by Ann Purser
“You’re right, Bill. And why does Dot live in a small terrace house in Sebastopol Street? Rumour isn’t always right. Anyway, trust me, and keep your ears open for any . . . er . . . anything you hear that might be useful.”
After Bill had gone, Lois sat at her desk thinking. She was certain that Dot would not be able to break the habit of a lifetime and keep her mouth shut. Her outburst about the Bucklands showed that she was a mine of information. But tread softly, Lois said to herself. Dot was not stupid, and if she suspected Lois was ferreting down in the underworld, she would shut up like a trap.
Lois picked up a pen. Time to sort things out. She wrote a sentence in capitals and underlined it. “WHERE IS THE CRIME?” A run of stable thefts that seemed to have come to a halt. Derek had seen a scruffy bloke escaping from the Horsleys’ farm. Haydn Nimmo had been killed in a car smash, and there was so far no official suggestion of foul play. His father, Handy, had drowned in Farnden gravel pits, but that was years ago. Darren Smith had disappeared and reappeared shaking with terror within twenty-four hours, but he had very special difficulties, could hardly speak or understand much, and had possibly got lost in a wood. And then the Colonel. The Battersbys were victims of the thefts, of course, but Lois felt uneasy about the Colonel. Derek had dealt with him efficiently, but on every occasion that Lois saw him, he seemed anxious to get away from her. Sent me packing last time, she remembered. Why? And what was the real reason for giving Floss a valuable horse?
Cowgill was certain something serious was going on, that was plain. And not just the stable thefts. There was something niggling away in her mind about the thefts. She would ask Cowgill how many there had been in the area, and who were the victims. That wouldn’t be confidential information, surely, though he would probably make it sound like it.
“Lois, hello. Nice to hear from you. Have you something for me?” Cowgill had answered his phone at once, and Lois hoped he was sitting in his office in front of a computer. “No, I haven’t,” she said, “but I want information from you.”
“Ah,” he said. It was too much to hope that Lois had called for a chat. Never mind, he said to himself, the sound of her voice is enough. “What exactly do you want to know?”
When she told him, he asked her to hold on for a couple of minutes. Then he began a search, and meanwhile attempted a pleasant conversation. “How are Derek and Gran?” he asked.
“Why?” said Lois. “Are they on your list of suspects?”
Cowgill laughed. “For what?” he said.
“You tell me. Stealing saddles? Fixing white vans?”
“Lois,” he said patiently, “you know perfectly well I was merely being polite. Now, I’m afraid the information about victims and perpetrators of the saddle thefts has to be confidential at the moment.”
“Thanks very much!” Lois exploded. “Have you got the villain yet?”
“Getting close,” Cowgill said. “Following up leads, and we’ll soon be there.”
“And are you close to knowing who abducted Darren Smith?”
Cowgill sighed. “We’re not miracle-workers, Lois, but we do our best. Any help you can give us is greatly appreciated.”
“Yes, well,” Lois said. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks for nothing. Bye.”
Cowgill looked at the phone in his hand and smiled. She had no idea how she brightened his day.
* * *
LOIS THOUGHT OF THE PEOPLE SHE KNEW WHO HAD been burgled. Both within a fairly small area. And there were others, of course. Did that mean local knowledge? And was it one devious character doing them all, or a smart little syndicate organizing the thefts and moving the loot on quickly before it could be discovered? Battersbys and Horsleys were the latest, she reckoned. Their reactions she knew, and they couldn’t have been more different. The Colonel had been apoplectic, but Joe Horsley had seemed not to care. Still, he’d not actually lost anything.
If there was a syndicate or gang, surely one of them would make a mistake sooner or later. Lois remembered the syndicate that Derek had been part of, and laughed. They’d been successful enough! She’d had an idea for investing their winnings, and intended to talk to Derek about it this evening. She looked forward to that.
“Dinner’s ready!” It was Gran’s voice from the kitchen. “Or lunch, if you prefer!”
TWENTY
LOIS WAITED UNTIL GRAN WENT UPSTAIRS TO WATCH HER favourite reality TV show. She was a great fan, but Derek couldn’t abide them. So that left the two of them alone, and Derek was dozing with the newspaper over his face.
“Derek,” Lois said, and nudged him.
“Wha’ . . . wha’? No, o’ course I’m not asleep. Just thinking,” he mumbled, and slumped down.
“Derek! I want to tell you something.”
“I’m listening,” he said, and dragged himself awake. “How about a nice cup of tea?” he added.
“Talk first,” Lois said. “It could be important.”
Derek groaned. “Stable thefts? Abducted lads?”
Lois was quiet. Derek’s words jumped around in her mind. Stable . . . lads . . .
“Come on, speak out,” he said. “I won’t eat you. Leastways, I might,” he laughed and made a lunge towards her.
“No, really, Derek. Be sensible for a minute. I just thought of this idea. Nothing to do with Cowgill, if that’s what you’re worrying about. It’s about our money, and what we should be doing with it.”
“I thought we’d agreed to leave it in the bank?”
“Yeah, well, that’s a bit boring. I was thinking we could buy a little house somewhere, probably in Tresham, and rent it out. It’d be income, and we’d always have the property. Couldn’t lose on it.”
“And what about repairs and council tax and all that ruddy nonsense? Ownin’ a house is an expensive business, as we know,” he said, serious now. “And tenants can be lousy, causing damage and doin’ moonlight flits. It could be a real worry.”
“We could get agents to manage it for us. They’d take about ten percent, but if we got a good rent it would be worth it.” Lois had thought a lot about it, and was anxious to convince a reluctant Derek.”
He stood up. “If you’re keen on this, Lois, you’d better get facts and figures and let’s go through them together. I know what Gran would say: ‘What do you want another house for? You’ve got a nice one already. Ideas above your station, Lois, if you ask me.’” His mimicry was so exact that Lois laughed.
“OK,” she said. “I’ll do what you say, and we won’t even mention it to Mum. It’s not her money, anyway.”
“Bedtime, me duck,” said Derek, and took her hand. “Let’s see if we can lighten up a bit, shall we?”
* * *
GRAN SWITCHED OFF HER TELEVISION, AND HOPPED into bed. It had been a good episode tonight, and she loved to think about those idiots, and what they got up to in front of millions of people. How did they persuade so-called celebrities to take part? They nearly always came out of it badly. Still, she was glad they did. Good for a laugh, and it put her in a good mood before sleep.
Lois hadn’t seemed too happy this evening. Gran wished for the thousandth time that she’d been able to have another child. Lois had had far too much attention, especially from her father, and had always behaved as if the world revolved around her. Derek had gone along with this. Gran presumed that this was because she was a bobby dazzler, as her Dad used to say, and because he loved her so much. If there’d been a brother or sister, Gran could have shared the responsibility of Lois with them. Mind you, the last thing Lois would want was Gran feeling responsible. She’d probably turf her mother out on her ear! It was difficult, though, to watch Lois trying Derek’s patience to breaking point, and not seeming to care.
Gran turned over in her cool sheets and shut her eyes. In minutes, after starting a re-run of the show behind her eyelids, she was asleep.
TWENTY-ONE
GRAN HAD FAITHFULLY RELAYED THE INFORMATION gleaned from Ivy Beasley at the WI meeting, and Lois had l
istened attentively. Now they sat in silence at the kitchen table, staring at each other.
“Doesn’t help much, I’m afraid,” Lois said finally.
Gran was affronted. “You didn’t tell me what you were looking for! That’s the last time I do your dirty work,” she said. “Anyway, I found that story about the Miss Battersbys very interesting. I’ve worked out they’d be the same generation as the Colonel’s father. Must’ve been big families down the years.”
“There was something,” Lois said in a belated attempt to placate Gran. “That thing you said about money . . . money running out. And Blanche Battersby’s money going too. Did Ivy say anything about where it had gone, or why?”
“Family too big, I expect. Too many people taking money out of the farm. It happens, even now.”
“That wouldn’t explain why Blanche’s money is draining away.” Lois frowned. Something elusive hovered at the back of her mind, and she couldn’t recover it.
“It’s them horses, I shouldn’t wonder. Very expensive things to keep. Probably why he’s selling them.”
“How d’you know that?” Lois hadn’t mentioned it to her mother.
“People were talking about it last night. Mrs. Battersby sometimes comes to WI, but not often. She wasn’t there last night, but sent her apologies. She always sends apologies if she’s not coming. Nice woman, I reckon.”
Lois didn’t mention the Battersby offer to Floss. She had been thinking about it, and decided she would not object. But she would have to have a chat with Floss about it. Maybe the girl wouldn’t accept. Her father might have something to say!
“Thanks, Mum,” Lois said.
“No need to thank me. I was just making conversation, and it was natural that the Battersbys were talked about, after hearing about them do-gooding spinsters, an’ that.”
* * *
FLOSS WAS AT THE HALL THAT MORNING, AND LOIS rang her mobile. “Floss? Everything all right? No problems, I hope.” There frequently were problems with Mrs. Tollervey-Jones, but Floss assured her that everything was going smoothly so far.
“Could you call in on your way home, Floss? I need to have a word.” Then she wondered what she would say. She couldn’t upstage the Colonel and mention his generosity before he made his offer to Floss. Perhaps she would sound her out about how she felt in the job. She’d made no complaints, and had never mentioned the Colonel being unpleasant to her. Maybe to his wife, but not to Floss. The girl was, of course, a young and attractive blonde, but she’d heard no rumours of a flirty, dirty old man!
“You still there, Mrs. M?”
Lois said that she was, and would see Floss later.
* * *
“WAS THAT THE TELEPHONE?” MRS. T-J HAD APPEARED in the drawing room, where Floss was polishing the grand piano.
“It was for me. Message from Mrs. Meade. Not a personal call, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones. You know me better than that.”
Mrs. T-J smiled. “Of course, my dear,” she said. “I am perfectly satisfied with your work. And so, I know, is my friend Blanche at Waltonby. She needs a friend,” she added quietly, and then shook herself. “Must get back to work,” she said. “Important meeting this afternoon. Carry on, my dear.”
* * *
LOIS SAW FLOSS ARRIVING AND WENT OUT TO OPEN THE front door herself. Gran, annoyed, hovered in the background.
“Come on in, Floss,” Lois said, and ushered her into the office, firmly shutting the door behind her. It opened again immediately.
“I usually offer to make coffee,” Gran said in a martyred voice.
Floss smiled. She liked Gran, and thought privately that Lois was a bit hard on her. “I’m dying for one, thanks,” she said. Lois muttered that she supposed she would have one too, and Gran disappeared.
“Is there a problem, Mrs. M?” Floss had been with New Brooms long enough to recognize the signs.
“Not exactly a problem,” said Lois, “but something I have to discuss with you. Has Colonel Battersby or Blanche said anything to you about their horses?”
Floss nodded. “They’ve decided to sell them,” she said. “Mrs. Battersby said they’re getting too old to ride properly, and the Colonel has finally agreed to sell. It took a bit of persuading, apparently! He fancies himself on the hunting field and gossiping with his friends at point-to-point races.”
“Nothing more? Nothing about keeping just one?”
Floss shook her head. “No, I think they’re all going. The Colonel said that if they couldn’t manage a horse with guts and spirit, he’d rather not have them at all. I think Blanche would’ve liked to keep a gentle one, just to go for a ride on a nice sunny day.”
“Yes, well, that’s what they are planning to do, so they have told me. They would keep a reliable mare in the stables and graze it on their meadow—but give it to you.” Lois waited, watching Floss’s face carefully.
Floss stared at Lois, her eyes wide. “What on earth do you mean?” Her colour had risen.
At that moment, Gran opened the door and brought in two mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits. She took her time putting it down on Lois’s desk, and fidgeted about, moving piles of papers to make way for the tray. Lois and Floss sat in total silence, and Gran looked from one to the other. “Are you two having a row?” she asked sharply.
“Sorry, Mum. No, we’re not,” Lois said. “And thanks a lot for the coffee.”
Gran left, leaving the door ajar. Lois got up and shut it quietly.
“Now,” she said. “I’ll explain again what I mean. Colonel and Mrs. Battersby say they are fond of you and are very satisfied with your work, and they would like to give you the mare as a present. They realize you’ve got nowhere to keep it, and so are offering to have it there, where they can keep an eye on it, but it will be yours. That’s about as clear as I can make it.”
“I can’t believe it,” Floss said slowly, and then, seeing Lois’s expression, added hastily that of course it must be true, and it was very nice of the Battersbys. “But it’s such a surprise, Mrs. M. And a bit of a shock, to tell the truth. I’ve always thought the Colonel had no time for me, except as a hired help who should know her place.”
“Give it some thought,” Lois said. “I must admit I can’t help thinking there’s something more than meets the eye about this. But it’s really between them and you. If you want to have it, I’m not objecting, provided it doesn’t compromise New Brooms or me. I expect you’ll want to talk it over with your parents, too?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll have to tell them. I can just imagine what Dad will say.”
“What will he say?”
“‘How dare they patronize my daughter like this! If she wants a horse, I’ll buy her one! Refuse at once, Floss!’ That’s what he’ll say,” she answered sadly.
“Mmm, well, he could be right,” said Lois. “Let me know what you decide, Floss. It’s a tricky one.”
“I’ll talk it over with Ben first,” Floss said defensively. “Now we’re engaged, we share everything. We’re as one, Mrs. M.”
Lois swallowed. “How nice,” she said.
TWENTY-TWO
AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT, FLOSS WOKE UP WITH THE SYMPTOMS of flu the next day, and her mother telephoned Lois to give her the news. “She’s got a high temperature, Mrs. Meade, and not making much sense. Rambling on about horses! Anyway, I’ve phoned the doctor, and I’ll let you know what he says. Sorry she’s off work again so soon. Can’t be helped, though. She probably caught it from Ben . . .”
“I know,” said Lois, “they’re as one.” Mrs. Pickering laughed.
Lois rang off, and looked down the schedules. It was a busy week, and the only one who could spare extra hours was Dot Nimmo. “Bugger it,” Lois said aloud. She was reluctant to send Dot on her own so soon, but it looked as if she had no alternative.
“Well,” said Derek at lunchtime, “at least Dot will give the Colonel a piece of her mind if he don’t behave.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Lois replied. “For all
his bluster, they are good clients, and I don’t want to lose them.”
Gran raised her eyebrows. “You should’ve thought of that before you took on that Nimmo woman in the first place,” she said.
Lois didn’t answer. Her mind was working fast. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to send Dot Nimmo to the Battersbys. She was a nosy old bag, and might well glean something interesting from Blanche about the Colonel and the mare. The Nimmos had been around in the area as long as the Battersbys, and Dot was bound to know of a skeleton or two in their cupboards.
“Thanks for lunch, Mum,” she said, and disappeared into her office to use the telephone. “Bridie?” Lois had dialed Bridie’s mobile, remembering she was at the Bucklands in Fletching, and that Dot was with her. “Bridie, it’s me. Is Dot there? Oh, upstairs. Well, could you put her on the phone, please, and keep your voices down, both of you.”
She could hear Bridie’s footsteps on the stairs, and then Dot’s voice, whispering. “Yeah? What y’want?”
Lois explained about Floss being ill, and gave Dot instructions on getting to the Battersbys and being very careful not to offend either the Colonel or Mrs. Battersby when she arrived.
“You’re joking!” said Dot in her normal harsh smoker’s voice. “Just bein’ alive offends him!”
Lois heard Bridie shushing her, and then coming back on the phone. “Mrs. M? I’ll make sure she knows where to go, and how to handle it. Leave it to me. Cheers.”
Thank God for Bridie, thought Lois. She refused to think about whether Dot was a good idea or not, and instead dialled the Battersbys.
“Lois Meade here, Mrs. Battersby. Unfortunately Floss has flu, but I am sending Dot in her place. She’ll be with you at the usual time, and I hope you’ll find her satisfactory. Please don’t hesitate to explain what you want, if need be.”
“I hope she’s reliable.” Blanche sounded doubtful. “You see, the Colonel is not here, and I’m always a little nervous on my own, with new people in the house. Did you say Dot? Is she new? What’s her other name?”