The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry (13 page)

T
wenty-four

UNAWARE THAT THEY
were the subject of speculation, the Josslands at Hartwood Farm were sitting in their large kitchen, drinking coffee and marvelling at the small miracle in the cot by the window.

“She looks quite like me, doesn’t she?” said Bella. “My blue eyes, and those sweet little wisps of blonde fluff are my colour, too.”

“It’ll all change,” said knowledgeable farmer William. “All babies have blue eyes. Then they change colour to what they’re always going to be. She could take after your aunt, Ethel, and have brown eyes and ginger hair.” He grinned at his young wife. “Maybe we should call her Ethel? Good old-fashioned name.”

“It’s horrible! She’s going to be Faith, after my mother.”

“Faith Ethel, then?” said William. “The ancient old duck might leave her some money; you never know. Some say she’s loaded, and she never married.”

“That nursing home is eating up all her savings,” Bella said. “Still, Faith Ethel is a reasonable compromise. Oh look! She’s smiling!”

“Wind,” said William cruelly. “They all do that. Now, I must get out to the cows, so I’ll see you in a bit. Bye, Faith Ethel,” he added, blowing a kiss to the baby. “Looks hungry to me. Better get milking, Bella.”

He made his way to the door, opened it and then stopped. “Are we expecting anybody?” he said, as he saw a woman crossing the yard.

• • •

“MY NAME IS
Bloxham, Deirdre Bloxham. I am a voluntary worker for the social services department in Thornwell, and we try to keep in touch with our new mums, just in case they need extra support.” All of this was perfectly true, though Deirdre would have to make sure she organised the paperwork in the office.

“Do you have any proof of identity?” said William. He was large and tough, and he filled the doorway, blocking Deirdre’s view inside the kitchen.

“Yes, of course,” she said, bringing out a card to confirm. “Is it inconvenient? I could always come back.”

Bella appeared, carrying the baby, and said she was welcome to come in. “William has to see to the cows now, so I’ll be glad of your company. It’s a bit strange, isn’t it, when there’s suddenly a new little person in the household!”

Deirdre, whose knowledge of new babies was scant, but who had a warm and capable personality, had seen many young mothers through those difficult first few weeks. Now she asked to hold Faith Ethel, while Bella put on the kettle.

“Do you live locally? I don’t think I’ve seen you around, have I?”

“I don’t come this way often. I’ve lived in Barrington for many years, and before that I was brought up in Thornwell. Not really a country girl, you see! But my husband, Bert, owned Bloxham garages. All around the county. You’ve probably noticed them.”

The girl was obviously impressed. “Does he still own them?” she said.

“He’s passed on, sadly,” said Deirdre. “Much too soon. He loved his business, and was very popular with customers. So now I run them, with the help of an expert staff. Perhaps your husband will have heard of us?”

“I’m sure he will. Now, shall I attempt to put my small daughter down in her cot? I think she’s already decided she’d rather be cuddled!”

“They’re very knowing, even early on. Friend of mine claims her tiny son was intellectualising—whatever that means—at one week old!”

Bella laughed loudly, relaxing properly for the first time since the birth of Faith Ethel. “It is really nice to meet you, Mrs. Bloxham,” she said. “Apart from Auntie Ethel, who’s a hale and hearty eighty-year-old and daft as a brush, none of my relations or William’s are left.”

“No mother, then, to help you?” said Deirdre. “Or even mother-in-law? Though they can be a mixed blessing, I know.”

Bella shook her head. “They were pals, the two families. The generations intermarried a number of times way back. All gone now. My mother had multiple sclerosis, and died a couple of years ago, and Dad had an accident with a tractor. William’s parents are both gone, too. He was a very late child—mother in her forties when he was born—and he’s a good bit older than me. So there we are, and though I’ve lots of friends, we are a bit isolated down here. You’re not in a hurry, I hope? I do tend to rattle on, once I get started.”

Deirdre shook her head. “No hurry,” she whispered. “Look, she’s fast asleep, little precious. May I just sit here holding her for a bit?”

Bella was only too pleased to have this nice woman keeping her company. She seemed to be a natural with babies. She wondered whether Mrs. Bloxham had children of her own, and asked her tactfully. And then the conversation continued comfortably until Deirdre looked at the old shelf clock and said she would unfortunately have to be getting back.

“I’ll give you my address etcetera,” she said, “and you must call me at any time if you’re stuck on anything. I can usually help. Nothing medical, of course. You must get your doctor or midwife for that. But I’d really like to see how Faith progresses! Have you thought of another name for her?”

Bella made a face. “Unfortunately, I have agreed to the old aunt’s name. Ethel Goodman, that is. William’s idea, of course. So she’s Faith Ethel. Perhaps you’d like to come to her christening in due course?”

“Love to,” said Deirdre, really meaning it.

• • •

IVY AND ROY
had retired to Ivy’s room after lunch, feeling the need to stay together to face the dire happenings that had fallen on them in the last few days.

“You’d think, wouldn’t you, Roy, that two old parties such as us could get spliced without any fuss or inconvenience to anybody?” Ivy sat in her usual chair, which enabled her to look out of the window at goings-on in the village street.

Roy reached across and took her hand. “Dear little hand,” he said consolingly. “Don’t you worry, beloved; we shall have that gold band on this finger in a very short while.”

“No word from the others this morning. Deirdre must have found nobody at home at that farm at Settlefield. A barmy idea, if you ask me. You can’t just go knocking on doors and expect people to tell you their business straight away.”

“She can be very persuasive,” said Roy, with a grin. “She can twist our Gus round her little finger. Anyway, she’ll probably pop in later.”

“And Gus is off tackling Alf Lowe. He’s welcome to that job, though I must say there’s something likeable about the old man, horrible as he is.”

“He can’t be both, can he, my dear?”

“Oh yes,” said Ivy confidently. “I’ve known several men like him. My own father, for a start. I don’t like to mention the subject, Roy, but I think the most interesting thing brought up by Alf Lowe in his story—untrue, I’m sure—is about your involvement with an old friend of his. I can’t remember the name, but there was some woman you were supposed to have been engaged to, and then ducked out of it. There’s never smoke without fire, in my experience, and he might be trying to off-load some other bloke’s guilt onto you.”

Roy’s expression was mutinous. “I’m afraid I disagree with you there, Ivy,” he said. “I have already explained that the whole thing was a fabrication. I think we are being deliberately led astray on that one. But why? That is the real nub of it.”

“Money,” said Ivy flatly. “A pot of gold waiting to be collected in the event of your passing on. Little do they know that now I am almost your wife, you are going to be the longest-living person in the world!”

“But who are these ‘they’? Steve has gone, so it was nothing to do with him.”

“Except that he was one person between them and the pot of gold, and is now removed. Poor old Steve. And if the attempt at preventing our wedding succeeds, then another contender has been eliminated, for the moment. Me, that is. That possibly leaves these Josslands, with a wife who was a Goodman, over at Settlefield.”

“You’ve forgotten the man who interrupted our banns. Where does he fit into all this?”

Ivy was silent for a few minutes. “Something to do with Alf Lowe and his low-life relations? Could be someone hired to do the job?”

Roy frowned. “Ivy, my dearest, do you realise what this means?”

“Yes, of course. It means that whoever is prepared to murder once, might try again. And this time, the one most in the way of he or she inheriting your millions is me. But only once we are married. Do you suppose I should hire a bodyguard?”

“Don’t joke, Ivy! I shall be glad when Gus comes back and we can ask his advice. Meanwhile rescue is at hand for all those poor donkeys.”

Ivy ignored him. “And then, of course, my love, there is you. It all hinges on getting rid of you, should the murderer be in a hurry. I’m afraid that is the real nub. But never fear; I do not intend to let any harm come to you, and I am sure that Enquire Within, with some help from Inspector Frobisher, will be able to trace the villain very soon.”

“I’m glad you’re so confident!” said Roy. “I must say I feel more and more uneasy as we uncover new information. Ah, there’s Deirdre coming up the path. Let’s hope she has some good news for us.”

Deirdre was followed by a dishevelled Gus, who looked as if he had been dragged out of bed.

“Sorry to come at lunchtime, Ivy,” Deirdre said. “I just rescued Gus from an attempt to clear the brambles at the bottom of his garden, and brought him up here.”

“Is it urgent, then?” said Ivy. “La Spurling doesn’t like our mealtimes to be disturbed.”

“Mrs. Spurling is off duty, and Pinkers won’t mind a bit. She might offer us lunch?” Gus knew that Miss Pinkney had a soft spot for him, and he went off to find her. He returned beaming, saying they were all to have lunch together in the table in the alcove, so that our conversation could be private. “Isn’t she a darling?”

“Not many people have called her that,” said Ivy. “Poor thing. Well-done, Gus. Come on into the dining room, everyone.”

Needless to say, all the other residents were consumed with curiosity. One or two said in very loud voices that it was all right for some. Others had to abide by the rules and stick to visiting times, they said. Gus helped a grateful old lady into her seat, and Deirdre earned undying devotion by tucking an elderly man’s table napkin into his collar, and so eventually they were settled. Deirdre began to tell them in detail about her morning’s achievement.

“Did you talk to both husband and wife?” Ivy asked.

“Oh yes, and the baby. The sweetest little soul named Faith. I cuddled her until she went to sleep. All warm and smelling of Johnson’s baby powder.” She paused, dreamy-eyed.

“It’s no good you getting broody, Deirdre Bloxham,” Ivy said sharply. “You’ve lost your chance at motherhood. Could we get on?”

“Yes, well, I asked about the family, and Bella—that was the girl’s name—said that the Josslands and Goodmans had been marrying each other for generations. But now, for a number of reasons, natural selection, I suppose, there are just the two of them left, plus an aged spinster aunt named Ethel.”

“Ethel what?” interrupted Roy, his voice unusually sharp.

“Ethel Goodman,” said Deirdre, playing her trump card. “How about that, then?”

“Well, you certainly had more luck than we did. Our investigations yesterday morning included Theo and Mr. and Mrs. Bourne, old friends of Roy. And all we discovered was that there was an old farrier at the Hall years ago, who got the sack because of a loose horseshoe, and who looked uncannily like the man who challenged our banns. Might be worth remembering, if nothing else.”

T
wenty-five

THEIR CONVERSATION WAS
broken up by Katya coming in with puddings. She beamed at the table for four, and said how nice it was that residents felt they could ask guests for lunch. “So much more like an hotel than an, um, old folks’ home,” she said.

“I’ll deal with this,” said a voice behind her. It was Mrs. Spurling, back on duty earlier than expected. “I shall not make a scene in front of other residents,” she said, “but perhaps you can explain to me how two non-residents appear to be having lunch at Springfields’ expense?”

Before any of the others could draw breath, Roy had struggled to his feet. “Please leave us, Mrs. Spurling,” he said. “I shall be in to see you in your office in due course, but in the meantime, Mr. Halfhide and Mrs. Bloxham are our guests, so you will charge the expense to my account. I have more to say, but it will be best said in private when we have finished lunch.”

There was an astonished silence, and then Mrs. Spurling stalked off. Roy sat down, beamed at the others, and said he felt much better. “Do carry on, Deirdre,” he said. “You were just telling us about an aged person called Goodman, who may be a long-lost relative of mine. Isn’t it exciting? I do hope she turns out to be a nice person and a new friend for you, my dear,” he added, turning to Ivy.

“There’s only one Goodman for me,” she said, her voice a little wobbly. “And that’s you, Roy. That Spurling woman is impossible, and you really put her in her place. And now, Deirdre, what about all the rest of the Goodmans of Settlefield?”

“Well, the baby’s father, William Jossland, is quite a bit older than Bella, and his parents have died of more or less natural causes. He was an only child, and he married Bella Goodman, herself an only, and they have produced dear little Faith. Bella’s parents are also dead. Mother died from multiple sclerosis, and Father had a fatal accident on his tractor.”

“Not surprising,” chipped in Ivy. “Those enormous great things are a menace on the road and the field. Get one of those in a ditch and you’ve had it. And they shake the village houses to their foundations when they go by. So both Bella and William are orphans, so to speak?”

“That’s right. And Bella seems to come down in a direct line from the farming Goodmans. Oh, and by the way, I did not mention anything about you and Ivy, or Steven Wright, or any of the people we are investigating. I just established contact, and a delightful contact it was.”

“I am really pleased,” Roy said. “I must arrange to meet them in due course. I am sure Bella will be a pleasant addition to our family.”

“And also an addition to the list of people made vulnerable by possibly inheriting your fortune,” said Ivy. “But perhaps you’d like to tell the others about the donkeys?”

“What donkeys?” said Deirdre. “What on earth are you talking about, Ivy?”

“Private joke,” said Roy. “Ivy is teasing me.”

They finished lunch, and got up to leave the dining room. “Excuse me one moment,” said Roy. “I have a date with La Spurling in her office.” He hobbled off chuckling.

“So now I must away to think,” said Gus. “And visit Alf Lowe and see what he has to say about Miss Ethel Goodman. Not much hope of getting the truth out of him, but I shall try.”

When he had gone, Deirdre took Ivy’s arm and said she would like to ask her a personal question.

“Depends what it is,” said Ivy.

“It’s this. Do you know whether Roy has made a will? And if so, and it seems very likely that he has, do you know who are the beneficiaries? I’ve noticed he skirts around the subject whenever it comes up.”

“I have never asked him, and he has never said. As far as I am concerned, I don’t want any of it. The donkey joke was because he is so unhappy about all the trouble his money seems to be causing, that he declared he was going to leave the whole lot to look after neglected donkeys.”

“Not such a bad idea,” said Deirdre. “Still, we have to respect his wish to keep his will private. Hope you don’t mind my asking, Ivy, but I’m beginning to get a bit scared.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ivy. “We should hear something soon about the Maleham’s furniture store report. Let’s hope the police are a bit nearer finding the murderer, if murder it was.”

“Did you ever meet Steven’s wife?” Deirdre said. “I just wonder if she might know a bit more.”

“She might even have done him in, nasty piece of work that he was,” said Ivy. “Come on, girl, let’s go and ring up Frobisher and see if he’ll tell us anything. And after that, we’ll call the Reverend Dorothy and see how she’s getting on sorting our banns out.”

• • •

WHEN GUS APPROACHED
Alf Lowe’s cottage, he was surprised to see Miriam coming down the path towards him.

“Hi, Gus,” she said. “Where are you off to?”

“And where have you been?” said Gus, laughing. “I’m going to call on Alf Lowe. He promised to tell me some tales about the Roussels. They’ve been squires up at the Hall for generations, and since the Honourable. Theo is my landlord, I thought it would be entertaining.”

“I could tell you some entertaining stories about the squire,” Miriam answered. “More entertaining than Alf Lowe’s. I doubt he knows much more than that his old father was given the push as estate farrier, after one of the hunting crowd was thrown off in a field because his horse lost a shoe that had only just been put on. The rider was badly injured and never walked again.”

“Good gracious!” said Gus. “There’s always a disaster lurking round the corner in this village. So where have you been? No, don’t tell me. You’ve been putting flowers on a grave in the cemetery.”

“Right first time,” Miriam said, taking his arm. “Mum and Dad are up there. Come on, I’ll walk you back up to Alf’s cottage. I hope you’ve not much sense of smell; otherwise you’re in for an unpleasant interview.”

Alf must have been looking out of his window, thought Gus. He had barely knocked on the door, where paint was peeling off in unsightly strips, when it opened to reveal Alf. “
She’s
not coming in here,” he said, and began to shut the door.

Miriam put her boot in the narrow opening. “Don’t worry; you wouldn’t catch me in your hovel, Alf Lowe!” she said. “It’s just Gus Halfhide here who wants a word with you. Watch where you tread, Gus,” was her parting shot, and she walked quickly away.

“Come in, Halfhide,” said Alf. “Can’t stand that woman. Biggest gossip in Barrington.”

“Her heart’s in the right place, though, Alf. She’s a good neighbour.”

“Yes, well, I’ve known her longer than you have. Anyway, what can I do for you? And how are you getting on with putting the frighteners on my wife?”

“We are pursuing our enquiries,” Gus lied. They had, in fact, done nothing about Alf’s case, since the murder of Steven and the challenged banns had occupied the team full-time. He looked around Alf’s sitting room and was surprised to see that it was fresh and clean. There were cheerful rugs on the old brick floor, and a bright fire leapt in the polished grate. Old oak furniture had been polished to an enviable patina, and one or two excellent hunting prints adorned the walls.

“You’ve got it all very nice and cosy in here,” he said now. “I envy you the prints. I know a bit about them, and those are highly desirable.”

“I’m aware of that, young man,” said Alf. “So don’t bother offering to buy them. They were my dad’s, but after the accident he put them up in the loft. I got them down again after he passed on.”

“A hunting accident?” prompted Gus.

“Yeah. The son of a visiting nobleman was thrown in the field. Broke his back, poor devil. Dad got blamed, because he had shoed the horse, and it somehow got lamed. We thought it jumped badly over a hedge, but it was never proved. My dad got the sack, and never really got over it.”

“Sacked by Roussel, was he?”

“Yeah. Theo’s Dad. Theo’s your landlord, I suppose?”

Gus nodded. “Don’t see much of him, though. I think he keeps away in case I ask him to spend money on the cottage!”

Alf laughed. “So what have you come for? Do you want some questions answered? I hear there’s been an unpleasant event in poor old Roy Goodman’s family? And what about him and his intended having their banns challenged? My God, that was a turnup! Stupid old fool should know better, I reckon. There’s bound to be skeletons in the cupboard when you get to his great age.”

“Not Roy, surely? He seems such an honourable person. Though last time we talked you mentioned a breach of promise involving him and some woman? What was all that about?”

“That was years and years ago, and I only heard about it secondhand. Apparently he was walking out with Ethel Goodman—his cousin from over Settlefield way—and she claimed he suggested they got engaged. Anyway, it was all over the farming community, because they was cousins, and that ain’t reckoned to be healthy, is it? A few months went by, and the word went round that he had broken it off. She was heartbroken, and her dad, who was a brute of a man, said he’d get his lawyers to sue for breach of promise.”

“And did he?”

“Dunno. It all went quiet, and people forgot about it. But the poor girl never married. Still alive, in a nursing home in Settlefield. Lost her marbles completely, so they say.”

“I suppose she wasn’t in the family way, or anything like that?”

“Why?” Alf asked suspiciously.

“Well, because it is possible. And if there is a son, say, somewhere, it could well have been him challenging Roy and Ivy’s banns. I doubt if it would be a legal challenge, even so, but it could put the cat among the pigeons in a big way. See my point?”

“Oh yes, I see it,” Alf said. He got up and put a shovelful of coal on the fire, then turned to the window and stood looking out. “It’s goin’ to snow again, Gus. You’d best be on your way,” he said.