Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  Then, suddenly, he was struck by a brilliant idea. He would go solo, obtaining unusual pets from sources which he already knew were legal, and sell them to his own clients for fancy prices, being careful not to tread on Pettison’s toes.

  So, no time like the present, he thought. I shall wander round, and think about cuddly pets. Such as? He couldn’t think of any that were cuddly, unless you counted a cairn terrier puppy he had seen for sale at a recent horse market, and this was hardly a rare animal! He still had the small island mouse in his case, and took it out to look at it. It looked back at him, innocent and appealing. Easy to train, he was sure.

  Not cuddly, then. Exotic and fascinating? He had seen a programme on television about a man in Australia who was rearing baby kangaroos, rescued from the pouches of their mothers, who had been killed in road accidents. Appealing and miniature? Just the job! He supposed these would be returned to the wild. But he might make a trip to Australia and run over a few kangaroos of his own. After that, he could go on to snakes, exotic and beautiful. Some people loved to handle them, he knew.

  He felt suddenly excited, more cheerful. He could even take over the family farm, and operate from there. In fact, it would be much safer and far enough away from Robert Pettison to be outside his sphere of business. Once he was well established, there would be no end to ways of expanding. Lions and tigers in the cow sheds, a couple of gorillas in the hay barn, swinging from the rafters? He chortled to himself at the immense possibilities. A quick call to a courier right away would sow the seed.

  He made the call, and the reply was favourable. He did not commit himself. Merely exploratory, he had said.

  What now? He remembered that he had left one or two possessions in his old bed-sitter in Tresham, and decided to drive in and pick them up; then he could deliver the very special mouse to his uncle at the zoo. He clattered down the stairs and walked into the shop.

  “Morning, Josie! Thank you so much for the groceries and wine. I can’t possibly allow you to give me the delicious Beaujolais. Well, if you’re sure, then thanks very much indeed. I slept like a top in your lovely bed. Or perhaps I should rephrase that! The lovely bed in your flat!”

  “It snowed in the night,” Josie replied, feeling a little embarrassed. “But the sun’s shining now and everywhere is sparkling. Are you off out?”

  He nodded. “Stuff to collect from Tresham,” he said.

  “Have a nice day, then,” she replied. “See you later.”

  *

  When he arrived at the bed-sitter, he still had the key and let himself in. It smelt of damp and dirt, and he held his breath while he opened a window. How had he stayed here so long? Well, that was the past, and he had a rosy future before him now.

  He began opening cupboards and looking under the bed, making sure he hadn’t left anything, when he heard a sound from the door behind him. He whipped round, and in the dark, unlit room, he saw a tall figure in the doorway.

  “Justin, Justin, what are you up to now? My spies have suggested you may be a mole in the organisation. No, don’t say anything,” he added, as Justin began to bluster. “I refer to a call made not one hour ago, to our mutual friend, my guest overnight, the loyal courier? You know who I mean? You shake your head. Well, a remarkably short memory as well as a stupid brain.”

  He stepped forward, and Justin was horrified to see he had a gun in his hand.

  “Uncle Robert! What on earth are you thinking about? This is me, Justin, your nephew and colleague! And I have the mouse for you!”

  “Ex-colleague, possibly,” said Pettison. “Get your coat. We’re leaving. Give me the key and I’ll lock up. You go first, but no silly running away. This gun is right behind you. We need to talk, Justin, and I intend that we do that in the comfort of Cameroon Hall. Now move, fast.”

  Twenty-nine

  They reached Cameroon Hall after a drive in total silence. Once or twice Justin cleared his throat, as if starting to speak, but his uncle’s stony face put him off, and he sat hunched up, his expression blank, as before.

  Parking at the rear entrance, Pettison walked round to the passenger door, unlocked it and opened up. “Out!” he said loudly. Justin frowned. This was ridiculous. He knew perfectly well that Pettison’s gun was a toy. He used to play with one just like it. But his uncle’s evil mood—one with which he was familiar—was not a game. Robert meant business, and Justin searched his mind rapidly for an explanation for his call to the overseas supplier.

  “Oh, Uncle Robert,” he said wearily, “couldn’t we drop the cops-and-robbers bit? I am perfectly willing to explain my telephone call. Obviously, that man misunderstood what I was asking.”

  “Quiet!” snapped Pettison. He was enjoying himself. He had no intention of hurting his nephew, of whom he was actually very fond. But subordinates must be corrected, made to understand who was in charge.

  “Into my office,” he ordered. “Now, while I pour myself a whiskey, you can tell me exactly why you asked a supplier, previously known only to myself, for details of animal people to be delivered direct to you.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a shot of whiskey myself,” Justin said mildly, smiling sweetly.

  “Oh, very well. You really have been a naughty boy, though. What was it all about? Do you want me to up your percentage? We could discuss it.”

  “Fine. Now, I have no wish to take business from you, Uncle Robert. You are a very private operator, you know, and I would like to play a bigger part in your operation. I could be a lot more use to you, if you would let me.” That should do it, he thought. I shall keep him stalled until I am ready to fly the coop.

  Pettison stared at him, as if trying to read his mind. “Is that the truth? If so, I am sure we can come to some new arrangement, Justin. Shall we have another drink and discuss this further?”

  *

  “What are you doing this afternoon, love?” Derek finished his plum tart, and asked for a second helping. Gran smiled at him, and cut a generous slice, topped off with a dollop of whipped cream.

  “Mum!” said Lois. “Talk about cholesterol! Derek will be a walking tub of lard!”

  “Rubbish,” said Derek. “I shall work it all off this afternoon. Big job over at Fletching, clambering about in a loft. So what are you doing, Lois? Taking Josie to buy some new clothes? I’d like to cheer her up a bit. You can give the bill to me.”

  “Hadn’t thought,” Lois said. “I’d quite like to go over to Farnden Hall. They’ve opened a new designer-clothes shop in converted stables. Could you do a couple of hours in the shop, Mum? Give Josie a break?”

  “Of course I can,” Gran said. “It’d be nice to see you with your daughter for a change, instead of tearing about with policemen an’ that.”

  “Your grandson-in-law is a policeman, don’t forget,” Lois said. “And I don’t tear about. But thanks; I’ll give her a ring right away.”

  Farnden Hall, formerly the home of Mrs Tollervey-Jones, was a pleasant, stately home, set in parkland studded with mature chestnut trees, which in spring were ravishing with pink and white blossom candles swaying in the breeze. Josie, in common with other youngsters in the village, had played hide-and-seek there in the spinney at the back of the house, and collected conkers from the chestnut trees in the autumn. They had become adept at avoiding the lady of the manor. Now, as she sat beside her mother in the New Brooms van, she grinned. “A proper visitor, me!” she said. “Not chased out by you know who!”

  They found the shop and went in. “Melanie’s” was a scented boudoir, with rows of beautiful clothes at astronomical prices, and Lois’s heart sank. They couldn’t possibly afford them. But Josie had a bargain-hunter’s nose, and moved to a rail of last season’s models.

  “Look, Mum, this would be lovely for the summer.” She held up a chiffon dress in pastel shades.

  “Perfect for you, Josie,” said Melanie, who was a regular customer of the post office in the village shop, and so knew the Meade family well.

  “But your father
wanted you to have something warm for now,” Lois objected.

  “Then this will be ideal,” said Melanie triumphantly, holding up a scarlet jacket with a white fluffy collar. “Only really lovely girls can wear this!” she said.

  “No need to go over the top, Melanie,” said Lois. They were friends from way back, and New Brooms cleaned regularly at the hall and in the developing businesses attached. “But she does look wonderful in it! Will that do, Josie?”

  “But look at the price, Mum!”

  “No matter. We’ll take it, please, Melanie,” Lois said.

  The door opened, and Lois noticed a change of expression in the shop owner’s face.

  “Good afternoon. Can I help you?” she said coolly. “I’ll be with you in a short while; meanwhile, perhaps you’d like to look around.”

  The scarlet jacket was now wrapped, and Lois looked at Melanie with eyebrows raised questioningly.

  “Old bag!” Melanie mouthed in return. She turned to the new customer. “Now, Mrs Brierley, what are we looking for this afternoon?” she said.

  *

  “So what was all that about?” Josie said, as they returned to the van. “And thanks, Mum, and Dad, for this lovely jacket! I shall wear it every day until the summer.”

  “Not a bad idea to get your money’s worth! Anyway, that new customer was, I think, the woman who lives over the road from Dot. A woman of the night, as they used to say. Obviously, not the sort of customer Melanie wants!”

  “Her money’s as good as anybody else’s,” said Josie. “Maybe being a pro is what she’s good at. Some of them call it sex therapy. You know what Gran says—live and let live! Not that she practises what she preaches. Shall we be off back home, then?”

  “In a minute. I just want to look something up in my diary, while I think of it.”

  Lois shuffled the pages of her diary, keeping an eye on the shop door. When it opened and Mrs Brierley came out, Josie was surprised to see her mother open the car door and go over to speak to her.

  Betsy Brierley was also surprised. “Don’t I know you?” she said. “Aren’t you Dot Nimmo’s boss? Anyway, did you want something?”

  “Oh, no, not really,” said Lois. “I think I’ve mistaken you for someone else. Please forgive me. I’ll be going. Oh, and yes, I do run New Brooms, a cleaning business. Don’t forget us, if you ever need any help!”

  Useful, thought Lois, as she returned to the van. She knew who I was, quite clearly. We’ll see what Mrs T-J does with her. We should get some good stuff on Pettison. Feeling optimistic and cheerful, she drove Josie and the jacket back home in a buoyant mood.

  After a pleasant evening with her husband and mother, Lois relaxed on the sofa to watch her favourite detective serial. Then the telephone rang, and she groaned.

  “I’ll go,” said Derek. But he was back after a minute or two, saying it was for Lois. “Mrs T-J, sounding a bit wobbly,” he said. “She’s been burgled, poor old thing. A masked man, who took some of her silver.”

  Lois went out immediately and took the telephone from him. “Hello? I’m on my way, so don’t worry. Have a strong coffee and wait for me.”

  After that, Mrs T-J said there was absolutely no need for Lois to turn out, and lightning never strikes the same place twice, and tomorrow morning would be quite soon enough.

  Thirty

  Next morning, Lois arrived at Stone House to find the police had already been and taken a statement, and would be in touch with the old lady.

  “It was one man, last night after dark, theatrically disguised,” she said to Lois now. “He made me stand by the door, while he filled his swag bag with the small silver pieces I keep on the table in the drawing room. Then, when I blocked his way out, he laughed and said he had no wish to harm me, but would I kindly step aside! I mean, Lois, I ask you. I thought the days of the gentleman burglar were dead and gone. Then he said I must learn to keep my nose out of other people’s business and stick to gardening! Wasn’t that stupid? It was all too ridiculously dramatic, my dear! But I know it is best to forget about saving the silver, and just get rid of a burglar as soon as possible. Oh, and he almost forgot to take the silver with him! I had to remind him he’d left it behind. I felt rather sorry for him.”

  “Mrs T-J! You’re not serious?”

  “Well, actually, my dear, I am. I suspected at once that he was no professional burglar, but had just been sent to deliver a warning to keep my nose out of the zoo business. I thought I would let him get away with it to see what happened. His voice was familiar, but he did have his face more or less covered, so I’m not sure where I’ve seen him.”

  “And the police?”

  “Your son-in-law was wonderful, Lois. He was calm and reassuring. Made a list straightaway of the pieces I could remember, and said he hoped and trusted they would all be restored to me. I hadn’t the heart to tell him that it was most unlikely I’d ever see them again, and in any case it wasn’t very good stuff. Now, we must forget all about this, and return to business. I intend to go into Tresham this afternoon and have a chat with Mrs Brierley. I made an appointment yesterday, to make sure she was there. She will remember me kindly, I hope, and will cough up some interesting info.”

  “Well, all right, but please be careful, won’t you. The likes of Betsy Brierley are not good-hearted girls down on their uppers. They have learned to be ruthless.”

  “You are teaching your grandmother, Lois, my dear! Dealing with the raffish underworld of Tresham for more years than I care to remember has taught me a thing or two. I shall be perfectly safe, and I’ll be in touch.”

  Lois returned home and stood gazing out of her office window. The snow had turned to slush, and children were out in their wellies, kicking the muddy water at each other and yelling abuse. She saw Josie’s new tenant come out and walk away up the road. They’d not talked about him yesterday, but everything seemed to be going well. Josie would have mentioned it, if not.

  She was about to leave her office, when the telephone rang announcing Cowgill.

  “Lois? Have you heard about Mrs Tollervey-Jones’s burglary? Yes, I was sure she would have told you. Well, as you know, Matthew was there straightaway, and I hope sorted it all out. Now, the last thing you told me was that you were bringing the old lady into your investigations at the zoo, and particularly Robert Pettison. Has she acted on your instructions in any way?”

  “Not yet. She’d hardly have had any time for that. But yesterday she did say she was going to see Mrs Brierley, whose family she had known through her husband’s buccaneering activities.”

  “Oh my God! Can you stop her, do you think?”

  “Not a chance. So you think Betsy was straight on the phone to Pettison?”

  “Well, don’t forget Mrs Tollervey-Jones was not exactly a hanging judge, but definitely an unforgiving justice of the peace. She’d be well known to the criminal fraternity of Tresham. I think that burglary may have been more a means of frightening her into silence than a straight steal of a few bits of silver.”

  “She’s got some good stuff, Cowgill. Worth quite a bit, I’m sure.”

  “Mm, well, I have it here in front of me, and I beg to disagree. Most of it is silver plate, and quite modern. I have no doubt she has good stuff tucked away somewhere, but this is not it.”

  “In front of you!? Do you mean you’ve got it back already? That must be a record.”

  “Don’t underestimate the long arm of the law, Lois. No, actually, we found it dumped in a rubbish bin outside Waltonby village hall. Can I call and see you later this morning? I have to see Mrs Tollervey-Jones, and then I’ll nip up and have a chat.”

  “I suppose so. I don’t know what Derek has planned for today, but unless you hear from me, it’ll be all right.”

  “And please keep a sharp eye around when you’re out. I think you may have stumbled on something very lucrative and very nasty. So take care; there’s a love.”

  *

  Derek, when asked, said he was sure that whatev
er he had planned for this morning would have to take second place to the visit of Detective Inspector Cowgill.

  “So what had you planned? A family trip to London? A ride on the old steam train in Fletching?” asked Lois.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lois. Of course none of those things. I am going up to the allotment and shall be home in time for lunch. Gran is going into Tresham this afternoon, and I shall be watching football.”

  “I see,” said Lois. “So having Cowgill here for ten minutes or so won’t interfere too much with your day?”

  Gran looked round from the Rayburn, where she was stirring a saucepan of soup into slow-moving whorls. “Do shut up, you two!” she said. “If you want to argue, go and do it somewhere else. This kitchen is my territory, and I expect a bit of peace.”

  “Sorry, Mum,” said Lois. “I’m just nipping down to see Josie. Anything we want from the shop?”

  “Onions,” said Gran.

  “And the same to you,” said Derek, and all three fell about at the old joke.

  *

  The shop was busy when Lois arrived, and she hovered round the back of shelves, waiting her turn.

  “I saw him myself, coming out of Stone House!” said a woman standing at the counter. “Carrying an old rexine bag, and looking shifty.”

  “What were you doing, Myrtle, out in the street so late at night?”

  “Walking the dog, like I always do, last thing. He didn’t see me, I’m sure. Jumped into a car and drove off like a roaring banshee.”

  Lois walked casually round and approached the woman named Myrtle. “Must have been a bit of a shock, seeing someone suspicious so late at night.”

  The woman shook her head. “Not really, Mrs Meade,” she said. “You’d be surprised what I see when I’m out with the dog. Goings-on of all sorts!”