Tragedy at Two Read online

  “They’d be Italians, wouldn’t they?” Derek said. They gave up, and an apprehensive silence fell as the older of the two men came over to the locals’ table.

  “G’day,” he said in a deep voice. “D’you know of any work goin’ round here?”

  Derek and the others looked at each other. Finally Derek said, “What kind of work?”

  “Anything, we can do anything. We’re not afraid of hard work.”

  “Not what I’ve heard,” muttered Sam under his breath.

  Derek saw the man’s hands clench into fists, and answered swiftly. “I reckon there’ll be some work on Thornbull’s farm soon. If we ever see the sun again, that is. The rain’s holding them up somethin’ shockin’.”

  The man asked where the farm was, and Derek gave him directions. “You stand a good chance there,” he said. “The Poles and them don’t come over as much as they used to do. Get better wages at home, they reckon.”

  “Where’re you from, mate?” Sam said.

  “Up the road,” the man said.

  “Campin’ on Alf Smith’s land, are you?” Sam’s voice was hostile.

  “Yeah, but we’ll be moving on to Appleby.”

  “Sooner the better,” said Sam, getting up to go. “A bit stuffy in here,” he said, turning to his friends. “See ya, boy,” he grunted to Derek, and without looking at either of the strangers, he stalked out.

  “He’s not feeling too well,” Derek answered in as loud a voice as he could manage. The message had been only too clear, as he could see from the gypsies’ faces.

  The conversation at the table resumed, but this time on a hot village topic. “How’s Rob, then?” one of the locals said. Derek shook his head. “Dunno,” he said. “Josie’s still keeping vigil, poor gel, and Lois has gone to sit with her. I’m excused, as Lois says I can’t sit still for five minutes an’ am not much use, anyway.”

  “Is he conscious yet?” one of the others said. They all knew Josie from the shop, and were genuinely sorry as well as curious. “Can he tell them anything about who attacked him?”

  Once again Derek shook his head. “Don’t know” he said. “He was still out for the count, last I heard. I’ll know more when Lois gets home.” He looked at his watch and drained his glass. “Better be going,” he said.

  “Watch y’ back, boy!” chorused his friends.

  LOIS DID NOT LEAVE THE HOSPITAL UNTIL LATE EVENING, AND now, nearly home, slowed down at the thirty limit sign. She was in very low spirits. There had been no change in Rob’s condition, and Josie had looked half dead herself. The nurse had promised to insist that Josie have some sleep in a side room, and Lois had left the hospital reluctantly. She was worried about Rob, of course, but her main concern was Josie. She had mentioned to her that between them she and Gran were keeping the shop going, but Josie had hardly seemed to listen. The only thing she repeated in the hours that Lois was with her was that it was all her fault.

  The lights of the van picked up a moving shape, and Lois braked hard. It was a dog, and it vanished through the hedge into the field where Lois knew there were gypsies. She could see dim lights coming from the caravans, and wondered if she should go and make sure the dog was not hurt.

  She drew into a gateway and stopped the engine. It was muddy as she got out, and she cursed. Before she got to the caravans, a tall man came towards her, silhouetted against the moonlit sky.

  “What d’ya want?” he said.

  She could see he had a dog on a leash. It was growling and showing its teeth.

  Lois explained, and the man shook his head. “It’d be the whippet,” he said. “Fast as the wind. That’d be all right. You on yer own?” He sounded concerned as he asked the question, and Lois answered quickly that she was on her way home and her husband would be expecting her. She was later than planned, she explained. Then she wondered if saying that was a good idea. Either he was suspicious of intruders, or he was planning to kidnap her and sell her into white slavery.

  The man put out his hand. “D’you want to come over and see the lady who owns the whippet?”

  He turned away and set off before Lois had a chance to answer. She hesitated, and then followed.

  FOUR

  LOIS IS LATE, ISN’T SHE?” THE DAY HAD PASSED SLOWLY FOR Derek, and soon after he came home he had fallen asleep in front of the telly until troubled dreams had startled him awake.

  “She said she might be,” Gran replied without looking at him. “She was going to stay with Josie as long as possible.”

  “Hope the delay is nothing to do with Rob getting worse. Should we phone the hospital?”

  Gran didn’t answer, but cocked her head to one side. “Isn’t that the van? Sounds like she’s home.”

  Sure enough the back door opened and Lois came in, looking pale and tired. Derek went up to her and gave her a hug. “Not a setback, is there?” he whispered in her ear. She shook her head.

  “I’ve been off with the raggle-taggle gypsies,” she said.

  “Lois! What d’you mean?”

  “She’s trying to frighten us,” Gran said, dishing up food and insisting they all sit down while it was still hot.

  “No, no, come on, Lois,” Derek insisted. “Did those gypsies bother you? Where did you see them?”

  “I nearly killed one of their dogs. It ran straight out in front of the van. I stopped, of course. I saw it limp off through the hedge. Thought I’d better look for it. You’re supposed to report it, aren’t you? Anyway, I went in the field where they’ve got their vans parked, and one of ’em came across to speak to me.”

  “I’ll kill ’im!” Derek said, getting to his feet.

  “Sit down and don’t be ridiculous!” Lois said. “He was polite, and asked me if I’d like to go and see the woman who owned the dog, to make sure.”

  “You didn’t go, surely?” Gran was looking alarmed now.

  “Shouldn’t we start our supper?” Lois replied, and began to eat.

  AT THE HOSPITAL, JOSIE HAD NEVER FELT SO TIRED, BUT WOULD not leave Rob’s bedside. She stifled a yawn, and went over once again in her head what had happened that night. If they hadn’t had that terrible row, he wouldn’t have stormed out and walked off in the dark to God knows where. He’d been out for hours, and then there’d been the call from the hospital. If he’d stayed at home with her, he wouldn’t have been attacked and dumped in a ditch for maybe hours before he was found.

  She thought back to what he had said before disappearing into the night. He had once more suggested they get married, and she had refused to give him a definite answer. Then he had lost his temper and said if she had cooled off in their relationship she might have the decency to say so. He had repeated his accusation that she was having a secret affair with “that cop Vickers,” and called her a tart. And then he had gone, slamming the door behind him. She should have had the courage to tell him exactly how she felt. She was fond of him, of course, but he was about as exciting as the man who came round with the fish. She supposed they had got too used to one another.

  How could she look at him now and think these thoughts? She yawned again and her eyes closed. She swayed on her seat, and the nurse caught her in time.

  “Come on, Josie, let’s go and find you a bed for a few hours’ sleep. You’ll be no use to Rob in this state. You’ll want to be bright and chirpy for him when he wakes up.”

  Josie stood up. The heart monitor pinged steadily, and there was no sign of him waking. His face twitched occasionally, and that was it. She went with the nurse to the door and stopped. The pinging had become uneven. The nurse had gone on ahead, and Josie in a panic called her back. Before Josie had reached the bed, the pinging had stopped and a continuous sound pierced the silence. From countless television programmes, she knew what that meant.

  “Help, for God’s sake! He’s dying!” she screamed, and then staff seemed to come from nowhere and the room was full of activity.

  DEREK WAS MAKING SURE THE DOORS WERE ALL LOCKED AND bolted when the teleph
one rang. It was Josie and she could hardly speak.

  “Dad? He’s gone. Rob’s gone.”

  “Who is it?” said Lois, and with one look at Derek’s face, knew it was Josie. She took the receiver from him and listened to her daughter’s stumbling account of how everything had been tried but nothing could bring him back to life.

  “Stay where you are,” Lois said. “We’ll be there in no time. Is someone with you?”

  A nurse came to the phone and assured Lois that they would look after Josie until they could pick her up. “Drive carefully, now, Mrs. Meade,” she said. “Arrive alive.”

  Under the circumstances, Lois thought this was probably the most tactless thing she had ever heard said by anyone.

  FIVE

  WITH JOSIE SAFELY BACK IN FARNDEN, TUCKED UP IN BED in her old room, the night passed in fitful sleep for them all. Josie had taken pills the hospital gave her, and was troubled with nightmares, all of them involving darkness and violence. Gran took the photograph of her smiling husband and put it on the pillow next to her, and Derek and Lois spent the night waking each other as they surfaced from troubled sleep.

  Next morning was a bad time for them all. Derek said he might as well go off and finish the job he was doing in Waltonby, and Lois and Gran sighed with relief as he went off in his van.

  “Best keeping himself occupied,” Gran said. “You and me can see to all the necessaries, Lois.”

  The telephone rang. Lois sighed. She knew who it was, and went into her office to answer the phone away from Gran’s sharp ears.

  “I was expecting a call from you earlier,” Lois said, and Cowgill replied that contrary to belief, the police were not without sensitivity.

  “How is Josie?” he asked, and winced as Lois said what the hell did he expect when the girl’s longtime partner had been brutally murdered?

  “Right. Please tell her how sorry we are. I need some help, Lois. Rob was, as you say, brutally attacked and left for dead. Now the poor fellow has died, and that is murder. We need to move quickly.”

  “Before they get on the road?” Lois said.

  “What d’you mean? Who? Do you know something, Lois?”

  “Only that one or two nosy parkers in the village have already assured me that it was one of the gypsies camped outside Farnden. I know nowt, and wouldn’t be so stupid as to jump to such an obvious conclusion.”

  “Nor would I, Lois. I think we need to meet, but I realise this will be diffic ult for you. It is just that you and your family can probably give us a good start in our investigations.”

  “A good start! You mean you’ve not started yet? Good God, man, Rob was attacked more than twenty-f our hours ago!”

  Cowgill frowned. “You know as well as I do, Lois, that I used a figure of speech. Of course we began as soon as the news came in.” He paused, and she did not reply.

  “So,” he continued, “I’ll be with you at twelve noon. If Gran and Derek could be there, so much the better. Goodbye.”

  And goodbye to you, too, Lois said to herself. She realised she had pushed Cowgill too far. She should know by now that he could be totally professional when required, even with her. But the sound of someone being violently sick in the bathroom put Cowgill from her mind, and she rushed upstairs. It was Josie, and she had awoken, not remembering for a few minutes. Then the whole nightmare had come back to her with a vengeance, and she vomited as if she would never stop.

  Lois coaxed her downstairs, and with Gran managed to persuade her to have a cup of tea and a piece of toast and Marmite. “You always used to like Marmite when you were a little girl,” said Gran. “It’ll be easier if you can get something inside you. Here, Lois,” she added, “you’d better have some, too. It’s going to be a long day.”

  “Longer than you think,” Lois muttered under her breath. She had somehow to break the news that Cowgill would be coming to question them. In the quietest possible voice she told them, and was surprised when there were no objections. Josie was obviously still numb, and Gran came from a generation of working-class people who did not argue with a policeman.

  A call to Derek’s mobile made sure that he would be at home at twelve noon, and Lois sat back, trying to organise her thoughts. She knew almost nothing more than that Rob and Josie had had a row, he had stormed out of the house, and had been found several hours later in a ditch on the Waltonby road.

  There was, of course, something else. She had told Derek and Gran no more about her encounter with the gypsies, but there had been more to tell. After the man had invited her to go and see the owner of the dog, she had followed him across the fie ld and up to a caravan that gleamed white in the darkness. He had knocked at the door and an elderly woman answered it. Her hair was braided neatly round her head, and her apple cheeks shone. Dark eyes peered out at Lois, and when the man explained, she had insisted on Lois going in to see the whippet, sound in wind and limb and contentedly in its basket.

  “This is Athalia Lee,” the man had said, and Lois was cordially invited to sit down. “Would you take a cup of tea with us?” Athalia had asked. “It was kind to come and ask after the dog. One of these days he’ll cause a real accident, then there’ll be trouble.” She looked at the man, who smiled. “More than usual,” he said. “They’d have us out of here quicker than you could say knife.” He saw Lois wince at the word, and frowned. “You’re safe enough here, y’ know, missus,” he said.

  Lois commented on the good smell coming from the bubbling saucepan, and the conversation drifted awkwardly into other subjects, but it was Lois who was ill at ease. The other two were warm and comfortable. Finally, having drunk a good cup of tea, Lois said she had to go, and Athalia had seen her to the door. “Come and see me again,” she’d said. “I’ll tell you how to make a good stew. I’ll not put the evil eye on ya, y’ know!”

  Now, as the minutes ticked slowly past in Gran’s kitchen, neither of them spoke. Lois was surprised at how sad she was at the thought of the gypsies being blamed without reason. A more practical point struck her. She realised just before Cowgill knocked at the door that now she would be able to approach Athalia Lee for help if she needed to.

  As the doorbell rang, she decided she would think twice before telling Cowgill of her visit to the gypsies.

  SIX

  JOSIE SAT WITH LOIS AND DEREK ON THE SOFA, AND GRAN fussed about making coffee. Hunter Cowgill had taken a comfortable chair next to Josie, and his note-taking assistant sat inconspicuously by the window.

  “Shall we wait until Mrs. Weedon comes in with the coffee?” Cowgill said kindly. “Then we shall all know what’s being said. Sometimes a memory from one person will trigger another.”

  “I’ve told you all I know,” Lois said, and Derek took Josie’s hand. “We don’t want her upset,” he said. Cowgill was not his favourite policeman, owing to the number of times he had involved Lois in dangerous cases. But he had to admit that Lois had been keen to be involved. It was like a hobby to her, he had decided, and had lost count of the number of times he wished she had taken up knitting instead.

  “Here we are,” said Gran, coming in with a tray. Coffee was handed out, and then they settled down to answer Cowgill’s questions. But first Cowgill told them what he and his colleagues had discovered already.

  It seemed that there had been no knife wounds. All Rob’s injuries had been caused by fists or boots, or a heavy stick or club. No witnesses to the attack had come forward.

  “What d’you mean by ‘club’?” Lois said. “A golf club? Or a weight lifter’s club or . . .” She couldn’t think of any other kind.

  “A blunt instrument, you could say. Something heavy with an even heavier end to it.”

  “A baseball bat,” Josie said, as if suddenly emerging from a dense fog. “Could’ve been that, if Rob had come across thugs looking for trouble. He would’ve tried to defend himself, but he wasn’t strong and wouldn’t have had no weapon.” Her lip began to wobble, and Derek squeezed her hand.

  “Try not to think
about it, duckie,” he said.

  “We’ve got to think about it,” Josie answered, and looked at Lois. “After all,” she said, “Mum is our own private sleuth. Between us we’ll get ’em, whoever he or they were.” Lois nodded and turned to look at Cowgill, who could see tears in her eyes. Oh Lord, he thought, this is going to be a tricky one. No hopes of a cool, dispassionate Lois this time.

  NOTHING VERY USEFUL EMERGED FROM THIS FIRST SESSION, AND Cowgill drove back to Tresham trying to sort out what had been said. The most useful contribution had been Josie’s suggestion of what might have been the weapon. He could not at this stage believe the encounter had been deliberately planned. As far as he could see, Rob had not had enemies. A mild sort of chap, with perhaps not enough drive or ambition for Josie, who was growing very like her mother. He smiled to himself. Heaven help anyone who crossed the path of the pair of them! Then he thought of his nephew, Matthew Vickers, keen young policeman and probably more than interested in Josie Meade. How soon before he heard from him?

  Lois, too, was thinking hard as she drove into Tresham to call in at the office in Sebastopol Street. For her, Josie’s suggestion had set off a useful line of thought. First, sort out the kind of people who might own or have access to the kind of weapon likely to have been used. Right. A golf club. Easily available, but carrying one in a casual encounter? Nervous widows kept one under the bed, but she’d never heard of hoodies carrying golf clubs, or evil gangs in Tresham arming themselves with natty putters.

  So had Rob been weaving his way home in the middle of the road when a defeated golfer had failed to get past him, stopped his car and beaten him up with a handy club? Or had some young oaf, fresh from a team victory in a baseball game and on his way home, yelled insults at Rob who had tried to engage him in a befuddled argument? The alcohol level in his blood had been high. But a baseball game? Where? When?