dot is determined to stay cleaning at Cameroon Hall, swearing that she can look after herself.”

  “Softly, softly catchee monkey, Lois. That’s what we shall do. Keep me informed on Dot, and I will let you know what our Matthew can discover. We need to catch Pettison in the act of handing over or receiving an illegally imported animal. He is part of a huge network, and would be a very useful person to talk to. Would you be able to work on that?”

  Lois nodded. “We have a secret weapon, you know. Don’t forget my friend and colleague, Mrs Tollervey-Jones, late of Farnden Hall, and now living at Stone House in the village. She has done some good work, and has lots of experience with foreign parts. I haven’t been able to use her since she arrived back from Japan, full of beans and raring to go, dear old thing. What do you think?”

  “Whatever you think best, Lois. I have to warn you that there are dangerous people involved in this trade, and they would think nothing of removing any obstacle that gets in their way. Take care, my dear. You are very important to me. And how is Josie getting on with the new tenant in the shop flat?”

  “My daughter is important to me, Cowgill. So far, our new tenant has been fine, but if he puts a foot wrong with Josie, I’ll have his guts for garters, so I will.”

  Twenty-eight

  “I don’t see why you’re bringing Mrs T-J into whatever nonsense you’re up to with Inspector Cowgill!”

  Gran stood, hands on hips, by the window after dumping a coffee onto Lois’s desk, where she sat working on New Brooms business. The cleaning ladies were all now so familiar with how things went that Lois sometimes thought she could duck out and take up golf. She rather fancied challenging Cowgill to a game! But then something would go wrong with the team. It could be a complaint from one of the clients, a broken vase, or one of the girls unhappy about a predatory male client. Then she would be the one to sort it out.

  “All will become clear, Gran,” said Derek, coming into the office behind her. “Trust Lois. I am sure the inspector will not allow her to come to harm. And when you think about it, we don’t have much alternative but to let her carry on, and say nowt. That’s my new policy, and I recommend it.”

  “Huh, I don’t see that lasting long,” she said, and stomped back to the kitchen.

  “So what can I do for you, Derek,” Lois said, smiling, “now you’ve sent Mum packing?”

  “I heard you talking about Mrs T-J, and I thought you’d like to know she’s on her way here, full steam ahead.” At this point, dead on cue, there was a knock at the door.

  “Mrs T-J,” chorused Derek and Lois, and she went to answer the door before Gran could frighten her away. Gran did not hold with the old lady being a member of Lois’s team. “She should be content to sit back in retirement and sew shirts for sailors, or write her memoirs,” she had said.

  “Sit down,” said Lois. “Thanks for coming in.”

  “So pleased to get your message!” said Mrs T-J. “Things have been a bit flat since I returned. Now how can I help you? Anything, my dear, except scrubbing front doorsteps!”

  Lois explained in detail what she was investigating, and her colleague was doubtful. “Surely you can leave that to the police?” she asked. “I can’t see that what goes on at Tresham Zoo in any way threatens your family, Lois, or the business of New Brooms. Am I being stupid here?”

  “Of course not. If you’ve only just returned from Japan, you probably haven’t heard about the reptile infestation in the shop. Josie has had to contend with a large snake, a large toad, a squashed frog, and a family of rats. Someone put those things into the shop flat deliberately to harm or frighten my Josie to death. That’s why I mean to catch the culprit.”

  “And that is someone at the zoo? It always seems so clean and tidy, and well managed. What is the man’s name at Cameroon Hall? Pettison? That’s it. Knew his concubine, poor woman. He nagged her to an early grave. She was a distant relative, you know. Beware, Lois. That is all I can say. Pettison was out in Africa as a young man, and when my father-in-law was a colonial judge, he had some very unflattering things to say about the Pettison family.”

  “I knew you would be able to help!” said Lois. “Now, let’s start at the beginning, and pool what we know and what we intend to do about it.”

  “First of all,” said Mrs T-J, “how is Josie? She must have had a nasty shock.”

  “Brave, she was. Very brave. And seems to have put it behind her. But I know if something else happened—another snake, or a crawling yellow toad—she would probably flip.”

  “So it is best to keep her in the dark, until we have cracked the case.” Mrs T-J occasionally came out with lovely old-fashioned phrases, and Lois laughed.

  “Exactly,” she said. “So now, to work.”

  “Yes, indeed, and I have thought of another thing which may be of help to us.”

  “Already?” Lois said, smiling.

  “This is a personal memory I have of my much-lamented late husband, and not one which I share with anyone except very close friends. At one time he was, I am afraid, something of a philanderer, and one of his ports of call was a house in the back streets of Tresham. One Sallyanne Blickling lived at Number Forty, Hope Street. A very attractive woman, married, with a number of small children, each with a different father. You get my drift, Lois dear?”

  “I’m afraid I do, Mrs T-J. But these things happen.” Lois was at a loss to know what to say next, but the old lady continued.

  “One of those children was the spitting image of my husband. A boy, and he was taken care of, properly educated, and is now a captain of industry in London. One of his sisters—not related to my husband!—lives opposite our team member, Dot Nimmo, and carries on the profession of her mother.”

  “All this is very interesting, Mrs T-J, but what does it have to do with Robert Pettison? Oh no—I can answer that! This is Pettison’s fancy woman! So do you keep in touch with her?”

  “As it happens, I do. I was able to help her along when she ran into a spot
of trouble. She set up home with a wimp of a man who people said was her pimp, and took his name. Anyway, she is still the major breadwinner. In her line of business there are some pretty disreputable characters, and when I was on the bench, I was able to have one of them put away for a longish stretch.”

  “Mrs T-J, you are a wonder! What’s the shady lady’s name? Dot often talks about her.”

  “Betsy. Betsy Brierley. Pettison is a regular, and, some say, her only client, and she will have useful information. Confidential, of course, but she trusts me. I hope we’ll be able to earn her trust.”

  “Of course. But we may remove her best client from circulation for a while. How do you feel about that?”

  “I am sure she will find substitutes. Still a very attractive woman, I would say.”

  After Mrs T-J had gone, promising to have an early interview with Betsy, Lois relaxed, thinking about what her eccentric assistant had said. This showed a completely new side to the old lady’s character. How strong she must have been! A philandering husband, an estate to run, a lifelong justice of the peace, and a lady-of-the-manor image to maintain.

  No matter what Mum says, Lois thought, we’re lucky to have Mrs T-J aboard.

  *

  Justin slept well. He was awoken by the sound of conversation outside his window, and he padded over with bare feet to see who it was. He recognised the top of Josie’s head, but the other person was not familiar. Grey hair, cut short, and a stoutish person beneath. Good shoes, looking like a countrywoman clothed entirely by Cordings of Piccadilly.

  He opened the window, and a blast of frosty air hit him, so he closed it again with a bang. Josie looked up, smiled and waved. Then the other person, a rosy-faced, elderly woman, looked, too. He waved back, and withdrew.

  He decided to shower, get dressed, and then have a walk around the village. He knew very little about it, apart from the main street. It would be a nice community to get involved with, especially if he managed to give up his association with his uncle.