by Ann Purser
“Where did it come from? Which direction?” Floss was curious.
“Next door—the Wallises. The bloke’s been away quite a while. Probably in the nick. But the wife’s there. Name’s Frances, I think. D’ you think we should take a look? I’m still a bit worried …”
“Can’t see any lights,” Floss said apprehensively, but she agreed to go in with him up to the door. They knocked lightly. “We can always say we were just being neighbourly, checking that she’s OK.”
It was raining, and a leaking gutter dripped steadily on to the stone path which led to the back of the house. There was nothing stirring in the house.
“Come on,” Ben said, taking Floss’s hand. “Let’s just check the other door.”
Floss pulled back. “She’s probably asleep. She won’t thank us for waking her up.” But Ben insisted, and when they tried the back-door handle, they found it reluctant to open. With a couple of shoves, it gave way.
“Yoo hoo!” called Ben. Silence.
“Ben, please, let’s get out of here,” Floss said urgently. “I don’t like it. There’s a bad feeling.”
“Nonsense! It’s just dark. We’ll tip-toe into the sitting room, and if there’s no sign of her, we’ll tip-toe out again. I’ll be satisfied she’s asleep, and no harm done. You can wait here if you like. It’s funny she didn’t lock up properly, though,” he added.
Floss said she was not staying on her own, and would go with Ben wherever he went. He chuckled softly, and they went quietly through the hall and into the sitting room. Floss stopped dead. “Ben! Look on the sofa! It’s her, isn’t it?” There was something odd about the way she was sitting, slumped to one side and head down.
“She’s asleep,” said Ben. “We’d better go.”
He turned, but Floss grabbed his hand again. “No, she’s not. Put on the light, Ben. I think I’m going to scream …”
Ben flicked the switch, but Floss did not scream. She saw a trail of dark patches on the carpet. “Oh my God,” she said, perfectly calm. “She’s dead, isn’t she. Best get the police.”
DEREK WAS BACK FROM THE PUB EARLIER THAN USUAL. “Hi, Gran,” he said, taking off his wet jacket. “Where’s Lois?” As Gran told him what had happened, he rapidly put on his jacket again and left the house, shouting back that he was going to Ringford to put a stop to this nonsense, once and for all.
He put his foot down, and careered along the narrow lanes, skidding dangerously on the bends. No bugger’s going to be out in this weather, he reassured himself, as he rounded a corner. He was wrong. Standing hard on his brakes, he slid into a high grassy bank and stopped just short of a car. In the middle of the road, and with hazard lights flashing, a man was fumbling with the offside front tyre.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Derek said, getting out and standing over the huddled figure.
“Good evening, Derek,” said a familiar voice. “I seem to have a flat tyre. Perhaps you could help. I expect we’re on our way to the same place.” He stood up, and was then taller than Derek. “Hunter Cowgill,” he said. “Shall we get stuck in?”
“RIGHT,” REG SAID, AFTER THE WHOLE SORRY STORY of his birth and childhood had been thoroughly aired. “On your feet, Mrs. Meade. We have to leave now. Sorry, Mother,” he sneered. “We’d love to stay, but you’ll be fine. Have a snooze, and someone will soon be along. In fact, Mrs. Meade, we should hurry now.” He motioned Lois to her feet with the gun, and took a car key from his pocket. “Our carriage awaits,” he said, smiling crazily.
Humour him, thought Lois. At least if we’re out of here, Ellen will be all right. She went ahead of him, feeling the gun at her back, out of the cottage and down the garden path.
“Not your van,” he said, as she turned towards it. “We have a limo over there. Here’s the key. You drive and I’ll navigate.”
As she opened the door, she glanced into the back seat. What had happened to the lovers? She felt an urgent desire to vomit, but choked it back. “Take no notice of them,” he whispered in her ear. “They have gone to a far, far better place. Now, get in and no tricks.”
F
IFTY-F
OUR
LOIS’S HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL WERE SHAKing, but she gripped hard and tried desperately to think of something to say, anything to interrupt the sound of Reg’s quick, nervous breathing. He shifted in his seat from time to time, wincing with pain.
“I think I know where we’re going,” she said, and immediately regretted it.
But Reg nodded. “Good girl,” he said. “I’m glad you’ve been doing your homework. Not so stupid as I thought, heh?”
“I hear things,” said Lois, with an effort. “In my line of business, all kinds of gossip goes around. Some of the clients don’t like it, of course,” she struggled on, “and I have to tell my girls to be discreet.”
“I know one of your clients who wouldn’t like it,” said Reg. “No, turn left here. Looks like you don’t know where we’re going after all. No, your Mrs. Tollervey-Jones is very much against gossip. And with reason, of course,” he added, looking sideways at Lois.
He wants me to ask why, she thought. Right, then. “Why is that? She seems a very respectable lady.”
“And so she is … now,” he replied. “Don’t slow down,” he added, nudging her with the gun. “None of your delaying tactics!”
Lois quickened up. “Can’t go too fast on these roads,” she said. “So what’s the old dragon done in the past?”
“You’ll find out when we get there,” he said, his mood changing abruptly, “so shut up and keep going.”
As they approached Farnden Hall gates, Reg ordered her to turn in. “There’s nobody there,” said Lois. “She’s still away, isn’t she?”
“Shut up!” Reg said again. “Round to the back, by the stables. You know the way now. I’ve seen you there often enough.”
So the shadow in the corridor had not been a ghost, Lois thought. She had a sinking feeling that time was running out. Cowgill would have arrived at The Lodge, and Ellen would have no idea where they’d gone. He’d probably go up to the farm next, and then God alone knew how long it would take anyone to find her. She thought of Derek, and bit her lip. He’d probably just be leaving the pub. No help there, then.
“Get out!” Reg was beside her in the stable yard, and she walked towards the back door of the Hall. “No, no,” he said. “Not there. Over here, and be quick about it.” He opened one of the stable doors, and shoved her inside. Then he shut the door behind her and in the inky-black darkness she heard him fumble for the switch. The light revealed a strange scene. In one corner there was a narrow bed, and against the wall stood a table with a chair pushed under it. Another more comfortable chair was beside the bed. One of the corners had been curtained off. It was a bare room, but the walls had been plastered and painted white, and there were large rugs on the floor. It was habitable, and nothing like the long-neglected stable Lois had expected.
Reg pulled the chair out, and told her to sit down. “Desirable one-roomed flat,” he said, in his now feverish voice. “Empty and to let. There’s another similar one next door. Reasonable rent, and all mod con. Well, nearly all. Warden controlled, and delicious food available. Previous tenants now resident elsewhere and in good hands.”
Lois swallowed hard. “Food from where?” she said. “I’m very particular what I cat.”
“Oh, you’ll like this,” he said. “Gourmet menu, straight from Dallyn Hall Restaurant. By courtesy of the lovely manageress. Piping hot, and fresh veg every day.”
He’s completely barking, Lois thought sadly. Was it here, then, that the two old men had been held? But where were they now? And who was giving them good care?
“I’m afraid I have to leave you now,” Reg said. “Some rubbish to be disposed of.” His colour was high, and his limp very pronounced. “You’ll be quite safe. Locks have been recently renewed. Back soon!” he said with a mad wave, and was gone.
Lois looked around. A new,
efficient-looking lock would be no help at all. She put her ear to the keyhole, and heard a car door open and Reg grunting and cursing. He was heaving those unfortunates out of the back of the car. What on earth was he going to do with them? Then she heard a lock turning. She backed away from the door, but it wasn’t hers. Must be the desirable residence next door. That must be where he’s putting them. He would soon be returning, then. After more of Reg swearing and cursing, she heard the car door slam shut, and quickly switched off the light. She stationed herself so that she would be behind the door when he came in. With any luck, he would be surprised by the darkness and hesitate for a few seconds. Please God, let it be enough time, prayed Lois.
Hours seemed to go by. Then Lois heard Reg’s footsteps on the cobbled yard, and braced herself. The door opened slowly, inch by inch, cautious Reg, ever watchful. Finally he stepped forward, saying, “Wherever you are, don’t—”
Lois put out her foot, at the same time grabbing his arm and forcing him into the stable. It went like clockwork. He sprawled at her feet, yelling with pain and rage. He still held the gun, but had dropped the door key. For one moment she wanted desperately to run. But somehow she stayed to pick up the key, watching as Reg began to pull himself up and bring his gun round towards her. Then she was out, and a shot just missed her as she locked the door behind her and pocketed the key.
She realized Reg had taken out the car key, and began to run, faster and faster, down the long drive away from the Hall. Suddenly she was blinded by headlights, and then more lights following on behind. Dazzled, she stepped off the drive and on to the grass, waving her hand.
“Lois Meade! Get into this car at once and no sodding arguments!” It was Derek, of course, in his van, but next to him …? Good God, it was Cowgill, looking equally stern.
Lois hesitated. “Who are those others?” she said, and then Derek got out of the car, lifted her up bodily and dumped her on the floor of his van. “Sit there and say nothing,” he said. “I’m doing all the talking from now on.”
Cowgill said nothing, but Lois could see in the driving mirror that he had a small, chilly smile. “Where do we go, Lois?” he said, and Derek looked angrily at him. Cowgill shrugged. “Well, Derek, we need to clear this up quickly. You said so yourself.”
“The stables,” Lois said. “Reg Abthorpe is locked in there, and he’s got a gun. He’s behind it all, and Ellen what about Ellen?” she added anxiously.
“Behind us, in the next vehicle,” said Cowgill, “and behind them we have Mr. Cox and Mr. Everitt, all of them keen to see Mr. Abthorpe-cum-Cox.”
Lois began to speak, but choked, and Derek said in a kinder voice, “Don’t worry, me duck, we’ll explain it all later. Now, here we are. Over to you, Inspector bloody Cowgill.” Raised eyebrows were his reply, and Cowgill disappeared to talk to his boys in the following cars. Then the tottery figure of Ellen came towards them, and Derek helped her into the passenger seat, then joined the others.
“Stay here,” ordered Cowgill, and a posse of police approached the stable door.
“Ellen! Are you all right?” Lois said, from her uncomfortable crouching position in the back. “Never mind about that,” Ellen said. “If those cops get anywhere near him, he’ll shoot himself. I’ve got to get there first. Quick, Lois, help me out. They won’t dare to stop me. Not an old bag like me.”
“Now what am I going to do?” Lois said under her breath. She thought of calling Derek, but in the end she struggled from the back of the van, and quietly helped Ellen out into the yard. All car lights were off, and a deadly quiet prevailed.
“Let go, dear,” whispered Ellen, and Lois reluctantly watched the hunched old lady softly approach the men. Just as Cowgill stepped forward, about to hail his quarry, Ellen said, “Wait! Let me talk to him first. Please … he’s my son …”
As Lois watched, fingers crossed on both hands, a torch shone on the stable door, and she saw Ellen approach. Her voice was suddenly strong and authoritative. “Reg! It’s y’ mother! I know, not much of a one, but I’m all you’ve got. And I’m old and cold, and I want to help. Let me in, dear, and we’ll have a little talk.” Now she sounded like a mother talking to a naughty little child. Silence followed, and the tension in the night air was palpable.
Then a grating voice came from inside the stable. “Can’t let you in. Haven’t got the key.”
Lois rushed forward and gave Ellen the key. She inserted it and turned. “Unlocked now, dear. Let Mother in, there’s a dear.” Now there was the sound of agonized sobbing, and Lois put her hand to her mouth.
“For God’s sake be careful, Ellen!” she whispered. Cowgill came forward and took Lois by the arm. Slowly he edged her back to join the others. Now there was nothing but the sound of Reg’s despair, louder as he approached the door. It began to open, light shone out, and Ellen walked in.
Immediately, there was a police semi-circle at the ready, guarding the open door. Reg had switched on the light, and a gun could be seen in his hand, hanging loosely at his side.
“Now then,” said Ellen in the same soothing voice, “let’s have some sense in this silly nonsense. I’m your mother, and you must do what I say. Just for once.” Lois could see inside from where she had retreated into the yard, and couldn’t believe that Ellen had a warm smile on her old face. “Better start by giving me that thing,” she heard Ellen say. Just as Reg’s arm was stretching out to give her the gun, a figure hobbled silently across from the cars and plunged straight through the police and into the stable.
In the sudden chaos, there was a shot, and as Lois cried out, “No, no, not Ellen!”, she saw that the intruder was William Cox, and he was being carried out, his face covered, by a couple of policemen.
With order restored quickly, Reg Abthorpe was escorted yelling and screaming with pain into one of the police cars. Derek was by Lois’s side, and ordered her into the van. “That’s enough,” he said. “Satisfied, are you? Old Cox dead, his son a raving lunatic, and Ellen a collapsed old woman. A good night’s work, would you call it?”
Lois ignored him, and lowered the van window, shouting loudly, “Cowgill! Where’s Ellen?”
He came over, and said that Ellen was fine, just shaken up, and was in the care of a very nice policewoman. “Go home now, Lois,” he said. “And listen to what Derek has to say. It’s for you to decide.”
F
IFTY-F
IVE
LOIS AND DEREK WERE GREETED BY GRAN WITH A broad smile on her face. “Guess what!” she said.
“You won the Lottery,” Lois answered wearily.
“If only,” said Gran. “No, something nicer. Bill phoned. Rebecca’s had the baby, and they’re calling her Louisa! She’s quite small, but fine, and Bill wants you to go with him to see her tomorrow, Lois. Lois and Louisa! I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere!”
Lois, exhausted and confused, burst into tears. Derek put his arm around her and led her out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. “Sit there, me duck,” he said, “an’ Gran will make us a nice cup of tea.”
“What did I say?” Gran said, as Derek came back.
“Oh, it’s not you,” he said. “We’ve had a lousy evening. Let’s all have some tea, and then I’ve got something to say to Lois and I suppose it’d better be in private.”
Gran sniffed. “You don’t have to tell me. I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll take my tea up to my room and watch telly up there. You go back to Lois and I’ll bring the tea.”
Derek sighed. He joined Lois on the sofa, and put his arm around her. She sat stiffly, not yielding. “So what have I got to listen to?” she said.
“You know, don’t you?” Derek began. “But this time I’m deadly serious. If you want to keep this family together …”
“You mean you and me?”
“Yes, I do. If you want us to stay together, you have to promise me you’ll have nothing more to do with Cowgill, give up all these dopey ideas of bein’ a private detective, and concentrate on you
r business and us. It’s that simple, Lois. As Cowgill said, it’s for you to decide.”
Lois was silent for a couple of minutes, then she said, “Can I decide later? Can’t think straight at the moment. Tomorrow? Will that do?”
Derek withdrew his arm. “Yep,” he said sadly. “That’ll do.”
NEXT MORNING, VERY SOON AFTER BREAKFAST, THERE was a telephone call for Lois. It was Ellen Biggs, sounding jaunty. “Lois? Can you come over this afternoon and have a cup of tea with me? I’m planning on makin’ a cake to a new recipe, and I want a second opinion before I try it on old Ivy. And,” she added more quietly, “I got some-thin’ to tell you. All right, then? Good. See y’ later.”
Five minutes later, there was another call. It was Ben, and his voice was strained. “Mrs. M,” he said, “would it be all right if I did Floss’s job tomorrow? She’s a bit off-colour.” Then he told her why, and she sat down hard on her office chair.
“Poor Frances,” she said, and then, “All right, Ben. Sounds like both of you’d better take the day off. We’ll manage.”
He said it was kind of her, but he’d rather be doing something. “See you at the meeting,” he said.
Of course, she thought, it would be Monday tomorrow. Back to business.
But before she could pick up her diary, a third call came in. This time she almost put down the phone, but didn’t. “Hello? Lois, are you there?” It was Cowgill. “How are you this morning?”
“What do you want?” Lois couldn’t believe he wouldn’t give her a day or two to recover. “I’m very busy this morning.”
“Ah, that’s a pity.”
“Why?” Lois was aware of Gran, lurking out in the hall, and kept her voice low.
“It’s just that Herbert Everitt is very keen to get back to his house straight away. We found him a nice place to sleep last night, but he’s determined to go back to Blackberry Gardens this morning. I was hoping you might be able to help. Maybe put some flowers, a few supplies, that kind of thing.” He paused, waiting for Lois to speak.