The Case of the Curious Cook

by Cathy Ace

  ‘Oh yeah,’ replied the man slowly. ‘Nice girl, Val. Knows her father, I do.’

  ‘Well, they are the reason I’m here. We’re here,’ said Carol acknowledging Annie’s presence. ‘I know it’s her day off, and I need to see her. Is she here?’

  ‘Back room downstairs, is hers,’ said the man. ‘Go on through. Give it a knock yourself.’

  Carol shot along the hallway and knocked on the door. ‘Keep it calm,’ called Annie at her friend’s back.

  The threesome waited, until it was clear there was going to be no response.

  ‘Could you let us in?’ asked Carol as politely as she could, given how desperate she was feeling.

  ‘Oh hang about now, I don’t know about that. Pays rent for this, she does. Privacy is her right, I’d have said.’

  Carol and Annie exchanged a meaningful look, and Annie launched in with: ‘Mr … um, what was it?’ she asked sweetly.

  ‘Daniels,’ replied the man.

  ‘Mr Daniels, the reason we’ve come here is because we are private investigators, working on behalf of the Jenkins family. They are very concerned about Sam. They think she might … you know …’ Annie allowed her facial expression and a finger drawn across her throat finish the sentence.

  Mr Daniels’ eyes grew round. ‘You don’t mean she’d do herself some harm?’ Annie nodded. ‘Under our roof, you mean?’ Again Annie nodded. ‘Oh, we can’t be having that. No indeed.’ The man walked to the bottom of the stairs and called, ‘Margaret? Margaret? Have you got the spare key for the back room, love? Bring it down, will you. Quick as you like.’

  ‘Just a tick,’ came the reply. A couple of minutes later a woman wearing a suit similar to that of her husband, but with the addition of a scarlet chiffon scarf tied around her head, which was a mass of curlers, appeared and handed her husband a key. ‘What’s up, and who are you, then?’

  ‘Private detectives, they are. And they reckon Sam is going to do herself in, in our house. What do you think of that then, Margaret?’

  Margaret Daniels looked from Carol to Annie, and back again, ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we? Better go in and see if she’s alright.’

  This time four people crowded outside the door to Sam’s room. Having unlocked the door, Mr Daniels stood back and said, ‘There you go then.’ He swallowed. ‘I’ll let you professionals go first,’ and stood aside.

  The room was a mess; the wardrobe doors hung open, the drawers from the chest were empty and strewn on the floor. ‘Gone,’ said Carol as she strode in, Annie just half a step behind her.

  ‘Any idea where she might be?’ asked Annie. ‘Mr Daniels? Mrs Daniels? Did Sam say she was leaving?’

  Two heads peered into the room. ‘Not a dickie bird,’ replied Mrs Daniels.

  ‘When did either of you last see her?’

  Blank looks. ‘When she came in from work yesterday,’ said Mr Daniels eventually. ‘Ran into her at the front door, I did.’

  ‘So she might have quite a head start. Maybe overnight.’ Carol waved her arm at the walls. ‘Definitely Lizzie, I’d have said.’

  Four pairs of eyes peered at the dozens of miniatures, each drawn on a large sheet of paper.

  ‘Has she stuck drawing pins all over my walls?’ shouted Mrs Daniels. ‘I’ll have her for that, I will. I told her no pins.’

  Carol flopped onto the edge of the bed. ‘Oh no,’ she said, her head in her hands, ‘we’re too late.’

  Margaret Daniels moved toward Carol’s juddering body and patted her back. ‘There, there. I might be able to smooth them all out with a bit of thinned-down wallpaper paste on a sponge. No need to cry, lovely girl.’

  ‘Car, come and have a look at this,’ said Annie stepping out of the tiny bathroom that led off the room.

  Both Carol and Margaret peered into the space.

  ‘Is that blood?’ screamed Margaret, covering her face with both hands in horror.

  Carol sighed. ‘Red hair dye, I’d have said. Don’t panic.’

  ‘Panic? Panic?’ replied Margaret. ‘Well, I’m glad it’s not blood, of course, but how on earth am I going to get that out of those towels? Ruined, they are.’

  ‘Carol,’ said Annie, ‘I think that’s your phone, ringing in your bag.’

  Carol answered the call. ‘Yes? What? Now? No – we’re in Hay at the moment. It’s a long story. She’s what? Oh no! Right-o, we’re on our way. We’ll see you there as soon as possible.’ She pushed her phone into her handbag and looked at Annie, tears streaming down her face. ‘That was Mavis. Althea’s in trouble. At least, she’s completely disappeared. We’ve got to get to the old folks’ home. Now.’

  ‘You mean you’re leaving?’ asked the Daniels couple, as a duet.

  Carol nodded. ‘Yes. We’re going to have to hand this over to the police now. I advise you to lock the door, and don’t touch anything. I’ll try to let you know what’s happening. Thank you, and I’m sorry for all your trouble.’

  As Carol and Annie took their leave, Carol wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. ‘Flamin’ hormones. You’d think I’d be like a normal human being by now, wouldn’t you?’

  Annie hugged her friend. ‘Never had kids, don’t know. Though all of this is really upsetting, so I understand why you’d be on edge. What did Mave say, exactly?’ Carol told her as the two set off. ‘Gordon Bennett, I hope Althea’s alright. Where the ’eck can she be? Seems like we’re up to our neck in women who keep disappearing.’

  ‘Goodness knows. Look, I’m going to focus on the driving – but I need to talk things through with you, and you can make some phone calls, too. First of all – get hold of Val and put her on speakerphone.’

  Annie punched numbers.

  ‘Hello, Val Jenkins speaking.’

  ‘Hello Val, Annie and Carol here,’ shouted Carol. ‘Just a quick one for you – do you happen to know if Sam can drive?’

  ‘I do. She can drive, but hasn’t got a car.’

  ‘Do you think she might know how to steal one?’

  ‘What a strange question. I’ve no idea. Why on earth would she want to do that?’

  ‘Never mind, probably a stupid idea. Have you, or your father, talked to her about the fact we are looking into either the artist who drew the miniatures, or the Lizzie Llewellyn case, by any chance?’

  ‘Well, I know I haven’t, but Dad might have done. No reason not to. And I’m pretty sure she could have overheard us discussing whether we’re going to sell the miniatures or not when they’ve been authenticated.’ Val paused. ‘It got a bit heated at one point. A bit loud too, probably.’

  Annie and Carol shared an eye roll. ‘Right then – so this is where we are with it, Val,’ said Annie. ‘We’re pretty certain your assistant Sam is Lizzie Llewellyn in disguise, and she’s done a runner.’

  Val said, ‘But that makes no sense. Lizzie Llewellyn is dead. Her brother’s in prison for having killed her. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘We’re pretty sure now that’s not the case,’ said Annie. ‘I haven’t got time to go into it now – but this is what we need to know … has Sam mentioned anyone or anywhere you think she’d run to if she was in trouble?’

  Silence. ‘No. She’s never mentioned anyone, or anything that matters to her. Ever. I know she came here from Haverfordwest, and that’s about it. I could ask Dad to phone the bloke there she used to work for, if you think that might help.’

  ‘It could do, but before you do that, maybe you could text the address to this phone, so we have it to be able to pass it onto the police,’ replied Carol.

  ‘The police? Why the … oh, yes, I see. Well, if what you say is true, what a terrible thing for her to have done. And you mean to tell me Lizzie Llewellyn was sitting downstairs from me all that time and I had no idea. Well … what can I do to help?’

  ‘Nothing I can think of, thanks,’ replied Carol miserably.

  ‘We should phone Mave,’ said Annie urgently.

  ‘First of all, let’s think this through
,’ replied Carol. ‘If Lizzie is making a run for it from Hay-on-Wye to St David’s – and I’m going with that because it’s where she ran off to before, and we know she moved here from Haverfordwest so it sounds like that’s her comfort zone – how would she do it?’

  ‘I know there are trains running from Hereford to Haverfordwest, ’cos I’ve seen them when I’ve been going to Cardiff or Swansea,’ replied Annie. ‘How you’d get from Hay to Hereford?’

  ‘Buses,’ said Val, her voice echoing. ‘They’re not too bad at both ends of such a trip. Better than pinching a car, I’d say, and much more likely if she’s trying to stay under the radar.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Carol. ‘So, public transport, and maybe she set off last evening. She could be in St David’s already.’

  ‘But what you were saying yesterday, about someone trying to hide – wouldn’t it be dangerous for her to go back to the same place? Wouldn’t she be more likely to be spotted? Even if she’s changed her hair color, someone might recognize her,’ said Annie.

  ‘That sayin’ about there being “nowt so queer as folk,” well, it’s true,’ said Val with certainty, ‘and they also do some stupid things when they’re under stress. She could just head back where she feels safe.’

  ‘Hey, Car – why don’t we ask Chrissy to head off out that way, rather than coming back here?’ suggested Annie.

  ‘Good idea,’ replied Carol. ‘Listen, Val, I know you’d like to help, but I think you’d better let us lead on this now. We’ll do our best to get the police onto it, and we’ll keep you in the picture. Thanks for all your help.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ replied Val from her shop, and disconnected.

  ‘I can’t stop driving – and we’ve got to get to Mavis to help find Althea as quickly as we can. That’s what has to be our first priority for now, Annie. Could you phone Christine and ask her to head off for Haverfordwest and all parts west of that, then can you phone the police and tell them what’s going on?’

  ‘Who shall I phone? Locals hereabouts? CID in Swansea, or Brecon, or wherever? What’s it best to do?’

  Carol replied, ‘Tell you what, phone Christine, then phone Stephanie and ask her the name of the top-ranking police officer she’s met face to face since she became a duchess. Let’s work it through that way. If we can’t call on Christine’s school tie, and Althea’s contacts aren’t available to us, it’s the best way I can think of to go about this.’

  ‘Good thinking, Batman,’ said Annie. ‘Your faithful Dobbin is all over it like a rash.’

  ‘Less Dobbin, and more Robin,’ said Carol as she leaned on her horn to encourage two cyclists to consider not riding abreast on the road.

  FORTY-ONE

  By the time Carol and Annie arrived at Mountain Ash House, the car park was almost completely full and couples and small groups were hurrying toward the front door of the imposing building.

  ‘Looks like this concert thing is pretty popular,’ said Annie as she extracted herself from the car.

  ‘I’ve got to be honest and say I’d never have guessed it,’ said Carol as she joined her friend in the queue waiting to pay for their tickets.

  ‘The show begins in five minutes,’ announced one of the schoolgirls taking entry fees in her loudest voice. ‘Seating is still available,’ she added.

  ‘Two please, and where might we find Mrs Cruickshank?’ asked Carol.

  ‘Carol, Annie – at last,’ said a frazzled-looking Mavis as she spotted them enter. ‘Come with me, quick.’

  ‘Mave – sorry, doll, I have to go to the loo first,’ said Annie. ‘Me eyes are crossed.’

  ‘Ach, go on with you, it’s through there,’ said Mavis roughly. ‘And be quick about it. You too, Carol? Aye, well I’ll wait here then.’

  The threesome reunited and hurried to the garden. ‘The show’s just about to begin, ladies,’ called Sarah Cruickshank as she ushered some stragglers toward the lounge. ‘Aren’t you going to join us?’

  ‘Ah, just the person,’ replied Mavis, swooping on the woman and grabbing her by the arm. ‘You’re coming with us.’

  ‘But the show …?’ wailed Mrs Cruickshank over her shoulder.

  ‘It’ll go on without you. It’ll have to. We need a word,’ said Mavis. Her colleagues took their cue from her and soon all four women were standing beneath a tree with the first strains of a piece of piano music wafting on the summer air.

  ‘Mrs Gladys Pugh – where is she?’ demanded Mavis.

  ‘Didn’t you find her?’ asked Sarah Cruickshank innocently.

  ‘No, I did not. Tell me, does your husband wear brown shoes, with yellow laces?’

  The Cruickshank woman looked puzzled. ‘He does. It’s his little way of having a bit of fun. Why?’

  Annie and Carol were both wondering the same thing.

  ‘In my search for Gladys Pugh, I found myself in her room earlier on, and, while I was there a man wearing such shoes entered said room, and bundled all of Mrs Pugh’s belongings into a suitcase and took them away.’

  The look on Sarah’s face was one of complete bewilderment. ‘How did you get into her room? And why do you only describe my husband’s shoes?’ She stared at Annie and Carol. ‘What’s going on?’ She turned toward the house and shouted, ‘Fred! Fred! Come here, will you.’

  ‘When did you last see your husband?’ asked Mavis, menacingly.

  Sarah was panicking. ‘I don’t know, about three o’clock? Four-ish? I’ve been very busy and people have been coming and going for hours.’

  Mavis’s voice grew alarmingly quiet, ‘Mrs Gladys Pugh has completely disappeared, Sarah – I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. Now that’s not like her. In fact, I can tell you for certain she would not have disappeared without telling us where she was going. And her disappearance is made even more suspicious by the fact your husband cleared out her room this afternoon, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Fred? Fred!’ Sarah’s voice was almost a scream.

  A short, round woman appeared in the open doors to the rear lounge. ‘Are you alright, Mrs Cruickshank?’ she called.

  ‘No – I’m not, come here, Amy.’ Sarah beckoned to the woman, and tried to pull away from Mavis’s vice-like grip. Mavis wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘Have you seen Fred … Mr Cruickshank?’ asked Mavis. ‘His wife is keen to see him.’

  Amy gave the matter some thought. ‘Last place I saw him was down by the laundry room, in the basement a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘What’s he doing there? Today?’ asked Sarah.

  All four women looked at Amy, awaiting her answer. She shrugged. ‘I dunno. Beats me. Maybe he had a special load of laundry to do? He had a big bag with him.’

  Mavis spun Sarah around to face her. ‘Where’s this laundry room? Take us there now, you hear me?’

  Sarah nodded, her eyes round with fright, and she dismissed Amy, telling her to return to the concert. She led the three women through a pair of doors set underneath the main staircase, and down some stone steps to a large, whitewashed area. ‘That’s the laundry room, over there,’ she said, pointing.

  Finally, Mavis let go of the woman’s arm, and she, with Annie and Carol right behind her, rushed to the door. ‘It’s locked,’ snarled Mavis. ‘Where’s the key?’

  ‘It’s never locked,’ replied Sarah. She joined the women and tried the door herself. ‘You’re right, it is. Now why’s that?’

  ‘Shut up!’ said Althea, holding up her hand as though about to strike the woman.

  All four of them sucked in their breath and listened.

  ‘There’s someone in there – I can hear a muffled thumping sound, and squeaks,’ said Annie. She raised her voice, ‘If that’s you, Althea – don’t worry, we’re right here. Get away from the door, we’re going to break it down.’

  Carol looked at the door in question and said, ‘I don’t think we’re going to be able to do that, Annie. It’s big and old and the lock’s probably a corker. Sarah – where would the k
ey be?’

  Sarah looked flummoxed. ‘In the office?’ She didn’t seem at all certain.

  Mavis bit her lip then said, quite gently, ‘And where’s that exactly?’ Sarah pointed upwards, her hand trembling. ‘Good girl,’ said Mavis, followed by, ‘Annie, go.’

  Annie took off up the stairs and returned moments later, panting, with a bunch of keys in her hand.

  ‘Which one is it?’ asked Mavis. Sarah pointed at a big, old, iron mortise key. ‘Thank you. Carol, would you be so kind?’

  Carol unlocked the door, and they entered another open, whitewashed area, this one housing two large washing machines and four dryers. The muffled cries they’d heard from beyond the door were clearer now, though there was no one to be seen.

  ‘The big cupboard,’ shouted Annie, springing across the room.

  Pulling open the double doors of the ceiling height, built-in cupboard, the four women were met with the sight of Althea, lying on her back bound hand and foot, with tape over her mouth.

  Sarah Cruickshank let out a little cry of horror, as Carol and Annie lifted Althea to a sitting position, under Mavis’s detailed instructions. ‘Get some water for her to drink, now,’ she barked at Sarah, ‘and let me get that tape off her mouth. Stand back, Annie – this is a job for a woman with nursing experience. Ready, Althea?’ Althea’s eyes opened wide with fright, then Mavis yanked off the tape as fast as she could. ‘Now just stay still a moment, dear, it’ll soon be over. Carol – take photographs, quick as you can.’

  ‘Oh Mavis, no,’ cried Althea. ‘Just get me out of here.’

  ‘You’ll be glad later on we did it, it’s evidence, dear,’ replied Mavis as Carol snapped away. ‘Did that Fred Cruickshank do this to you,’ she asked, as she helped Annie and Carol to untie the dowager’s bindings.

  Althea burst into tears as she replied, ‘Yes he did. He really frightened me, Mavis. I thought … Oh, I don’t know what I thought. But it’s been a terrible night.’

  ‘You’ve been here all night?’ asked Sarah, standing with a glass of water in her hand. ‘And you say Fred did this? I can’t … why would … I don’t understand. What’s going on? Will someone tell me what’s going on, please?’