Secrets on Saturday (23 page)

Lois nodded. “Fine, off you go, then. Bye.” They almost ran away from her, and were out of sight in minutes. What was all that about? Time for a serious talk with those two, but not dangerously close to the sewage works. Lois looked at her watch, and walked on at speed.

* * *

A
S THEY APPROACHED HOME
, L
OIS REMEMBERED THAT
her mother would be out. She had a front door key in her pocket, and opened up. Jeems was growling, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. “Just a minute, let me get in!” Lois said and stepped over the rumbling dog. She stepped on to something squashy, and jumped back in alarm.

“What the hell?” Then she picked up Jeems and held on tight.

On the mat, stretched out in
rigor mortis
, was a very dead rat. A big rat, with a snarl on its vicious face.

“T
HE CAT MUST HAVE BROUGHT IT IN
,” D
EREK SAID
later.

“We haven’t got a cat.” Gran spoke very quietly.

“Melvyn died,” Lois said, staring into space.

“Oh, sod it,” Derek said, taking her hand. “Lois, me duck, what
have
you been up to?”

L
OIS WAITED UNTIL NEXT MORNING TO TELEPHONE
Cowgill. She had been shocked, and for a short while, frightened. So now she was a target, along with Floss and Ben, and William Cox who had disappeared. Another warning to keep our noses out of whatever was going on, she thought. Well, bugger that! Her anger was rising now, and as she waited for Cowgill to answer, her resolve hardened. Nobody would tell her what to do! She liked old Mr. Everitt, and had still to discover the truth
about Cox. No, if she watched her back she was sure all would be well.

“Ah, there you are. What took you so long?”

“Morning, Lois. And difficult as you may find it to believe, I do work pretty hard. Especially now we have a gang of serial rapists and potential abductors of young women on our hands. I expect you’ve seen the news?”

“Yep. Sorry. I take it all back. Under the circs, you probably don’t want to know we’ve had another of them dead animal warnings. Me, this time. A dead rat on the doormat. And no, the cat didn’t bring it in, because Melvyn snuffed it a few weeks ago.”

“A warning to
you
?” Cowgill had snapped into official mode. “Have they got suspicious, whoever they are?”

“A reasonable deduction,” said Lois acidly. “But that’s not putting me off. Derek is not too pleased, and Gran is terrified, but tough. I’ve got a good idea now who is doing this dirty stuff, and a dead rat’s not stopping me.”

“Who is it, then?” Cowgill saw his hand was trembling at the thought of Lois in danger. You poor sap, he told himself.

“Not telling,” said Lois. “I’ll wait until I’m sure, otherwise you’ll have your boys in hobnail boots blundering in and messing it all up.”

“Lois! May I remind you we are the police, and upholders of the law? It is my duty to follow up any suspicious circumstances, so …”

“But you’re not going to, are you? You trust me by now to choose the right time, surely. So I’ll be in touch, soon, I hope.”

“Lois! Before you slam down the phone, I must insist that you do not attempt anything dangerous, or even risky, but inform me immediately you have some useful evidence.”

“Fine,” said Lois, and put the telephone down as gently as she could.

* * *

W
ITH AN HOUR TO SPARE BEFORE SHE WAS DUE AT
Dallyn Hall, Lois decided to sit down at her computer and surf websites concerning badgers. The reports of badger-baiting cases up before the courts were the most interesting. Young men, mostly, had worked in groups of three or four and were often caught in the act as a result of tip-offs. Lois looked at the fines. Only one of the cases resulted in a prison sentence. The rest were fines ranging from under a hundred pounds to over a thousand. The maximum allowed, she discovered, was £5,000, but found no fines even approaching this. Dogs were sometimes confiscated, and baiters forbidden to keep their own terriers for two or maybe three years. In several cases, the accused had East London addresses, but were arrested in the Midlands.

Derek had come in softly and was standing behind her, and she didn’t have time to switch to some more innocent site. “Found anything?” he said. Lois was surprised. She expected him to blow his top and forbid her to have anything more to do with badgers, dogs, policemen and walking in the woods. But no, he leaned over her shoulder, kissed her cheek, and said, “Mind if I have a butcher’s?”

They sat together for nearly an hour, reading the shocking evidence of cruelty and violence. Policemen were threatened with spades by the baiters, terriers were torn apart by badgers and badgers by terriers. Some dogs got stuck down the badger holes, and were abandoned by their owners, who took off into the night.

“Makes y’ sick, dunnit,” said Derek, sighing deeply. “And it’s a dangerous business to get mixed up in. You can see that for yourself, Lois. Look at that one … revenge on a farmer who’d turned them off his land.”

“Is there money in it? Or just a thirst for blood and the fun of watching creatures suffer?”

Derek shook his head. “Don’t know about money. The other is probably right. But I heard an old bloke in the pub say that they all did it in the old days. And once you’d killed an animal, it was twice as easy the next time.
Makes you wonder if it makes it easy to kill, full stop. Like in the war, I suppose.”

Lois shivered. She thought of Herbert Everitt and William Cox, two vulnerable old men disappeared from sight. She wished she could find some hard evidence that would get Cowgill going! “Better stop now,” she said, turning off her computer. “I’m due at Dallyn in twenty minutes. Still, quite a lot to think about, isn’t it.”

Derek nodded, and put his arm around her. “You’re my most treasured possession, so remember what I said,” he whispered in her ear.

She stared at him. “You’ve been reading too many of Gran’s romances! And I’m nobody’s possession, so get yourself back to work, you wally!”

Derek laughed. “That’s my Lois,” he said, and left her office.

O
N HIS WAY TO THE JOB HE WAS DOING THE OTHER
side of Waltonby, Derek considered badgers. He’d never had much reason to give them a thought before. They were just large striped animals, dead at the side of the road, slowly rotting and eventually consumed by birds and small mammals who scavenged and cleared up the mess.

Now he thought about what he’d seen on Lois’s computer. He knew farmers were able to catch and kill foxes, but badgers were a protected species. He knew about TB infections transmitted to cattle. He’d heard on farming programmes reports of petitions to get government approval to gas the sick badgers, and petitions to stop the licensed cruelty, as it was seen by pro-badger lobbies. But he was an electrician, a good one who knew his job. Badgers were incidental to his life—or had been, until Lois got herself involved.

He passed Cox’s Wood and slowed down. On an impulse he stopped and got out of his van. Stepping into the edge of the wood, he went a few yards and then stood still and listened. Not a sound, except for rustling leaves and
birdsong. There must be quite a din when baiting was going on, what with dogs and fighting and encouragement from the tormentors. He turned back. Dark nights with no moon would be the most likely.

F
LOSS WAITED FOR
L
OIS IN THE YARD BEHIND THE
hotel. She was looking up at the huge trees surrounding the building, swaying in the brisk wind. “Must have been lovely in the old days,” she said.

“Still on about that? Come on, you’re a young girl with her whole life in front of her. Never mind about the old days,” Lois said, remembering what the old man in the pub had said to Derek about the old days.

They went in through the servants’ entrance and found the Director of Hotel Services waiting for them. There was no smile of welcome. In fact, she frowned and said she’d like a word in her office. Lois bit back a sharp retort, and followed the broad-hipped woman. Stately as a galleon, she thought. She put a reassuring hand on Floss’s arm, and winked at her. The director walked into her office and glanced obviously at the ornate clock on the wall and said, “You’re ten minutes late.”

Lois thought of explaining she had been investigating the torture and massacre of an innocent wild animal, but decided against it. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Unavoidable, I’m afraid, and we shall certainly be working ten minutes later to make up.”

She turned to go, but the director snapped, “That’s not all!” As she moved behind her desk, her high stiletto heels caught in a Chinese rug, and she stumbled, clutching a stack of CDs stored in a teetering tower. Before Lois could reach her, it had crashed to the floor, scattering the disks.

“Oh, bloody hell!” The director collected herself, and slumped into a chair.

“Don’t worry,” said Floss, clearly suppressing a giggle, “we’ll collect them all up, won’t we, Mrs. M.”

Lois nodded. “Now, we must get on. What else was it you wanted to say?”

“Oh, nothing,” the director replied peevishly. “Just leave me alone, and go and do some work. That’s what you’re paid for.”

Lois took Floss’s hand and drew her away out of the office, carefully shutting the door behind her. She put her finger to her lips, but it was too late. Floss exploded, spluttering and running as fast as she could to get away. In the safety of the Great Hall, full of fake designer lion heads and portraits by the yard, Floss whispered to Lois, “What d’ you think she was going to say when so dramatically interrupted …” The thought set her off again, and Lois shook her head, pointing to a tin of polish and the long coffee table.

“Talk later,” she said, and moved to the far end of the room.

As she continued on her way, cleaning every surface until it shone, and making sure no dropped cigarette ash had gone unnoticed, the same question occupied her thoughts. What was the director going to say? She could have no grounds for complaint about the work itself. Lois knew she inspected everywhere after they’d gone, but she and Floss made sure there were no faults to find. So what, then?

A thought struck her. Could she be in on the disappearances somehow? She didn’t look like a potential badger-baiter, not in those heels. Lois smiled to herself. No, it would have to be something else. Spying? Spying on
her
? Lois shivered. It was not a pleasant thought, and the snarling rat flashed before her eyes. Well, it was possible, but very unlikely.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Meade,” said a sharp voice. Lois turned, and saw Mrs. Tollervey-Jones standing in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” Lois said, caught off balance. Not the politest thing to say to one of her snobbiest clients, but too late now.

“I fail to see what business it is of yours!” snapped
Mrs. T-J. “Unless I have upset your plans by returning without notice? I had trusted you to continue my routine, you know.”

Lois answered immediately, “And so we have. No, I apologize if it sounded rude, but I was taken by surprise. I hope nothing serious has brought you back?”

“Only here for a couple of days. I have an appointment to see that manager woman, or whatever she calls herself. Give my regards to Floss … Oh, there you are, dear,” she added in a softer voice. “Nice to see you. All going well at Farnden?” Not waiting for a reply, she stalked off towards the offices.

“Put your foot in it there, Mrs. M,” said Floss. “Turning out to be quite an exciting afternoon. Is it tea-time yet?”

“It’s after the usual time. Herself has probably forgotten. I’d give anything to be a fly on the wall when those two meet. A couple of Boadiceas there!”

“I’ll go an’ drop a hint in the servants’ quarters,” suggested Floss, and Lois nodded. She was thirsty, after cleaning out the dust and ashes where a real log fire had been lit in the great fireplace. A neat mound of ash must be left to be a base for the next blaze, and it was Lois’s job to sculpt it once a week. She gazed at her handiwork, and Floss reappeared, saying, “Very architectural, Mrs. M—and the kitchen says she ordered there was to be no tea break for us this afternoon. They advise going on strike.”

Lois stared at her. Then to Floss’s surprise, she shrugged. They’d soon be finished and could go home for a cuppa. “In fact,” said Lois, “I invite you to have tea with me and a piece of Gran’s renowned chocolate cake. Come on, Floss. Let’s get on with it and get out of here.”

I
N
G
RAN
’
S WARM KITCHEN
,
THE TWO SAT SIPPING HOT
tea and eating cake. “That’s not fair, Lois,” said her mother. “You’ve got a right to a tea break. I should tell that woman what you think of her.”

“She’s a valuable client, Mum. I know my place.”

Gran sniffed. “It’ll be the first time, then,” she said. “Anyway, I’m off to the shop before it closes. Back shortly.”

“She’s wonderful,” Floss said. “What would you do without her, Mrs. M?”

“God knows,” said Lois. “But it doesn’t do to let her know how wonderful she is.”