The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry (8 page)

F
ourteen

“DO YOU KNOW
what I think?” Deirdre asked Gus. They were sitting in her king-sized bed having a companionable cup of tea. She had forgiven him many transgressions, one way or another, and mostly to do with Miriam Blake, and had asked him round for a potluck supper the previous night. Then, by mutual agreement, they had retired to a night of passion, hindered only by advancing middle age on both sides.

“What do you think, Dee-Dee?” said Gus fondly.

“I think Ivy and Roy would do well to steer clear of that nephew of Roy’s. I heard something not good about Wrights when I was having my hair done yesterday. It was just coincidence, but a couple of women were waiting behind where I was sitting. They were gossiping, of course, and I heard the name Wright mentioned.”

“In what context?”

“One of the women had bought some furniture at Maleham’s store on the new retail shopping park in Thornwell. A table and chairs, I think she said. And when they were delivered, one of the chairs had a big chip out of the back. She didn’t notice until they’d gone, and then she found it. She made a fuss on the phone at once, of course, and demanded they replace it.”

“Naturally,” said Gus, “but what has this got to do with Wright and Ivy and Roy?”

“Patience, Gus! The man the customer talked to on the phone said he was the department manager, and his name was Wright. He was very rude and uncooperative, she said. Told her the damage must have been done by her after the deliverymen had left. She sounded furious.”

“So would I be,” said Gus. “So what happened next?”

“Dunno. It was the woman’s turn to go under the drier then, and she was led away with a towel round her head.”

“Extraordinary things they do to you at your hairdressers! But it is an interesting piece of information. Could be relevant. It’s not a common name hereabouts, is it?”

“The only Wright I’d heard of before Roy’s nephew, was the name on a travelling circus that used to come around here every spring. They had a roundabout with Wright’s Golden Horses up in lights all round the top. Very pretty, it was.”

“Mm. Perhap a trip to the furniture store in Thornwell might be a useful move for Enquire Within? You and I could go today, if we get up before it’s bedtime again.”

Deirdre slipped out of the sheets and went downstairs to the kitchen. “What do you fancy for lunch?” she called.

“Kippers!” shouted Gus.

“And the same to you,” yelled Deirdre from below.

• • •

IN MALEHAM’S TASTEFULLY
arranged furniture store in Thornwell, Steven was still smarting from his encounter with Ivy Beasley. Who did she think she was? Just a scheming old woman after his uncle’s money? Well, he was a match for her. He had stayed awake most of the night planning what to do next, and was tired and irritable with customers. At lunchtime, he had a surprise visit from his managing director.

“Wright? A word, if you please. We’ll go to my office.”

Steven was reminded of his headmaster’s “See me outside my study, boy.” He was only too familiar with that phrase, and its consequences, and this interview with old Maleham was likely to be on much the same lines.

“Not to beat about the bush, Wright, I have had a complaint from a customer about the way she was handled during a transaction on a set of chairs and a table. You fit the description she gave. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Steven shook his head. “It wasn’t me, sir.” He half expected Maleham to reach for the cane.

But he merely frowned. “Strange. My spies tell me you were heard being less than polite on the phone to a customer with a complaint. Still no recall of this?”

“No, sir. Must’ve been one of the others. That new chap is a bit of a smart aleck, I’ve noticed.”

“Never mind what you’ve noticed. Perhaps you should go home, Wright, and sit quietly somewhere and think back. Then come in tomorrow and see me first thing.”

“Before maths lesson, sir?” he said under his breath.

“What was that!”

“Nothing, sir. I’ll contact you tomorrow. But there’s no need for me to go home—”

“There may be no need, but those are my instructions. Close the door as you leave, please.”

• • •

WENDY WATCHED THE
car come up the drive and her heart sank. It must be bad news. Steven never came home during the day. She rushed to the door, and as he came in with a thunderous expression, she asked him quickly whether he was ill.

“Of course I’m not ill. Just a slight migraine, that’s all. And I’ve been feeling a bit sick, still. A couple of aspirin and an hour or two’s sleep will do the trick. We weren’t busy at the store, and my deputy was happy to fill in. It’s a sign of a bad manager if things go to pieces in his absence.”

“I’ll bring you a cup of herb tea. That’ll help,” she said, and went off to the kitchen thinking it was not the moment to tell him about the huge bill for the new swimming pool she had ordered. He had confirmed the estimate, but there were various extras that she had since agreed to.

Suppose he was lying, as usual? Maybe he’d been sacked and sent home in disgrace! Then they’d be in real trouble. Oh God, please don’t let it be that. She told herself not to be ridiculous. He was a valued employee, and had earned several bonuses since taking the job.

And he did suffer from the occasional migraine, and was sick with it. At least that was true. She could see it in his eyes. She sighed. Nothing to do but make a fuss of him. She groaned. It was a long time since she had done that with any real enthusiasm.

• • •

“SHALL WE ASK
Ivy and Roy if they’d like to come, too?” Deirdre was dressed now, glowing rosily at the breakfast table.

Gus looked up from his kippers and nodded. “Why not? An innocent trip to the furniture store. Nothing more natural for a couple about to set up home together.”

“Don’t laugh, Gus. They are very sweet about it all. I must say I’m thrilled to bits for Ivy. She has had a long life of either living with her mother, who was a real old harridan, or on her own in Round Ringford, with only two batty old ladies as her friends.”

“What happened to her father?”

“Nagged to death at an early age, I believe. And now there’s dear Roy, who couldn’t be nicer, and is devoted to her. I hope they live forever.”

“Mm.”

“What do you mean—‘mm’?”

“Nothing, really. I just have this wretched feeling that all will not go according to plan. Something to do with that Wright man. We must find out more about him, and quickly, in case he has an alternative plan in mind.”

“What kind of plan?”

“An evil one. I don’t like the sound of him at all. Do you want to ring Ivy, or shall I?”

“I’m having second thoughts,” Deirdre said. “If Ivy and Roy come with us, and Wright is in the showroom, he’ll recognise those two and that will rouse his suspicions. I think it would be best if you and me go on our own. Maybe tomorrow? It’s starting to rain, and I’ve got a meeting with Social Services at five thirty.”

“Fair enough. And I suppose I must go back home and face the wrath of good neighbour Miriam. She misses nothing, bless her.”

“Could be useful,” said Deirdre lightly.

F
ifteen

“DO YOU REALISE,
Roy,” said Ivy, looking out of the window at a grey, misty morning, “that we had a whole day yesterday without talking to either Gus or Deirdre? Do you think they are plotting something?”

“Very likely, my dear. That’s why you asked them to join your enquiry agency, isn’t it? Plotting has led us to very satisfactory conclusions in the past.”

“You are being deliberately obtuse, Roy. I mean plotting something without our knowing. Or being involved.”

“I’m sure they will tell us what they’re up to in due course, my beloved. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

Ivy softened. “Roy, you do say the most ridiculous things. But you are right. If I don’t hear from Deirdre by this evening, I shall ring her and ask for information.”

“Very wise, Ivy. Very wise.”

• • •

ON MEETING MIRIAM
Blake outside his cottage, Gus had had a sticky conversation with her, in which she had accused him of playing fast and loose with Deirdre Bloxham, a rich and vulnerable widow with no one to advise her. “I know you’re not serious about her,” she had said to a suitably humble Gus. “Fortune hunting, my mother used to call it.”

This had incensed Gus, and he rallied in his own defence. “Unfair, Miriam!” he had said. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, I remember a time when your late lamented mother conducted a campaign to marry you off to Squire Roussel. Pots and kettles, Miriam!”

Finally he had escaped with Whippy, and fled indoors to prepare for Deirdre picking him up in the Bentley. They planned to be at Maleham’s Furniture Store in Thornwell at around ten thirty, and after sauntering around and asking a few questions, they intended to have a coffee in town and compare notes.

The retail shopping park was newly developed, the usual mixture of end-of-line designer clothes, toy emporia, and discount stores. Maleham’s was large and on two floors, and Deirdre, who was wearing a real fur coat and didn’t care, walked in, followed by a slightly embarrassed Gus. There were very few customers, and Deirdre said she supposed most people came in at the weekend when both husband and wife would be free.

“Shall we pretend I’m your husband, Dee-Dee?”

“If you like. Mind you, you are nothing like my Bert. He was comfortably tubby, with lots of frizzy grey hair and a lovely smile. You, on the other hand, are tall and skinny, with sparse hair, and most of the time you look as miserable as sin.”

“Oh, not true! I am the soul of fun and laughter. Come along, wifey, let’s look at beds.”

The bedroom section was upstairs, and they wandered from one side to the other, sitting on mattresses and bouncing up and down to test the springing. They split up, thinking this would be the best way of attracting attention, and sure enough, Deirdre was approached by a smart young man in a good grey suit and subdued tie.

“Good morning, madam. Are we looking for a comfortable bed?”

“A preliminary reconnoitre, yes. We have moved into a larger house, and so mean to treat ourselves. We are quite happy to wander about on our own for a bit. But if we need help, we’ll ask. Thanks. Oh yes, and do you have dining room furniture on this floor?”

“That’s right, madam. All part of our interior design department. Just over there. But our usual manager in that department is off sick at the moment, so we are doubling up. I will make sure someone is available for you. Ah, good morning, sir. I understand from your wife that you are upsizing? If I may say so, you have come to the right place!”

The salesman drifted away discreetly, but kept a watchful eye on them as they continued on their rounds.

“It’s all terrible stuff, isn’t it?” whispered Deirdre.

“Ghastly. All brass knobs and limed wood. Give me a charity shop anytime. You can get real bargains there, Deirdre. Not that
you
need anything. Bert obviously had good taste in more than Bentley cars.”

“Do you think we should ask for Mr. Wright? Or will we know him when we see him? I remember Roy saying there was no family resemblance.”

The problem was solved when they arrived in the dining room department. A thickset young customer was marching towards the cubbyhole office, and as they approached they heard him ask in a loud voice to speak to “an idiot called Wright.”

Deirdre froze and grabbed Gus’s hand. “Listen!” she whispered.

“I’m sorry; our Mr. Wright is off sick today. Can I help you?” said a voice from inside the office.

“He’ll be even sicker when I catch up with him!”

“Perhaps you would like to speak to someone else? If you have a complaint, I’m sure it can be put right, sir.” The voice belonged to a small, neat assistant, who emerged to face the complainant.

“You’ll do, if that Wright is not here. I’m not satisfied with a call from your department regarding a damaged dining room chair, delivered to my house. When my wife called to complain, your Mr. Wright was extremely rude and accused her of lying and doing the damage herself after the delivery van had gone. She was very upset, and has still not recovered. And all I have had is this.” He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to the sales assistant. She read aloud, well within the hearing of Gus and Deirdre, a formal apology and an assurance of Maleham’s best attention at all times.

“Not good enough!” said the young man. “I want a replacement chair delivered free to my house within the next week, or I shall be seeing my lawyer.”

“No need for that,” said Mr. Maleham, coming up the stairs and approaching them. “I’m afraid I could hear you all over the store! As for the chair, we already have the matter in hand and, as a goodwill gesture, will include a footstool to match your set.”

“Footstool be buggered!” said the young man derisively. “Just get my replacement chair delivered, and that’s the last you’ll see of me. And you can tell Wright I shall be looking out for him.”

Mr. Maleham drew himself to his full height. “Take care, young man. I have a duty to protect my staff, and if you make threats in my hearing, I shall be forced to inform the police. Good morning.”

• • •

“WOW! THAT WAS
more than we expected!” Gus followed Deirdre into the nursery department and they were idly looking into cots and pushchairs. “Sounds like Steven Wright forgot the salesman’s golden rule, that the customer is always right.”

“I don’t give much for his chances of staying in that job. Oh look, Gus, at this adorable little teddy bear. I think I shall buy it, just to prove we are real customers.”

“But neither of us has any child to give it to. Unless you’re keeping secret from me a family of two sets of twins?”

Deirdre put the bear back in the cot. “Not true,” she said. “I wanted children, but by the time Bert said we could try for a baby, it was too late. I don’t think he really wanted one. Unhappy childhood himself. The usual story.”

“Mm, in my case it was Kath who didn’t want to share the limelight with another being of any age. Pure selfishness. Still, I’d have been a lousy dad.”

“Let’s go and get a coffee. No good hanging on here. I think we’ve done well. Oh look out, here comes Mister Smoothie.”

Deirdre pulled her fur coat around her, and said politely that they had had a good look around and would be thinking about what they had seen. Gus added his thanks, and they left.

• • •

“NOTHING DOING THERE,”
said the smart assistant to his woman colleague. “The ones with fur coats and Bentleys never buy anything, do they?”

“Would you? I don’t blame them. It’s all a load of rubbish, anyway. By the way, shall we send a ‘get well soon’ card to Steve?”

“Not likely! He’s often off sick. I hope it takes months. I reckon that bloke with the damaged chair could make mincemeat of our Steven, if he finds him. With any luck.”