Trouble in the Cotswolds (The Cotswold Mysteries)

by Tope, Rebecca

  Drew had to open the door to her. He seemed awkward and agitated. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked him before she was properly in the house.

  ‘Nothing. Tim made it to the loo, just in time. It took us a while to find it. The dog’s still alive. And there was a phone call just now.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Dennis Ireland.’

  ‘What did he want?’ She recalled that Drew had fingered the neighbour as the most likely of all the people Thea had met to have murdered Natasha Ainsworth.

  ‘I’m not sure. He was thrown when I answered. Said he’d heard there’s been torrential rain here and hoped there wasn’t any flooding. Sounded feeble to me.’

  ‘Did he ask how I was? Higgins wanted him to keep an eye on me, while I had flu.’

  ‘Higgins?’

  ‘Detective inspector. The one who rescued me when my car died.’

  ‘Right. Yes. Did I meet him in Broad Campden?’

  ‘I think not. That seems a long time ago now.’

  ‘Less than a year.’ He smiled and she could see he was reviewing their sequence of brief encounters since that windy March when they first met. ‘A lot’s happened.’

  ‘Too much,’ she agreed. ‘Too many tragic deaths – especially in Snowshill. That’s only a few miles from here, you know. It’d be walkable on a nice day.’

  ‘And Winchcombe,’ he contributed. ‘Where Maggs tracked you down. She talks about you, you know.’

  ‘Does she?’ It felt as if they were on the edge of something, without enough time to give it due attention. It was no surprise that Maggs talked about her – she had a fair idea what was said, too. The question really was – what did Drew reply?

  Thea’s head was gearing up for another bad evening. The flu had not finished with her yet, and she felt any residual energy draining away. ‘Dennis was probably just being kind,’ she said. ‘I think he’s all right.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Drew. ‘He was checking to make sure you weren’t shopping him to the police in his absence.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ She spoke too sharply and Drew recoiled. ‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it. My head’s aching, and Juliet got me all embroiled just as I was thinking I could forget all about murder. There’s something going on about animals and vets. Did I tell you about the canister that Mrs Callendar got from next door? That’s got to be important, although she promised me it had nothing to do with the murder. There are hints about some hi-tech research going on, which probably has loads of money invested, high stakes and all that. And I rather think there might have been three murders, rather than just the one.’

  ‘“Just the one”?’ he repeated. ‘Isn’t one enough for you?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that, either. Where’s Timmy? Is he all right? And Blondie? Has she been out?’ Her spaniel had run sniffing to the kitchen door, obviously hoping to be united with the Alsatian. Thea pushed her away, with an irritable word. The dog was still tainted with the needless aggression she’d directed at Blondie.

  Drew took hold of her arm and began to steer her into the living room. ‘Come on. I’ll make some tea. Timmy’s back with the rats. Blondie’s not going anywhere. I saw a box of mince pies in the cupboard. I’ll warm them up and we can have a special Christmas high tea.’

  She wanted to tell him about Juliet’s remarks – perhaps not those concerning Timmy, but the bits about Eva and her links with the Callendars, as well as the way she had died. Had he deliberately averted such a conversation just then, when she started on the possibility of three murders? Was he not here because he was intrigued by the killing of Natasha Ainsworth? Now he had at least glimpsed the majority of the people she had described, how could he resist the challenge of discovering which of them, if any, had taken part in the ultimate crime?

  ‘Did you say I’d call Dennis Ireland back?’ She had to shout to make him hear over the boiling kettle and the clattering china. It sounded as if he was using proper cups and saucers, rather than mugs. There were moments when Drew Slocombe very much reminded her of her mother.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never mind.’ She stroked her dog, at her side as ever. ‘Could be worse, Heps,’ she murmured. ‘You might have got us into even more awful trouble if you’d managed to kill a rat.’

  ‘The rats are thirsty,’ came a little voice behind her. Timmy had come quietly out of the back room, and was closing the door carefully. ‘There’s no water for them.’

  ‘Oh, Lord. There was some this morning – or was it last night? Do you want to do it?’

  ‘I can’t get the bottle out of that wire thing. I tried.’

  ‘I’ll do it in a minute.’ She found she could not face getting up again, now she’d got so comfortable on the sofa. ‘Or we’ll ask Daddy when he’s finished making the tea. We’re having mince pies.’

  She looked speculatively at the small face. The child was certainly pale, with dark shadows under his eyes, and he seemed somehow pinched, as if undernourished. And yet he had consumed a hearty lunch and taken a normal interest in the proceedings. He had even laughed once or twice. ‘Stephanie’s going to be jealous of your day out,’ she suggested.

  He barely reacted at first, then he said, ‘She’s at Maggs’s house. It’s nice there. She hangs her cards up the same as these are.’ He gazed up at the swags of multi-coloured Christmas cards that Thea had already grown so accustomed to that she barely noticed them.

  She remembered a vague implication, months earlier, that Timmy was Maggs’s special favourite, in compensation for what she saw as Drew’s preference for Stephanie. Everyone agreed that the little boy was suffering more acutely from the loss of his mother, being younger, and having had very little natural mothering since the age of about three. Karen had been shot in the head some years before she died of the eventual consequences of the injury. Even afterwards, Drew had betrayed his little son by falling in with Stephanie’s wishes that Karen not be buried in their own field behind the house. Timmy had been promised a grave and suffered acutely when it failed to materialise. Drew’s sudden and startling change of heart over that had made little impact on Thea when she first learnt of it. Since then, she had pondered the matter on more than one occasion.

  ‘You’ll all be back together this evening,’ she said, in an attempt to console. ‘And tomorrow’s Christmas. I bet Daddy’s going to cook a fabulous lunch for you.’

  Drew finally made an entrance, carrying a big wooden tray. He distributed drinks and pies and then asked Thea what she had called through to him.

  ‘Did Dennis want me to call him back?’

  ‘No, no. He didn’t leave a number or anything.’

  ‘Did you tell him you were going home soon?’

  ‘No. I thought it might be useful if he thought you weren’t going to be alone all evening.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, torn as any modern woman would be between the obligation to be independent and the agreeable sense of being protected. ‘But I really can’t see him as a threat.’

  ‘You always say that,’ he commented. ‘You always think you’re immune from danger, even when you know there’s a killer on the loose.’

  ‘And I’ve always been proved right,’ she smiled, aware of a small boy hearing his father expressing alarming sentiments. ‘Don’t be melodramatic.’

  Timmy ate two mince pies with apparent relish. ‘Maggs made some,’ he reported. ‘But they were a bit burnt.’

  ‘Maggs is no great cook,’ Drew agreed. ‘She always thinks she knows better than the recipe.’

  ‘That sounds like the woman I know. I imagine she’s rather a rebel by nature.’

  ‘She was determined to be an undertaker from the age of about twelve. It was the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a vocation. And she’s never wavered. She finds me quite frustrating these days, with only half my mind on the job. I owe her a better level of commitment, by rights.’

  ‘Broad Campden! You wanted to go there. Gosh, we were only a mile or two away, just now. I completely
forgot.’

  He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. What was I going to do, anyway? Just look at it. It would probably be depressing. I know I have to make my mind up about it. It’s my primary New Year’s Resolution.’ He sighed, and fresh shadows seemed to have developed beneath his eyes.

  Thea entertained a little fantasy in which she became a full-time assistant in Drew’s funeral business, doing the paperwork and drumming up new customers. She had felt for some time that he was missing a lot of opportunities to attract more people to his services. Although ignorant of the arcane procedures in place where nursing homes were concerned, she was convinced that judicious advertising and self-promotion would bear more fruit. ‘That’s good,’ she approved. ‘Because I hate to see it going to waste.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘Every time I think about it, I feel pathetic and hopeless. There’s so much involved in making it viable.’

  ‘I could help,’ she said in a breathy whisper, wondering whether that was an offer she’d regret.

  ‘Thanks.’ The look he gave her was not eager or excited in the least. He hardly seemed to have heard her. ‘But first we have to get through Christmas, and you have to stay here and nurse that dog. What did you mean about there being three possible murders? I can only think of two.’

  Had he been puzzling over this ever since she’d said it? It seemed quite probable, from the tone of his voice. But again she was reluctant to talk about it in front of the child. ‘Juliet had a cousin, Eva. She had cystic fibrosis, and died a week or two ago. She choked to death. It sounds horrible – a terrible way to die.’

  Drew’s lips narrowed in a grimace. ‘Most of them are pretty bad,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe so.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Not many people manage a really good death, do they?’

  ‘That depends what you mean.’ There was a frown between his eyes. ‘I used to think I knew all about it. Now I realise what a fool I was.’

  Thea went cold. This was really not the moment for any sort of grief-stricken meltdown. ‘We’ll have to put that off for later,’ she diverted him, with a concerned glance at Timmy. Unless she could find some absorbing distraction for him, he was liable to hear and even participate in a conversation that could not possibly be appropriate. ‘Let’s stick with Eva for now. Her funeral was Friday afternoon, the same as Douglas Callendar’s.’ She reasoned that Timmy would be entirely familiar with talk about funerals, and by extension, death, but was hardly to be expected to listen calmly to Drew spilling his emotions concerning the death of the child’s mother.

  ‘How old was she?’ Drew was obviously making an effort to cooperate.

  ‘I have no idea. I assumed thirties or forties. There wasn’t a post-mortem. She’s buried at a Methodist church somewhere near Broadway. The thing is, she once worked for the Callendar business, doing spreadsheets and so forth. One of the sons – the one that passed us in that Range Rover just now, actually – was embezzling, and tried to put the blame on Eva.’

  ‘And you’ve got a nice little theory in which there’s a conspiracy of some sort? How does that work, if he got caught, which I assume he did?’

  She rubbed her head and nodded. ‘He went to prison. But doesn’t it all seem rather too much of a coincidence to you, that three people closely involved in the same business should all die at once?’

  ‘Maybe. But if the person was clever enough to make one look natural, and one an accident, what went wrong with the lady next door? That was plainly a murder.’

  ‘I know. Although – I do wonder whether it was intended to look like suicide, and something really did go wrong. It still seems to be a bit doubtful, as far as I can work out. Nobody’s told me any details, but Higgins said an artery was severed. They didn’t find a weapon, which is the most obvious indication that it was murder. Although, if Natasha had time to crawl to another room, maybe she also managed to hide the weapon after she’d stabbed herself.’

  ‘Why on earth would anybody do that?’

  ‘Precisely. So we draw the obvious conclusion.’ Again, she worried about the child hearing such a conversation, but Timmy was contentedly muttering to himself, as he had done in the car, and showed no signs of upset.

  ‘Which raises the question of how someone got in and out of the house,’ Drew said. ‘Were the doors all locked? Didn’t anybody see anything?’

  ‘Apparently front and back were both locked, but I don’t know if there was a Yale, where you can lock it after yourself. And no, nobody did see anything. There’s never anybody out in the street in these villages. A car driving by wouldn’t have thought it odd to see somebody coming out of a house.’

  ‘Unless he was covered in blood.’

  ‘Gladwin said there might not have been much, to start with.’

  ‘Is there a back door? The killer probably used that way to escape.’

  ‘Oh yes. Marian Callendar used it yesterday. That’s a whole other complication. You can get from this garden into both the others, on each side, quite easily. But I’m not sure how much further you can go.’ She sighed again. ‘It all makes my head hurt. Literally. It’s aching quite badly.’

  ‘But it matters,’ Drew said doggedly. ‘It could make a huge difference.’

  ‘I’m sure the police will have it all worked out.’

  ‘There’s a lady,’ said Timmy, staring at the window. The words echoed his earlier alert in the pub and Thea looked round expecting to see a freshly irate Rosa Wilson, with some new reason for being angry with her.

  It wasn’t Rosa, but Gladwin, with her nose pressed comically against the glass. Thea laughed and waved her towards the door.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Drew demanded. ‘What does she want?’

  ‘It’s Sonia Gladwin. Police,’ said Thea, heaving herself out of the sofa. Her heart was thumping in cheerful anticipation of finally getting her two friends together in one room. She was in no doubt that they would instantly like each other.

  ‘You’ve got company,’ said Gladwin. ‘Sorry to intrude. I thought you’d be feeling all forlorn and abandoned.’

  ‘We are a bit forlorn, actually – both of us. It’s Drew. I want you two to meet. It’s fantastically kind of you, though, to think of me.’

  ‘Don’t be too effusive. It’s business as well. I was hoping to run a few things past you.’

  ‘There’s a mince pie or two still left and we can make you some fresh tea.’

  ‘Lovely!’ The slender dark-haired detective superintendent walked easily into the living room and greeted Drew and Timmy with a friendly nod. ‘Heard a lot about you,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Likewise,’ said Drew. They examined each other with interest. Gladwin was tall, very slim and not conventionally attractive. Her dark eyes were deep-set and close together, her nose a bit beaky and her accent unalloyed Cumbria. Drew’s boyish charm generally served him well, as did his automatic good manners.

  ‘You don’t look like an undertaker,’ said Gladwin.

  ‘And you don’t look like a police detective. Maybe we should do undercover work together.’

  ‘I thought you already did. I heard the Broad Campden story, don’t forget. You were heroic.’

  ‘As were you in Temple Guiting.’

  They both laughed, and Thea felt the swell of pride that came from bringing two good people together, along with relief at the timely interruption.

  ‘Now then,’ said Gladwin, her eyes on Timmy. ‘Who’s this young man, may I ask?’

  ‘He’s called Timothy, and he’s my son,’ said Drew with mock formality.

  ‘So, Timothy. I’m going to ask you to be very patient with me while I talk to Thea and your dad. It would be very boring for you, so I wonder whether you’d be interested in having a go on this.’ From a shoulder bag she produced a red plastic box slightly smaller than a paperback book. Timmy’s eyes widened. ‘It’s a bit old now, but it’s got Pokemon and all sorts of other stuff on it. I expect you know how to work it.’

  ‘No, he d
oesn’t,’ Drew began, but Timmy grabbed the Nintendo and had it switched on before his father could say any more.

  ‘They’re born knowing,’ laughed Gladwin. ‘Just as they all seem to know all those insane Pokemon characters. I think it must get into their brains from the ether. Not surprising, really, when you think of all those invisible threads flying around all the time.’

  ‘I play with Jake’s,’ Timmy told his father, without looking up. ‘It’s exactly the same as this.’

  Thea wondered at a woman who carried such a useful toy with her as part of a routine kit. How many male police detectives would have that much sense? Gladwin couldn’t have known there would be a small boy on the scene, which made it all the more impressive.

  ‘You won’t be able to save anything,’ Gladwin warned Tim. ‘I’ll have to take it with me when I go.’

  ‘Okay,’ nodded the little boy.

  The three adults settled into the middle of the room, while Tim curled up in an armchair by the fireplace. Gladwin betrayed no sign of urgency, but even so, Thea knew better than to waste any time. ‘I saw Juliet Wilson a little while ago,’ she began. ‘She told me a bit more about the death of her cousin, Eva. It didn’t sound altogether straightforward to me. And the man in the bath – we’ve already agreed that could easily not have been an accident.’

  ‘You’re telling me we’ve got three murders to investigate?’ Gladwin blew out her cheeks in protest. ‘Have mercy!’

  ‘The thing is,’ Thea went on doggedly, ‘they all connect somehow to Callendar Logistics. I’m sure you’ll have delved into all their doings already, but there’s something about animals – they donate money for medical research – that could be at the root of it. Them. The murder or murders,’ she finished clumsily.

  ‘You’ve been talking to that vet,’ Gladwin accused her.

  ‘Yes.’ Thea was impressed. Gladwin had instantly put her finger on the key moment when her suspicions had coalesced into something faintly approaching a theory. ‘And Juliet. They said the same sort of thing.’