The Case of the Missing Morris Dancer

by Cathy Ace

  Glaring up at her husband, Netta said, ‘Poor Rhys. Got a lot on his mind he has. Sorry about that. You take it. It’s been there all night, safe as houses.’

  Mavis reckoned it was time to play the professional card. ‘Carol Hill, who was here yesterday, and I belong to the company of private enquiry agents retained to find Aubrey Morris. Do either of you have any information regarding his whereabouts?’

  ‘No, we don’t know nothin’,’ snapped Rhys Roberts. ‘You’ve no business meddling in family matters. So why don’t the two of you just take the blessed car and hop it.’

  Pushing his wife aside roughly and starting to close the door, Mavis heard Netta cry, ‘You can’t speak to a duchess like that.’

  ‘I’ll speak to anyone I want any way I like,’ then he added some remarks in Welsh Mavis guessed were a little more colorful and the door closed.

  Trudging toward Carol’s car Althea said, ‘Didn’t like the look of him. She seemed alright though.’

  Mavis smiled at her fiend’s perspicacity. ‘You’re a good judge of character, Althea. I agree with you.’

  ‘And he’s got something to hide, though she doesn’t seem to know anything.’

  ‘I agree, on both counts.’

  ‘I wonder who could tell us about him,’ said Althea as she waited for Mavis to open the passenger door.

  ‘I think I might know,’ said Mavis. ‘Let’s make sure this starts, then Ian can get off back to the Dower House. We both need to drop in on someone in the village.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Althea, sliding on the car seat in her damp waxed cotton ensemble.

  ‘How do you fancy a quick snifter, Althea? I saw Rhys Roberts was holding a book of matches from the Lamb and Flag pub. Now, given that I thought printed books of matches had gone the way of the Dodo, and the fact you haven’t even been able to smoke in a pub for some considerable time, I might be setting us off on the wrong track. But we don’t have another. So do you fancy finding out if Tudor Evans has a good sherry behind his bar before we go to dress for dinner with your son and his affianced?’

  ‘It’s very exotic being an enquiry agent, isn’t it?’ mused Althea as Ian led off down the rutted track that led to the main road, with Mavis taking things very carefully in Carol’s car behind him.

  ‘Exotic? I’d no’ thought of it as being any such thing,’ replied Mavis, bemused.

  ‘I’ve been to an old house with a shrine to a dead mother and a living but mysterious girlfriend, to a farmhouse with a gruff man at the front door, and now I’m off to a pub in the middle of the afternoon. By my book, that’s extremely exotic.’

  Mavis smiled as she stared at the track ahead of her, not daring to turn to face her friend. ‘Ach you toffs, all you really yearn for is to see how we normal folks live, and you’re happy.’

  ‘Not having been born a toff, but having become one, I’ll grant you that,’ sighed Althea. ‘Tea brought on a silver tray can become very boring.’

  Chuckling Mavis said, ‘No’ to me, my dear, no’ to me.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  Annie’s father received a loving welcome when he presented himself at her cottage. It took a while for Rodney Parker to dislodge his wife Eustelle from his midsection, but eventually she released him so she could make a pot of tea in the kitchen.

  ‘Got something for you, Dad,’ said Annie once they were alone, holding out the packets of Fisherman’s Friends she’d bought. ‘Don’t know how you’ve got any taste buds left, the way you eat these things like Smarties, but I know you love them.’

  Her father beamed, then said, ‘And I got something for you too.’

  He handed Annie a tin that had once held Cadbury’s Roses – and Annie felt her tummy flip as she stood to open it.

  ‘I didn’t know you still had these,’ she said, beaming. ‘Do you remember we walked along one of the beaches in St Lucia, the morning before we all flew back home, and I picked up these shells along the shoreline? Look at them, Dad – they’re like little jewels.’

  Annie’s father stood to peer into the tin. His thin fingers touched the mound of shells and little stones, and he swirled them about in their rusted metal container. Annie noticed his eyes had misted and she wondered what he was thinking.

  ‘Penny for ’em?’

  Removing his hand, Rodney Parker drew himself up to his full height, so he was almost as tall as his daughter. ‘That was the last time I ever saw my home. Always said we’d go back, but we never made it. Those shells were there, and we brought them here. Not fair they should be locked up in an old tin. You should take them back to the sea. Give them a chance to be free.’

  Annie was intrigued by her father’s response to the shells. ‘Do you feel like you’ve been stuck in an old tin box all these years, Dad? You know, in London, driving buses?’

  Her father turned from her and spoke quietly. ‘No. We came here for a better life, and we got that. Especially for you. But when you leave that light, that life – well, you cannot help but miss it. It’s in your blood. Your mother, she tries to keep it all going with food, and decorating, you know. I’m surprised she hasn’t got you to paint this place like ours back in Plaistow – bit of yellow here, a shelf unit or two of green there, bright blue on the trim. But, you see girl, it ain’t until you get to be a bit older that you begin to wonder what “better” really means.’

  Annie had never heard her father speak like this, and she felt uncertain about what to say next. ‘That morning was special to me too, Dad, but for a different reason.’

  ‘And what’s that, my girl?’ asked her father indulgently.

  ‘It was the last time I walked on the beach with my dad. But saying that, there’s nothing to stop all three of us going back to St Lucia for a visit, you know. I’ve got a bit of money in the bank at last, and I’d love a chance to see everyone, and go everywhere, with me parents.’

  Her father shook his head sadly. ‘It’s too late, girl. Too late.’

  Annie wondered if there was something her father wasn’t telling her. ‘Are you alright, Dad? I mean, you’re not ill or nothin’, are you?’

  ‘Don’t I look alright?’

  ‘Yeah, you look fine. Just like always. But … the way you’re talking. You’re worrying me.’

  Her father reached out and put his arm around her. ‘I’m sorry, girl. I don’t mean to do that. No father would ever do that to his girl.’

  Thinking about all the texts and emails she’d received from Mavis, Carol and Christine, Annie said, ‘What would a father do for his girl, Dad?’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘Let’s just say – and this for a case I’m working on – let’s just say your daughter was sweethearts with a young man you thought was somehow unsuitable. We think they might be planning to elope, but, although the couple belong to the same family, they aren’t blood relatives, so that’s not the problem. If it’s not about that, what would make you try to keep them apart?’

  ‘Could be a lot a t’ings,’ he replied simply. ‘They love each other?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing. There were letters between them over many years, and they were always a bit lovey-dovey, in an airy-fairy way. Not realistic at all. That’s why I called them sweethearts. But a more recent letter suggests they might be about to run off together to get married. Any ideas about why a father would be dead set against a boy getting together with his daughter from the time they were kids?’

  ‘Only two things gonna make a father do that, if he knows that keepin’ them apart is gonna make his girl unhappy. One is his ego – he hates the family, and he won’t have her joining it because of his reasons. The other could be his love for his girl – if he t’inks she’ll be in danger somehow with the boy, or his family. Can only be them two t’ings. One comes from love of himself, one from love for her. Being a father is simple – you have to put your child first, not yourself. If it comes from love for her, even if he knows it’s gonna cause her pain, he’ll stick to his guns. Not kno
win’ this man, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. The boy’s dangerous for the girl.’

  ‘But how can a kid be dangerous?’ mused Annie aloud. ‘If all that we’re hearing is true, the father’s tried to keep them apart since they were just little. It sounds a bit like Romeo and Juliet. You know, young love and all that.’

  ‘Don’t forget that play was about two teenagers who knew each other for three days, and six people ended up dead,’ said her father with a twinkle. ‘It’s not a good way to t’ink about love and romance. I don’t know what any other parent would do, but I know what I’d do; if a boy was dangerous for you, I’d keep you away from him, any way I could. Have you asked your mother what she t’inks?’

  Grinning at her father, Annie said, ‘Asked Eustelle? Nah – I wanted a father’s perspective.’

  ‘Never call her Mum, do you? Never did. Why is that?’ said Rodney.

  ‘Her name’s Eustelle.’

  ‘I know, girl, but she’s your mother. Don’t you t’ink she might like you to use that name for her? You’re the only person in the world with the right to do so.’

  Annie was surprised. Her father had never said anything like that before. It was as though her world had shifted off its axis just a little. Not usually lost for words, she found the experience unsettling.

  ‘Tea’s up,’ called her mother from the back of the house. She walked into the sitting room carrying a tray. ‘Now, tell me what you t’ink of this hat, child.’

  Eustelle Parker might have been wearing a plain yellow apron over a simple red dress, but the edifice on top of her head was a riot of color. Three feet wide, eighteen inches from back to front, not only was the flying-saucer shaped hat a monster, but the fact it seemed to have twice as many colors woven into its straw construction as a rainbow stopped Annie in her tracks.

  ‘Gordon Bennett, I’d forgotten it looked like that! It’s so … colorful.’

  ‘Sure t’ing,’ said Eustelle with a grin, waving a tea towel and strutting in circles around the tiny room. ‘Goes wit’ everyt’ing, this does. That’s why it’s lasted thirty years. Lookin’ good, right?’

  Eustelle clearly expected a supportive, if not enthusiastic, reaction, and she got both from her husband.

  Grabbing her arms in a formal dance pose, Rodney swung his wife about, making little growling noises. ‘You know what that hat does to me,’ he said making faces that alarmed Annie. ‘Remember the last time you wore it? Winston’s grandson got married, and we danced all night.’ He grasped his wife who let out a little squeal.

  ‘Come on you two, there are children present,’ said Annie squirming.

  ‘You shouldn’t be listenin’,’ replied her happy mother with a wink.

  Annie left her parents to act like kids as she slipped upstairs to get her phone. Reaching Mavis, the women had a good discussion about the possibility there might be something in the background of Aubrey Morris’s part of the family that would have Ann Roberts’s father dead set against even a budding romance. Something that might drive Rhys Roberts to do any number of things to keep a young couple apart. Finally Annie asked, ‘So, what have you been up to?’

  ‘We’ve just left the Lamb and Flag,’ replied Mavis, ‘though we didn’t get much out of your Tudor Evans.’

  Annie chuckled throatily. ‘He’s not my Tudor Evans, Mave. How is he, by the way?’

  Annie thought she could hear Mavis smiling when she replied, ‘No much different than when you saw him yesterday. He confirmed Ann Roberts’s father used to be a sometime drinker at his pub, but that he’s seen little of him since the smoking ban. He assured me that’s not unusual, especially for the smokers. I judged him to be choosing his words carefully when he spoke of the man, though it’s clear to me he didn’t care for him much. He mentioned his well-known temper, and the fact he’d had to ban him from the Lamb and Flag, on three separate occasions, for a month each time. He knows little else about the Roberts part of the family up at the Morris farm.’

  ‘So he seemed alright then, did he?’ pressed Annie, as innocently as possible.

  ‘Tudor seemed concerned that your dad would arrive in plenty of time for the wedding, and to see him perform,’ added Mavis.

  Annie knew she was grinning when she answered. ‘Really?’ She hoped she’d managed to sound nonchalant. Annie felt both fourteen and fifty-four years old at the same time, and, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she was just fine with that.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  As Edward stood back for Althea and Mavis to enter Chellingworth Hall, Althea announced, ‘Young Ian will return with our luggage presently. Mrs MacDonald has asked that you do not unpack for her.’

  ‘No, thank you, Edward,’ said Mavis, smiling as brightly as she could. It seemed most peculiar to her that there was a class of person for whom folks poking through their most private possessions was quite acceptable, yet who baulked at the suggestion those same people should be permitted to share a meal at the table with them. But, Mavis reasoned, she hadn’t had over fifty years to get used to it, as had Althea.

  ‘We’ll not be late at dinner, Edward,’ warned Althea, and Cook Wilson and Miss Jennifer will be coming with Young Ian when he returns. We’ll all be here at the hall from tonight until the day after the wedding. I know it’s an upheaval for all of us, and you too, but I think Miss Stephanie is correct when she says it makes sense to have all hands available here, on the spot.’

  Edward’s reply of, ‘Certainly, Your Grace,’ did nothing to inform Mavis of his opinion on the matter, though she noticed he was a little more fleet of foot than usual when he left them at the open door to the drawing room, which was still acting as a reception room before dinner.

  Henry, Stephanie, Clementine, Nurse Thomas and Christine were already enjoying drinks, and some brittle conversation.

  Stephanie looked disappointed as Althea and Mavis entered. ‘Lost a tenner and found sixpence?’ asked Mavis of Stephanie as she accepted a sherry from the duke.

  The bride-to-be rallied. ‘Sorry, I was hoping you’d be Mum and Dad. They’re late coming down for dinner.’ She looked at her wristwatch. ‘I don’t know where they can have got to. I said six thirty for seven, and it’s ten to. Oh, there they are.’ A relieved smile suffused Stephanie Timbers’ face with a genuine warmth, and Mavis turned to see the parents of the bride. This was their first opportunity to meet Althea, their home in Spain meaning Henry and Stephanie had flown out for him to seek their permission to marry their daughter.

  Whatever Mavis had expected, John and Sheila Timbers were not it. Following Carol’s disclosures about the man, which Mavis had suggested were best kept to herself, she’d half thought he’d look like a bit of a thug. Instead, he was short, dapper in a dark suit, deeply tanned, with silver, well-barbered hair and gray-green eyes that glittered in the firelight. The mother was equally well-tanned – surely it wasn’t that sunny in Spain in the winter? – and obviously a devotee of both the gym and a clothing designer who favored angles, zips and very bright colors.

  Mavis noticed Clementine had perked up as she called from her chair, ‘Is that a Teikikomo?’

  Sheila Timbers smiled an affirmative, but was not to be swayed from her main objective, Henry Twyst’s cheek, which she kissed firmly, leaving a smear of pink lip gloss on Henry’s wintry-pale skin. Mavis noted his look of alarm, and also the way he steered Stephanie’s parents directly toward his mother.

  ‘My mother, the Dowager Althea,’ said Henry – quite formally thought Mavis.

  ‘Your Grace,’ said Sheila, bobbing. Mavis tried to hide what she felt was an unfair smirk. Having got to know Althea as a person, she found it most peculiar that anyone would think of curtseying to her.

  ‘Your Grace,’ said John Timbers, nodding his head.

  Mavis’s heart warmed even more to her friend when Althea stood up and hugged each of them saying, ‘I’m not Her Majesty, you are allowed to touch me, you know. Come along now, let Henry get you a drink. We’ll all be family befor
e too long, and we should make an effort to get to know each other. In company such as this I am to be Althea, plain and simple. You may save the correct form for when we aren’t just a family group – or as good as,’ she said grinning at Mavis and Christine.

  The rest of the introductions that followed took quite some time. Both Sheila and John Timbers seemed to be surprised to hear an enquiries agency was being operated on the estate, that two of its members were in the room and Althea was also involved. ‘Been running background checks on any of us, have you?’ quipped John Timbers – maybe a little too jovially, thought Mavis.

  ‘Why? What would we discover, other than that you’re a man who built a fair fortune as a lumber merchant, then sold up to enjoy his retirement in a villa on Spain’s Costa del Sol?’ said Mavis cheerily. She knew a few things she could have added, but chose not to.

  She was sure she noticed a flush beneath his tan as John Timbers chuckled heartily and said, ‘Not much else to know, really.’

  ‘Just back from the Caribbean, Sheila?’ asked Christine. Mavis suspected she wanted to show off her powers of deduction a little.

  Looking a little taken aback the petite blonde answered, ‘Yes, actually. Though how did you—’

  ‘How did I know? The tan. Your jewelry. The designer label clothes. As Clementine noticed, that’s a Teikikomo dress. He has a store in that new upmarket area in St Thomas, I understand.’

  ‘Have you met him? He’s delightful. Doesn’t say much, of course,’ piped up Clementine from her wheelchair. Mavis realized maybe Lady Clementine’s broken leg hadn’t been explained to Stephanie’s parents – she assumed Stephanie would have done so herself, but the worried look on her mother’s face made Mavis wonder about that. Sheila Timbers kept staring at Clementine’s appendage as though it were some sort of cannon taking aim at her; she kept trying to move herself out of the line of fire, but Clementine – who seemed to have gained some level of competence at maneuvering her chair – kept shifting so that her foot was once again pointing directly at Mrs Timbers.