by Ann Purser
There was a moment’s silence, then Cowgill said he had one more thing to ask, and then that would do for the moment. “When you found Alf round the back of the baby shop, was he able to speak at all? Did you hear him say anything?”
“No, nothing. He was out cold,” Lois said.
“But his mobile phone, Mum,” Josie interrupted, “don’t you remember we found it on the ground beside him. It was still switched on, though there was nobody at the other end. Your chaps will have it, Inspector. It’d be interesting to know who he was talking to. Maybe Edwina? Something she said caused his heart attack?”
Cowgill said that this was a useful point to follow up. Then he thanked them both, and was about to wrap it up when Lois said she had a question for him. “What happened about them two ugly gypsy brothers who weren’t in the camp proper? They were prime suspects for Rob’s murder at one time, weren’t they?”
“Ah yes, them,” Cowgill said. “Yes, it did seem likely. They were seen around the pub in Tresham that night. The dog had had a go at somebody. But there was no obvious motive. Now it looks like it was just coincidence. We also reckoned they had a hand in the fire, but can’t be sure. Why would they want to foul up their own camping ground? Once again, no apparent motive. We still don’t know the answer to that one, but are working on it. It could’ve been a careless accident, or that gang of kids.
“Anyway,” he continued, “the brothers left the others and went off on their own. Ended up in Lancashire, and one of them killed the other. A quarrel, apparently, over a dog. The killer was arrested and spilled out a whole lot of stuff about being on the site in Farnden. He said his brother had seen Smith’s wife and another man hand in hand, and blackmailed her. He blamed his brother for everything. Nasty business, but we’ll get at the truth.” He stood up and said that was enough for today. He dismissed his assistant and walked over to the window, looking down into the square, saying nothing more.
Josie began to feel uncomfortable in the silence. “Mum, I need the loo,” Josie said, looking from one to the other. Lois nodded, and contemplated Cowgill’s back. She looked at her watch, and waited.
Finally Cowgill turned to her. “All right?” he said.
“Yep, more or less.”
“You know what I want to say, don’t you, Lois?”
“I can guess. But go on. Say it anyway.”
“Right. This is it. I’m not sure I can allow you to involve yourself in future cases,” he said formally.
“Allow me? Since when did I need your permission?”
He looked away again. “All right then, how about this?” he said in a muffled voice. “You mean more to me than solving a few difficult cases. I can’t stand seeing you upset, nor can I bear the thought that I might be sending you into danger.”
“Well, tough,” said Lois, taking his hand and turning him to face her. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, and added, “because I intend to carry on. Besides, if you shut me out, who will cheer you up on gloomy mornings?”
FIFTY-NINE
THE STORY OF ALF SMITH’S DEATH WAS NOW THE MAIN SUBJECT for conversation in the village, and when Lois and Josie returned next afternoon in the New Brooms van, curious eyes followed them all the way down the street.
Derek was standing by the gate, and his face lit up as they approached. He waved them in, and the minute Lois got out he hugged her tight. Then it was Josie’s turn, and Lois said lightly that they must go away more often. Absence certainly makes the heart grow fonder, she and Josie agreed, and followed Derek into the house where Gran was waiting. In spite of reminding herself that she was a grown woman with a family and a business, Lois was nervously anticipating what her mother would have to say. Gran’s first words lived up to expectations.
“I should think that’ll teach you to think more carefully before you go off gallivanting without your husband!” she said, banging cutlery down on to the kitchen table. “And taking your only daughter with you, getting her into your silly games!”
Derek saw that Josie was near to tears and Lois had a mutinous look, so he said that what had happened in Appleby was in the past, and anyway, until Lois told them all about it, they were just relying on gossip and rumour. Gran sniffed and tutted, but put a large fruit cake on the table, set out the best cups and saucers and plates, and made the tea. When they were settled, Derek took Lois’s hand and said, “Now, me duck, let’s have the whole story. We’re all very sorry about poor old Alf, and his Edwina is a real mess.”
Lois told herself that she had yet to find out if Edwina deserved to be a real mess, but began to explain what had happened. When she reached the part where Alf had had his heart attack and was carried off to hospital, she asked Josie if she’d like to tell the rest. But Josie shook her head. “You carry on, Mum,” she said. “It’s your party.”
This brief remark pulled Lois up short, and for a long time afterwards she pondered on just how much she really rated these jobs with Cowgill. Still, this time the reason had been family, finding out who had attacked Rob. Was this the whole truth? She decided to think about it more seriously next time Cowgill got in touch, and was shamefaced at her prevarication.
“I don’t know about Josie,” she said, “but I began to have a nasty idea that Alf had some secret reason for being in Appleby. Something to do with us. He sort of shadowed us around the place. Why was he really there? I know that he had this thing about having gypsy ancestry, but he didn’t look as if he was enjoying himself much. I reckon he suspected we were on to something.”
“Well, what were you on to?” Gran said impatiently.
Lois told them then, all about Athalia and George, and Alf’s confession to his old gypsy friend, and Athalia relaying what he’d said to her.
“I can’t believe that Alf Smith murdered our Rob for no other reason than being teased about Sam Stratford and Edwina!” Gran shook her head. “Him and those gypsies!” she said.
Josie cleared her throat. “It had nothing to do with the gypsies, Gran,” she said. “Rob had gone off after a row with me, and Alf gave him a lift into Tresham and kept an eye on him in the pub. By the time they were on the way home, Rob was drunk witless. And when he was like that, he was a different person. I’ve seen him out of control a few times,” she added, biting her lip.
Lois frowned and wished she could do something, anything, to spare her daughter this ordeal. But it had to be told, and it was probably better for Josie to tell it.
“There was this time, Dad,” she said, now looking straight at him. She continued with the story of her twisted wrist, and Derek pushed his chair back and clenched his fist. “I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” he began, and then sat down again, remembering that there was nothing now he could do to Rob.
“That still doesn’t excuse Alf Smith,” Gran said. She came from an unforgiving generation, living by stricter codes. “And anyway,” she added, “is it true about Sam and Edwina? D’you know the truth, Lois?” she asked.
“Not for certain,” Lois said. “I know Sheila has been very upset lately, but she was poorly and it might have been that. But I shall find out. Sheila’s one of my girls, and I owe it to her.”
They were quiet for a while, digesting what Lois and Josie had recounted. Then Josie said, “It’s rough justice, if it is true, isn’t it?”
“What d’you mean, duckie,” Derek said.
“Well, if Edwina was carrying on with Sam, and it has led to the death of her husband, who wasn’t a really bad man, then she’s got her desserts, hasn’t she?”
Lois did not answer, but asked Derek if he had heard whether Edwina was back home yet. Derek said he did not know, but Gran said she had been told that Edwina would be back tomorrow. There would be the funeral to arrange, and then all the enquiries.
Josie said, “Then it’s just beginning for her, isn’t it. For me and Rob, it’s finally over. Maybe we should remember that, eh, Mum?”
Lois managed a smile. “You’re a great girl, Josie Meade,” she said. “Me and your
Dad, we couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“And me!” Gran said loudly. “Now,” she added, “who’s going to do the dishes while I feed the dog. You haven’t said hello to her yet, Lois.”
Jeems was released from the scullery, and bounced all over Lois and then Josie, and Lois could not help feeling that now they could start again, especially Josie. She made a mental note to contact Edwina Smith tomorrow, and then have a talk to Sheila. But for now tomorrow was another day, and she gave Jeems a hug. “Let’s go walkies,” she said. “A breath of Farnden air is just what we need.”
SIXTY
IN THE EVENT, IT WAS SAM STRATFORD WHO KNOCKED AT THE Meade’s door very soon after breakfast. Gran opened it and was shocked. Sam looked a good ten years older, and she noticed that his hand shook as he asked if Lois was in.
“Yes, she’s back,” Gran said. “But she’s only just sorting herself out, Sam. Couldn’t you come back a bit later?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got to go to Tresham later,” he said. “I really would—”
“Morning Sam,” Lois said, coming through from the kitchen. Then to Gran she said, “It’s all right, Mum. I need to talk to Sam anyway.”
Gran disappeared, looking disapproving, and Lois showed Sam into her office. When they were settled, Lois said, “Now, Sam. Do you want to tell me what’s been going on? Don’t forget I’ve known you and Sheila for years. I’ve always reckoned on both of you as my friends. No secrets between us, eh?”
“If only,” Sam said. “Everybody has secrets, Lois,” he added, then continued, “I just need to put you in the picture before you get the wrong end of the stick from other people. Now I’m retired, we need Sheila’s money from New Brooms, and I don’t want her getting the push because of me.”
Lois bridled. “I’m not likely to do that!” she said. “You can’t think much of me if you think I’d do a thing like that.”
“It doesn’t much matter what I think,” Sam said. “But Sheila thinks a lot of you, and so I want you to hear the truth of it all from me.” He paused, and then said, “I warn you, it ain’t easy for me. I don’t come out of it very well.” He looked weary, and Lois could see this was a big effort for him. “It began a long time ago,” he said by way of introduction. “Edwina and me were at school together, sort of a twosome. But then we went our separate ways, and I didn’t think nothing more about it. She married Alf, an’ Sheila and me got together. I never thought much of Alf, but we got on. Then I was working in Junuddle one summer. It were hot and I’d stopped under a tree for some shade for a bit. Edwina suddenly appeared. She was takin’ some tea to Alf across the fields and havin’ a walk at the same time. We sat down and had a chat, and then—p’raps it was the heat—we were kissin’ and it didn’t stop there. It all came back, all that we’d had at school an’ that.”
“But that wasn’t the end of it?”
Sam shook his head. “It were like a drug. The more we had the more we wanted. Sometimes it was bloody dangerous, with Alf around or comin’ back any minute. I told Edwina we should stop an’ she agreed, but somehow it carried on.”
“So would you say that’s why Alf had a heart attack and died in Appleby?” She needed to know whether Sam realized what he had done.
“Edwina reckons he’d found out. He was different, she said. An’ that night Josie’s bloke was beaten up, Alf had come home in such a state. Wouldn’t talk to Edwina for a couple of days.”
“Oh, Sam,” said Lois. “It’ll all come out when the police have finished. What a stupid shame. Two families messed up.”
“An’ a drunken young fool who couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” Sam said. “That’s what I reckon, anyway.”
Sam seemed to have nothing more to say, but Lois had another question.
“And what about the gypsies, Sam? Who caused that fire, and who got a gang of kids to do his dirty work for him?”
Sam sank lower into his chair. “Yeah, well,” he said. “It was a bit of fun at first. Gave ’em something to do, an’ I was all for getting them dirty gypsies out of the village. I could never work out why you liked ’em, to tell the truth. Anyway, that Mark Brown was the ringleader, an’ I suppose I encouraged him, though it weren’t him what started the fire. It was one of the younger ones, Mark told me. The kid did it to show the rest of the gang what a big man he was. He started it with several boxes of matches and paraffin he got from his dad’s shed. Crept in and out like a shadow. The grass was dry as a bone, and two of the caravans were old wooden ones. They went up like tinder boxes. He was terrified when he saw what he’d done, and confessed to Mark. He wouldn’t tell me the kid’s name.”
“The police will get it out of him,” Lois said. “Young Mark Brown is going to need all the help his future mother-in-law Mrs. T-J can give him, that’s for sure. Another thing,” she added, “did you know about that bunch of flowers Mark left for me at the roadside where Rob was killed? With a charming message on the label?”
Sam nodded. “I was mad at him about that. Wouldn’t tell me what he wrote on the label. Was it bad?”
Lois stood up. “Sam Stratford,” she said. “God knows what’s going to happen to you, but I’d like you to know just how much trouble you have caused. No doubt the police will sort you out, but I’ll have my say.” She spared him nothing, angry on Sheila’s behalf as well as her own, and then pushed him out without ceremony.
“BUT SAM WAS MY BEST FRIEND,” DEREK SAID PLAINTIVELY. “God, it just shows you never really know people.”
“So are you going to see Edwina?” Gran said to Lois.
“No, no need now. What a silly woman! And not just silly, neither.”
“Frailty, thy name is woman,” said Derek, surprising them all.
Before Lois could answer that men weren’t that great, they heard footsteps coming up the drive, and then Douglas and Susie appeared, grinning like Cheshire cats through the window.
“Have a good time, Mum?” Douglas said, as they came in hand in hand.
“Wonderful,” Lois said flatly.
“Great! Now we’ve some news for you. Hold tight to Dad—we don’t want him blowing his top. Susie and me, well, we’re going to have a baby. In the autumn, end of October. So we’ll bring the wedding forward, if that’s all right with you.”
Lois waited, but could not stop the smile spreading across her face.
Derek took a deep breath, and before he could explode, Lois said. “That’s terrific!” and kissed them both. Then she kissed Derek on his scarlet cheek, and said, “Save us all a white wedding, that will.”
“If you think I’m skimping on my eldest son’s wedding, you’re wrong,” he said stiffly, and, grasping Douglas’s hand, shook if firmly. “Well done, boy,” he said, and only Lois knew what it cost him.
SIXTY-ONE
THE NEXT DAY WAS COMPARATIVELY QUIET, WITH GRAN keeping visitors at bay. In the evening, they all collapsed into armchairs in the sitting room to watch undemanding television. Lois drifted off to sleep, and was woken by the doorbell ringing insistently.
“I’ll go,” Derek said. “They’ll get sent packing, whoever they are. Disturbing people at this time of night.” He went off muttering crossly. Lois heard him open the door and start to speak loudly. Then he stopped, said something more softly and they heard footsteps coming back to the sitting room.
“It’s Edwina,” he said. “Can she come in, Lois? She’s in a right state.”
Gran stood up, arms akimbo. “I should think she is!” she said, but Lois got wearily to her feet. “You’d better come in,” she said to the ghostly figure hovering in the dark hall.
Edwina scuttled in, looking round the room to see who else was there.
“There’s only me and Gran and Derek,” Lois said. “If you’ve got something to say, you can say it now. We all know about poor old Alf, anyway.”
“I’m sorry to butt in on you like this,” Edwina squeaked. She cleared her throat. “It’s just that I can’t stay in the farmhouse any longer
by myself. I thought you could tell me a bit more about what happened in Appleby.”
“You got to learn to cope by yourself now,” growled Gran.
“Unless, o’ course, you can get company from Sam Stratford now and then.”
“Mum!” Lois said. “You don’t kick a man when he’s down, surely.”
“It’s all right,” Edwina said. “I deserve it. Me and Sam, we killed him, didn’t we. Or as good as.” She pushed her hair back from her face. It looked as though no comb had touched it for a day or two. “D’you know any more, Mrs. Meade? Did he get together with his gypsies? Were they with him when . . .when, you know . . .”
“When he had his heart attack?” said Lois. “No, me and Josie found him. But Athalia Lee was with him in the hospital. She was the nice old lady he used to talk to when they camped in your thicket.”
“D’you know if he told her anything before he . . . died? Before I got there?”
“Yes, he did,” answered Lois. “But I’m not at all sure I should tell you. It was a private conversation, but Athalia said he’d wanted me to be told. And as he knew about me and the cops, he’d be sure I’d pass it on. As far as I know, he didn’t mention any message for you. I’m sure he would’ve,” she added, seeing Edwina’s face, “but he didn’t have much time.”
Edwina was silent for a minute, then said in a low voice, “He knew, didn’t he?”
Lois nodded. “Yes, he knew.”
“The police are coming tomorrow morning,” Edwina said. “I suppose I shall hear the full story then. Seems they have to investigate it. He did have a heart condition, you know,” she added hopefully.