Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002) (24 page)

“It’s the only way I can be sure everyone is taken care of,” she said when Derek suggested she might relax and give them all a break. She returned to work, but went through her cleaning tasks efficiently and without, if possible, conversation with her employers. If it was unavoidable, she kept her replies to noncommittal banalities.

She did not want to think of anything but home and family. Remembering the vicar’s warning, she convinced herself that nothing she could do would bring Gloria’s murderer any quicker to justice. The police would succeed. It was time to forget the whole business and concentrate on what was most important. She suspected she had made an idiot of herself, and it was time to make amends.

∗

It was a fine Monday morning and she was just back from the doctor’s house, where Mary Rix had been blithely singing along with her sewing machine in the new, light and airy little room. Dr Rix, too, had been cheerful and self-assured. Lois comforted herself that at least she had done
some
good in the last few months. Who cared now about that tiny baby in a faded photograph? Gloria was gone. Lois could only do harm by pursuing Mary Rix’s connection with the baby and bringing new shadows into the doctor’s house when his wife had swept them all away with such courage.

“Josie! How nice…” She looked at the kitchen table, all set ready for lunch for three, and the tempting smell of pizza coming from the oven. “You shouldn’t have done this,” Lois admonished.

Josie smiled. “Better than mooning around doing nothing. I’m fed up with the telly, Mum. And the doctor said I could start being more active.” Lois saw that Josie’s cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, and realized that she had finally more or less recovered.

“Well, thanks, love,” she said. “Something in the oven smells great!” She took off her coat, and washed her hands. “Maybe we could go shopping this afternoon? Get you some new things for going back to school?”

To her surprise, Josie shook her head. “No, I think I’d better stay around here,” she said. “Might get a visitor, if I’m lucky.” Though Lois asked her twice who the visitor would be, Josie refused to answer.

She laughed. “You’ll see,” she said. “And anyway, he might not be able to make it.”

Then Lois knew. It was Melvyn, the only ‘he’ that was guaranteed to bring that blush to Josie’s face.

“I see,” she said with a sigh. They had thought he was safely out the way. Well, maybe Melvyn wouldn’t make it. And maybe he would.

∗

It was around half past two when the doorbell went and Josie rushed to answer it. Lois heard Melvyn’s voice and a silence that could only have been a warm embrace. She stayed in the sitting room, praying for guidance on how to handle this, until the pair came into the room. Josie’s smile was wide and Melvyn looked somehow older, although he hadn’t been away for long.

“Hello, Mrs Meade. Nice to see you again.” He came forward and gave her a peck on the cheek and brushed her with an adult scent of aftershave and soap.

Such charm, such self-assurance in one so young. Lois felt uneasy, certain that whatever it was about Melvyn that now made her feel vaguely threatened, was not imagination, nor to do with being an over-protective mother. He was too smooth, too confident that he could win her over. She remembered now how easily he had gained her sympathy, against Derek’s strongly expressed disapproval. No longer sure of her own judgement after recent events, Lois was coolly pleasant to Melvyn, but made it plain to him that Josie was still convalescent and he should not stay too long and tire her. Josie protested that she was fine, but Lois made a point of saying she was only fourteen, and would have to do what her mother told her for a few more years. She said it lightly, made a little joke of it, but Josie could not mistake the authority in her voice.

Melvyn just smiled his warm smile and after a while suggested that as it was such a lovely day, perhaps Lois would allow Josie to come for a short stroll. The fresh air would do her good, he urged. Lois could not reasonably argue with this, but made them promise to be back in half an hour at the latest. Josie took Melvyn’s hand as they went down the path and Lois fought back an irrational desire to pull Josie back.

∗

“So the bugger came, did he,” said Derek. They were preparing for bed after an evening in front of the television. Things were not good between them. Derek said little and many of Lois’s remarks were still barbed, in spite of knowing that this was getting them nowhere.

How long does it take? she wondered. She could see all the arguments for taking a reasonable line, for putting Derek’s unfaithfulness behind her, for making a new start. All good common sense, but wounded pride, she supposed it was, kept breaking the surface and out would come a taunt, or a sharp remark, that set them back again. But why should she do all the work? Derek was the transgressor! Let
him
mend the fences, and make her feel secure again. But he didn’t. He came and went, did all he could to help Josie’s recovery, was his usual fatherly self with the boys, and teased Lois’s mother in the same old way. With Lois, he was guarded. It was almost as if he was frightened of her. He was polite, of course. He didn’t rise to her taunts, and most of the time she realized he was keeping out of her way.

“Yes, Melvyn came,” said Lois. “They went for a walk and he got her back home at the time I said. He was charming, friendly and affectionate. Josie was over the moon.”

“Huh,” said Derek.

Lois was silent for a few seconds. “Derek,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you like him? He doesn’t seem to put a foot wrong.”

“Have you forgotten?” he said. “That time in the factory?”

“No, but Josie could have been exaggerating…” It was no good. She knew Derek was right and it was a relief to admit it. “No, she wasn’t, was she,” she continued. “There’s something about him…I didn’t feel comfortable about him and Josie today. I should’ve listened to you before.”

It was a small advance, but Derek saw his chance. “Probably nothing in it,” he said magnanimously. “But I think we should make sure she doesn’t get involved with him again. With luck, he’ll get interested in some new girl where he now lives. Anyway, Lois,” he added, hopping into bed and looking at her hopefully. “Fancy a cuddle? Kiss and make-up, gel?”

He held his breath, and to his enormous relief Lois managed a smile. “Cheeky bugger,” she said, and slipped in beside him.

∗

Next morning, Derek whistled as he went off to work, and Lois’s mother noticed. “Thank goodness for that,” she muttered. “Come on, boy,” she said cheerfully, helping Jamie into his jacket. “The Professor’s this morning, isn’t it?” she said to Lois. “Well, Josie’s coming home with me and then we’re going up the shopping centre. OK?”

“Fine,” said Lois, grinning at her mother.

On her way to Farnden, for the first time since Josie’s illness, Lois realized she was thinking about the murder again. She tried to banish the thought, but it returned. Many times since that awful day when Josie had been taken ill, she had remembered Peter White’s kindness and support. She had also noticed the concern in the vicar’s expression when Derek had joined her in the hospital and there was no longer any need for him to stay. Afterwards, when he’d frequently asked how Josie was progressing, she had looked at his serious face and told herself that such a man was not capable of committing murder.

She stopped at the village shop for bread and as she emerged Rachel Barratt drew up in her car. She wound down the window and called out to Lois that she was going to see a friend for the day, but Lois could carry on as usual. “Malcolm’s there,” she added. “Perhaps you’d make him a coffee? He’s working on something urgent, so you’ll probably not get into his study!” She laughed gaily, and drove off, leaving Lois muttering that she wouldn’t care if she never went into his study again.

The house seemed quiet to Lois, as if no one was there, but if Malcolm was high up in his study, she wouldn’t hear anything anyway. She began cleaning up the kitchen, thinking resentfully that Rachel usually cleared the breakfast things before gadding off on a jaunt. She put on the radio softly, as she always did if left alone in a house. Suddenly, she wasn’t alone, and there was Malcolm at the door.

“Shut that thing off!” he said, with no preliminaries. “I want a word with you,” he added, and advanced into the room.

Lois backed towards the sink, her heart thudding. For God’s sake! It was probably only about coffee…She said quickly, “I’m busy. It can wait until I bring your coffee.” She tried to edge round towards the door.

“You can do what you’re bloody well told!” he shouted at her. “What did I say, Lois Meade? Keep out of my private business! And what do I find? You’ve been ringing a friend of mine, pretending to be a wrong number! My God, I’ll…”

He advanced further and grabbed her arms. She had time to see that his eyes were bloodshot and his breath stank…but, then her head began to swim.

∗

“Lois?” Malcolm’s voice was far away, coming to her through a thick fog. It was such an effort to hear him that she gave up. But she had been frightened…wasn’t that it?

Something had terrified her and the feeling was coming back. Threatened…someone was threatening her, coming closer. She could smell his breath. She could still smell it, very close, and suddenly she was conscious, and very frightened indeed.

Malcolm’s face was close to hers and she pushed him away violently. “Leave me alone!” she tried to shout, but it came out as a squeak.

“Now, Lois,” he said, his voice controlled now and full of oily concern. “You fainted, my dear. Probably been doing too much, with your daughter’s illness and all of that. Just relax for a few minutes, then I’ll make you a cup of tea. Hot and sweet?” He smiled at her and backed away as she sat up, shaking with the effort.

“I don’t want tea,” she said. “I’m going home and I shall not be back here…ever again.” Holding on to the edge of the table, she managed to stand up. The kitchen was revolving again and she grabbed the draining board with both hands. But the realisation that she now had her back to Malcolm gave her strength enough to turn around. She took a tentative step, then another, and to her huge relief the whirling vertigo settled down and she was able to reach the door. “I don’t know what happened,” she said, “but I expect it’ll come back to me. I just know I have to go. No, don’t come near me!” she added quickly, as he moved to hold the door open for her. “I’ll give Rachel a ring.”

She got the car going with difficulty. It was as if she was driving alone for the first time. She had to remind herself of each step. Turn the key…foot on clutch…into gear…When the car moved away slowly from the Barratts’ house, she noticed a car behind her. In her driving mirror she saw Keith Simpson at the wheel and she raised her left hand in salute. Once outside Farnden and approaching Alibone Woods, she suddenly began to feel dizzy again and decided to stop. She wanted to think, anyway, in peace and quiet. It was her best hope of recalling what had happened. Keith slowed up, opened his window and yelled, “OK Lois?” She felt dizzy, but the last thing she wanted was anxious attention from Keith Simpson, so she nodded and waved him on, pulling into the layby. He accelerated fast and disappeared.

Alibone Woods in spring shimmered with bluebells and crowds came from town to see them, but now it was winter, quiet and deserted. This was where Hunter Cowgill had suggested they should meet, but she’d had no occasion to call him. She got out of the car and walked up a wide track under the tall beech trees which extended across the landscape as far as she could see. The brilliant sun had gone and heavy clouds hung over the woods. The chilly solitude surrounding Lois cleared her head. She had been frightened, terrified, and it was something Malcolm Barratt did or said. He’d appeared suddenly, making her start with surprise. The radio had been on, she remembered. That’s right…he’d told her to turn it off and then he started shouting at her. Why? She took a narrow path deeper into the woods and a rabbit scuttled across her path. Normally, she thought, I should be scared stiff of a running rabbit. Nothing would have persuaded me into a lonely wood on my own, but now, she thought, there were far worse things to be scared by. A mossy tree stump, the remains of an ancient oak, served as a damp seat. She felt shaky again and hoped she’d be able to find the car again. She’d left her mobile there, so she couldn’t phone Derek to come and rescue her. Telephone…It was something to do with a phone call…Pamela! He’d said that name, shouted it at the top of his voice. Suddenly, she remembered it all. The accusation, his spitting rage as he advanced on her in the kitchen. She’d fainted then. Did he touch her? She felt her throat tentatively, but it was not in the least sore. No bruises anywhere, so he didn’t touch her. But if she hadn’t fainted, she was sure he would have attacked her. He’d been out of control, with flecks of white at the corners of his mouth.

Pamela…It was the name in the address book on his desk, and she had been going to ring her up and pretend to be a wrong number. She’d decided against it because she couldn’t see anything to be gained from it. After all, the woman would hardly be likely to say anything of interest to a perfect stranger. Someone had phoned Pamela, though. It must have been Rachel. Perhaps she’d noticed the name just as Lois had done, and had suspicions. After all, she had every reason. Malcolm was an old letch and had just returned from some mysterious absence. Rachel was only human.

Lois stood up, brushing the back of her damp coat. People’ll think I’ve wet myself, she thought, and began to laugh. It was such a relief to know she would not be going back to the Barratts. There would be no problem about getting another job, she knew. Mary Rix was always asking if she had any free time to clean for other people in the village. “Good riddance, Professor Barratt!” she yelled to the silent wood. Lois set off back down the narrow path, looking down at her feet as she picked her way through puddles and heaps of fallen twigs. Suddenly there was a shadow in front of her and she looked up in terror.

“Morning Lois,” said Inspector Cowgill. “I hope I didn’t startle you.” But Lois was swaying and he had to reach out quickly to support her. “Here, steady!” he said and put an arm around her, furious with himself for being so insensitive. Simpson had telephoned him from his car and he’d come straight out to the woods, sure that something was up. Clearly Lois had had a shock of some kind.