Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002)

by Ann Purser

“Yes,” she said. “Who shall I say?”

  Inspector Cowgill gave the tiniest of nods, and said, “Police, madam. Detective Inspector Cowgill.”

  “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll get him.” The Inspector looked faintly annoyed at being left on the doorstep, but it was only seconds before Peter White was there himself, ushering the Inspector into his cold sitting room.

  Lois took her cup of cooling tea with her and made for the study, where she began dusting and tidying his papers. Better not use the cleaner yet, not until she’d had a chance to catch a word or two of their conversation.

  “Sorry to trouble you, sir, but I wonder if you’d mind answering one or two further questions?”

  “Of course,” said Peter White, but his voice trembled, and Lois frowned as she heard the door shut firmly. Why was he nervous? She walked quickly to the cupboard where he kept his old jacket and pulled it out. The stain was still there, and she sniffed. Creosote. Unmistakeably creosote. She put it back and returned to the study, switched on the cleaner and moved swiftly over the worn carpet. Nothing more to be heard now, so she might as well get on and keep her ears open for when the Inspector left.

  He was there for a good half an hour and by the time he was on his way out the conversation was restricted to formalities. “Thank you very much, sir,” said the Inspector.

  “Not at all.” Peter White’s voice was over-polite. “Only too willing to help in this ghastly business,” he added. The door shut, and the vicar came quickly into the kitchen, where Lois was washing up last night’s supper dishes. “Strong coffee,” he muttered, and switched on the kettle.

  “Let me make it,” said Lois. “You’re all of a shake.”

  The vicar took a deep breath, and looked at her gratefully. “Ah yes, how kind. Thank you, my dear,” he said, and slumped down into a chair by the table.

  Lois made the coffee and found a packet of biscuits. “Here,” she said, “have a couple of these. Did you have any breakfast?” She had seen no evidence of it, no cereal dish with cornflakes stuck hard, no sticky marmalade knife.

  “Um, no, actually, I wasn’t hungry,” said Peter White, and pushed the biscuits to one side.

  Lois took out a couple and put them on a plate. “Here,” she said again, “Mother’s orders. Eat up.”

  Peter White’s face cleared for a moment, and he looked at Lois with a tentative smile. “Goodness, Lois,” he said, “I’m old enough to be your…er…brother. Still, I’m sure you’re right. Thank you.” He began to nibble one of the biscuits and sip the hot coffee.

  “Nosey parkers, these cops,” said Lois conversationally.

  “Oh yes, but it is their job,” said Peter White quickly. “Though I had told them all I knew already.”

  “Fresh evidence come to light?” said Lois casually.

  “I’m not sure,” said the vicar. “The Inspector did go on asking questions about Gloria’s personal life – whether she had confided in me in my professional capacity, had I heard anything from other parishioners, that sort of thing.”

  “And have you?” said Lois, bluntly now.

  Peter White looked at her in surprise. “That kind of thing is told to me in strictest confidence, Lois,” he said reprovingly.

  “Yeah, but have you?” said Lois again. To her surprise, instead of telling her to get on with her work, he laughed. “Really, you’re incorrigible!” he said. “But I’m afraid I can’t satisfy you any more than I did the Inspector. The only time I saw Gloria for more than a few minutes lately was that time she had been ill, and I made a pastoral visit. She was perfectly polite and nice, and I remember thinking what a comfortable home she had in her little cottage, but that was all. All very correct and blameless, I’m afraid!” But he didn’t tell Lois about the dressing gown falling away from shapely legs, the glimpse of pleasantly full breasts. He did not mention that Gloria had insisted on mending his socks, or…No, enough was enough. Sins of omission, though, he warned himself.

  “Ah well,” said Lois. “Maybe you’ll think of something. Oh, and by the way,” she added lightly, “that old jacket of yours has a nasty stain on the sleeve. It smells like creosote. How did that happen?”

  The vicar’s reaction was swift. He jumped up and fetched the jacket at once, handing it to Lois. “Quite right, my dear,” he said, “would you drop it into the cleaners in Tresham for me? Many thanks.” He headed off towards his study. Lois looked at the offending jacket, sniffed again at the sleeve, and then quietly put it back in the cupboard.

  ∗

  Josie had hung the mouse tableau in her bedroom and though Derek had not been at all happy about it, he agreed that they should say nothing more to her. If they made a great thing of it, Josie was quite likely to go underground, meet Melvyn secretly and God knows what might happen. Lois had reminded Josie that she would have to start taking school work seriously now, and no more gallivanting with Melvyn’s gang.

  Josie had no intention of leaving it there. She had been astonished when Melvyn turned up with the present. How did he have the nerve? But he’d seemed so sure of himself, and now she knew he cared for her. That picture had been expensive and although he’d always got money, she knew he was on a fixed allowance. She looked at herself in her dressing table mirror. What does he see in me? she thought. She never believed her parents when they told her she was pretty and had a good figure and shouldn’t worry about a few spots and pimples. They would go, they said, when she grew up. Well, if Melvyn Hallhouse fancied her, she was grown up enough. She took out a bottle of dark purple nail polish from her drawer and began to paint her nails. Her homework lay unopened on her bed, and she heard her mother calling from downstairs.

  “Coming!” Josie yelled.

  “Melvyn’s here!” Lois added, her voice annoyed and sharp. “I’ve told him you’re not going out week nights.”

  Sod it, thought Josie. She waved her hands about to dry the polish, and gingerly opened the door. The delicate mouse tableau caught her eye, and she smiled.

  “Hi,” said Melvyn. “Like your nails…”

  Josie melted. “Thanks,” she said. “Has Mum…?”

  “Yep, and quite right, too,” said Melvyn, with a quick glance at Lois. “Get your homework done first and then I could come back and have a cup of tea, maybe, Mrs Meade?”

  Blimey, he never gives up! Lois nodded weakly, and opened the back door. “Don’t bother if it’s raining,” she said. “Usually takes madam here the whole evening to finish anyway. She’ll see you tomorrow, I expect.”

  “No problem,” answered Melvyn with his charming grin. “I’ll just call in and see. Got to fetch something from a mate on the estate. See you later, Josie.” He grinned again at Lois, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Irritated, Lois shooed Josie back upstairs. Thinks he can charm the birds off the trees, she said angrily to herself, and went back to watching television. But when Derek asked her what the programme was about, she couldn’t tell him.

  Nineteen

  Friday, and Lois was on her way to the Baers’. She could see Gloria’s cottage at the end of the street and thought of the newly-creosoted trellis in the porch. So, they’d all brushed past it on their way in – Doctor Rix, Prof Barratt and Peter White. Not Derek, of course! It really didn’t mean much, as far as the doctor and the vicar were concerned. There was every reason for them to be visiting Gloria, who had been ill. That left Professor Barratt and he’d done a bunk. She had heard no news of his whereabouts or his return, but the vicar had mentioned seeing the Detective Inspector talking to Rachel at the Barratts’ front door. Lois wondered if Inspector Cowgill had revisited the Baers. It was unlikely that she would find out. She’d given the new ‘arrangement’ considerable thought and didn’t have much confidence in the supposed help she’d get from Cowgill. Still, two could play at that game.

  She turned into the Baers’ yard and saw the blinds drawn down in the gallery. It was always closed for January and February and Evangeline was more often in the hous
e, getting under Lois’s feet and making conversation because she had no one else to talk to. Today Lois welcomed the thought. Perhaps she would glean something of interest.

  She hardly ever saw Dallas. He was a mystery man, with his smart city suits and fashionable staccato speech. Lois had discovered a few details about Evangeline, from brief conversations here and there, and knew that she had married Dallas not long ago, when she was in her early thirties. She’d been a Somerset girl – still had a trace of the west country burr in her voice – and had once told Lois jokingly that she’d married beneath her. Dallas had been working for her father’s company, and had carried off the boss’s daughter, she’d said, laughing, but with a wistful smile at Lois, who had nodded non-committally as usual. Dallas went off early to business in Birmingham, and came back late, so Lois had little chance of getting to know him. She sometimes thought that Evangeline, too, seemed not to know him very well.

  It was a shock, then, for Lois to find Evangeline and Dallas sitting at the kitchen table, clearly still having breakfast at nine o’clock on a Friday morning. What’s more, they hardly glanced at her as she walked in, muttering “Morning,” and then returning to what seemed to be a close study of the newspapers. This was so odd that Lois tiptoed through to the broom cupboard, collected her things, and decided to start on the dining room which had a hatch through from the kitchen. This was open, and as Lois began polishing the old rosewood table in which Evangeline took such pride, she heard the scrape of a chair as one of them got up.

  “I don’t care who hears,” said Evangeline in a strangely husky voice, but Dallas’s hand appeared on the hatch cover and shut it with a bang. Then both voices started at once, raised and angry, but Lois could not make out the words. Now what? She shook her head sadly. This village is going to pieces. Old Malcolm on the run, the vicar scared out of his wits, Nurse Surfleet behaving like a priest sitting tight in the confessional, and now the cool and reasonable Baers at each other’s throats.

  She finished the dining room and went through to fetch the Hoover. Dallas Baer stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up. He ignored Lois and began to speak in a harsh, unkind voice.

  “Don’t threaten me,” he said, still looking up to the landing above.

  “I shall do it, unless you tell me the truth!” said Evangeline’s tearful voice.

  “Don’t be so bloody daft,” Dallas replied. “And anyway, you won’t. Women like you never do.”

  Lois turned back, thinking a retreat to the kitchen was the best bet, but stopped when Evangeline suddenly screamed. Lois whipped round to see Dallas standing immobile as Evangeline tumbled like a rag doll from stair to stair, all the way from top to bottom, screaming as she fell.

  ∗

  “The doctor was there in minutes,” said Lois to Derek. She had come home early and by the time Derek appeared for what was usually a snack lunch, he found chops, potatoes and peas waiting for him. Lois had told him the story as they ate, and now explained that Evangeline had miraculously escaped serious injury. “She should’ve at least broken an arm or a leg,” said Lois, shaking her head. Derek listened to Lois’s description of Dr Rix’s competent examination, his calm, reassuring manner with Dallas, who, said Lois with a frown, seemed perfectly calm himself. Lois took apple crumble from the oven and set it on the table. Giving Derek a generous helping, she continued, “Dr Rix said there was no need for an ambulance, so they put her on the long sofa in the sitting room. She was crying a lot, but the doctor said it was mostly shock, and sent Dallas off to the chemist in Tresham. I said I’d wait until he came back and he wasn’t long. She dozed off to sleep pretty quickly – something the doctor had given her, I think. But Derek…” Lois faltered, frowning.

  “I could do with a cuppa,” said Derek blandly. Lois filled the kettle, and sat down again. “Go on, then,” Derek encouraged her. “What’s bothering you?”

  “It was Dallas,” said Lois slowly. “The way he just stood there, watching her fall, without moving a muscle to catch her or stop her or anything…”

  Derek shrugged. “Took him by surprise, maybe. You said he taunted her, said she wouldn’t do it. P’raps he really thought she wouldn’t. Anyway,” he added, and his face was serious now, “better be careful, my duck. Don’t get mixed up with marriage problems. You can never see the whole picture, and shouldn’t try. If this murder thing is going to get you into trouble, I want you out of it now. Now, Lois, d’you understand?”

  Derek so seldom used a stern voice to her that Lois was taken aback. He was right, of course. Never come between man and wife. But she had no intention of doing so, and had asked no questions, made no comments. She’d just kept watch over Evangeline until Dallas returned, and then left. She tried to explain this to Derek, and he nodded.

  “But just watch it,” he said. “We got enough on our plate with the kids and that Melvyn, without getting in deep anywhere else. Better to forget the whole thing,” he added. “Kettle’s boiling.”

  ∗

  When Evangeline woke up, she could not for the moment remember what had happened, or why she was lying on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon. Then she saw Dallas in the chair opposite, his head slumped on his chest, snoring gently. As she moved to get up, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. She groaned loudly with the pain and woke up Dallas.

  “Don’t move, Angie,” he said. “You’ve had a fall.” His use of the old nickname gave her a start.

  “What?” she said. “What d’you mean, a fall?”

  “You tripped and fell downstairs,” said Dallas quickly. “Dr Rix has been, and there’s nothing broken. You’ve just got to rest for a couple of days. Bruises, and all that.”

  Evangeline said nothing, but shifted her shoulder tentatively, trying to ease the pain. “You can have some painkiller, Doctor said.” Dallas went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and tablets in his hand. “Here,” he said, helping her to raise her head.

  “Dallas – ” Evangeline choked on the water and spluttered for a few seconds. “Dallas,” she began again. “What really happened? We were having a row, weren’t we? I can’t remember properly, but I’m sure we were having a row?”

  “It was nothing,” said Dallas. “You just got upset about something silly. That old jealousy again! And without cause, as usual. I expect that’s why you tripped. Nothing to worry about. Just forget it and get some more sleep. I’ll stay here. I’ve rung the office, and arranged a few days off, so I can look after you. Just rest, Angie pet. Take it easy.” He stroked her forehead gently until her eyelids drooped. “That’s it, take it easy. Old Dallas is here to take care of you.”

  Twenty

  Long Farnden parish council had always met in the village hall, surrounded by old sepia photographs of former chairmen and luminaries of the village who looked down on them benevolently. But tonight, the present chairman, Dr Rix, sat uneasily on his hard chair and tried to concentrate on the minutes of the previous meeting, banishing thoughts of Gloria and how she must have stood in abject terror in the kitchen behind him.

  Janice Britton, the Special who had been so encouraging to Lois, was clerk to the parish council. She had not given much credence to the supposed collaboration with Keith Simpson and Lois on gathering information in the village, sensing Lois’s animosity after being turned down in Tresham. Janice had contributed little, but she had tried to keep her ear to the ground. In fact, she had thought on her way to the village hall that tonight might possibly turn up a few clues. She had been clerk to the council for a number of years, and the members relied on her absolutely to come up with items for the agenda, papers to peruse and letters composed ready for Dr Rix to sign. He often said that without Janice he would not have been able to continue for so long, being such a busy man himself.

  Tonight would be his last meeting. He had been expected to resign, and had put it off several times, but now he felt pressure on him from younger members. Three councillors had let it be known they were willing to stand as h
is successor: Evangeline Baer, Malcolm Barratt and Gillian Surfleet. Well, Evangeline was still recovering from her fall – a funny business, that – and Professor Barratt had not yet reappeared in the village. This left Gillian Surfleet and anyone else who might declare themselves willing. Andrew Rix had his doubts about Nurse Surfleet. Not that she was anything but excellent at her job, he just was not sure if she would be able to handle the strong-willed members, of whom Prof Malcolm was the most troublesome. There were times when arguments broke out, when old village confronted new village, and animosities rose to the surface. Then, the chairman was required to be diplomatic but authoritative. Subduing the natives, his father would have said. As for the other two, could they be elected in absentia? He could not see any objection, provided they were known to be still willing.

  ∗

  Andrew Rix turned to Janice. They had reached the relevant item on the agenda, and now he needed her guidance. “Do we have names, my dear?” he said.

  Janice nodded. “We still have three, but only Nurse Surfleet is present. I tried to contact Mrs Baer, but her husband was reluctant to bother her with decisions to be made. Seems she is still quite poorly – shock, he said.” Dr Rix raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. “And then there’s Professor Barratt,” Janice continued. There was a pause, and members looked at each other.

  “Ah yes,” said Dr Rix. “Have we any news from that quarter?”

  Janice shook her head. “I tried a diplomatic approach to his wife, but she more or less shut the door in my face. I think she may have been taking a consoling nip of something,” she added with the faintest trace of a smile.

  “So?” said Andrew Rix.

  “So I was unable to check, and it seems that without the others being able to indicate their willingness to stand…are there any other proposals?” She paused, and looked around the room. No one spoke, and Janice continued. “Then Miss Gillian Surfleet, who has confirmed that she is still willing…”