Lois Meade 14 - Suspicion at Seven Read online

  “The waterwheel is a magnificent piece of machinery. Was he particularly interested in it? I know that working mill wheels are difficult to find nowadays.”

  “Yes, he was fascinated by it, Inspector. He belonged to a sort of society of people who are interested in working mills, and so he knew very well how dangerous they could be. Of course, this wheel doesn’t turn machinery anymore, and the hotel people keep it going as an added attraction. I know they were told to take all kinds of safety measures before they opened up the restaurant extension where the wheel can be seen turning. There had been some extra work going on, with those orange-striped cones all round a bit where they had taken the safety grid away. I can only think Donald ignored them, thinking he knew how to avoid the dangers.”

  Cowgill nodded. “And the last time you saw him was at home, in company with Mrs. Meade, who had called to see you?”

  “Yes, that’s right. And Lois and I were together the whole time from then on until I saw . . . well, until I saw Donald and screamed.”

  At this point, she slumped in her chair and closed her eyes, desperately trying to keep calm.

  “Very well, Mrs. Black. That will be all for now. Do you plan to go back home today? I shall need to see you again, I’m afraid, as our enquiries proceed, but so long as you let us know if you are going away, that will be fine.”

  “Oh, I shall not be able to go away, Inspector. I have to get back to the bakery today. In fact, very soon. The bread won’t wait for me, I’m afraid. The shop will be shut today, but open again tomorrow.”

  She almost smiled, and then walked calmly out of the office and back to the kitchen. “The inspector would like to see you now, Gran, if that’s convenient,” she said.

  “Huh, or if it’s not, I expect. Right, here goes. Help yourself to anything you fancy, Aurora. Shan’t be long.”

  Lois made another cup of tea, and she and Aurora sat at the table in silence for a minute or two. Then Lois drew a deep breath and asked Aurora if she could think of any reason why Donald should have fallen into the water and been taken along by the flow across the wheel.

  “Or was he pushed?” Aurora answered with a grim face. “I am sure that’s what the police are thinking. Cowgill almost said it, but then skirted round it. And of course I’ve been thinking it myself. But he had no enemies, Lois. Always kind and charming to everybody. His cheerful personality was not put on, and it worked wonders in the jewellery parties. Only once have I known him to lose his temper with me, and that was when he shouted at you on the telephone! He apologised profusely afterwards.”

  “Was it something you said? I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but my head is full of questions, as is yours, I’m sure.”

  “I can’t really remember, but I think it was something to do with one of his colleagues. I thought he was trying to cheat Donald, but he wouldn’t listen. He was very loyal to his staff. And that day he had a headache. I should have shut up!”

  “Well, don’t worry now. It’ll turn out to have been a tragic accident, I am sure. Now, I am taking you back to the bakery, and I’ll stay in case you feel wobbly.”

  “Thanks, Lois. You are such a good friend. Thanks for everything.”

  * * *

  Lois was not pretending when she said her head was full of questions, and some of them related to the previous death in the Mill House Hotel, including the woman who was found strangled with her own necklace. Donald Black had denied all likely connection with his jewellery business, though she had a collection in her bag.

  When confronted with a photograph of the woman, he had said that he had never seen her before, and that she could have been one of the sellers recruited by someone else. Lois saw again the redhead under the potted palm. Was he being blackmailed by the murdered woman’s friend? Or was it a romantic assignation? Or only a genuine business meeting, and the redhead one of his own recruits?

  “The bread is proving now, Lois, and there is nothing more for us to do. Why don’t you go off home, and then if you don’t mind, we could talk on the telephone this evening. I expect it will all come flooding back—oh God! Flooding! Why does everything seem so watery this morning?”

  She was in tears again, but sniffed them back and leaned forward to kiss Lois’s cheek. “Off you go now. Safe journey home.”

  * * *

  What a brave woman! Lois put her van into gear and drove slowly away, seeing in her driving mirror that Aurora was still watching and waving. And she was so efficient, as she prepared the dough for the oven! All kneaded by a steady hand, as if being punished for having the effrontery to rise, sometimes overspilling the tins. Perhaps it was a good way of releasing tension? Gran was a great one for vigorous cleaning and polishing, and she would say there was always plenty of tension in the Meade kitchen.

  When she arrived home, she found washing blowing in the brisk wind, and Gran and her friend Joan up in the vegetable patch inspecting raspberry canes. Summer was well on the way now, and jam making in the offing. They were probably commiserating with each other over the cancelling of their plans, poor things.

  There was a message for Lois in her office. Inspector Cowgill would be grateful if she could spare time to call in at the police station, if she was in town that afternoon. As it happened, she had planned to go in to the New Brooms office to have a couple of hours with Hazel going through paperwork. Hazel was very capable, but liked Lois to check in regularly.

  She called his number. “About three? Is that okay? You won’t be off to an important meeting the minute I arrive? I do have to get home to catch up on New Brooms matters. I cancelled my usual staff meeting today, and we’ll be having it tomorrow at lunchtime. Has anything new come up?”

  Cowgill said that he would save any developments until she called in. “Take care, now, Lois,” he said. “Having too much on your mind can cause accidents. See you at three.”

  TWENTY

  Hazel was pleased to see Lois, as always, and asked about the family and Lois’s friend Mrs. Black.

  “She’s still in shock, I think,” Lois said. “Seems very calm and quiet, and carrying on the bakery on her own. I don’t know what will happen about the jewellery business, though I know she helped Donald with it. She might decide to continue with it on her own, but it would be a lot of extra work.”

  “Have you bought any of the stuff? I went to one of his parties, and it was really nice. Very tasteful, but sparkly and nice, I thought.”

  “I bought a present for Josie. A real pearl, set as a pendant. I think my mum and her friend were thinking seriously of being Donald’s sellers, setting up their own parties and so on. I think that’s how it works.”

  “Would he have taken a percentage of what they sold?”

  “No, they paid a membership fee, so they were members of the scheme. At their first party, they would get a starter pack at a big discount, and this was for demonstrations. Then they would take orders, and again take a cut as they sold the stuff. It’s complicated, but I know there are incentives to get more and more recruits to sell jewellery. There were cleverly disguised things like having to find a set number of recruits in your first month of membership. After that, I’m not sure how it worked.”

  “You must have been a bit worried about your mother. Sounds like one of those notorious pyramid party ideas.”

  “Yeah, well, I think Donald must have found a legal way. He’s been doing this scheme for some time, ever since he worked for the chiropodist. Fortunately, and according to my mother, no money had changed hands, except the membership fee, and that has a get-out clause.”

  Lois looked at Hazel, who was frowning. “And no, Hazel Thornbull! I did not drown him to extricate my mother from a crooked scam!”

  Hazel laughed. “As if you would,” she said.

  “But someone did, unless he was in trouble, and jumped,” said Lois, serious now. “Though for reasons unknown, at the m
oment. But the police are on to it.”

  They left the subject now and switched to New Brooms business. “There’s a possible new client,” said Hazel. “She phoned this morning. Lives over in Fletching, in a posh house by the river. I know it, from when John had a Prentise friend in the village. A Mrs. Prentise.”

  “Spelt with an s? It’s an old Tresham name, but most people spell it with a c. I expect they get fed up with people getting it wrong. Well-known family in the seamier side of Tresham life. Go on.”

  “She said she was getting old and no longer able to keep the house as clean as she would like. I told her you would be in touch. Okay?”

  Lois said she would go over tomorrow morning, so she would be able to sort out a rota for her with the others at the meeting.

  After they were through with business matters, Lois asked if all was going well on the farm. Hazel’s husband, John, was an old friend, and their little daughter one of Lois’s goddaughters.

  “John’s very busy. He’s bought new stock. A beautiful rare-breed bullock with curly hair, and a few heifers. You must come up and see them, Mrs. M. Any time. You’re always welcome.”

  Lois thanked her, and gathered her papers together. “Better be off now. I have to call in at the police station at three, to be grilled by Inspector Cowgill on what I know about the Blacks. Not something I look forward to.”

  “Take care, then. See you later.”

  * * *

  Inspector Cowgill was waiting in reception, and escorted her up to his office, where he sat down behind his desk and smiled broadly at her.

  “What’s new, then?” Lois said. “You look pleased with yourself this afternoon.”

  “You know perfectly well that you are the person I most want to see at any time of day or night. But . . . First of all, how are you coping with Mrs. Black and her sad loss?”

  “I’m all right, but poor Aurora is coping much too well.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that she is quietly back into her usual routine in the bakery, and does not speak of the accident unless the subject is brought up by someone else. I suppose that’s natural, but she looks like she’s holding on tight and might give way any minute.”

  “Let me know if you need any help with her. She doesn’t seem to have any helpful relations. No mother or sister. There is a daughter, I believe? Training to be a nurse? No, our Aurora’s background is a bit of a puzzle. But she might like to talk about that to you? And then there’s Donald. Neither of them seemed to have brought any friends or relations with them when they turned up in Brigham.”

  “I’ll have a go. But first you can tell me something about that woman who was strangled in the hotel. What happened to the necklace? Does it go into a strongbox in the police station, or what?”

  “Why do you ask? Do you want to see it? It is a valuable piece of evidence. I can probably get a photograph of it to show you, but I cannot allow you to keep it. The case is still very much open.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important. I remember Donald saying they could order more of the same. Paperwork might be interesting, if this is the one ordered to replace Josie’s. Customer’s name, et cetera?”

  “Best to find a photo now; then it won’t leave the station.”

  Cowgill lifted his telephone and made a call. “It’ll be here in a few minutes,” he said. “There will be prints, of course.”

  They exchanged pleasantries about Josie and Matthew until a constable came in, bearing a folder with a photograph inside. Lois looked at it closely. It was a largish pearl, set into a slender silver chain.

  “Oh dear,” she said. “I think it’s the same.”

  “Same as what?”

  “Same as one I bought from Donald Black for Josie’s birthday. Didn’t you see it at that lunch we had in the hotel? I think she was wearing it then. She may be reluctant to keep it now, especially because it looks the same. Anyway, I don’t suppose she is likely to see Sylvia’s, or even this photograph.”

  The inspector took the photograph and looked at it for several seconds. Then he returned it to the folder. “Someone was very keen to silence poor Sylvia,” he said.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Gran woke early, and after washing and dressing quietly, she went down to make herself an early cup of tea. She had planned to go round to see Joan mid-morning, so that they could privately work out how to retrieve their sizeable membership fees, already showing paid out of her bank account, and presumably Joan’s, too. Now she needed to look for the documentation they had received from Brigham Jewellery, and then all would be well.

  She found the folder they had been given by Donald and, to her chagrin, could find nothing relating to the membership fee. This was the first time she had really looked at the pieces of paper carefully. She had previously assumed anything Donald had given her would be bona fide.

  “Mum? Are you all right?” It was Lois, standing in the doorway in her dressing gown, rubbing her eyes. “You’re up early, aren’t you?”

  Gran slid the folder under a cushion and said she had only woken up and thought she’d make an early start. “It’s your New Brooms meeting at twelve, and I like to be ready to supply refreshments.”

  Lois knew this was an excuse. Her mother had been making trays of coffee and biscuits for the Brooms staff for several years now, and needed only about half an hour’s notice.

  “Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll bring you and Derek your cups of tea. By then it will be time for me to start on breakfast. Best smoked-back bacon with mushrooms this morning.”

  Lois frowned and shook her head. This was not the usual Gran. She was customarily full of doom and gloom at this time of the morning. She’s hiding something, thought Lois. And I bet I know what it is.

  “We’ll be fine, thanks,” she said. “I’ll tell Derek about breakfast, and he’ll be down like a shot.” She smiled at her mother and disappeared upstairs.

  Gran pulled out the folder, took it into the kitchen and put it in a large shopping bag, meaning to take it to Joan’s. She had worried away a couple of hours before going to sleep last night, and in the end come to the conclusion that people don’t get murdered for no reason. Donald Black was obviously up to no good with his mistress, and in Gran’s book that made him untrustworthy. Before sleep finally came, she had decided she wanted no more to do with it, and would encourage Joan that the two of them should get out as soon as possible.

  Between the two of them, they should be able to crack it. She supposed she should ask Derek for help, or even Lois, who, after all, ran her own business efficiently. Well, if all else failed, that is what she would do, and put up with the lectures and I-told-you-so’s.

  She turned up the Rayburn and began to heat the frying pan.

  * * *

  Joan, meanwhile, had another plan. She suspected that Donald was running a dodgy pyramid enterprise, and had been given a push into the mill water, where he would be drawn by the current approaching the mill wheel. Quite clever, really, she thought, as she washed her few breakfast dishes and swept the kitchen floor. And all cooked up by someone with a taste for the dramatic!

  Next, a daily chore that she quite enjoyed. She had a beautiful ragdoll cat, and every day she brushed its fine long coat. This morning, the cat, named unimaginatively Hairy-puss, stood beside the heap of fur, meowing loudly for its saucer of milk, a reward for standing still as Joan brushed.

  “There you are, then, puss,” she said. “And there’s Elsie coming down the passage, looking as if the end of the world is nigh!”

  Gran waved through the kitchen window, and came on in, clutching her large bag, and steering well clear of the cat, which was inclined to make her sneeze.

  “Morning, gel,” she said. “I’ve come to get us sorted out. Are you ready?”

  “I’m more than ready,” said Joan. “I’ve thoug
ht of a master plan, which will not only get us out of trouble with our nearest and dearest, but should make us a bit of pocket money on the side.”

  Gran stared at her. “It had better be good, Joanie,” she said. “My only concern is to get our money back as soon as possible and hear no more, ever, about such plans. Are you going to get the kettle on? Sounds as if we shall need a coffee or two before we’re finished.”

  When they were settled in Joan’s comfortable sitting room, Gran said that she would set out what she planned to do, and then Joan could tell her about the fancy ideas she seemed to have dreamed up.

  Joan agreed, smiled at the sarcasm, and told Gran to get going.

  “Well, as you know, my Lois is working with the police on trying to find Donald’s killer. If there was one. One of my guesses is that he had got himself in such a financial tangle that he jumped into the water, thinking someone would fish him out before he drowned and then he could confess why he’d done it and everybody would be sympathetic and helpful. We need to know if anyone was standing around and saw him jump.”

  “Maybe not, if he didn’t get fished out in time?”

  Gran nodded. “Got it in one,” she said. “And then, there’s the other possibility, that someone was there, and that same someone had a grudge against him and gave him a shove.”

  “Could he swim?” asked Joan.

  “Dunno. Something else to find out. Lois knows his wife pretty well. We can get her to find out. You can bet the police have been on to that right away.”

  “So when we’ve found out all of this, how does it help us get our money back?”

  Gran looked doubtful. “When we have all the information we need on who’s behind this jewellery thing, we go straight there and demand our money back. There’s bound to be money in the kitty somewhere. Now, can you do any better? I’m all ears.”