A Killer Ball at Honeychurch Hall

by Hannah Dennison

  I really did not know what to say. My mother had never said she’d performed in any sideshows.

  “I always wondered what happened to her,” said Bryan wistfully.

  “Why don’t you ask Kat?” said Eric, barely able to contain his mirth.

  “Eric—wait—”

  “Iris lives next door!”

  Bryan’s eyes bugged out. “Iris lives here?”

  “Kat’s her daughter.”

  Eric seemed to be enjoying himself. He looked at me and grinned. “Hey, everyone loves an admirer—I bet Iris will be chuffed.”

  “She’s here.” A strange expression crossed Bryan’s features but I couldn’t say if it was hope or despair. “You mean she married one of the toffs?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “But she is a widow,” said Eric.

  “Iris is here.” Bryan sounded like a lovesick teenager. “Blimey. I don’t believe it.”

  It occurred to me that when I’d mentioned the name Bryan Laney, my mother had given no indication that she remembered him at all. If Mum had broken all the boys’ hearts across the countryside, maybe Bryan had just been one of her many suitors. Electra! I couldn’t wait to have that conversation with her.

  “So you must have remembered the summer balls at the Hall?” I asked.

  Bryan nodded, obviously still trying to take in the fact that my mother was close by.

  “What about Pandora Haslam-Grimley,” I said. “She was American. Do you remember her?”

  Bryan frowned. “I remember her alright,” he said darkly. “She was a friend of Lady Edith’s. Much older than us lads but she liked a bit of rough.”

  “A what?” I exclaimed.

  “Bit of rough.” Bryan winked at Eric. “You know, a bit of the other with the local lads. Course, I only had eyes for Iris and that drove Miss High-and-Mighty mad. She couldn’t stand Iris but then a lot of the girls here couldn’t stand Iris, either. They were a bit afraid of her.”

  “Afraid of my mother?” I said with disbelief.

  “Not only was she Electra, she was Madame Z—Madame Z’s Psychic Touch.” Bryan chuckled. “All the girls went to Iris to have their fortunes told.”

  “Did Pandora?” I asked.

  Bryan shrugged. “No idea. When Pandora wasn’t hanging about the stables she was messing around with the lads at the boxing emporium. I often wondered what happened to her, too.”

  “She’s dead,” Eric said bluntly.

  “That wouldn’t surprise me,” said Bryan. “She would have been pushing ninety by now.”

  “Kat and I found her body today in a priest hole,” said Eric.

  Bryan’s jaw dropped. All the color drained out of his face. I thought he was going to pass out.

  “Are you alright?” I said. “Get him a glass of water, Eric.”

  “No! I’m okay. I’m fine.” Bryan waved us away but he just stared at his feet. “Give me a minute.”

  Eric and I exchanged concerned looks.

  “Bit of a shock, that’s all.” He still couldn’t look up. “Don’t like hearing that kind of thing.”

  “It was a horrible shock,” I said.

  “When I heard on the radio that a body had been found in a priest hole, I assumed it was—well, a priest from centuries ago.” Bryan seemed incredulous. “What the hell happened? I mean—how could Pandora have ended up there?”

  “They’re investigating, obviously,” I said. “They’re asking anyone who would have been at the Hall at the time. I expect they’ll want to talk to you as well.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I’ll call—who should I call?”

  “Detective Inspector Shawn Cropper,” I said.

  “Cropper?” Bryan thought for a moment. “Peggy’s grandson?”

  “Yes.”

  Bryan got to his feet. “I’d better be off. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He paused at the caravan door. “Pandora was a nasty piece of work. She was cruel…” He stopped, as if lost in a distant memory. “But we can all be cruel when we’re young, can’t we?”

  And with that, he left. After several false starts, we heard the engine of the camper van turn over and drive away.

  “Well that was interesting,” I said to Eric.

  “You’d better warn Iris,” said Eric. “He’ll be after her fortune.”

  “Not if you don’t tell him she’s got one.” I frowned. “What was he doing here?”

  Eric shrugged. “He just said he was moving back to the neighborhood and looking for a bit of work. Looking up old friends, that kind of thing. He’s been away at sea for years so he hadn’t heard about my Vera—” Eric crossed himself and said a silent prayer. “Or about Joan’s Alzheimer’s and Sunny Hill Lodge. He seems set on paying her a visit but I told him not to bother. She’s completely doolally.”

  Something felt off to me. “How did he know you’d be here so late tonight?”

  Eric shrugged. “No idea. He just turned up and knocked on the door.”

  “And you didn’t think to ask him?”

  “Not really. He was looking for Joan.”

  “Well, tell Bryan to be careful,” I said. “We don’t want him to get accidentally shot for trespassing.”

  As I walked back to the Carriage House I felt thoroughly unsettled but I didn’t know why. Bryan had been obviously shocked and upset about Pandora’s demise. I didn’t think he’d faked that. He also seemed genuinely surprised that Mum was living here.

  As I let myself into the Carriage House I heard peals of laughter and shouts of “Snap!” I only knew of two grown-ups who played a children’s card game with so much glee—my mother and Alfred.

  Since Alfred had been camped at the Hall in the fifties too, maybe he would be more forthcoming.

  Chapter Eight

  I knew Alfred made my mother happy and I was pleased for her but sometimes I felt left out. The pair of them shared a lot of inside jokes. Alfred had this habit of shadow boxing around the kitchen that for some reason had Mum shrieking with laughter and darting off to the loo. I just didn’t get it. Of course, he was nimble on his feet but after years of smoking, his efforts would always end in a coughing fit and once he actually passed out.

  Mum accused me of being a killjoy and maybe she was right. When she broke the news that her stepbrother had been released on parole and was coming to work at the Hall—carefully hiding his prison record from everyone on the estate—I was certain I wouldn’t like him but there was a charm about Alfred that I found endearing and besides, who can’t like a man who claims he can talk to animals?

  I braced myself, plastered a smile on my face and strolled into the kitchen. As usual, the room was filled with cigarette smoke but I did see that Mum had opened the window a crack in my honor. It mingled with the smell of fish pie, wafting from the oven. It was at times like this that I couldn’t wait to live on my own again.

  Both gave me grunts of acknowledgment but their fierce concentration for the card game didn’t waver.

  With his small, wiry frame, complete with arms heavily tattooed with birds of prey, it seemed hard to believe that Alfred had been a champion boxer. But his face bore all the scars of the ring—a squashed nose and a cauliflower ear.

  “Snap!” Mum shrieked.

  “You’re here just in time, Kat,” Alfred said grimly. “She’s clearing me out tonight. I must have lost ten quid.”

  “Ah! Here comes the queen of the body snatchers!” said Mum triumphantly scooping up a mound of coins.

  “It was the Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” I said somewhat primly. “And it’s got nothing to do with finding bodies.”

  Alfred leapt to his feet and did an impersonation of a zombie, thrusting his false teeth out at a disgusting angle.

  “No zombies, either,” I said but laughed all the same.

  “She laughs!” Alfred exclaimed.

  “I don’t know why you don’t think I have a sense of humor,” I said.

  “I’ll pour you another drink,” sa
id Mum. “Pie’s almost done.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll handle the vegetables.”

  “I think they’d like that,” said Alfred. “Nudge nudge, wink, wink, say no more.”

  Mum roared with laughter.

  “Is everyone okay with peas?”

  “Oooh.” Mum clapped her hands. “I just love peas.”

  “You alright, luv?” Alfred said, suddenly all serious. “Not nice finding a body.”

  “Her name was Pandora Haslam-Grimley,” I said.

  “Never heard of her,” said Alfred.

  “Yes, you have,” Mum insisted. “American. Smoked Lucky Strikes. Awful person. Remember that time she struck one of the girls in the kitchens with a whip?”

  “Pandora actually hit someone?” I was appalled.

  Alfred’s face darkened. “Yeah. That’s right. Now I remember. Always hanging around the boxing emporium hoping to get lucky.”

  “Thrashed her, right across the back of the legs,” Mum went on. “I was in the passage and about to walk into the kitchen and heard her cry out. Saw Pandora do it with my own eyes.”

  Alfred shook his head with disgust. “Do the cops have any leads?”

  “They want to talk to everyone who was here at the time,” said Mum.

  “Maybe you can offer your services to the police, Alfred,” I teased. “You’re good at channeling the dead.”

  “Pandora had a thing about Alfred,” Mum declared.

  “Pandora had a thing about all the lads—not just me,” Alfred protested. “And all the lads had a thing about Iris.”

  “So I hear,” I said. “And Bryan Laney being one of them.”

  Mum shot Alfred a nervous look.

  “Who?” Alfred demanded.

  “No one.” Mum shook her head furiously at me.

  “I heard what you said. Bryan Laney.” Alfred’s expression changed. His good humor evaporated and in his eyes was a hardness I’d never seen before. “I remember him. Sniffing around underage girls—”

  “I was mature for my age,” Mum protested.

  “You were fifteen!” Alfred was clearly unhappy. He popped his knuckles.

  “He mentioned you performed in one of those sideshows,” I said. “Electra! The Twenty-seven-thousand Volts Girl and that you told fortunes as Madame Z.”

  “Me? Never!” said Mum, giving Alfred a wink but he ignored it.

  Alfred slammed his hand down on the table. “I told Laney that if he ever came anywhere near Iris again, he was a dead man.”

  “Oh, Alfred!” Mum forced a laugh. “Don’t be daft.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Alfred’s eyes grew flinty. “I punched his lights out in the ring and I enjoyed every minute of it.”

  “Well, we’re all much older now,” said Mum hastily. “None of that matters. Water under the bridge.”

  “A Bushman never forgets,” Alfred growled. I decided now was not the time to mention that Bryan was back in the neighborhood.

  “I’ll get the pie.” Mum got to her feet and joined me at the counter.

  “For God’s sake, don’t tell Alfred that Bryan came here,” she whispered urgently.

  “If he finds out, it won’t be from me,” I said.

  “And don’t mention that book, either,” Mum said.

  “Lady—”

  “Shh!”

  “Okay. But if the police ask—”

  “I’m not deaf, you know,” Alfred shouted out. “What book?”

  “Nothing!” Mum and I chorused.

  “I’ll lay up the table. You dish up the pie.”

  Ten minutes later we were all tucking into Mum’s fish pie. Alfred hadn’t said another word and the atmosphere was tense. I wracked my brain for something to say.

  “This pie is delicious,” I said.

  “These peas are like bullets,” Mum grumbled.

  “You boil yours to death.”

  Mum turned to Alfred. “Remember Kat’s old boyfriend, David?”

  “The bloke with the fancy shoes?”

  “Mum—”

  “He went back to his wife,” she said. “They renewed their vows under the Hawaiian sun.”

  “That journalist lassie?” Alfred exclaimed. “The one who looks like she’d kill a few puppies?”

  “That’s the one. Cruella,” said Mum. “Kat’s finished with him for good now.”

  “I never liked him,” said Alfred.

  “Nor did I,” Mum agreed.

  “Bit full of himself.”

  I got up from the table. “Okay, excuse me. Whilst you discuss my love life I’m going upstairs.”

  “It’s only nine o’ clock,” Mum cried. “What are you going to do up there? You’re not getting maudlin are you?”

  “I’m fine!” I shouted from the doorway.

  “You’ve upset her now, Iris.”

  “She’s so serious all the time.”

  I didn’t hear the rest as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.

  Mum was right. It was only nine in the evening. I was so bored. Is this what my life had come to? Perched on the bed I saw the old steamer trunk full of dressing-up clothes that my mother had made. When I was little, the costumes had been far too big for me to wear but I had never thought why.

  I’d taken a look in the trunk before when Mum had broken her hand and couldn’t wear any clothing with buttons or zips. We’d dug out a purple harem outfit that now took on a more sinister meaning. Digging a little deeper, I pulled out exactly seven brightly colored veils, a brocade bra with tassels and a wrap sewn with little bells. It was fairground style—gaudy, brash and very tacky and without doubt, the outfit used for the Dance of the Seven Veils.

  I delved deeper and retrieved a short blue dress with zigzag-shaped epaulettes. Down at the bottom was an extraordinary wig with the white hair lacquered to within an inch of its life, standing upright. I found fake glittered eyelashes that had to be a half-inch long and a long cord with a huge three-pronged plug. This had to be Electra’s, the 27,000 Volts Girl.

  I started to laugh. Really, it was all so ridiculous. Mum accused me of being too serious. We’d soon see about that!

  I tried on the harem outfit and gasped. I really had piled on some pounds. So I changed into Electra—wig, eyelashes, the lot—and trooped downstairs feeling very pleased with myself.

  I burst into the kitchen. “Ta-dah!—Oh! Shawn, hello.”

  Three pairs of eyes swiveled in my direction. I was mortified. Shawn’s jaw dropped. Alfred cackled with glee but Mum looked absolutely horrified.

  “Oh, darling,” she groaned.

  I stood there feeling rather cold and silly.

  “That’s just not a good look for you.”

  “I was just going through that old trunk,” I said lamely.

  Shawn was grinning from ear to ear. “Well, well, well,” he said. “I was just telling Iris that we’ve found out that the clothing Pandora wore the night she died was actually a fancy dress costume.” He took in my appearance. “Isn’t that fancy dress?”

  “I hope so,” I said. “It’s not something I’d usually wear to the pub. Mum’s very good with the needle. She made all my dressing-up clothes.”

  “How interesting,” Shawn said. “We’ve learned that the theme for that year’s ball was Cleopatra. Pandora Haslam-Grimley had been dressed as Cleopatra.”

  “Ah, the wig,” I said, recalling the beaded black wig.

  “Did you make any costumes for the midsummer ball, Iris?”

  “No!” said Mum quickly. “Why?”

  Shawn’s jaw hardened. “Look, Iris. I know you are holding something back from me or…” He turned to stare at Alfred who stared defiantly back. “Perhaps you are protecting someone else…?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Alfred protested. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Would you like to continue this conversation down at the station?”

  “Am I under arrest?” Mum gasped.

  “No,” said Shawn. “
But with the discovery of the book in the double-hide—”

  “What book?” Alfred demanded.

  Shawn turned pink. “Lady Chatterley’s Lover.”

  “Lady Chatterley’s Lover?” Alfred’s eyes widened. “What’s that filth got to do with my Iris?”

  “I’m being framed,” said Mum quickly. “The book isn’t mine.”

  I felt as if I was in the middle of a farce.

  “Iris is certainly—shall we say—a person of interest.”

  Alfred got to his feet. Despite his small size, he looked menacing. “I know her rights and unless you’ve got anything concrete to link her with the crime, you can’t arrest her.”

  “Thank you for telling me my job,” said Shawn tightly. He turned to me. “I only came by to let Kat know that she is free to return to the King’s Parlor and remove the drawings.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “What about the old tools?”

  “His lordship is ninety-nine percent positive that they were the tools used for the Honeychurch mint.”

  For a moment, Shawn’s eyes shone with boyish excitement but then he scowled. “But we haven’t finished with you yet, Iris.”

  “I have absolutely nothing to hide.” Mum flashed a smile. “Kat will see you to your car. Do go through the carriageway. We’re using that as the main entrance now.”

  I ushered Shawn out but he paused and gallantly gestured for me to go ahead. I waved him on, very conscious of what I must look like from the rear in Mum’s old Electra costume. He then waved me on. We both stepped forward and collided in the doorway.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  I darted ahead.

  “Kat, wait!”

  I turned and was startled to find Shawn right behind me. Without my shoes, he towered above me. I felt surprisingly vulnerable. I also felt an unexpected rush of what I can only describe as electricity. Perhaps it was Mum’s costume!

  I waited expectantly for Shawn to say something. He looked into my eyes and my stomach did a peculiar somersault. For heaven’s sake, Kat, get a grip. I was years older—or was I? I’d always dated much older men. Maybe the age difference between us wasn’t as big as I thought. Five years? Seven?