The Hangman's Row Enquiry (8 page)

DEIRDRE LOOKED AT herself in the long mirror in her bedroom, turning this way and that, and decided her reflection was not bad, considering. She saw a plumpish but trim figure, nicely dressed in a suitably flattering dress from her favourite designer. She had been to the hairdresser, who had freshened up her apricot curls.

She smiled at herself, and was pleased to see how her face lightened up. It had been some time since she had seen Theo Roussel, and she had taken a lot of trouble to look her best for this evening.

Thank goodness Theo had answered the phone! If she had got the dreaded Beattie, the old bag would probably have said he was out or in the bath. Poor Theo. He’d lived under that woman’s tyranny for years. But she could remember before that, when Theo had been an attractive man about the county, hunting and shooting and squiring all the prettiest girls in the neighbourhood to balls and parties. The nicest thing about him was a total lack of interest in what was the done thing. He had loved an evening at the pub with the rest, sitting for hours listening to the old men’s tales of his father’s philandering. Perhaps he had inherited some of his tendencies?

Theo had spotted Deirdre at a Golf Club Ball in Thornwell and for several months had convinced her that she was the girl for him. She wasn’t, of course. He was a few years older than her, and when they parted, it was with amiable goodwill. Bert had come along to offer her genuine love and good prospects, and she had made a rational choice.

She had seen Theo on and off over the years, however, and they always had a friendly wave, so that now, when she telephoned him and asked if they could have a word, he had at once invited her to the Hall for a gin and tonic. “Still your tipple, I hope?” he had said, and his voice was just as she remembered it.

 

WHEN MISS BEATTY brought in Theo’s afternoon tea, he said, “Oh, by the way, Beattie, I shall be having a visitor this evening for a drink. Mrs. Bloxham from Tawny Wings. An old friend from the past. I knew she was living in the village, but never liked to intrude after the death of her husband. I am sure you remember Bert Bloxham?”

Beattie’s face was puce. “Of course I remember Bert Bloxham,” she said. “Had his head under the bonnet of a car mostly. Came from nothing, and went to nothing in the end, like we all do. I believe she was a back-street girl, too.”

“Beattie!” Theo said, and roared with laughter. Somehow that call from Deirdre had, as his father used to say, put a bit of lead in his pencil, and he felt full of energy, quite enough to challenge his minder! “I don’t want to hear you talking like that about my old friend. She was a lovely girl, one of the best. Please remember that. And be a nice Beattie and make us some of those lovely nibbly things to have with our drinks.”

This was too much for Beattie, and she stamped out of the room without shutting the door behind her. Unheard of, thought Theo, and he grinned. Now, he would have a shave and change out of his carpet slippers. He must not slip into his dotage before it was necessary. There were signs! First the carpet slippers, then next the juicy jellies, and then the wooden box . . . He had seen it happen to his contemporaries and he did not intend to have it happen to him.

In the kitchen, Beattie held on to the Aga rail, breathing heavily. What did that common woman want? Surely she was not pursuing Theo after all these years? She must think quickly what had to be done. She had spun her web around Theo so successfully, and had found ways of keeping rescuers at bay. He did not even realise she had done it, so clever had she been. Well, she was more than a match for a garage mechanic’s widow. All she needed was a plan. She looked at the clock over the Aga. “Plenty of time,” she said to herself.

 

GUS WAS AT the pub on the dot of nine, pleased to see Will standing by the bar talking to the publican, a large, genial man with a big nose and capable hands. Will spotted Gus and beckoned him over.

“Let me introduce you to Fred,” he said. “Fred, this is Gus, just moved into Hangman’s Row. Next to Miriam and her mother.”

“Her ex-mother, you mean,” Fred said, and smiled. “Bit of a shock when you’d only just moved in, I should think, wasn’t it? Now, Gus, what can I get for you? On the house, your first drink in the Peacock and Royal.”

The evening progressed very happily for Gus. With an introduction from Will, all the regulars drew him into their circle and quizzed him skilfully about his life and times before he arrived in their village. Gus decided he should stick to the version he told Miriam. He was beginning to realise how quickly news spread around the village, and how discrepancies in his story would be picked up and chewed over for days.

“Sounds like a bit of a wimp,” whispered one of the girls sitting in a corner. “All that saving the wildlife stuff. Don’t know what he’d think of my dad and his rat poison.”

The others began to giggle, and were shushed by boyfriends playing darts.

Fortunately Gus did not hear them, and when the lads had finished playing, he suggested to Will that they might have a game. Now the watching girls were quietly admiring, as Gus threw one accurate dart after another, finishing with a spectacular bull’s-eye that drew a round of applause.

“Are you as good as that with dominoes?” said Fred, scratching his nose. “We’ve got the county champion here, if you want a try?”

Gus nodded, and sat down. Alfred Jones was bent with age, but a wily old bugger, whose watery blue eyes were everywhere, missing nothing. He played his usual game, guaranteed to win. Gus was aware that a silence had fallen in the pub, and thought quickly. He could win, he saw that well ahead, but it would not do him any good at all. So he deliberately made wrong moves, and lost.

“Too clever for me,” he said. “Another pint, Alfred?” he offered, and walked to the bar. “Well done, Gus,” the landlord said. “It wouldn’t have done to beat the county champion first go.”

After that, Alfred opened up, and to Gus’s delight said that he had known old mother Blake when they were kids. “Went to school with her, didn’t I,” he said. “She was a moody kid. Sneaky, too. Not popular with the other gels. Don’t know how she snared old Blake, but then, she were twice as bright as him. That Miriam were born six weeks early, and a bonny baby in spite of that. I reckon John Blake had orders from above.” He winked at Gus. “Know what I mean?” he said.

Gus thought he did, but was more interested in Miriam’s relationship with her mother. “Didn’t Miriam stand up to her mother at all? She seems quite a strong character, from what little I have seen of her.”

“Not strong enough!” The old man chuckled, looking up at Gus from under bushy eyebrows. “Mind you, she’s had her moments. Ask her about those, next time you go to tea.”

Gus was sure that he had never mentioned the tea party. Nothing secret in Barrington, that was clear. But he was very much a newcomer, and the difficulty would be in winkling out old scandals from the locals, Alfred and his like. By the time he and Will emerged into the clear, starry night, he felt pleasantly mellow and almost one of the boys.

THE PEARLY ROLLS cruised slowly up the long drive to the Hall, and came to a halt outside the front steps leading to an imposing baronial style front door. Deirdre adjusted her tight skirt—not too tight, she hoped—and walked carefully up the steps. She knew the old dragon would open it and give her a frosty reception, but Deirdre was ready for her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bloxham, please come in. A lovely evening, isn’t it?”

Deirdre could not believe her ears. All she had heard and witnessed of Miss Beatty! And now this charming welcome. What was the woman up to? Deirdre was no fool, and was already on her guard.

“Come this way, please,” said Beattie, stepping out across the tiled hallway and into the large drawing room. The sun shone through the long windows, and every surface gleamed from regular polishing. She must remember to look at Theo’s shoes. Probably see your face in them. But where was he?

“Mr. Theo will be down in a few minutes, madam,” Beattie said. “Won’t you take a seat? I’ll tell him you are here.”

“Thank you,” Deirdre said, and perched on the edge of a flimsy gilt chair by the large marble fireplace. She looked at her watch, and saw that she was exactly on time. Theo must have changed. She remembered clearly from her youth that of all the lads around town, he was always punctual, if not early. Good manners, her grandmother had said approvingly.

After what seemed like hours, the door opened and Beattie appeared once more. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bloxham,” she said sadly. “Mr. Theo sends his warmest regards, but regrets that he is not feeling up to coming downstairs this evening. He wants me to assure you that he will be in touch to arrange another date. He is really sorry.”

 

STARTING UP HER car, Deirdre rammed it into gear and stalled the engine. “Damn and blast!” she said. As she went more circumspectly forward, she glanced up at the window where she imagined Theo’s room would be. “Dear God, there he is!” She drove slowly away, sure that he had been waving, but not smiling. In fact, he had looked very angry indeed.

She did not want to go home to an empty house, and felt that she must talk to somebody about what had happened. She would call on Ivy, a perfectly natural friendly visit. Ivy, for all her faults, was a good listener, and though she tried hard to seem invincible, Deirdre was sure she was lonely, and would be glad to see her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bloxham,” Miss Pinkney said, coming into the hall to greet her. At least this old spin was reasonably normal, Deirdre thought gratefully, and explained that Ivy was not expecting her but she would like to have a few words with her if that was all right.

“Of course,” Miss Pinkney said. “I’ll ring through and tell her you are on your way. Lovely evening, isn’t it?” she added, and Deirdre answered grimly that she supposed it was.

“Well,” said Ivy, “this is a surprise visit. Something urgent to report? Or were you feeling lonely?”

Deirdre sighed. “Yes to both of those,” she said. “Am I in the way? Would you like me to go?”

“Don’t be silly, Deirdre. I can see you’ve got something to say, so get on and say it. For goodness sake sit down. You make the place untidy.”

The old phrase calmed Deirdre, and she sat down thankfully. Starting with her extraordinary welcome at the Hall from Miss Beatty, she gave Ivy a detailed account of what had happened. “And I saw him at the window, fully dressed, and waving frantically as I left.”

“Why didn’t you go back? That Beatty woman couldn’t stop you going up to his room, could she?”

I wouldn’t put it past her to bar the way with a Kalashnikov,” Deirdre answered glumly. “No, I hadn’t time to think it all out, but I shall certainly go back and insist on seeing him another day. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Take Gus with you,” Ivy said. “He’d stand no nonsense from Miss Beatty. I reckon he can be pretty nasty when needed. Not that you’d know it from the way he has been so far. But mark my words, he can be a hard man when necessary.”

Deirdre stifled a giggle. Ivy claimed not to watch television. All rubbish, she insisted. But “a hard man”? Where else would she have picked up that?

“You’re right, Ivy,” she said. “I’ll ask him next Monday at our meeting. Probably best not to go back to the Hall straightaway. Miss Beatty will be expecting me to try again, but if I leave it for a few days she’ll have dropped her guard. Poor Theo,” she added. “He was a really nice man, you know. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Not on our list of suspects, then,” Ivy said caustically. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of investigation, Deirdre. We’ve a long way to go yet.”

“Do you reckon? I sort of thought we might clear it all up in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh no, we’re up against a wily bird. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s my bath night and if I don’t have it early the water’s stone-cold. Luxury accommodation, you told me! I’d not have agreed to come here if I’d known the bathwater would be cold.”