Tea and Broken Biscuits

by Daphne Neville

“Then someone has been having a bit of fun,” giggled Nicki, “and they’ve tried to get your husband drunk.”

  “Tried,” shrieked Debbie, “I think that’s an understatement.”

  All eyes turned to Sid who held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m one hundred percent innocent.”

  “Me too,” stated Bernie, as eyes turned towards him.

  Debbie giggled as Gideon laid his head on her lap and snored gently. “Can someone help me make him more comfortable, please?”

  “We’ll take him indoors,” said Paul, “and lay him on the couch.”

  Brett who had watched the ensuing drama with an amused smile on his face suddenly laughed out loud. “I am so glad I bought a cottage in Pentrillick because you lot will definitely inspire my writing.”

  On Tuesday, Hetty and Lottie decided to go into Helston for Flora Day despite the fact that the morning was cloudy and damp. They rang Debbie to see if she would like to join them but she declined the invitation because she had a dental appointment in Penzance to have a tooth removed. Gideon was due to have gone with his wife so they could do some shopping while in town but he decided against it because he had a thumping headache.

  The sisters elected to take the bus into Helston to avoid finding a parking space on what they knew to be a very busy day with several roads closed to traffic. As they approached the bus stop outside the church they found a small crowd already waiting and the bus was on time. Once in Helston they headed towards Meneage Street just in time to watch the children’s dance.

  “I’ve never seen so many children in one go,” said Hetty, as a long procession of boys and girls aged from young primary to sixth form college and all dressed in white danced along the street behind the town band.

  As she spoke a few umbrellas went up in the crowd around them.

  “Poor little mites,” tutted Lottie, noting the children continued to smile despite the drizzle, “Why couldn’t it have been lovely like yesterday?”

  However, later in the day after the Midday dance during which the sisters admired the ladies’ long dresses and extravagant hats, the weather improved and the sun came out.

  “What shall we do now?” Lottie asked, as they walked down the middle of the closed off road.

  “Try and find where Andrew Banks lives,” replied Hetty, “after all that’s one of the reasons why we came here today.”

  As they walked down towards the boating lake, glancing at the stalls that lined the sides of the streets, Lottie repeatedly sniffed the air.

  “Why are you sniffing?” Hetty asked, “Do you have a cold?”

  “No, I’m on the lookout for the smell of sweetly scented musk.”

  Hetty laughed. “Well, the best of luck with that. All I can smell is burgers, sausages, chips and so forth and it’s making me feel hungry.”

  “Me too so shall we get something to eat then?”

  “I’m game if you are.”

  With trays of fish and chips in their hands they climbed over the low wall which ran between the road and the boating lake and sat down on a bench overlooking the water.

  “With any luck we’ll see Hazel’s son while we’re here,” declared Hetty optimistically as she took from her pocket a picture of the man in question cut out from the local newspaper which had featured an article about his mother’s attack.

  Lottie looked at the crumpled piece of paper laid out on Hetty’s lap. “It’s not a very good picture though, is it? And being in black and white it doesn’t even tell us what colour his hair is.”

  “No, but he has quite distinct features so I’m sure I’d recognise him.”

  Lottie laughed. “Okay but I think the chances of seeing him are zilch.”

  “But we have to try,” hissed Hetty, “and so after lunch we’ll walk slowly along the road so as not to miss anything and we’ll make a point of looking over garden walls because he might be cutting the grass or something like that.”

  “What, on Flora Day when there are people everywhere? I think that’s highly unlikely, Het. Besides if we did see him how would it help?”

  Hetty sighed deeply. “Because it would give us some idea of where Andrew Banks lives.”

  “Yes, of course, I’d forgotten that.” Lottie glanced over to the road and the houses beyond the stalls. “It’s not going to be easy though, is it? I mean there are houses everywhere and lots of them are behind the ones along the main road.”

  “Pessimist,” chuntered Hetty.

  “No, I’m not really, Het, I’m just being realistic and this seems a bit of a wild goose chase. I think it would be a better idea to try and get an address or something like that for either Hazel’s son or better still Andrew Banks and then we’d definitely know where they live.”

  Hetty looked downcast. “You’re right and we don’t even know whether they live in houses or bungalows.”

  “Perhaps we could look in the telephone directory when we get home. That’d give us Andrew’s address then it wouldn’t matter where Hazel’s son lives.”

  “Providing he’s in it. I mean he could be ex-directory or even like so many these days he might not have a landline.”

  “True.” Hetty stood up, walked to a nearby bin and dropped the fish and chips tray inside. “Have you nearly finished because I’m eager to move on now?”

  “Yes, I’ve eaten as much as I can.” Lottie threw her remaining chips to four seagulls lurking near to the bin.

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Hetty asked.

  “Isn’t what illegal?”

  “Feeding seagulls.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, I think so. At least it is in some areas because I remember reading about it but I’m not sure whether it was here or somewhere else.”

  Lottie looked as the gulls noisily finished off the chips. “Quick, let’s get lost in the crowd in case anyone saw me.”

  Hastily they made their exit but after a few yards, Lottie stopped abruptly.

  Hetty frowned. “What’s the matter, Lottie? Oh my goodness, are we being followed by the police?”

  Lottie shook her head. “No, but look over there in that driveway.” She pointed in the direction of her fixed gaze.

  Hetty gasped. A red Ford Fiesta was parked beneath an apple tree in full blossom and part of its registration number was OAF.

  In the gardens of Saltwater House, Paul was busy clearing up after the garden party the previous day. He carried trays of glasses into the house and carefully loaded them into the dishwasher and then returned outdoors to put the garden furniture in its normal position; the spare chairs he put back in the garage. Looking around he saw there was no litter and what little food had been dropped had been cleared up by passing seagulls.

  Paul was an accountant and his clients were all wealthy businessmen and women. The reason he was in Cornwall was because his sister and her husband had recently bought Saltwater House and they wanted someone they knew to keep an eye on it while they were away on a world cruise. Paul had happily volunteered. He loved Pentrillick and the location of the house was bought on his recommendation when his sister expressed the desire to have a country retreat near to the sea.

  Because of the nature of his work Paul was able to work from home or wherever else he chose to be and that was the reason he was in Cornwall in 2016. In the depths of winter he had felt a sudden desire to spend the coming summer by the sea. He could have bought a house but decided to rent instead. His choice was limited though as most properties already had bookings for the summer months. In the end he settled for a modest house and paid the owner a good price for the six months from the beginning of April until the end of September. It was in the Crown and Anchor shortly after his arrival that he had met Robert Stephens who told him they were always on the lookout for men to take on roles with the village’s amateur drama group. Paul had expressed interest and to Robert’s delight he agreed to take on the leading role which they had been unable to fill and which Robert feared he might have to fulfil himself.

/>   When the outside was all neat and tidy Paul returned indoors, made himself a coffee and switched on his laptop to check his emails before he started work on the accounts of his clients. No-one in Cornwall knew the nature of Paul’s work and because several of his clients were household names he chose to keep it that way. He knew there were several theories doing the rounds and was amused by some of the most obscure.

  Most of the emails in his inbox he deleted but one in particular he read with mixed feelings. It was from his ex-wife from whom he had parted amicably three years before. She was due to re-marry in September and was keen for him to attend a large dinner party she was throwing at the weekend so that he might meet her intended. Paul replied promptly saying that he would not be able to make it but wished her and her fiancé all the very best for the future but he did not tell her that he was in Cornwall. As he pressed ‘send’ he heard a knock on the back door and then it opened.

  “Only me, Paul,” called a voice, “just wanted to let you know I was here in case you thought someone was lurking in the bushes.”

  Paul laughed as he went into the kitchen. “Good morning, Pickle. Have you come to plant the roses?”

  “I have. They arrived this morning so I thought today would be ideal since it’s a bit cloudy.”

  “I hope you know where they’re to go because I don’t?”

  “Yes, I do. Mrs Goldsworthy and me had a chat before they went away.”

  “Excellent and you’ll be pleased to know members of the drama group were here yesterday and they were very impressed with the gardens.”

  “That’s good but I can only take credit for the maintenance; it was the chap who owned the house before your sister and her husband bought it who did the planning. Before him it was a wilderness apparently.”

  “So I’ve heard. Coffee before you go out?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Sit down then.” Paul prepared the coffee machine and switched it on.

  “So are you going to be in this year’s play?” Pickle asked.

  Paul shook his head. “No, I’ve more than enough to keep me occupied and they don’t need me anyway because all the parts are taken.”

  “Any idea what it’s about?”

  “A murder mystery called Murder at Mulberry Hall.”

  “Hmm, that sounds a bit close to home.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Hazel Mitchell. Someone tried to kill her up at Pentrillick House. Poor woman. I hope she pulls through.”

  “You know her then?”

  “Yes, I’ve been doing her garden since her husband died. She’s a nice woman.”

  “Really. So do you have any inclination as to who might have wanted her dead?”

  “No, wish I had. Funny thing is though she acted a bit strange when I was last there and when I went into the kitchen to collect my money she was sitting at the table and frowning at something on her laptop. The door was wide open so I knocked and peeped in. She jumped when she saw me and quickly closed down the laptop lid so that I couldn’t see what was on the screen.”

  Paul smiled. “So you didn’t get a chance to see anything at all?”

  “No, no but I did glimpse one word and that was banks.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  On Tuesday evening, Hetty and Lottie hurried along to bingo eager to tell Debbie of their findings that morning in Helston and as usual they saw Marlene picked up in the red Ford Fiesta outside the post office. However, to their dismay, Debbie did not put in an appearance nor did they see Marlene dropped off as they left the village hall. After a brief discussion they concluded the reason for Debbie’s absence was probably due to her tooth extraction and no doubt poor Gideon was still feeling a little under the weather. Because there was no Debbie they decided to give the Crown and Anchor a miss and went straight home.

  On Wednesday morning the sisters further discussed the Flora Day findings, hoping that having slept on the subject they might see things more clearly. For having seen the red Fiesta down near the boating lake they had every reason to assume, that Marlene, like Hazel, was an associate of Andrew Banks although try as they might neither could see any possible reason for him to be involved in either of the Pentrillick crimes even though he was an associate of Hazel Mitchell. Because Debbie had not been at bingo, Lottie rang her after breakfast to bring her up to date and see if she agreed with their surmise as regards Andrew Banks. After a brief discussion, Debbie and Lottie conceded they were possibly barking up the wrong tree. For the most probable theory regarding Hazel was that whoever attempted to kill her did so because she saw him leave the church after the attack on Gideon and Gideon was attacked because he disturbed a robbery.

  “But who would sink so low as to rob a church anyway?” Lottie asked, after she had relayed the phone conversation with Debbie to her sister.

  “Goodness knows. And why would someone go after a silver communion chalice? It’d be worthless unless he knew someone who’d take it off his hands.”

  “Maybe he was a professional. You know, like the lot that broke into Pentrillick House. Might even be one of the same gang.”

  “Surely not. The attempted robbery of the church wasn’t at all well planned. The muppet didn’t even know where the chalice was kept.”

  “And he probably took the candlesticks rather than leave emptyhanded.”

  “And hit Gideon over the head with one of them before he made his escape.”

  “If that’s what he was hit with.”

  “Good point. We don’t even know that and it’s highly unlikely that the police will tell us but it seems logical to me.”

  “Which reminds me. Did Gideon tell the police he’s identified the mysterious scent as musk?” Hetty asked.

  “Yes, but not until this morning. Debbie said they both forgot all about it yesterday.”

  “Hardly surprising,” Hetty smiled as she recalled the events on Monday, “Gideon must have felt dreadful all day.”

  “He did,” confirmed Lottie, “and he vows never to drink again.”

  Hetty laughed. “I’ve said that several times myself over the years.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you have.” Lottie looked to the mantelpiece where Hetty’s sprig of heather lay. “I know you liked her and we dismissed her when we first created our list of suspects but do you think Lucy Lacey may be involved in any of the crimes? I ask because it’s just occurred to me that she lives very near to Pentrillick House and so would have been able to leave the grounds by way of the woods and avoid being detained by the police.”

  Hetty’s jaw dropped. “Are you suggesting she shot Hazel?”

  “Well, um, yes, I suppose I am. I mean, it’s feasible that after she had done so she nipped down to the lake tossed the gun into the water and then slipped off into the woods. She would have been on her own and so no-one would have missed her.”

  Hetty was flabbergasted. “But what could be her motive? She certainly wouldn’t have been the person who attempted to steal things from the church.”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know, but she does claim to see things before they happen so perhaps she needed to silence Hazel before she spoke about something she’d seen through her mystic powers.”

  “But you scoffed at the notion of her having mystic powers,” Hetty reminded her sister.

  “Well, maybe I was wrong.”

  Hetty shook her head. “No, I don’t think Lucy’s in any way involved. What’s more, I’m sure had she been at Pentrillick House she would have been seen by someone: after all her outfits are a little eccentric.”

  Lottie frowned. “But are they? When she called here selling heather the weather was really cold and miserable so she was obviously wrapped up. And when the girls saw her in her cottage she was wearing a spotted dress, cardigan and slippers so nothing unusual there.”

  Hetty tried hard to come up with reasons to defend Lucy but couldn’t.

  “Okay, I’ll add her to the list if it makes you happy but I think it’s very
silly.”

  Lottie smiled. “Yes, it probably is but then so are all the other names on it.”

  “Except one,” reasoned Hetty, “one of them might well be right.”

  “Or two,” Lottie added.

  Later that evening, at her home in St Mary’s Avenue, Debbie went out into the back garden to bring in the washing. As she unpegged the last item she heard the back door of the adjoining house open and then close followed by light footsteps hurrying down the garden path. Eager to see if she could fathom out who was in such a hurry, Debbie stood perfectly still and listened.

  “Hi, Andrew, it’s Marlene,” she heard her next door neighbour say, “I’m ringing to see if you booked the room okay.”

  Debbie gasped and tiptoed closer to the fence. All was quiet and so she assumed Marlene was listening to what the person called Andrew was saying.

  “You have. Brilliant.”

  More silence.

  “That’s wonderful. Anyway, I’d better go. Gary’s in the shower but he never takes long.”

  Another pause.

  “Yeah, okay. See you soon. Bye.”

  Footsteps retreated up the path and when Debbie heard the back door open and then close she picked up the laundry basket and dashed indoors where Gideon was putting on his shoes ready to go to choir practice. She tried to act as normal as possible by folding the washing and putting it in a neat pile on the table.

  “Shouldn’t be late,” said Gideon, as he stood up and pecked her on the cheek.

  “Okay, see you later.”

  When Debbie heard the front door close she dashed into the hallway and rang the ladies at Primrose Cottage.

  On Thursday morning, Gideon went to Pentrillick House to work in the gardens until lunchtime. It was his first day back since his attack and he was keen to get active again for he was very conscious of the fact he’d put on a few pounds during his convalescence; a situation not helped by Penelope Prendergast’s box of broken biscuits. He was also in a good frame of mind because Debbie told him that while he was away she proposed to visit Hetty and Lottie for a cup of coffee. This pleased him enormously; Debbie was a shy woman and it was good to see she that was making friends and getting out of the house.