Secrets on Saturday (31 page)

“No business of yours,” Reg had snapped.

So where
had
William Cox gone?

With a plan of action, and plenty to find out, Frances cheered up. She would begin tomorrow. Reg would find out that she could be equally devious. Perhaps it ran in the family, she thought, and smothered a chuckle. In no time at all she fell asleep.

L
OIS WAS HAVING SECOND THOUGHTS
. H
AD
S
HE
been wise to suggest the shop for meeting Cowgill? One of her reasons had been that Derek would no longer
worry about the possibility that she might be having a bit of the other with the cop he so disliked. In spite of the fact that she had been working with Cowgill for years now, Derek was still suspicious, though he hid it successfully most of the time.

Now, as she checked the time on the kitchen clock and reached for her jacket, she was not so sure. Up to now, she had kept her ferretin’ more or less separate from the family, but by fixing up the shop rendezvous she had brought it slap into the family’s midst. Ah well, it was worth a try, and if it didn’t work, they could easily find some other place.

“Just off to see Josie,” she said to Gran. Only Josie and her partner, and Derek of course, were to know about the meetings. “Tell Gran, and you tell the whole village,” Lois had said.

Once more, Derek was reluctant. “I’m not telling no lies for that bugger,” he said.

“You won’t have to,” she had assured him. “You won’t have to say anything.”

The blinds were down on the shop windows, and Lois opened the side gate to walk round to the back. Cowgill stood there, and as he saw her his face lit up. “Ah, there you are, Lois. This seems like a good idea.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see,” she said, and knocked lightly on the door. It was ajar, and she pushed it open. “Josie? It’s Mum. OK for us to come in?”

Josie appeared, unsmiling. “There’s a couple of chairs there. Give me a shout, Mum, when you’re going, and I’ll lock up after you. We have to shoot all the bolts. You never know when villains will break in.” She looked pointedly at Cowgill, then turned around and disappeared, shutting the door with a bang.

“Ah,” Cowgill said. “Do I gather your daughter does not altogether approve?”

“She’s OK. Just wants us out of here as quickly as possible. But Derek approves, and nobody else knows. Now, shall I start?” Cowgill nodded. Lois did not know that he had had a word with Derek, and assured him that,
contrary to appearances, this was part of his plan to wean Lois away from her work with the police. With him, specifically. Derek had grudgingly agreed. Cowgill sat down on one of the uncomfortable chairs Josie had provided.

Lois gave him all the details of her abortive inspection of William Cox’s house and did not spare herself. “If it hadn’t have been for Derek, I don’t know what would have happened. I was an idiot to think I could spy without them looking around and seeing me.”

“I wonder if you were a bit hasty, Lois,” Cowgill said cautiously. “It could have been a perfectly genuine meeting, and the people with the estate agent were perhaps other clients looking at the house?”

“And they all decided to chase a woman innocently walking in the woods? Pull the other one, Cowgill.”

He smiled at her, and said, “You know my name is Hunter.”

“Bad luck for you, but I can’t help that,” Lois snapped. “So you don’t believe me?” she added, standing up.

“Sit down, please, and listen,” Cowgill said, and now his voice was gently authoritative. “Of course I believe you. I believe every word of your account of what happened. It is just that at moments when we are expecting something nasty to happen, we sometimes misinterpret what actually happens. They could have thought you were in trouble and needed help, or—”

Lois interrupted him sharply. “Oh, come on, Cowgill,” she said. “I’m not stupid. I know when crooks mean business, and that lot certainly did.”

“Right,” he answered. “Let’s leave that for the moment. I wanted to tell you that we are following up the sale of Cox’s Farmhouse, and the whereabouts of Cox himself. We went to the estate agent’s office, and it wasn’t there. Empty. None of the surrounding neighbours knew anything about them, except that they had hardly arrived in the premises before they disappeared again. I then sent one of our lads to look at the property itself, and the For Sale sign had gone. Now, either the agent’s business
has gone bust, or they have sold the farmhouse and decided to move on to a more lucrative district. There was no sign of William Cox, so he’s safely in an old folks’ home somewhere. I don’t think we need to worry about him.”

“So what
are
we worrying about? Still not caught the serial rapist in Tresham? I bet you haven’t given a thought to old Everitt. He’s safely in another old folks’ home, is he? And what about Reg Abthorpe? I am certain he was among that group of louts at the farm.”

“We still have Mr. Abthorpe on file, and are proceeding with enquiries.”

Lois groaned. “I think we’re wasting time here,” she said. “I don’t know what it takes to convince you that much worse than badger-baiting is going on. By the way, have you been out trying to catch them at it?”

“No evidence of any baiting going on at the present time,” Cowgill said. “Plenty of signs of past activity, but nothing new.”

A gentle knock at the door interrupted them. “Come in, Josie,” Lois said wearily.

“Are you nearly finished? I need to get some stock from the shelves.”

“We’re finished, thanks. I’ll let you go first,” she said to Cowgill, indicating the back door. Then she turned to Josie, and added, “I don’t think we’ll be needing this room again, love. But thanks anyway.”

After both had gone, and the lights were out, a shadow moved along the overgrown footpath behind the shop. It was Reg Abthorpe, returning to Blackberry Gardens by an interconnecting network of footpaths that hadn’t been used for years. He had watched the cop and that woman leaving separately, and could scarcely smother a laugh. My God, couldn’t they do better than that? But there was a serious point here, he reminded himself. Mrs. New Brooms Meade was still ferreting, and reporting back to the cops. Something would have to be done about that.

* * *

“S
O HOW DID IT go
?” D
EREK SAID
,
WHEN THEY WERE
alone in the sitting room. It was WI tonight, and Gran was a faithful member.

Lois shook her head. “Waste of bloody time,” she said.

“Lois! It’s not ladylike to swear.”

“You do,” she countered.

“I’m not a lady. But let’s not get into an argument. Why was it a waste of time?”

“I just can’t get it into his thick head that there’s something wrong about Herbert Everitt and William Cox. I know it, but I can’t get any help from him. He fobs me off with cops’ replies.”

“So you’re giving up?” Derek was hopeful, but one look at Lois’s face gave him his answer. She never gave up.

T
HE SPEAKER AT THE
WI
MEETING IN THE VILLAGE
hall had been a good one. After the business of the meeting, including planning for entertainment at next month’s group meeting, the president introduced a pleasant, friendly woman who would tell them the story of how she had become interested in quilting, bringing exquisite examples with her. There was a buzz of conversation as tea was prepared, and members clustered round the jewel-bright quilts, stroking them covetously.

Gran was impressed, but not being a needlewoman herself she made room for others and sat down to wait for tea. Ivy Beasley from Round Ringford was next to her, and sniffed when Gran asked politely after her health. “Could be better,” she said.

Gran thought she looked hale and hearty, but was sympathetic. “It’s old age with me, I’m afraid,” she said. “Twinges and aches are constant companions. Specially first thing in the morning.”

Miss Beasley did not want to hear about Gran’s twinges, and turned the conversation back to herself. “But I have no help in the house,” she said. “Not like you with a family around you.”

Gran’s hackles rose. “You do have one of Lois’s cleaners coming in, don’t you? Isn’t it young Bill?”

Another sniff. “At present, yes,” she said. “But I expect he’ll be off for a better job once he’s a father. Can’t support a family on scrubbing floors.”

“He has his vet work as well,” Gran said. She decided to try a safer subject. “Did you see Cox’s Farm is up for sale?” she ventured. “I wonder where the old man has gone. No family round here, I heard.”

“I’ve already told your daughter that I know nothing about it,” Ivy Beasley said firmly. “But I’ll say this,” she added, “William Cox pleaded poverty all his life, but if he is in a home you can be certain he’s got the money to pay for it. You ask Ellen Biggs. She’ll tell you.” Ivy looked towards the kitchen. “Where’s our tea, then? Ah, here it comes. Nab a piece of that chocolate sponge for me, will you? Good. Thanks.” And that was that. Ivy’s mouth was full of cake, and Gran heard no more.

When she got home, Gran relayed word-for-word what had happened at the meeting, what the speaker had said, and the president’s vote of thanks, and her conversation with Ivy Beasley. Lois had been interested in her mother’s description of an amazing quilt in black and gold, hung up like a shining banner on a frame. Then she heard Ivy Beasley’s name, and pricked up her ears. So Ivy had told Gran to ask Ellen Biggs. Had Ivy been trying to pass on a hint to Lois? Something more about those early days when Ellen’s sister was the unhappy bride of a faithless young farmer?

Lois did not need telling twice, and planned a visit to the hospital tomorrow morning.

“O
H
, I’
M SORRY
, M
RS
. M
EADE
,”
THE NURSE SAID
. “I am glad you rang and saved yourself a wasted journey.” Lois’ heart missed a beat, but the nurse’s next words reassured her. “Ellen went home yesterday. We shall be keeping a close eye on her from here, but she was so anxious to get back to her own home. She has good friends to look after her, and will be having plenty of help from Social Services.”

And from me, Lois thought. She told Gran she would be out all morning, and decided to call on Miss Beasley before seeing Ellen Biggs. Ivy would certainly be up to date with any news about Ellen, and it was as well to be prepared. Bill should be there this morning, and Ivy would be in a good mood.

“D’ you want to bet on it?” Gran said drily. “That woman’s moods are a mystery to man and beast. Still, you might be lucky.”

It was raining hard as Lois drove through the narrow lanes to Round Ringford. At intervals, the old ash trees had meshed their branches and formed a tunnel over the road. It was twilight gloom, and the heavy drops banged on the van’s thin roof. Not a good day for someone living in a tiny lodge house with small windows and diamond panes. Light was always dim in Ellen’s house, and Lois hoped she was not sitting miserably in the dark, saving electricity.

But first Ivy Beasley. Bill’s car was outside Victoria Villa, and Lois touched the doorbell lightly. “Hi, Mrs.
M!” Bill sounded relieved to see her. Ivy
not
in a good mood, then.

“Is Miss Beasley in? Could I have a few words with her?”

Bill winked at her. “I’ll just go and ask,” he said. Lois heard a short conversation and then Bill reappeared. “Miss Beasley is willing to receive you,” he said in a near whisper, so only Lois could possibly hear.

“That’s quite enough of that!” Ivy’s voice was loud and clear.

“Ooops!” said Bill, and led the way.

“Good morning, Miss Beasley,” Lois said. “How are you this morning?”

“Never mind that,” said Ivy. “Have you come to see Bill or me? And get on with it, because I’ve got things to do.”

“I was on my way to call on Mrs. Biggs,” Lois said firmly. “But I thought I would look in to see if you had any news of her that I should know before I go. You are her greatest friend, I believe?” Flattery will get you everywhere, Lois hoped.

“I don’t know about that,” Ivy replied, softening. “But I have known her a very long time. Yes, she’s home, but frail. Quite a change since I last saw her. She’ll need looking after, Mrs. Meade. Still the same obstinate old woman, though, and that should keep her going.”