by G. M. Dobbs
‘Now have you all got that?’ Granny asked.
Stunned silence followed, during which everyone stared open mouthed at Granny. They were used to the old woman coming up with one crackpot scheme after another, but this was something else.
It was Gerald who eventually broke the silence.
‘I think you’ve spent too much time in the sun, Mam,’ he said.
Granny’s face clouded over and she bit her lip before speaking.
‘In less than a fortnight,’ she said, speaking calmly, ‘Sheila’s will be getting married and it could be the biggest mistake of her life.’ She turned and spoke directly to Maud: ‘You said yourself that Nigel must be after something.’
‘Well, yes,’ Maud said. ‘But we can’t just spy on people.’
‘Big brother’s got nothing on big mama,’ Gerald said but no one saw any humour in the remark.
‘Well,’ Granny said. ‘I’ll do it on my own if I have to.’
‘Mam,’ Leanne said. ‘Can I remind you that you’re seventy one years of age, hardly a spring chicken.’
‘Seventy one is the new twenty one,’ Granny said. ‘Someone has to do something and as I say I’ll do it alone if I have to.’
And she would.
They all knew that.
Granny had outlined her plan to them. Operation Eagle Eye, she had said. Would help prevent Sheila from making a costly mistake. There was also a chance that they would find Edith’s killer, for Granny was still far from convinced that Nigel Charlton was not responsible. Between them they would be able to watch his every move each and every time he left the house. She’d showed them the CB radios and told them they would stay in touch with a combination of the radios and mobile phones.
‘I am not a spy,’ Mr Patel said. ‘I am a friendly neighbourhood shop keeper.’
‘And Sheila’s a good customer,’ Granny said. ‘If I’m right you’ll lose her once she’s married.’
‘Goodness gracious,’ Mr Patel said, horrified. He hadn’t really considered that. ‘She is a very good customer, indeed. Very well you can count me into your potty plan. Nina can watch the store.’
‘It all sounds crazy to me,’ Arthur put in. ‘You could be completely wrong about this man. He seemed nice enough to me.’
‘Nice enough,’ Granny said. ‘You said the same thing about David Cameron and look where that’s got us.’
‘Aye,’ Arthur nodded, having to admit that Granny had a point there.
‘If we’re wrong,’ Granny said. ‘Then there’s no harm done, but at least we can put our minds at rest and not feel guilty for not doing anything.’
‘It sounds a bit dangerous to me,’ Leanne said. ‘If you’re right about this man, Mam. Well what’s to stop him turning on any of us?’
Gerald nodded and placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder to support her point.
‘I’ve never been one for fighting,’ he said. ‘I’m a lover not a fighter.’
‘We’ll be in constant touch with each other,’ Granny said, holding up one of the CB radios to illustrate her point. ‘There’s safety in numbers and if anything happens to anyone of us, we’ll all come running.’
Arthur, who knew Granny better than most, could see there was no arguing with his wife. There would be no talking to her and when she made up her mind there was no way of unmaking it.
‘I’m in,’ he said, resigned to the fact that he had no choice.
‘Good,’ Granny said. ‘Then we all meet here at eight sharp in the morning.’
Gerald and Leanne swapped glances but they both nodded.
‘I suppose it could be fun,’ Maud said, thinking that if she had to watch anyone then it might as well be someone as dishy as Nigel Charlton.
‘I could do with a day off from the shop,’ Mr Patel said. ‘It’ll make a nice change.’
Granny smiled.
It seemed Operation Eagle Eye was go.
Fourteen
‘He’s left the house,’ Mr Patel said and crouched behind the wall. He checked his watch and then spoke back into the radio. ‘It’s 0900 hours and he’s on foot, heading towards the village.’
‘Affirmative,’ came Granny’s reply. ‘Gerald’s on the High Street. Get ready Gerald the bird’s migrating towards you.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ came Gerald’s reply.
‘Say affirmative or Roger,’ Granny said.
‘Okey-dokey,’ Gerald relied. ‘Affirmative.’
Mr Patel waited until Nigel was some distance ahead before switching the radio off and hiding it inside his jacket. Then he took a surreptitious look around and started off after the man. Using his mobile he gave Granny two rings and then hung up, meaning that he was in pursuit but would keep a safe distance until Gerald took over.
On the High Street, Gerald stood looking in the window of the Badman’s clothing store. He caught sight of Nigel in the window’s reflection as he came around the corner and went into the convenience store opposite.
‘He’s gone into the mini-market,’ Gerald said into the CB radio.
‘Keep an eye on him,’ Granny said. ‘When he comes out let me know which way he goes.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ Gerald said and turned the volume right down on the radio and dropped it into his man-bag. He set off across the street and went into the mini-market. He could do with a soft drink and he’d be able to see what Nigel was buying, not that it was important but Gerald felt that seeing as how he was on surveillance he might as well be thorough. You could tell a lot about a person from what they bought, least Gerald, a confirmed shopaholic, thought so.
The shop was quiet; Gerald and Nigel being the only customers and Gerald made a show of browsing the magazine rack, while Nigel selected a newspaper, The Telegraph, and then took it to the counter. Whilst there he bought a packet of five cigars and asked for a hundred pounds cash-back as he slid his card into the card reader.
Gerald picked up a copy of Hello Magazine with Becks on the cover, and went and stood behind Nigel at the counter. He had to admit Nigel was a good-looking man. He was tall, well built with no sign of a middle aged bulge around the midriff and had thick black hair that was turning silver above the ears. When he spoke to the storekeeper it was with a cultured accent and a smooth tone.
‘Yes?’ the storekeeper asked, breaking Gerald’s reverie as he watched Nigel walk out of the store.
‘What?’ Gerald looked at the storekeeper and then at the magazine in his hand. He placed the magazine down on the counter.
‘I’ve already read it, darling,’ he said and ran from the store.
Once outside Gerald felt his stomach churn as he realised he had lost Nigel. The man had somehow vanished from view and Gerald looked up and down the street but there was no sign of him. He took the CB radio out of his man-bag and turned the volume up.
‘The bird has flown,’ he said, using the code Granny had told him to use if they lost sight of Nigel.
‘Where’s he gone?’ it was Granny’s voice, loud and booming.
‘I don’t,’ Gerald said and paused as he once again caught sight of Nigel. ‘No wait. I’ve got him.’
Nigel was coming out of the post office and he started back along the street the way he had come, walking briskly, the newspaper folded and held beneath his arm.
‘He’s heading back out of the village,’ Gerald said into the radio.
‘Affirmative,’ Granny answered. ‘Stand down Gerald. Mr Patel can pick up on him again.
Mr Patel was at that moment sat on a low wall, enjoying the sunshine. His phone rang twice and then went silent and he reached for the CB radio and switched it on.
‘Danny Boy calling Broadsword,’ he said.
Granny, code-name Broadsword, answered.
‘The bird is flying home,’ she said. ‘You should have a sighting of him any moment.’
‘I see him,’ Mr Patel said, turned the radio off and slipping it back inside his jacket. He jumped from the wall and crossed the road, walking slowly in the opposite direction to N
igel. He waited until there was a good hundred yards between them and then turned on his feet and once again started his pursuit. He was rather enjoying this and felt like a character from a James Bond movie.
At the end of the street, Nigel took a left turn, which meant that he was indeed homeward bound. Mr Patel took the CB radio from his jacket and switched it on.
‘The bird is heading back to the coop,’ he said.
‘Affirmative,’ again it was Granny’s voice. ‘Stand down Mr Patel. I’m in the street and will take over.’
‘Roger on that,’ Mr Patel said, thinking he would pop around to his own shop and see how things were going. If Nigel was going home then there was no use hanging around until he came back out. He could stay in the house for hours and may very well not come back out again today. ‘I am going to take thirty minutes.’
‘Affirmative,’ Granny said. ‘Arthur’s parked up in position and can take over if the bird flies again. Got to go.’ Granny said as she spotted Nigel coming up the street towards her. She switched the radio off, dropped it in her bag and cycled directly towards Nigel.
‘Lovely day,’ she said as she drew level with Nigel.
Nigel had been preoccupied and he did a double take when he saw Granny.
‘Mrs Smith,’ he said, smiling that smile of his. ‘It is indeed.’
‘I’m taking my morning ride,’ Granny said as if there was a need to explain her presence on the street. She placed one foot on the pavement and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. ‘I like to get my exercise out of the way in the morning.’
‘Wise,’ Nigel said. He took a look up the sky, shielding his eyes from the already powerful sun. ‘It’s going to be another scorcher.’
‘Aye,’ Granny said. ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve had a summer as good as this.’
Nigel smiled again. He had to be leaving for London soon and he was so glad the car had air conditioning. The journey along the M4 would be horrendous without it.
‘Anyway must dash,’ he said. ‘Things to do, places to go.’
‘Aye,’ Granny said and put her pipe into her mouth. She lit it and continued down the street. As soon as she had gone a safe distance she looked back over her shoulder and saw Nigel go in through Sheila’s garden gate. There was a public bench next to the bus shelter opposite and she went across and leant her bicycle against the bench and then sat down. She switched the CB radio on.
‘The bird is in its coop,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay here until he comes back out. You can all stand down but don’t go far.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ Gerald.
‘I’m waiting in the park,’ Leanne.
‘Roger that,’ Maud.
‘I’ll have a kip in the car. Phone me when you need me,’ Arthur.
Mr Patel didn’t reply, but then by that time had was already well on his way to his own shop.
Granny was still sat on the bench an hour later when Nigel again emerged from the house. He was carrying a holdall with him, which he placed upon the back seats of his range rover. Then he went and opened the gates so that he’d be able to take the vehicle off the drive. Granny watched as he drove out into the street and she was just about to report into her radio, when Nigel got out of the car and ran back into the house.
He’s forgotten something, Granny realised.
She was always doing that herself. Arthur would tease her about it and claimed that each and every time Granny left the house, she returned a second later because she’d forgotten something, usually her purse or keys. Well. It seemed Nigel Charlton was of a similar absent-minded bent.
‘Broadsword calling Honey Monster,’ Granny said into her radio.
Now that Nigel was going out in the car Arthur would have to take over surveillance in the Vauxhall Viva. There was no answer and Granny cursed beneath her breath. Arthur had obviously fallen asleep and more than likely didn’t even have his radio on.
‘Broadsword calling Honey Monster,’ Granny repeated and was once again greeted with nothing but squelch noise.
Of course Granny could just phone Arthur, but another notion popped into Granny’s head and of course when she had a notion there was no stopping her. They seemed to pop into her mind out of nowhere, coming fully formed as if travelling her neuron pathways at light speed, and Granny acted on them just as quickly.
She’d follow Nigel herself.
Better than that she’d go with him.
She switched off the radio and quickly ran across the road, leaving her bicycle where it was. Nigel had not locked the car and Granny opened the rear door and got into the vehicle. She quickly closed the door and had just managed to climb over into the space behind the rear seats when Nigel once again emerged from the house and jumped into the car.
A moment later they were moving and Granny settled back for the journey, finding it surprisingly comfortable in the spacious vehicle. At first Granny thought Nigel was heading for one of the local towns, Pontypridd, Porth or maybe Talbot Green, but she soon came to realise that he was going further afield than that.
Cardiff, she thought.
Ahh well, at least she was comfortable, which was odd given that she was hiding in the space behind the rear seats. Still it wasn’t as if he was cramped and she had plenty of room to lie down in the spacious vehicle. The air conditioning made it quite pleasant after the stifling heat of the day.
Granny closed her eyes, thinking she’d take a quick nap.
Fifteen
Nigel was on his phone and it woke Granny. For a moment she was confused, unsure of where she was and she had just been about to jump up when it all came back to her.
She felt the urge to sneeze and held it back by pinching her nostrils.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep, but it felt like more than the twenty minutes it would usually take to get to Cardiff. Where the hell was Nigel going?
She shifted her position, careful not to make a noise, and peered through the gap between the rear seats. She could see Nigel was talking on the phone, which was connected, via bluetooth, most likely to the in car sound system.
‘I’m not far away,’ Nigel said. ‘But I’m going to stop for a coffee and a bite to eat in the service station. If I time it right I’ll just beat the rush hour and should be there by the time you finish work.’
‘Shall I book the usual room?’ the voice on the other end of the phone, a woman’s voice, asked.
‘Why not your place?’ Nigel asked.
‘Best not be seen there,’ came the reply.
‘No I suppose not,’ Nigel glanced in the rear-view mirror before moving out to overtake the vehicle in front. He accelerated again and then pulled back into the left hand lane and eased off the throttle slightly.
So engrossed in listening to the telephone conversation was Granny that she didn’t bother trying to figure out exactly where they were, or indeed where they were heading. The female voice on the other end of the phone sounded familiar but Granny couldn’t quite place it, not that it mattered since this seemed to prove that Nigel was up to something. Why though was he marrying Sheila if he was messing around with another woman? It was not as if Sheila had any money to speak of and the little she did have would be of no use to a man like Nigel, a man who drove expensive vehicles and dressed so well. Chief Inspector Miskin had said Nigel was a retired lawyer and those bloodsuckers made a fortune, so it seemed certain that the man was well enough off.
None of this made any sense.
‘I do hope I’m wrong about this,’ Nigel said. ‘It’s just the police visiting has left a nasty feeling in my stomach.’
‘You worry too much.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ Nigel said. ‘But I often find it prudent to worry.’
‘I’ll take your mind off it,’ the woman’s voice took on a seductive edge and Granny had to pinch back another sneeze.
It was the damn air freshener shaped like a tree that was hanging in the boot space.
It was playing havoc with the old
woman’s nasal membrane.
‘Tell me,’ Nigel said. ‘Tell me that you didn’t have anything to do with this murder in the village.’
‘What difference does it make?’ There was no emotion in that cold female voice.
‘What difference does it make?’ Nigel repeated the callous question, anger evident in his voice.
‘It was always going to end in murder,’ came the female voice. She sounded totally unfazed and could have been talking about anything.
‘’Yes but that would have been prepared for, planned for,’ Nigel said. ‘Not this madness. ‘
‘Calm down,’ again no emotion.
‘Calm down, you say. This’ll be our undoing.’
‘It won’t be long now,’ the woman’s voice said. ‘The doctor seems to think it’s a matter of weeks. A month at the very most.’
‘Oh, that’s all we need,’ Nigel said. ‘The old bugger had better hang on in there until after the wedding.’
‘He will,’ the woman said. ‘I’m providing him with the very best of care. Now clam down or you’ll give yourself a heart attack.’
‘And won’t that put a spanner in the works,’ Nigel said.
‘ I don’t know about that,’ the woman said. ‘But it would certainly complicate things. Look I’ll see you soon,’ with that the woman disconnected the call.
‘Bitch,’ Nigel said and thumbed the a button on the stereo, sending full volume classical music into the car, just as Granny sneezed.
The old woman froze, terrified that he had heard her but it seemed that the loud music, Ride of the Valkyries, had drowned out the sneeze. She peered through the gap in the seats again, and then reached up and quickly snatched the air freshener down.
Granny froze for a moment; sure that Nigel had caught a glimpse of her arm in the rear view mirror, but he seemed to be concentrating on the road ahead. And so the old woman slid the air freshener through the gap between the seats and flicked it onto the floor.
It was now far enough away so as not to bother her.
Thank small mercies for the music and even although she was more of a heavy metal person, Granny was thankful to Wagner for his bombastic melody. If it hadn’t been for the music Nigel would have certainly heard the sneeze, and the consequences of that did not bare thinking about. They were travelling at speed on the motorway and announcing one’s presence to a driver, who had previously been unaware of one’s presence in the car, with a loud sneeze was not to be recommended.