Tea and Broken Biscuits

by Daphne Neville

  “I don’t think you should, Het.”

  “Well, I disagree.” She selected the number of the local police stored on her phone.

  “On your head be it,” tutted Lottie, as she went back into the vestry to collect her handbag, “but I think you might live to regret it.”

  When Brett returned from a visit to the Crown and Anchor where he’d had a drink with Paul, he was surprised to see a police car parked outside Sea View Cottage. Inside he found Alina in the hallway bidding two police officers farewell. His eyebrows rose. “Is everything okay?”

  Alina giggled. “Yes, everything’s fine, Brett. Just a little misunderstanding that’s all.” She turned to the officers. “I’ll explain to my boyfriend. Thank you for calling.”

  “Our pleasure,” they said in unison, “and thank you for your co-operation and thank you for the tea.”

  Brett watched as Alina closed the front door. “What was that all about? I thought you wanted a quiet afternoon to finish reading the book you’ve been engrossed in these past few days.”

  “Come and sit down and I’ll tell you.”

  They sat in armchairs on either side of the hearth. “This afternoon after you’d gone off to the pub and after I’d finished reading the book, I walked over to the church. I wanted to go inside, you see, because the other day you told me how beautiful the interior is and the stained glass windows in particular. I knew it was unlocked because from the upstairs window I had seen a man with a van parked outside going back and forth with something or other.”

  “Probably Ian’s mate, the one who’s loaning the tower so that Ian can decorate the church.”

  “Ah, yes, I expect it was. Anyway, I thought I’d nip over before someone came to lock up.” She giggled, “I didn’t really get a chance to see much though because as I was walking up the aisle I sensed that I wasn’t alone. It was really spooky. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, I slowed down and then stopped abruptly because two shadows suddenly flew out from the vestry. I was absolutely terrified. I panicked and ran away as quickly as possible and didn’t stop ‘til I got back here. I thought it was the person who had attacked the organist you see but didn’t want to hang around to find out if it was or wasn’t.”

  “Okay, that makes sense but why were the police here?”

  Alina blushed. “Because it turns out that the two shadows who frightened me were thinking along the same lines. They thought I might be the person who attacked the organist and took the candlesticks and because I ran away that convinced them that I was up to no good. I feel so silly and no doubt they will too.”

  “Oh dear,” tutted Brett. “What a to-do. Any idea who the two shadows were?”

  Alina smiled sweetly. “Oh yes, according to the police officers they were your Mrs Appleby and her sister.”

  Brett laughed. “You don’t surprise me there.”

  After their visit to Sea View Cottage, the two police officers drove up to Primrose Cottage to inform the sisters the reason why Alina was in the church and more importantly, why she fled.

  “Oh dear,” mumbled Hetty as the police car drove away, “I do hope Brett doesn’t get to hear of this. I don’t think he’ll be very impressed to learn we tried to implicate his girlfriend in assault.”

  “And robbery.”

  “Oh don’t.”

  “And attempted murder, I suppose,” said Lottie, trying to supress the desire to laugh, “I mean, I know you, Debbie and me all agree that the person who attacked Gideon was not the person who shot Hazel because we think that was Andrew Banks but it’s quite possible that we’re wrong and the same person might have committed both crimes and even attacked poor Maisie too.”

  Hetty groaned.

  “I told you not to report it, Het but you wouldn’t listen, but then you always were impetuous.”

  “Do you think I’ll get the sack?”

  “What at this short notice? It’s the dress rehearsal on Wednesday so it’s far too late to replace you.” Lottie softened, “Besides you’re a damn good Mrs Appleby and there’s no-one in the village to better you. Having said that, I think you ought to give Brett a wide berth for a while and hope he forgets.”

  “But he doesn’t have long to forget, does he? Tomorrow is the last practice before the dress rehearsal so I’m bound to see him then.”

  Later in the afternoon the telephone rang in the hallway of Primrose Cottage. Lottie, who was walking through to the kitchen, answered it. It was Debbie.

  “Oh, Lottie,” she squealed, “Gideon’s just come back from Pentrillick House and he’s really, really excited because of the latest news doing the rounds down there. I won’t tell you what it is but suggest you watch the local news which is on shortly because it’s bound to be included. I promise you’ll be fascinated. I’m in shock. I can’t believe it.”

  “Whatever can she be talking about?” wondered Hetty, after Lottie had relayed the news.

  “Perhaps they’ve found out who’s been committing all the crimes round here at last,” suggested Vicki, “It’s about time someone was arrested for them.”

  “Maybe,” conceded Hetty, “but we don’t think they were all committed by the same person. Having said that, perhaps they were.”

  “Well at least we know it’s not Alina,” chuckled Lottie.

  Hetty squirmed.

  Kate frowned. “How do you know it’s not her? I mean, I don’t expect it is but it could be.”

  Lottie explained what had happened earlier in the day while her grandchildren were out.

  “That’s brilliant. I must remember to tell Dad when we get home,” giggled Vicki, “he’ll think it’s hilarious.”

  “Oh, please don’t,” begged Hetty, “because he’ll never let me live it down.”

  “Well. It might slip my mind if I don’t have to wash up tonight.”

  “Victoria Burton you get more like me every day,” spluttered Hetty.

  Zac glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Only ten minutes to go ‘til the local news is on and then we’ll find out what your friend Debbie was on about.”

  The family all sat quietly as the news began and to their surprise, the arrest of a Helston man was mentioned in the headlines. When the story began it stated the arrested man was fifty one year old Andrew Banks who was a member of a sought after gang who allegedly made and distributed counterfeit bank notes. Mr Banks worked in a local bank where he had been under surveillance for some time. The programme didn’t give any more details other than to show a picture of the arrested man.

  “That’s not Andrew Banks,” screamed Hetty, sitting forward in her chair, “you took a picture of him didn’t you, Lottie?”

  “I took a picture of someone who we thought was Andrew Banks,” said Lottie, trying to make sense of the news, “But it’s quite obvious we were wrong.”

  “But the man we pictured is the man who Marlene goes out with because we recognised his car.”

  “That’s as maybe but he clearly isn’t Andrew Banks.” Lottie took out her phone to check the picture she had taken and then showed it to her sister. The children gathered around too. “They’re nothing like each other, Het,” hissed Lottie.

  The twins giggled.

  Hetty’s cheeks glowed crimson. “Oh, no, poor man. Thank goodness we didn’t accost him or anything like that.”

  “Heaven forbid. I wonder who he is though. This chap on my phone, that is.”

  “Well, I suppose he’s just Marlene’s fancy man or something like that.”

  “Yes, anyway, whatever, there’s no way he’s involved in any of the goings on in this village so I shall delete his picture.”

  Hetty stood up. “And I’m going to ring Debbie to see if she knows any more details.”

  “Good idea. It’s frustrating only knowing half the story.”

  “Well, well, well,” tutted Hetty as she put down the phone and returned to the sitting room, “what a rogue.” She sat down. “Apparently he’s not a local man at all but he’s been in
the area for a couple of years. The gang of crooks he works with are up-country somewhere or other, Debbie doesn’t know where. Apparently after the notes are printed they’re taken by various members to different parts of the country and dispersed in dribs and drabs. Andrew Banks got roped in because he worked for a bank where it was his job to keep the cash machine topped up. So what he did was put fake notes in the machine every day having already swapped them beforehand with untraceable used notes.”

  “Wow,” uttered Vicki.

  Lottie looked shocked. “Well, I suppose Hazel’s children will be delighted that their suspicions were justified but Hazel herself will be mortified if and when she regains consciousness.”

  “Ah yes, and that’s another thing,” said Hetty, “she has. The doctors brought her out of the medically induced coma this morning and she seems to be making good progress.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” sighed Lottie, much relieved, “Positive news at last. Perhaps we might get somewhere now.”

  Detective Inspector Fox sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair with his hands firmly clasped behind his head. At last Andrew Banks was under lock and key, now he just needed to wind up the Pentrillick crimes although he knew that was likely to be less straight forward. The assault on Gideon Elms was he believed the result of a disturbed robbery so he thought it best to leave that incident for a while and concentrate instead on the attempted murder of Hazel Mitchell.

  He looked over the case notes. Staff at Pentrillick House had been questioned and shown pictures of Andrew Banks but no-one recalled seeing him hanging around the property in the days before the attempted murder. However, one member of staff, a Cynthia Watkins who works as a tour guide confirmed that Mrs Mitchell and Andrew Banks were friends and met frequently. When asked if Mrs Mitchell ever expressed any concerns about Banks she said only that she was afraid her two children might find out about the meetings and that they disapproved of him.

  Detective Inspector Fox sighed. As much as he would like to be able to pin the attempted murder of Hazel Mitchell on Andrew Banks he knew there was no evidence to back it up. Furthermore, Banks had a sound alibi for the afternoon Mrs Mitchell was shot. He was up-country collecting counterfeit bank notes and the force had the surveillance footage to prove it. Although of course, Andrew Banks had given them a different alibi and claimed he was visiting a mate on Easter Monday afternoon and when questioned, the dodgy mate had vouched for him. Of course it was possible that Andrew Banks had hired a hitman to dispose of Mrs Mitchell but all evidence pointed to it being the act of someone who was not used to handling a gun.

  Then there was the strange affair at the charity shop. That made no sense at all. In fact, all three cases in Pentrillick were peculiar. Was there a link between them or were they looking for three individuals?

  A knock on his office door caused Detective Inspector Fox to lean forward. “Come in,” he bellowed.

  WPC Jenkins entered the office. “Sir, we’ve got results back from the lab and fibres found on the scarves in the charity shop matches those found on the church curtain. So it looks as though the same person committed both crimes.”

  “Hmm, interesting. So we have two attempted robberies committed by the same person during which he took nothing other than a pair of brass candlesticks which were later found discarded on the beach in Pentrillick.”

  “Looks that way, sir.”

  “But why?”

  “Don’t know, sir. Wish I did. Although I suppose it might have been kids who did it for a lark or even a dare.”

  “Even that’s a possibility but knowing kids I’m sure they’d have been tempted to steal something. Perhaps not from the church but definitely from the charity shop where there was money in the till.”

  “Very true, sir.”

  “Yet the till was not touched.”

  “No, sir.”

  “So can you tell me what the lab think the fibres are from?”

  “A finely knitted black woollen garment, sir.”

  “Hmm, so not very helpful at this stage. Okay, thank you, Jenkins. At least we know now that we’re only looking for two people and that one of them owns a black finely knitted garment.”

  “Two,” repeated WPC Jenkins, “but we agree the same person did both.”

  “Yes, the same person is responsible for the two pointless robberies but there is another person out there who attempted to murder Hazel Mitchell the cook at Pentrillick House.”

  “Of course, I’m not on the Mitchell case, sir, so it slipped my memory.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “We’re going down to the church at eleven o’clock to help the vicar and other volunteers undress the altar and move things ready for the decorating,” said Lottie, on Wednesday morning as the family sat round the table eating breakfast, “Do you girls have plans for the day?”

  The twins looked at each other, their eyes like saucers. “We were going to go for a swim after we’ve done our revision,” gushed Vicki, “but perhaps we could go with you and help with the church stuff and then go swimming later.”

  “I wonder why,” teased Zac.

  Vicki sitting opposite her brother, aimed a kicked at his shin beneath the table.

  “That’s very sweet of you,” said Lottie, missing the reason for the girls’ enthusiasm, “I’m sure your efforts will be greatly appreciated.”

  “We like to help,” declared Kate, “and Mum and Dad both said to make ourselves useful while we’re here.”

  “How about you, Zac. Do you have plans for today?” Hetty asked.

  “Yes, Emma and me are going down Penzance way, wind surfing.”

  Hetty tutted. “Well, you tell Emma to be careful. We don’t want any of the cast with broken bones this week and it’s the dress rehearsal tonight.”

  Zac laughed. “She’s been before and is actually quite good but I’ll tell her what you said.”

  Ian had already started to paint the main body of the church when they arrived and while he worked they helped the other volunteers undress the altar, roll up the carpets in the chancel and sanctuary and take removable objects into the vestry.

  “Thank you for mending my surplice,” said Vicar Sam to Lottie, as he lifted a heavy bible from the lectern. “You’ve done a splendid job. So neat I can’t even tell which bit had come undone.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Are your parents here yet?” Hetty asked.

  “No not until Friday, so you’ve a couple more days yet to finish off the broken biscuits.”

  Hetty laughed. “They’ve been very welcome. In fact I don’t think any of them were disliked.”

  “The chocolate ones are the best,” said Kate: “they’re really yummy.”

  As Sam and Tommy carried out a rolled up carpet, Vicki looked at the vast expanse of stone floor. “It looks very bare now and it echoes too. Quite spooky.”

  “That’s because the carpets muffle the sound,” remarked Kitty, “and I agree with you, it does feel spooky.”

  “It feels and looks cold too,” chuntered Hetty, rubbing her arms, “in fact I wish I’d put a cardigan on.”

  “Well, we’ve finished now,” said the vicar, “so you can all go out and enjoy the beautiful sunshine but don’t overdo it, Hetty, we’ve got a big night tonight.”

  “Yes, the dress rehearsal. I can’t wait.”

  “Ought we not to put dust sheets over the altar before we go?” Kitty asked, “Because we don’t want it splashed with paint.”

  “Definitely,” Sam agreed. “I’m glad you thought of that. There are some in the belfry I’ll go and get them.” He turned to walk down the aisle.

  “Surely it’d be much simpler to pull it out and then move it around so it’d always be away from the paint pot,” suggested Kate, “It’d make it easier to paint round the back of it too.”

  Vicar Sam stopped in his tracks. “What an excellent idea.” He was clearly impressed.

  Kate beamed.

  Vicki scowled.<
br />
  “What do you mean by pull it out?” Hetty was nonplussed, “Surely it’s fixed in place.”

  Kate shook her head. “No I’m sure it’ll come out, Auntie Het. You see, I remember when we had our church decorated back home that some of us helped by doing what we’ve been doing here today and we took the altar out so that the man doing the decorating could paint behind it. I was absolutely gobsmacked at the time because underneath the fancy wooden thing was the original stone altar which was much lower than the wooden one. It was awesome.”

  Hetty’s jaw dropped.

  “Ah, another good point.” Sam patted Kate’s shoulder, “Well done, young lady and you’re quite right of course. You see, back in medieval times, church altars were rectangular slabs made of stone or in some cases even marble but after the Reformation they were replaced by wooden creations, so I suppose in the church you speak of, Kate, they simply put the new one over the top of the old.”

  “Really!” Kitty looked at the bare wooden altar, “So do you think the old original one might be under this one too?”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out, Kitty, and I’m sure we’re all equally curious now. I know I am. The idea of finding a hidden fourteenth century altar really appeals.” Vicar Sam rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Give us a hand please, Tom, and we’ll have a look.”

  Tommy took one end of the wooden altar and Sam took the other and together they lifted it down the sanctuary steps. As hoped a centuries old small stone altar was revealed. All gazed open-mouthed, but it wasn’t so much the old altar that caused the wonder as the three plastic supermarket carrier bags that lay on top of it.

  “Now, history might not be my best subject,” said Tommy, scratching his chin, “but I’m pretty certain those carrier bags aren’t fourteenth century.”

  Vicki giggled.

  Vicar Sam shook his head. “How bizarre. I wonder how long they’ve been there.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to have a look and see what’s in them?” Hetty was beyond curious.

  Sam nodded. “Yes, yes, I suppose I ought.”