The Hangman's Row Enquiry (27 page)

As Gus chuckled and put down the phone, there was a gentle knock at his door. He knew immediately who it would be, and thought of hiding. But no, he had to let her in sooner or later, so it might as well be now.

“Gus! How
are
you?” It was Miriam, looking really very presentable, and clutching a large box of chocolates. She thrust them at him and said she had been so worried, and not been able to find out what had happened.

“Come in,” he said, trying to make it sound welcoming. “Have a seat. What lovely chocolates! Thank you so much. Shall we have one to celebrate my homecoming?”

Miriam relaxed. She had been nervous about calling on him, not sure how she would be received. Since her abortive visit to Miss Beasley, she had begun to suspect something was going on between Gus, the old girl at Springfields, and that smart woman at Tawny Wings. And Rose Budd was involved, too. As for Theo, he seemed to have taken leave of his senses, according to report. More likely he had come to them at last, Miriam had thought privately. Was there hope for her after all?

Then there had been that invitation to tea at the Hall, and Beattie had treated her like royalty. Bosom friends was what she apparently had in mind. Miriam’s thoughts were in a whirl, and she hoped to gain some enlightenment from Gus.

“I do hope you weren’t frightened by my tumble,” Gus said. Miriam might have seen something from her watching position by the window?

“I think I must have been out,” she said now. “I didn’t hear anything, unfortunately. These old cottages must be more soundproof than I thought. The first I knew of it was after you’d been taken away in the ambulance. The whole village was buzzing with it next morning.”

“I don’t think I yelled. I was out cold when Mrs. Bloxham found me.”

Miriam said that she was really sorry. She could have rescued him sooner, perhaps. “I could have tried that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation thing,” she added brightly.

Lucky escape, thought Gus, but said kindly, “So what have you been up to? Are the police any nearer finding out who attacked your poor mother?”

Miriam looked suitably downcast. “They’ve been back asking me questions,” she said, “but they won’t tell me anything.”

“What questions?” Gus said, and added hastily that he wouldn’t like to think she had been upset by them at such a sad time.

“Mostly about Mother. They wanted to know things like how long she’d lived in Barrington, when she married my dad, if she’d worked at the Hall, an’ on and on. They wanted to know about me, too. Where I’d worked, if I’d had any boyfriends, all kinds of personal stuff like that. It’s not fair, Gus. Not when I’m grieving for me dear old mum.”

Gus looked at his watch as obviously as he could. Miriam took the hint, but said why didn’t he come round and share a chicken casserole with her? There was plenty for two, and she’d made a plum duff for pudding. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any food in the house?” she said.

As it happened, Gus knew that Deirdre had filled up his fridge for his return, but he was interested in what Miriam had been saying about the police, and so accepted her offer with gratitude. She was delighted, of course, and said he might as well come back with her now, and she would help him through the rusty old gate.

 

BEATTIE WAS ON her way to the shop when she saw Miriam and Gus disappearing round to the back of Miriam’s house. Good heavens, the woman was insatiable! Not content with seducing Theo way back, now she had her claws into the Halfhide man. She walked on, feeling the ground shifting beneath her feet. It wasn’t, of course, she told herself, looking down at her feet walking smartly over the potholed tarmac. It was an illusion, and she tried to convince herself that things were just as before.

But things
were
different, she knew, absentmindedly waving to Rose Budd at the end of the terrace. Theo was no longer willing to accept her judgements and suggestions. He wanted to see the farm accounts, the housekeeping records, even the orders for the shop. At breakfast, he had announced that he wanted her to buy everything she could from the village shop, keeping her purchases from the supermarket to a minimum. “ ‘Use it or Lose it!’ ” he said merrily, quoting from a Post Office advertisement.

All her hard work and planning over the years had been wiped out in a single afternoon, she reckoned, and then realising that he could have many more afternoons with Rose Budd’s connivance. And now Theo had this ridiculous idea of reorganising the farm! It had all gone so smoothly, though admittedly the income from the estate had gradually diminished.

And that was another thing! Theo had said he wanted all the accounts, bank statements and cheque book stubs in his study. He would be buying a new filing cabinet to house all the financial documents relating to the estate.

“You’ve taken on so much over the years owing to my neglect and idleness,” he had said, and added that now he intended to make recompense by relieving her of all those onerous tasks. “You must go out more,” he said, smiling at her. “Enjoy yourself, Beattie. You’ve earned it.”

She was left with nothing to say. Her blood boiled, and she was sure that he was having a great time making her suffer. His apparent concern was completely false. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and it was he who was enjoying it.

She stopped at the foot of the steps leading into the shop, and looked at the seat placed there in memory of Theo’s father. “To hell with both of you!” she said under her breath. “I’m not beaten yet. Just you wait, and that goes for you, too, Mrs. Bloxham.”

“Morning, Miss Beatty,” Will said, coming out of the shop door to put out the empty milk bottle crate. “Nice to see Mr. Roussel getting out and about again.” He continued, “All due, I’m sure, to your tender loving care!”

Beattie would have spat at him if she had not spent most of her life grooming herself to be a lady. “I suppose you’ve run out of apples as usual?” she said sourly, and followed him into the shop.

DEIRDRE WATCHED THE oddly assorted trio walking slowly towards Tawny Wings. So Roy had scorned riding in a wheelchair. Dear old chap! He is a lesson to us all, she thought. No matter what happens to our crumbling bodies, it’s the will to live, to keep going whatever, that counts. She must make sure that she remembered that. No lounging around in her luxury home. Perhaps she would learn to play that neglected piano. Or take up tennis?

They had reached her gate, and she went downstairs to welcome them. “You’ve done very well, Roy,” she said. “Coffee’s all ready. I’m sure you could do with a reviving cup.”

Roy had given up drinking coffee a long time ago, on the advice of Mrs. Spurling, who said it was bad for the heart. Now he reckoned there wasn’t much damage could be done at his age, and he sniffed the lovely smell of brewing coffee coming from Deirdre’s kitchen.

“Bring it on!” he said, and allowed Gus to help him—in fact, to practically carry him—up the wide stairs to Enquire Within’s headquarters.

“Now,” Gus said, as he saw Ivy drawing a deep breath ready to speak first. “Now, shall we report on our day’s researches, Deirdre? You’ll be pleased, Ivy, that our journey was not wasted.”

Deirdre began, explaining that they had given up on the newspaper archive, but had then needed to go no further than the public library, where the librarian had been most helpful. She had been there for years, she’d said, and had seen many changes in Oakbridge, some of them not for the better.

“Get to the point, Deirdre,” said Ivy.

Deirdre sent her a black look, and said that maybe Gus would like to carry on, if her account was not satisfactory.

Gus sighed. “Very well, then,” he said. Never work with widows and spinsters, he reminded himself. “We had asked around for details of the Bentall family, but had no luck. Then Deirdre noticed a photo hanging on the wall. . . . Carry on, Deirdre.”

“It was Caroline Bentall’s father. Town mayor, chain an’ all, and a very pompous look on his face. Anyway, the librarian then told us all she knew.”

“And are you going to let us in on the secret?” Ivy said, with studied politeness.

Gus took over. “Apparently the family was well respected. Caroline was an only child, and the apple of her father’s eye. She did well at school, but was not encouraged to go to college. Her mother was a mousy woman, so the librarian said, and obeyed her husband in every way. He wanted Caroline to stay at home and got her a job in the county council offices. To be fair, the librarian said, the girl had not wanted anything more adventurous. Boys was all she was interested in, and eventually settled for one totally disapproved of by her father.”

“Mind you,” said Deirdre, “I reckon no bloke would have been good enough for his precious Caroline.”

“Agreed,” said Gus. “Anyway, she wouldn’t give him up, and then the inevitable happened.”

“She got herself in the family way?” suggested Ivy.

“Correct,” said Gus. “And was sent away in the good old-fashioned tradition, only to reappear months later somewhat slimmer. The twins were fostered.”

“But she had a family eventually? Did she marry the bloke?” Roy had been listening avidly. “That was the whole point of the story, wasn’t it? She abandoned her children. And what about the twins? Did the librarian say what happened to them?”

Gus looked at Deirdre and laughed. “Straight to the heart of it, Roy,” he said. “Yes, she married later, but not the father of the twins. It was only after she’d had a child with her legitimate husband that she reclaimed one of the twins, the girl, from the foster family. The boy was left behind, and the librarian didn’t know what had happened to him.”

“Blimey,” said Roy. “What a story! Like something out of
Peg’s Paper
.”

“What?”
Gus stared at him.

“My mother used to take it. It was a girls’ magazine. True life stories, she said, but even she didn’t believe that. Lurid, they were, and she loved them.”

“So who was the husband? Must’ve been a nice chap to take on the bigger girl.”

“He was all right, but a bit short-tempered, according to the librarian. And he insisted that as the elder girl wasn’t his, she should not have his name. So she kept her mother’s name, i.e., Bentall.” He paused, and then dropped the bombshell. “She was called Beatrice Bentall.”

“So that’s it,” Ivy said quietly.

Roy agreed that Gus and Deirdre had done really well, but probably the most important thing now was to find out what happened to the husband, and what he’d done to cause his wife to desert two perfectly nice daughters. “It was obviously his doing,” he said confidently. “And what happened to Caroline? She seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.”

“Perhaps he murdered her,” Ivy said flatly. “Or someone else did.”

The silence was prolonged. Deirdre shivered. “Shall I put the heating on?” she said. “It’s gone cold in here. I’ll go and make more coffee.”

“Have you finished, then?” Ivy asked, quite oblivious of the sensation she had caused. “Is that all your friendly librarian knew about the end of the story?”

Gus nodded. “Yep,” he said. “She went away to do her training around that time, and by the time she returned the whole thing had died down, and gossips were busy with a new scandal in the town.”

“Let me guess,” said Roy. “The town mayor had run off with his secretary, leaving his mousy wife to pick up the pieces?”

Gus laughed loudly. “You’re a national treasure, Roy,” he said. “I’ll help Deirdre with the coffee,” he added, and followed her down the baronial stairs.

 

IN THE KITCHEN, Gus stood watching Deirdre fill the kettle and put ground coffee in the cafetiere. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said, seeing her frown.

“What are you thinking?”

“That we’ve uncovered something so important we should probably take it to the police. Beattie must be on their list of suspects. Time to hand over to them?”

Deirdre turned to face him. “You must be telepathic,” she said. “It was telling it all to the others, watching their reactions. Yesterday, somehow, we were so excited at finding out so much that it was like a game. You know, pass ‘Go’ and collect two hundred pounds. But now, well, I can see just how important it might be. What do you really think, Gus?”

“Haven’t had time to think it out properly,” he said. “Shall we ask the others? They’ll be looking at it from another viewpoint.”

“Right,” she said. “I reckon Ivy might have a sensible suggestion. She often has, irritatingly! You wait, when we ask them, I bet she’ll say, ‘Well, if you ask me,’ etc., etc., and produce the commonsense answer.”

They carried the fresh coffee upstairs, and Deirdre refilled the cups. “So what shall we do next?” she said. “We reckon what we found out is really important. So should we go to the police or carry on investigating?”

“Well, if you ask me . . .” said Ivy.