Small Town Shock (Some Very English Murders Book 1) (10 page)

“I don’t know.” Well, did he kill his brother? Huh. Too
direct. “They didn’t get on, did they, David and Thomas?”

“Nope. They had nothing to do with one another. It’s sad,
eh? Families should stick together. Except for my husband’s sister. She can
stay away, thank you.”

“Was it mutual dislike?” she asked. “Between Thomas and
David, I mean. Not you and your sister-in-law.”

“I reckon so, yeah. Thomas was older but I don’t know what
went on with them all at home because he upped sticks and went off to the Army
as soon as he could. Tells you something, eh? He left that after a few years
and travelled the world being some kind of bodyguard. All the girls fancied him
whenever he came back to visit the family farm. He was all muscles and tan, and
goodness, didn’t he know it, but you don’t mind them parading around when
they’re worth looking at, eh.”

“Is that the family farm that David ran?”

“That’s right. Their father died first, rest his soul, though
he was a mean old codger, then their mother, lovely woman and a saint if you
know what I mean, and David took it on. Thomas was never interested in it.”

“And Thomas still lives in Upper Glenfield…?”

“Oh yes. Him and his snooty wife Eleanor live in a shiny
detached house up on that estate, ‘The Shires’, all those boxy ticky-tacky
houses for commuters and them as don’t want to really
live
here. He
works up in Lincoln now. He’s some kind of night watchman at a scrap yard on
the east side. Sorry, ‘metal recycling plant’. Got to be politically correct,
haven’t I?”

Penny decided not to tackle Agatha about what “politically
correct” really meant. “And what does Eleanor do?”

“Ha!” Agatha’s scissors flashed with increasing venom
around Penny’s face and she regretted asking a potentially emotional question
when she was so close to the sharp blades. “Ha. That one? She’s done a little
of this and a bit of that. But she never thought she’d need to work, you know.
Everything was always above her. She came in here once because her regular
woman in Lincoln was off on holiday but the face on her was like I’d rubbed pee
in her hair.”

“Gosh. Do they have children?”

“Oh yes, and they’ve escaped, and good luck to them. One’s
in Australia, which tells you everything you need to know about Eleanor, eh.
The other is in Scotland. Clearly he’d rather freeze on a mountain than deal
with his mother. Ha! So would I. That long enough at the back for you?”

“Yes, great, thanks.” The style was choppy and slightly
like a pixie, and to Penny’s surprise, it seemed to work. She fell silent as
she repeated all the information back to herself. Agatha patted her hair and
sprayed her with something that smelled quite nice but didn’t seem to make any
discernible difference.

“Is the length okay for you at the sides now?”

“Yes, it’s fantastic, really, thank you.” She really was
delighted, although she would have struggled to tell Agatha if it wasn’t quite
right. In London, she had had no qualms about letting a hairdresser know if
they hadn’t hit the right mark. But here, in the small town, it seemed far more
awkward to speak up. “Honestly. Just what I wanted.”

Penny paid up and added a tip. She wandered slowly home,
mulling over what she’d learned.

Now she had a plan for Sunday. She needed to join the
ramblers’ group and get to know this Edwin Montgomery a little better. She’d
seen a poster in the window of the mini-market, and it even said that dogs were
welcome.

Then she pictured Kali in the midst of walkers and other
dogs.

She’d go alone.

Penny had a lazy Saturday. Finally, it felt like a treat to
sit around and relax – like she really was enjoying a proper life-changing retirement.
She did some more sketches of her back garden, and some of Kali when she stayed
still for long enough, and she was pleasantly pleased with the results. She
pottered into Lincoln at one point and bought some new drawing pencils, and
joined the library so she could take out some books on dog behaviour and body
language. She also arranged for an extravagant hamper of wine and chocolates to
be delivered to Francine.

Late on Saturday evening she took Kali for an extra-long
walk, and on Sunday morning she rose early just to give the dog a chance to
stretch her legs and do her business. She still felt a little guilty as she
closed the front door and left Kali alone while she went off to join the ramblers’
group.

It would be lovely to take her dog along. One day, she
promised herself. One day soon I’ll be the owner that you deserve.

The ramblers met in the car park to the south of the town.
She followed the road over the old bridge and towards the Spinney. The car
parking area was between the trees and the town, and it led out onto grassed
land. There was the town’s war memorial with its list of local names, and a
children’s play area. Spring bulbs were making the green grass bright with
colour. Beyond the swings and roundabouts was the Slipe, the meadow land beside
the river.

Penny counted nine people as she approached the car park.
They were dressed in brown, green and blue, except for one very round woman who
had decided to accent her size with a bright red and white polka dotted jacket,
and she looked utterly fabulous.

Everyone, including polka-dot-woman, was wearing
serious-looking boots and gaiters, and a few happy dogs bounded around. Penny
was jealous immediately. She wanted Kali to have that kind of fun.

She recognised Ed, but he was deep in earnest conversation
with another man who was clothed entirely in beige, making him look older than
he probably was. The amazingly-dressed polka dot woman approached her with a
smile.

“Now then! Hi, there! You’re new! I’m Sheila.”

“Hi. I’m Penny.” She went through the usual rigmarole of
explaining who she was, where she came from, and why she’d moved to Upper
Glenfield. She noticed that everyone around them was listening in. She didn’t
mind. It would hopefully save her from having to repeat herself later.

Ed nodded to her as he gathered the group around him, and
began to outline where they would be walking that day.

And then they were off, heading in twos and threes away
from the car park and along a bridleway. Sheila kept her company, chattering
about birds and pesticides and Lincolnshire’s long history which seemed to
involve hiding in marshes quite frequently, something about a rebel called
Hereward, and an awful lot about bombers in world war two.

There was an over-excited cocker spaniel getting under
everyone’s feet, and Penny couldn’t work out who he belonged to. Sheila laughed
as he did three circuits of the whole group, barked at a tree and tried to get
under a hedge, re-emerging backwards covered in twigs.

“Look at him. Bless. Daft thing.”

Dogs were an ideal conversation topic. Penny was starting
to feel like she was a normal person again. “How sweet. Do you have any
animals?”

Sheila shook her head. “This is my one day a week that I
have free. I run the post office and I can’t afford to employ staff for as many
hours as I’d like, so I work all the time. Well, me and my husband between us. It
wouldn’t be fair to have a dog which we couldn’t spend time with. But I love
them, dogs, all animals really. I love watching them. That Growler comes out
with us every week.”

“Growler? Wow. The name isn’t quite…”

“No, not at all!” Sheila’s laugh was loud and scratchy, and
infectious. “He ought to be called Slobberer or Daft-As-A-Brush or something.
How about you? Do you have any pets?”

“I’ve got a new dog from the rescue centre up the road.”
She felt a pang of sadness. “I wish she were here. But she hates other dogs and
it’s a lot more difficult than I’d expected. I might have made a terrible
mistake taking her on.” The sadness deepened. Admitting failure hurt.

“Oh dear. That does sound awkward. You can train her,
though, can’t you? Don’t believe that nonsense about old dogs and new tricks.
They can all learn, can’t they?”

“I hope so. I don’t know.”

A man a little way ahead of them dropped back and
introduced himself as Kevin and the owner of Growler. “I hope you don’t mind me
butting in…”

“Please, go ahead.”

“You wouldn’t think so from the horrific example that my Growler
is showing, there … but I do know about dogs.” There followed an informative
twenty minutes where Penny saw very little of the scenery but did learn an
awful lot about dog training, although as Kevin advised, “Every Tom, Dick and
Harry has their own opinion and let me just tell you never, ever to mention
which method you think is best online unless you enjoy a nice flamewar. I have
a cousin in Nottingham who no longer speaks to me because we differ on how to
teach a solid recall.”

“Goodness.”

“Of course,” he added airily, “my own opinions are entirely
correct. Just so you know.” He grinned and winked at her.

“Thank you so much.”

Sheila came puffing up alongside them as the path widened
out again. “I knew Kev would put you right.”

“It’s great,” Penny said. “I’ve got so much to think about,
and try. A lot of what you said about giving treats to desensitise her fear
reaction is similar to what Drew said.”

“Oh, Drew, the blacksmith?” Sheila said. “Nice young man.
Such a shame, really, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” agreed Kevin.

“What’s a shame?” Penny immediately imagined a dark history
filled with woe and loss and possibly a mad woman in an attic, but the truth
turned out to be far more prosaic, and met her existing suspicions.

“Oh, it’s his blacksmithing business,” Sheila explained. “I
don’t reckon he makes a right lot of money. He ought to move somewhere bigger and
make fancy gates for rich folks.”

“Mind you, it’s hard for everyone,” Kevin said. “Austerity
and all that. People don’t know how to cut back anymore, though, do they? I was
reading about rationing the other day. A tiny bit of butter to last you all
week. Now me, I’d use that in one go on a slice of toast and think nothing of
it.”

“True, true,” Sheila said.

“He’s doing field-craft courses now, though, isn’t he?”
Penny said. “He seems enthusiastic about that.”

“Well, that’s dependent on folks at the conference centre,
isn’t it?” Kevin said. “And they are odd folks. City folks. It’s all very well
in the summer, I suppose. Very hit and miss, you mark my words.”

Penny got the impression that they didn’t consider field-craft
to be a “proper” job, unlike blacksmithing which was all macho and
tradesmanlike.

They tramped along a bridleway, easily wide enough for four
people abreast. The group was strung out and straggling, and the pace was
noticeably slower. Penny had brought a cheese sandwich with her and she was
starting to think of it with longing. Her stomach growled.

“Now, take that Mary, for instance,” Kevin said. “If we’re
talking money problems and so on. Have you heard about what happened to her
car?”

“Now then, Kevin!” Sheila said. “You dreadful gossip! But
go on, no, I haven’t heard…”

Penny listened eagerly to the conversation between Sheila
and Kevin.

“Repossessed, it was,” Kevin said. “Her car, not her house.
Gone!”

Sheila gasped dramatically. “Never!”

“True as I stand here. I saw them turn up and take it away
on a big old lorry. She must have got one of them log-book loans since losing
her job and everything. Sharks, they are.”

“Oh my. How awful!” Sheila’s voice had lost the edge of
glee and she sounded genuinely concerned. “Now what will she do? Lost her
fella, lost her job, lost her car…”

“It’s a rum business all round. Still,” Kevin said, “it’s
not like she was any good at her job. Any of her jobs. She was lucky to keep
that last one as long as she did, what with her…”

“The exact same thing we’re doing now,” Sheila said, and
brought the conversation to a firm close. “Now then. Ed. Ed! Where’s this pub
we’re supposed to be stopping at? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut, it
does.”

Ed dropped back to join them. The group was fluid, and the
smaller pockets broke and reformed as they went along. Kevin fell away with
Growler, and Sheila went forward to talk with another woman who was carrying
some hefty and technical-looking walking poles.

“How are you finding it? Do you do much walking?” Ed asked
Penny. Outside, he didn’t seem as out of place as he had done in Agatha’s
salon. His green army combat jacket was ragged and his corduroy trousers looked
battered and comfortable. She imagined he was the sort of person who would dash
out to sleep in a snow hole in winter, just because he could.

“I’m enjoying it,” she said with honesty. “I’ve been
walking more these past few weeks anyway, and it’s a good way to get to know
the area.”

“Great.”

They walked in silence for a while and she searched around
for an opener to a profitable conversation. Eventually she said, “So, you’re an
electrician?”

“Mm. A bit. I can’t do bathrooms. That needs a separate certificate
which I don’t have. I do general household maintenance. Have you something
needs doing? If I can’t do it, I can always put you in touch with someone who
can help you.”

“I’ve just moved in so I might have,” she said vaguely. In
truth, the cottage was in perfect condition. She considered breaking something
so she’d have an excuse to get him to come over. But then what? Was she going
to just ask him outright if he had killed David? No. She had to be more subtle.
Tact, she told herself. I need to start learning it. What would Miss Marple do?

They were climbing up to a ridge and they joined a narrow
single-track road. “Where are we?” she asked as they stomped along the ridged
and patched tarmac.

“Heading towards the pub,” he said, loud enough for Sheila
to hear. She whooped in reply.