The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry (2 page)

T
wo

THE WIND HAD
a wintry chill as Ivy and Roy—he expertly steering his trundle along the pavement—made their way up the gentle slope that led to Deirdre Bloxham’s strangely triangular-shaped house, fancifully named Tawny Wings. She always described it as a letter “Y” without a leg to stand on. The house had been built by a successful builder in the nineteen twenties and Deirdre’s husband, Bert, a motor trade tyro, now sadly deceased, had bought it at a stage in their lives when they felt able to move a few rungs up the social ladder.

“Just as well we settled for hats, scarves and gloves this morning,” said Ivy.

“I’m not used to wrapping up, beloved,” said Roy. “A farmer has no truck with scarves and gloves when he’s out on the fields on a bitter winter’s morning. Takes a bit of getting used to being mollycoddled.”

“Huh!” Ivy replied. “No one has ever accused me of mollycoddling anyone! But I intend to get you as far as May the fifth in one piece, so just put your coat collar up and do as you’re told.” To soften this outburst, she bent over and kissed the top of his head, then resumed her smart pace beside him up the hill.

“Hey! Wait for me, you two!” A tall, thin man with sparse hair flying in the wind came puffing up to them. “Morning, Ivy, Roy. You’re walking as if you mean business! Pink of health, both of you?”

It was Gus, the fourth member of Enquire Within, and Barrington’s mystery man, though not so mysterious as he had been for a year or two after he arrived. Now everyone knew that he was divorced from a dreadful woman who had nearly shattered his life before he fled, and had then turned up again to make trouble, and a case for Enquire Within, not so long ago. Village people were also pretty sure that Augustus Halfhide had been some sort of secret agent working for MI5 or 6, or maybe even 7, if it existed. All very hush-hush, and all, they presumed, in the past.

“And how are you, young man?” asked Roy kindly. Ever the peacemaker, he was good at anticipating Ivy’s sharp replies, but not soon enough this time.

“If you ask me,” she said, “Gus could do with a daily dose of Deirdre’s golfing. Has she got you out on the course yet? Very good for the breathing, golf, so I’m told.”

Before Gus could defend himself, they arrived at Tawny Wings, and Deirdre opened the door. “Saw you coming,” she said. “Cold morning, folks! All ready for coffee and a brainstorming session?”

“A
what
?” said Ivy.

“Never mind, dearest,” said Roy. “All will become clear when we are safely settled in the warm with a cup of Deirdre’s excellent coffee.”

• • •

“NOW, ARE WE
sitting comfortably? Everybody got coffee? Then we’ll begin.”

Ivy straightened herself in her chair, and said, “Deirdre! Will you kindly stop behaving as if we were visiting infants from the village school. Now, Roy, first, shall we tell them our news?”

“Of course, Ivy. Over to you.”

“Roy and I,” she began, “are going to be married in a quiet ceremony with no fuss on May the fifth.”

There was a stunned silence. “But, Ivy,” said Deirdre, “last time you announced your marriage, it was going to be the Christmas just gone. And it didn’t happen. Are you sure about May?”

Roy said hastily that he for one was absolutely sure, and for this momentous day in his life he would see that Ivy was the one standing by him at the chancel steps in the village church.

“Well-done, Roy! We’ll get her there if we have to carry her!” Gus saw Ivy’s expression and laughed. “Come on, Ivy Beasley,” he said. “It’ll be a great day, and I hereby offer to give the bride away.”

“So who is to be your best man, Roy? Gus can’t be in two places at once.”

“Well, I have given it some thought, and as you all know, I have a nephew who turns up here occasionally and spends half an hour making sure that I am still alive and my bank balance is secure. I thought it would be appropriate to ask him. He is my only remaining close relative, and who knows—may one day be my heir.”

“Are you sure he’s a good choice?” said Deirdre.

“Once a businesswoman, always a businesswoman,” said Ivy scathingly. “I suppose you mean that unless Roy has stipulated otherwise, I should be the one to inherit his millions?”

Deirdre bridled. “I’m only being practical,” she protested. “You have to think of these things.”

“Exactly, my dear,” said Roy, and smiled. “And thank you, Ivy beloved. I shall give the whole matter some more thought. Now, shall we change the subject?”

Talk then progressed on general lines, but Ivy was thinking private thoughts. She had truly not realised that if Roy should, after their marriage, die before her, without making a will, she would inherit his considerable wealth. There had been several farms in his family, now all tenanted, and he seemed to have no worries about finance. Not that she was interested for herself, as she had benefitted from a pair of miserly parents, who had left her a tidy sum. But to protect him from unknown eventualities, she decided to take the next opportunity of asking him tactfully about his will.

But could she do that? After all, he might get suspicious if
she
started talking about making wills. She could be planning to marry him, poison his porridge, and skip off to the Bahamas with a scheming toy boy! No, she would just have to take things as they came.

“So what do you think, Ivy?” Deirdre tapped her on the shoulder.

“About what?”

“I knew you weren’t listening! About our next case, of course. The man at the bus stop. The one Roy met at the end of our last case. He was having trouble with his wife and suspected foul play from the family. Roy suggested we might be able to help and gave him our details. Wasn’t that it, Roy?”

“Afraid I don’t remember the conversation exactly. But I think that’s more or less right. I think she wanted a divorce, and he wasn’t having any.”

“As a matter of fact I remember clearly,” said Ivy. “It might be interesting to find out more. But how are we to find a strange man Roy met at the bus stop? Did you take his details, Roy?”

“Sorry, no. But I can describe him pretty accurately. I could try being at our bus stop at the right time of day for a few days. He might show up again. Not a very scientific investigation, I realise, but sometimes a simple solution is best.”

Ivy frowned. “I can’t allow you to hang about the bus stop for hours in this cold wind. It is a ridiculous idea, if you ask me. You others must back me up on this.”

“Certainly,” said Gus. “Thanks for offering, old man, but this is a job for me. You can tell me what he looked like, and I am quite happy to hang about on the Green or in the shop around the time the bus is due. We’ve only got two buses to think about, after all! Do you remember what day of the week it was?”

“Not absolutely sure, I’m afraid. Where he was going, or what he was doing, I can’t remember that, either. If he told me, that is. But I
do
remember that he wore heavy black-framed spectacles, because I remember thinking how unprepossessing he was, and no wonder his wife wasn’t keen. Is that a help?”

Gus laughed. “Of course. But are we sure we want to take on an unprepossessing character with sinister glasses and an errant wife? It’s a bit close to our last case, isn’t it?”

“No two cases are the same,” Ivy said firmly. “Worth a try, anyway. And so long as Roy keeps his promise not to lurk by the bus stop in the middle of winter, I propose we take the first step as outlined. All in favour?”

Roy could not remember giving such a promise, but obediently raised his hand. Gus winked at Deirdre, a wink she interpreted as an instruction to humour the oldies, and they both raised their hands.

“Good, that’s settled, then,” said Ivy. “So you will be by the bus stop tomorrow, Gus. I suggest half an hour either side of the due time. Then if that fails, we can discuss on Thursday whether it is worth continuing. I have a small thought that might be worth pursuing, but we’ll see what happens. Now, is there any other business?”

There were no takers, and Gus said he had to leave soon. He planned to look at some old, affordable cars.

“I have to go into Thornwell,” said Deirdre, checking her watch. “Can I give you a lift?”

Brazen hussy, thought Ivy. In my day, girls waited to be asked. Not so for the widow Bloxham. She had got not only Gus in her sights, but also Theo Roussel. Theo was the bachelor squire of the village, and an old flame rekindled when Deirdre had found herself living alone in Tawny Wings, a few hundred yards away from the Hall, ancestral home of the Roussels.

“Thanks a lot,” said Gus. “That would be splendid. By the way, team, I can’t remember if I already told you about my plan to buy a new car? New to me, that is. Can’t afford a brand-new one, but I shall be looking round for a bargain.”

“Look no further,” said Deirdre, smiling sweetly at him. “My Bert and me were in the motor trade for years, and I still am. I know as much about cars as your average garage mechanic. We shall go together to my showroom, and I shall guard you from being palmed off with an old wreck.”

Ivy snorted. “If you ask me, Gus,” she said, “you’d be better off sticking to the bus.”

T
hree

THE MORNING BUS
through Barrington was not always on time, being occasionally early and often late. Gus decided to take his small grey whippet for a walk around the Green and then call into the shop for supplies and a chat with the shopkeeper, James. That would give him plenty of time to spot the man who had spoken so openly with a complete stranger in a trundle.

As he walked along Hangman’s Lane, where his cottage was the last in a row originally built for estate workers, he thought about the man at the bus stop. It was quite likely, in Gus’s view, that the whole thing amounted to a husband-and-wife quarrel over breakfast. But at least it was something to occupy Enquire Within until something more juicy and important came up.

“Morning, Gus,” said James behind the counter. “Nice to see you. How’s Whippy?”

“Fine, thanks. Hooked up outside, like a good citizen. How’s business?”

“Quiet this morning, but Saturday was good. A posse of cyclists went through and stopped here for snacks. Took more cash in ten minutes than I usually take in a day!”

Gus slowly stacked up a bagful of groceries, keeping a sharp eye on the Green. “No bus yet?” he said, and James shook his head.

“Late today. There’s quite a queue out there.”

“Including the man at the bus stop!” said Gus quickly. “Must go, James. See you in the pub tonight?”

There he was, a lumpy-looking man, with a few strands of hair slicked back and heavy, black-framed glasses with tinted lenses, all contributing to a sinister appearance.

Gus was convinced this was his man, and approached with a friendly smile. “Good morning, sir,” he began. “Lovely morning!”

“Get that so-and-so dog away from me!” said the man. “I don’t know you, whoever you are, and I don’t want to. Here comes the bus, so just get out of my way.”

Gus recoiled, and stepped back onto the forecourt of the shop. He took a deep breath. Wow! So that was a complete disaster. He watched the queue disappear into the bus, and saw his man sit down at a window seat. The scowl on his face was particularly directed at Gus, and as the bus moved away Gus felt as if someone had taken a potshot at him from behind a tree.

“Gus!” It was James calling from inside the shop. “Here a minute! I should have warned you,” he added, as Gus returned. “That charming character is well-known for his dyspeptic manner. Not just you, so don’t be upset. He’s like that to everyone.”

“Does he live in the village? I don’t remember seeing him before.”

“Do you know that tumbledown cottage up Cemetery Lane? Next to the old smithy. Paint all peeling off the woodwork. Well, that’s Alf Lowe’s place.”

“Lowe by name and low by nature!” said Gus, reviving quickly. “A nasty piece of work, then? I don’t think he can be the man I was looking for.”

“Didn’t know you were looking. Can I help?” James knew just about everybody who lived in the village, and was used to directing lost lorry-drivers to village addresses.

Gus described Roy’s brief acquaintance with a man who had trouble with his wife, and James said that as far as he knew, Alfred Lowe was a bachelor. “He may have had a wife years ago,” he said, “before I came to the shop. But now I’m sure he lives alone up there. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Gus made his way back home, thinking hard about what had happened. Alf Lowe had answered Roy’s description exactly, and yet could not have been further from a friendly chap having trouble with the wife. Ah well, perhaps Alf had a brother. More work needed on this, he decided, and headed for the pub and a lunchtime snack.

• • •

“GUS WAS THERE
on time,” said Ivy to Roy, as they sat working their way through large portions of rabbit pie. “He was seen talking to someone outside the shop.”

“Not necessarily our man,” said Roy, “but let’s hope he has something interesting to tell us this afternoon, then.”

“If that was your man this morning, he’ll be here early to tell us, but if not, it will be more like teatime, when the afternoon bus has gone. Chances are, anyway, that he won’t find your man at first attempt.”

Roy, who, along with the rest of Enquire Within, did not feel too much urgency on this new case, changed the subject and said that he had decided to call his nephew to ask if he would be best man, and had caught him just as he was leaving the house.

“Sounded quite shocked when I told him about our marriage,” laughed Roy.

“Why shocked?” Privately, Ivy thought she knew very well why his nephew was shocked, but, as she had previously decided, said nothing about Roy’s will.

“He said he had thought I was a confirmed bachelor, and at my age wasn’t it a bit risky? I asked him to explain, and he huffed and puffed and said what about my weak heart. I said I had no such thing, and if he didn’t want to be best man, I could easily find someone else. But then he changed his tune and said he would be delighted, and looked forward to hearing details. Then he signed off, presumably in a hurry.”

“Mm,” said Ivy, and frowned. “I haven’t met him, have I?”

“I can’t remember the last time he came to see me. Must be at least six months ago. He did say he’d be over here very soon.”

Roy and Ivy, as was their habit, got up to go to their respective bedrooms for an afternoon nap. This was an established routine now, decided on by Ivy, who said that if they were in each other’s pockets every hour of the day, no engagement could stand up to it, let alone that of two old codgers imprisoned in Springfields.

• • •

AFTER A PLEASANT
session in the pub, Gus felt more cheerful and walked home briskly, with Whippy trotting beside him. He had almost made it to his cottage, when his neighbour’s door opened and a figure appeared.

“Gus! Missed you this morning! Are you up for home-cooked plaice and chips this evening?”

It was Miriam Blake, who had grown up in the village and since Gus’s arrival had conducted a brave campaign based on the saying that the route to a man’s heart was through his stomach. In spite of many rebuffs, she still hoped to lead him by the hand to a life of bliss in holy matrimony. And if not that, since Gus was divorced and had vowed never to marry again, then she would be perfectly happy to live with him in unholy sin.

“Thanks, Miriam. Very kind, but I have a prior engagement.”

“Not at Tawny Wings, I hope,” she said, pouting. “You know she’s the squire’s fancy woman? Shouldn’t have thought you’d want secondhand goods.”

Gus forebore to point out that he himself was not exactly a shining example of purity and innocence, and said apologetically that he was free tomorrow evening, if the fish would keep.

Mollified, Miriam agreed, and said that she had just made a pot of good strong tea, and wouldn’t he like a cup?

Never gives up, Gus said to himself sadly, and nodded. “That would be very nice. Thank you, Miriam. I’ll just put Whippy indoors, and then I’ll be round.”

“Don’t be long,” she called merrily, as he disappeared through his front door. “Jam tarts fresh from the oven!”