by Issy Brooke
The knock came again. Penny flattened herself against the door and wished she had a spyhole or some glass in the solid wood. “Who is it?”
“It’s Drew! Are you okay?”
“Sure. Hang on.” She let him in and he stared at her in curiosity.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Just that you wanted to know who it was before you opened the door. Are you expecting trouble?”
“Oh … yes. No. I mean. You’re not trouble. Come on in.”
“What have you been up to?” he asked her, following her along the default route of front door – hallway – kitchen – kettle.
“Nothing. I’m just relaxing.”
“The last time we spoke, you were asking me about Mary and Eleanor. Are you still poking around, asking questions?” Drew asked.
Oh, goodness, she thought. Since then I’ve talked with Ed and found out his secret, and caused an argument at the craft group. Should I tell him any of this?
“You warned me not to poke into people’s lives…” she said cautiously.
“I did. I think it could be dangerous.” He leaned on the table and folded his arms. He smiled crookedly, but his eyes were serious. “Although I bet you haven’t listened to me, have you? I want to tell you to stay out of it but I have the feeling you won’t. You’re a grown woman and can make her own decisions … but I wish you’d listen to advice from a local. Leave it well alone.”
Suddenly it occurred to her that Drew might be a suspect. Why else would he be so keen to get her to leave it? She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you know how to electrocute someone?”
He blurted out a laugh. “I know exactly what you’re thinking! No, but I could bludgeon someone to death with a hammer. Or poison them. I’m pretty good with wild plants.”
“Eww. Must you?”
“Sorry. What you’ve got to understand, though, Penny, is that people don’t like change around here. If you want to fit in, and I am sure that you do, you have to come in slowly and let it happen bit by bit. Not blunder in and upset everyone.”
“I’m not blundering,” she protested, feeling her cheeks flush as she remembered the craft group. If that wasn’t blundering, what was? “Not everyone dislikes change. You, perhaps…” she said, tailing off. Yes. Maybe it was Drew who didn’t like change.
He shrugged. “It’s not about me.”
Oh, but it was. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be working?” She was suspicious. “Did you come to tell me to stop asking questions again? I got the message, all right?”
He averted his gaze. Something was up. “Now then, about Mary.”
“What about Mary?” She knew, even as she asked it, trying to sound innocent, that the rumours must be flashing around.
“This is a small town, Penny. You can’t cause uproar in the craft group without people talking, you know.”
“Oh no.” She pulled out a wooden chair and sank onto it. “You shouldn’t listen to gossip. I think you told me that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So, do you care to tell me first-hand?”
“Look. I have been sketching and drawing, and you know it, so it made sense for me to join the craft group, okay? It was perfectly innocent.”
“Mm-hm.”
“And I got talking to Mary. Or she got talking to me. She was full of gossip. Why do people avoid her?”
“Because she’s full of gossip, I suppose.”
“People like to gossip.”
“It’s different with Mary,” Drew said. “I can’t really put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the delight she takes in passing on bad news. Like it’s a power thing for her? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve always avoided her. I can’t help feeling that if she gossips to me about someone, then she’ll happily gossip about me, too.”
“That’s true. Anyway, so I accidentally mentioned Eleanor. Totally accidentally! I knew that Mary and Eleanor were either good friends, or they used to be. And it turned out that they used to be. They definitely aren’t friends now.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “So what happened between them?”
“Aha! You see! Curiosity is a powerful thing!”
“No, no. I’m not getting drawn into this.” He waved his palms in the air. “I don’t want to know.”
“Too late,” Penny said in triumph. “You are already part of this. And I don’t know what happened between them because things got out of hand and I could hardly ask, but don’t you see – whatever happened, it could be important. David’s lover and his sister-in-law, once good friends but now enemies… it’s vital that I find out!”
“It’s not vital that you find out. It’s vital that you tell the police.”
“They’ll dismiss it as silly women being silly gossips. I think I need to talk to Eleanor.”
“I hesitate to ask,” Drew said, “but how are you going to do that? Find out what groups she goes to, and infiltrate them, too?”
“I have thought about that. But I need to strike while the trail is still hot. I’m going to go to her house. I’ve found out where she lives.” In fact, she had not really thought it through until the words came tumbling out of her mouth. Oh, she thought, so that’s what I’m going to do. Jolly good.
“How did you find out where she lives?”
“By asking. I knew that she lived on the Shires estate from Agatha. Finding out the house was simple. Ask anyone while you stand in a queue to buy potatoes and they’ll tell you.”
Drew shook his head. “You’re going to turn up on her doorstep? No. I think I preferred the infiltration idea better.”
“Seriously. Maybe I just need to be more upfront with people.”
“You are naïve. No, you are mad.”
Penny was shocked, and a little hurt. “Perhaps,” she said mulishly. “Or maybe I think that being honest is the best policy. Anyway, I’m going to have my dinner and then go over. Would you like to stay for some food?”
“Dinner?” he said with a smile. “It’s teatime.”
“Oh, my southern ways. Seriously. It’s only frozen pizza but there is enough to share.”
He shook his head and looked sad. “I don’t think I should. Are you dead set on going to see Eleanor?”
“I am.”
“I think you are making a huge mistake.”
“I know,” she said.
“I’d better go.”
“Drew, please…”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Penny. I can’t stand by and watch you make a fool of yourself. You worry me. If you won’t listen to me, I need to go. I don’t really want to be a part of this.”
“You don’t have to be.”
He shook his head and made for the door. He looked unhappy; unwilling, almost. “If I stay, I am part of it. Think about this, okay?”
He left, and she sat very still, listening to him let himself out. Kali barked once at the door closing, then rushed back into the kitchen to lick Penny’s hands.
“Who does he think he is, anyway?” Penny muttered to the dog.
* * * *
The pizza tasted like cardboard with a bit of plastic cheese smeared on the top. Penny would not let herself listen to her doubts. She ate half of the pizza anyway, and slid the rest into the fridge to keep for later. It might taste better once cold.
Then she dressed in warm, dark clothes; smart jeans, solid boots, and a zip-up fleece jacket. She fussed Kali and gave her a biscuit, and strode out into the night, though the striding lasted until the end of the street whereupon she switched to a normal walk, because of her ankle.
What exactly were the police doing with the investigation? A murder had been committed, she reminded herself. It took place over a week ago! Yet she hadn’t seen increased patrols, or heard any definite news, or anything. Their forensics and their technology were all very well, but they needed to knock on doors and ask questions. If she were the police, she’d consider herself – Penny – a suspect. Part of her wa
nted to have been formally interviewed with a tape recording and everything, just like on the television.
She walked north, past a row of old cottages built in the warm yellow stone from a local quarry. The Shires estate was at the top end of town. First she went past the Abbeystead estate, which was one long curving road with large detached houses scattered along it. They were “executive” homes built in the 1990s for people who worked in the cities but wanted rural life. Penny had known folks who’d moved out of London but who continued to work there. They didn’t get to enjoy rural life at all, unless you counted the many hours they spent in cars and trains, staring out of the window at fields.
The Shires was an older development that consisted of a series of cul-de-sacs either side of the main road. They were all named after trees. These houses weren’t in the local architectural style or even in the local stone. She turned right along Oak Avenue, hunting for the right house. She knew it would be a well-kept house with a blue garage door, on the left-hand side, with a clipped lawn and a small fake wishing well out the front. According to her informant in the greengrocer’s, anyway.
Her heart began to hammer and her palms went sweaty. It wasn’t a panic attack, she knew. It was simply apprehension. A normal reaction to an abnormal situation, as her counsellor had told her.
And what could be more abnormal than to knock on a stranger’s door to talk about a murder?
She knew she was getting carried away with it all. She stopped at the bottom of a driveway that led to a house that fitted the description perfectly. She had misled Drew when she’d said she knew where Eleanor lived. The woman she’d talked with in the greengrocer’s had been clear on details but vague about the actual house number.
Still, this one fitted the bill.
She mentally rehearsed her speech a few more times. Penny had decided to disarm Eleanor with honesty.
But she was rooted to the spot. She went through her piece a few more times, but could not bring herself to walk up the driveway to the front door.
A net curtain in the bay window twitched to one side, and a pale face stared out at her. Penny’s mouth went dry. She had to approach the door now, and it swung open as she reached the step.
An angular woman stood in the doorway. She had a pinched face with layers of impeccable make-up accenting her fine cheekbones and aquiline nose. Her hair was styled in artful waves around her head, and was a rich, glossy chestnut of a colour and tone not often seen on a woman of her years, although the main thing that gave her age away were the lines and loose folds on her neck and the backs of her hands.
She frowned at Penny who immediately felt dowdy and provincial. It was an amusing thought, given that she was supposed to be the sophisticated southerner. “Can I help you?” Even the woman’s accent was refined, with no trace of Lincolnshire in it. Penny couldn’t imagine her uttering the standard local greeting of “Now then, bor.”
Penny smiled and stumbled into her prepared speech. “Hi. My name is Penny May. Are you Eleanor Hart?”
“Yes. Why? What are you selling? Didn’t you see the signs? We don’t purchase from door-step sellers.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not selling anything. I’m pleased to meet you. I ought to tell you that I found David Hart’s body and I’ve become interested in the situation. I understand that your husband and his brother did not get along. I wondered if I might come inside and talk about that?”
Eleanor stared. Her red-lined lips opened in a perfect circle for a few seconds. She swallowed and tried to say something, but nothing came out.
Penny felt more and more foolish. This was a stupid idea. The Queen of Stupid reigned once more.
“Obviously I know that this is a difficult time,” Penny added. Suddenly she was reminded of social convention, and indeed, common courtesy. She felt herself flush. “I’d like to say that I am sorry for your loss…”
Eleanor’s eyes were wide and shocked. “How dare you come here,” she whispered, her voice croaking.
“I do appreciate this might be a bad time. Here. I’ve written down my name and number, and popped my address on this card. You can get in touch if you want to talk about anything. I’m an outsider, you see. It might make things easier.”
“Are you with a church? Or a cult? We’re in the neighbourhood watch.”
“No, nothing like that. I’m looking into the circumstances of the death, and…”
“Are you with the police? We’ve already spoken to the police.”
“No. I don’t think the police are looking in the right places. I’m merely a concerned citizen who feels that society these days has become too selfish. Wouldn’t communities be better if we looked out for one another?” Penny was impressed by her sudden flight of fancy. None of that had been rehearsed and planned.
Her expansive plea was clearly lost on Eleanor. “Community? Ha! You’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for community. There is nothing in Upper Glenfield. Nothing. Just insular, in-bred gossips and tiresome meddlers. Such as yourself. Now kindly leave my property. I have nothing to say to you.”
Penny held out the card with her contact details on but Eleanor stared down at it, and kept her hands by her sides. “Please,” Penny persisted. “Is your husband home?”
She only meant it as a lead-in to ask if she might speak to him, but Eleanor reacted as if she was being threatened. “I don’t need him here to defend myself,” she hissed, stepping back into her hallway. “You need to leave. I give you fair warning that if you do not, I am quite within my rights to use force and weapons if I have to.”
Weapons? What kind of arsenal did the woman have? Her manicured talons looked fairly vicious. Penny took two quick steps backwards, stumbling down the path. “You have a gun?”
Eleanor sneered. “No, but I can stun any intruder. Mark my words. You do not wish to find out.”
Stun them? What, with cologne? “I am so sorry if I have upset–”
The door slammed shut. Penny darted forward again and pushed her card through the letterbox, then turned around and ran down Oak Avenue as fast as her throbbing ankle would let her.
Chapter Thirteen
Penny’s mind was made up by the time she reached her cottage again. Something sinister was afoot in the house of Eleanor and Thomas Hart. So, they had weapons? Weapons that stunned? She thought of Thomas’s background in the Army and his enmity with his brother. This had to be followed up – right away. She had promised to ring Francine but that could wait. This was important.
She dashed into her house, circumvented the alarmed dog, grabbed her car keys and left again. She felt a pang as she floored the accelerator; she wanted someone riding with her. She pictured Drew in the passenger seat, sharing the thrill.
But he was too nervous about too many things. She didn’t need that sort of man in her life.
For a big, strong blacksmith, he sure didn’t like to embrace excitement and change.
Maybe she should have had Kali riding shotgun with her.
The oncoming glare of headlights made her blink and swerve, and forced all other thoughts out of her mind as she concentrated on driving. She knew she needed to go to the east of Lincoln and find a scrap yard; Lincoln wasn’t a huge city, so she didn’t imagine there would be too many choices. She was prepared to go around all of them until she found the right one.
As soon as she saw a chain fast-food restaurant, she pulled up and let the engine idle while she made use of their free wi-fi, browsing on her phone for all the metal recycling places in the Lincoln area. She scribbled a list – there were two likely ones – and punched the first postcode into her sat nav device.
“Lead on, Sat Nag,” she instructed it, and followed the monotone instructions through the dark streets into a gloomy and deserted industrial estate.
She slowed as she approached the first destination. The streets here were very quiet and she felt conspicuous. Who drove around an industrial estate at night? No one with good intent, that was for sure. She pa
rked half on the pavement and half on the road, and killed the lights.
She waited, looking around for signs of life as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. A tiny battered red Metro bunny-hopped past, and she saw an ashen-faced older man in the passenger seat. The driver was a spotty youth. She remembered learning to drive like that.
A figure crossed the road far ahead, and disappeared into bushes. Sleeping rough? Drugs deal? Some illicit assignation?
She shivered. It was time to go and find things out.
She closed the car door as quietly as she could, but it still sounded loud in the empty air. She walked briskly, as if she had purpose.
What weapons, she couldn’t help thinking. A stun gun? What was a stun gun, really?
She stopped short, her heart hammering.
A Taser.
That had to be it, she thought in triumph. A Taser! David was electrocuted, wasn’t he? People reported deaths from Tasers all the time.
Triumph temporarily over-rode her fear. It had to be a Taser.
She continued on, but with more caution. If this was the scrap yard where Thomas was a night watchman, and he was the killer, and he was armed, then she had to be very careful indeed.
She came to the high, locked gates. The gates were solid metal but they were flanked by a chain-link fence and she peered through to the yard beyond. It was lit only by orange street lights and there were strange, shadowy piles that rose like mountains in the distance. Nearer to her was one of those cabins on legs that were supposed to be temporary, but judging by the state of it, it had been in place for decades. One of the windows was boarded up but the other showed light from behind more mesh.
This could be where Thomas worked, she thought. She stayed by the fence, looking in, wondering what she really wanted to see.