The Case of the Curious Cook

by Cathy Ace

  ‘Indeed, Your Grace,’ said the man, leaving the room.

  Stephanie sat open-mouthed, staring at Althea. ‘You rotters,’ she began – then the foursome enjoyed an extremely jolly lunch.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Mavis waited as patiently as possible while Annie organized coffees and teas for the unusual afternoon meeting, Carol tidied her desk and checked for messages from David about Albert, and Christine finished sending a couple of emails.

  ‘It’s unusual for there to be just four adult humans here. So let’s make the most of it,’ announced Mavis, calling the meeting to order. ‘Carol will begin.’

  Carol had soon caught the women up on invoices sent and paid, money in the bank and levels of pay to be expected on the 1st of July.

  Annie stuck up her hand.

  ‘You know there’s no need to do that,’ said Mavis with a sigh.

  ‘I like to play it safe,’ said Annie. ‘I wondered if you had anything more for me this week?’

  ‘Now that Carol’s updated our contract with Val and Bryn Jenkins, we’ll discuss how we’ll progress with our enquiries into the legal ownership of the books containing the miniatures when they were deposited at Crooks & Cooks by the Cruickshanks,’ replied Mavis.

  ‘Love the alliteration,’ mugged Annie, drawing a warning glare from Mavis.

  ‘Alliteration aside,’ said Christine, smirking, ‘the whole thing seems a bit odd to me. Why would Mrs Cruickshank be dropping off the books people have bequeathed her at bookshops all over Hay-on-Wye?’

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Mavis, ‘and that’s where Althea’s idea that residents are being conned falls down.’ She spoke with assurance. ‘If the Cruickshanks were trying to get their hands on the stuff so they could cash in, that’s exactly what they’d do – they’d be selling it, not just giving it away.’

  ‘We only know they’ve given away stuff that’s not worth much; some books and a few bits and pieces, plus some items of clothing. It doesn’t amount to a great deal, does it?’ said Carol thoughtfully. She turned to her keyboard and started tapping the keys. Everyone knew she was off on some sort of digital trail, so let her get on with it.

  ‘Car’s right,’ said Annie, ‘if we’re to understand if this truly is some sort of big con or not, we’d need evidence of them selling high-priced items and pocketing the loot to even begin to make a real case.’

  Mavis began pacing. Everyone watched her as she argued aloud with herself. ‘If there is wrongdoing at that place, we should inform the police. But we don’t have anything concrete about which to inform them. I cannae see that a few books and some old clothes can underpin some sort of murderous scam-artists’ business. But it could be the tip of the iceberg. However, that sort of thing? In the depths of Powys? Run by a middle-aged couple? It seems preposterous.’

  ‘Is it as preposterous as the Cruickshanks giving a ringing endorsement of a certain Tristan Thomas and his antiques business A Taste of Time?’ said Carol, lifting her head from her keyboard.

  ‘Tristan Thomas?’ said Annie. ‘That ’orrible man with all them teeth who used to run that antiques shop on the green in Anwen-by-Wye?’

  Carol nodded. ‘His website is still up, even though the shop is closed. The Cruickshanks gave a glowing testimonial to the quality and range of the items he offered. Which I think is interesting.’

  Annie did a quick calculation in her head. ‘His antiques shop closed around about the time those books started showing up at Bryn’s place. I bet you that slimy little toerag was the bloke who bought all the stuff they wanted to shift before he was forced to shut up shop. He’d be the type. They’ve had to change their entire modus operandi because he’s out of the picture.’

  ‘Nice use of terminology,’ said Christine with a grin, ‘but I think that’s a bit of a leap, Annie. To be fair, I understand why you’d believe it of him, but we know nothing about the Cruickshanks. The truth is, of course, even if they were selling items to him they would have had every right to do so if residents had left them the pieces in question in their last will and testament.’

  Carol had continued her tapping. ‘The Cruickshanks seem keen to lend their online praise to several companies it seems,’ she added. ‘There’s a florist in Builth Wells they think has the most wonderful floral displays at the best possible prices; they cannot say enough good things about a firm of solicitors in Brecon; they’ve apparently received wonderful service from a company specializing in moving precious items from homes around the United Kingdom to their premises and have had excellent interactions with a company in Cardiff that provides well-trained catering and cleaning staff for their business.’

  ‘You found this all online?’ asked Mavis. ‘Just now? How is that possible, dear?’

  Carol blushed. ‘Once it occurred to me to search, it wasn’t difficult. I use the same principles as Google or Yahoo, but I have a little program I’ve written that searches out names or terms a much more general search engine might miss … or would have appearing on page seven thousand of its discovered entries.’

  ‘And what you’re doing is quite legal?’ asked Mavis, arching an eyebrow.

  Annie noticed Carol looked much more confident when she replied, ‘Quite. The Cruickshanks have agreed – I assume – to allow their names to be associated with these businesses. Once that information is out there on a website, it’s in the public domain. I’m not accessing anything private here, just using a bit of code to find what’s there for anyone to see.’

  Mavis retook her seat at her desk. Annie thought she could see her mind working behind her darting eyes. Her face was a bit twitchy, too.

  ‘If the Cruickshanks are up to something, they’d need a solicitor to make sure everything was aboveboard,’ mused Mavis, almost to herself. ‘The florist, the moving company, the staff-providers – they’re all to be expected. But the solicitors? Hmm. What’s the name of the firm, Carol?’

  ‘Phillips, Bennett, Wilson & Jones. Like I said, they’re in Brecon. Have you heard of them, Mavis? I know you’re the one who’s been pounding the pavement bringing our services to the attention of this type of business.’

  Mavis nodded. ‘I know Phillips the younger. I met her back in – oh, it must have been April, I’d say.’ Mavis pulled open a drawer in her desk and started riffling through files. She pulled out a large brochure and held it up. ‘I picked this up from them. It talks about their services, and the people who work there. However, before we even consider doing anything like questioning the Cruickshanks of Mountain Ash House, there are other avenues we can pursue to discover all we can about them and their establishment,’ said Mavis.

  ‘Such as?’ asked Annie.

  ‘I could do some more legal digging about on the Internet,’ offered Carol. ‘I don’t know what I’ll find, but I could do all the usual stuff – financials and so forth might be available, depending on exactly what type of entity it is they operate – and I could let you all know what I find. We could take it from there.’

  ‘Doctors,’ said Annie. ‘You should find out what doctors they use when residents are taken ill, and what hospital they’d use, too.’ She glowed with pride when Mavis nodded in her direction.

  ‘We could phone around a variety of local antiques shops and ask if they buy from them,’ suggested Christine. ‘Some story about an erroneous sale on behalf of a resident?’

  The group all nodded as Carol tapped keys, making a list. ‘I’ll also source a list of places which deal in estate jewelry. Local art galleries and dealers too,’ she added.

  ‘There are a lot of antique markets held on various days in the towns hereabouts,’ said Mavis slowly, ‘the people who have stalls there might be difficult to get hold of on the phone but we could visit the markets when they are set up and ask around. That would need a car, so I would do that.’

  Annie added, ‘We might all pitch in on a bit of everything. How about you make up some lists, Car, then divvie them up? If you’ve finished with investigating those miniatures, Chr
issy, you could help us out. The Case of the Imperiled Pensioners,’ said Annie triumphantly.

  Mavis tutted. ‘Aye, we’ll investigate the Cruickshanks because we certainly need to understand if they legally owned those books when they deposited them at Crooks & Cooks, as well as gaining an insight into what they might be up to at Mountain Ash House, in more general terms. But no’ all of us. Christine, you should follow through with getting a definitive attribution for those miniatures, if you can.’

  ‘About that,’ began Christine, ‘there’s actually something else I need to talk to you all about.’ She spent the next fifteen minutes telling her colleagues about Gwen Llewellyn’s desire to have her son’s innocence proven, which led to a hush falling over the entire group.

  ‘The entire legal system has come down against him,’ noted Mavis. ‘What can we four do, even if his mother believes in her heart he didnae do it?’

  ‘Find out who did it if he didn’t,’ suggested Annie quietly.

  A sharp intake of breath from Carol signaled her disquiet. ‘Annie, trust me, I’ve read pretty much all the coverage of the court case. There’s no other explanation. Nathaniel killed Lizzie.’

  ‘Gwen truly believes her son didn’t do it,’ insisted Christine, ‘and I suspect you read all the coverage from the point of view of someone trying to find out about Lizzie the artist – because that was our original angle – rather than as someone quizzing the evidence from a different perspective … that of someone trying to spot holes in the Crown’s case.’

  ‘As a mother, I understand why Gwen Llewellyn would feel as she does about her son,’ mused Mavis. ‘But that’s no reason for us to agree to help her. Even if we could, which I’m not sure is a possibility.’

  ‘Did the cops have anyone else in the frame?’ asked Annie.

  Carol shook her head. ‘Christine’s right, I did read everything with my brain seeking information and patterns relevant to the case we were on at the time. I dare say another reading wouldn’t hurt. I’d probably focus on different aspects of the facts if we were to take on the mother’s case. However, as I recall, the police viewed it as pretty much an open-and-shut case.’

  ‘There then, the cops even look for anyone else, did they? A quick collar was all they were after.’ Annie sounded triumphant. ‘You’re brilliant you are, Car, I bet you could ferret out some tasty bits of stuff here and there in all that legal banter if you was to look at it again.’

  ‘The way you speak, Annie,’ said Mavis tartly. ‘Come along now, seriously, what on earth does this woman want? Does she really expect us to prove her son didn’t do it and someone else did?’

  Christine shrugged. ‘To be honest, I think she just wants someone to hear what she’s saying. It seems no one has listened to her at all.’

  Carol added, ‘Now that’s an opinion I’d back; even on my first reading of the news coverage, I recall the mother tried to speak out in defense of her son throughout the trial, but didn’t get much press coverage.’

  ‘If you don’t want in, I could do it myself. Take time off. Not take wages for a bit. I’ve already done a bit of digging around, actually,’ said Christine blushing faintly. ‘I was intrigued, you see, and I realized I recognized the name of the barrister who represented Nathaniel Llewellyn. It turns out he was at school with my brother, so I reckon it should be easy enough to get him to agree to talk me through the whole thing. I might get a less biased view from him than from the mother.’

  Annie rose. ‘Course you know some posh barrister-type. Good for you, doll. Let’s use all them contacts to our advantage. I’ll walk me feet to stumps going around market stalls looking for bits of fenced old tat, while you have a snifter with a bloke who wears a wig and frock for a living.’

  ‘Annie,’ warned Mavis.

  Annie pouted. ‘Not going to want to visit the artist bloke himself in clink, Chrissy?’

  Christine also rose. ‘I plan on doing exactly that.’

  ‘Ever visited someone in prison before?’ asked Mavis.

  Christine shook her head. ‘It’ll be a first for me. But I believe it’s what I must do if I’m to try to decide for myself if Nathaniel killed his sister. Surely there can’t be anything better than looking a person in the eyes when you ask them if they murdered someone?’

  ‘Depends how good an actor he is, I’d have said,’ replied Annie.

  ‘Well, I’ll see about that,’ said Christine sticking out her chin and picking up her handbag. ‘Alexander heard from some of the guards at Swansea prison that Nathaniel was a very quiet, unassuming man, and that they actually feared for his safety while he was there. He didn’t strike them as the sort of person who’d fare well within the system that necessarily operates in that environment.’

  ‘You mean he’s getting hit about and taken advantage of?’ asked Mavis.

  ‘Sounded as though he was having a pretty difficult time.’ Christine’s tone was bleak. ‘And I admit I felt sorry for Gwen.’

  ‘Aye, his poor mother believing he didn’t even do it, and knowing he’s there,’ said Mavis.

  ‘While the jury believed he did it,’ said Annie.

  ‘As you said earlier, Annie, the question is, if Nathaniel didn’t kill Lizzie – who did?’ said Carol quietly.

  ‘I don’t feel comfortable charging a woman a fee for an investigation that’s no’ likely to lead to the end she desires,’ said Mavis, ‘though the work we have to do will be the same either way.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any great hope for us coming up with the outcome she desires, either,’ agreed Carol.

  ‘I read the stuff Carol sent us, and even I have to say I reckon he was the one what did it, Chrissy. I think you have to go into it understandin’ that,’ said Annie.

  ‘All Gwen wants is a little hope,’ said Christine. ‘I want to follow through.’

  ‘We’re all able to tackle cases independently, and, if we’re no’ in agreement, you’d be tackling this on your own,’ said Mavis. ‘I’d prefer it to be something the agency takes on professionally, as a team, but with no payment being asked for up front. We could put in a clause about negotiating after the outcome of our enquiries. If he’s innocent, maybe there’d be some sort of compensation. How say you all?’

  All the women agreed.

  ‘Very good then. Carol, draw up a contract, please. You be careful with this case,’ said Mavis, nodding at Christine. ‘Will Alexander be accompanying you during your enquiries?’

  ‘Why do you ask,’ snapped Christine, ‘don’t you think I’m up to it on my own?’

  Annie and Carol exchanged a quick eye-roll as Mavis replied, ‘Ach, of course you are, you’re a perceptive and intelligent woman. What I mean is that Alexander has a certain … presence about him.’

  ‘You’re not kidding,’ remarked Annie with a cheeky grin.

  ‘You mean he looks like my minder?’ said Christine, mock-strangling Annie.

  ‘Aye, you could say that,’ replied Mavis.

  ‘Maybe he will, or maybe he’ll be too involved with his own business,’ said Christine as she started to climb the circular staircase to her apartment above the barn. ‘Either way, I’ll be fine.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  By the time Mavis arrived back at the Dower House she had a thumping headache. She didn’t suffer from headaches. She wouldn’t suffer from headaches. She also wouldn’t give in to taking medication that might help her aching head, but dull her senses. Althea had announced she thought the rain would keep the visitors largely inside the hall, so she was taking McFli for an early walk before attending an emergency meeting of the sub-committee responsible for organizing the marquees for the summer fete up at the hall that afternoon. She hadn’t returned, so Mavis took tea alone watching the heavy rain beat against the windows. Maybe thunder was on the way; that would explain a great deal.

  When McFli burst into the sitting room, stood beside Mavis and shook himself with great delight, she ended up with extremely wet legs. ‘Could you no’ have do
ne that in the hallway, you wee scamp?’ she asked the dripping creature, whose expression seemed to indicate he’d given the matter a good deal of consideration.

  Althea’s entrance was less damp, but equally discombobulating. ‘I say, Mavis,’ she opened, making her way toward the teapot, ‘I bumped into Christine out toward the office and she told me she was going up to London this evening. Again. What’s all that about?’

  Mavis wondered how much to say. ‘I think she and Alexander have had a wee skirmish. He was away back to London last night, after dinner, I gather. She’s been sulking since then. She just sent me a text saying she’d managed to get another appointment with that gallery chappie tomorrow – but I think she jumped at the chance to get to London to try to see Alexander.’

  Althea sat on the sofa and petted McFli at her feet – in spite of his wet fur. ‘I worry about her. I shouldn’t, I suppose; I have my worrying all pre-arranged by my son and my blessed daughter, it seems. But Christine? She’s so desperately independent. Do you think her parents are fully apprised of the situation between her and Alexander?’

  Mavis smiled warmly at her friend. ‘Aye, I think she’s trying to be open with them. I know she’s arranged a few dinners and weekend visits for the four of them together. However, I cannae help but imagine they must share our concerns; Alexander isn’t an easy man to get to know, or read. He’s highly adept at showing people only that which he chooses to share. I’m sure Christine knows a good deal more about his background than we ever will, but as for what he gets up to in his own business dealings? He strikes me as the sort of man who might end up doing bad things for what he judges to be good reasons.’

  ‘You mean like Robin Hood? But without the tights? Though I suspect Alexander would look rather good in tights.’

  Mavis shook her head. ‘I wasnae thinking of Robin Hood exactly, dear.’

  ‘Dennis Moore then?’

  ‘I don’t think I know him at all.’

  ‘Lupins. Your life, or your lupins. Lupins in a basket with sautéed lupins. You know?’