Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002) (11 page)

Janice was smiling broadly, and even Keith began to laugh. “All right, all right,” he said. “Anyway, let’s all keep in touch. Sharing info can only be a good thing, don’t you agree, Lois?”

She nodded, but had doubts about just how much she would share with Police Constable Keith Simpson, or, indeed, how much he was willing or able to tell her.

∗

It was Derek’s idea to have a family Christmas shopping trip to the new mall outside town. It was a mammoth building, all plate glass and Corinthian pillars, and was already very popular. The official opening had been in September, but Lois and family had not yet seen it. “Just a temptation to spend more money than you’ve got,” Lois had said when Josie and the boys had pursued a sustained campaign. All their friends had been, they said. They were the only ones who hadn’t.

“It’s got birds flying about, Mum, and real trees,” said Jamie, as if this nod towards rurality would convince her. “Real birds, pretty ones.”

Lois had laughed. “With real bird shit all over the place, I suppose,” she said. “Better take hats,” she added, when Derek finally persuaded her.

Saturday was probably the worst day to go, but it was the only one they could manage as a family, and as they drove round and round in convoy, nose to tail, looking for a parking space, Lois’s heart sank. Douglas and the others were packed into the back of Derek’s van, and she and Josie squashed together on the bench seat in front. It was raining steadily outside, and the windows had steamed up, the demister unable to cope.

“Look! There’s a place!” said Douglas.

“Disabled space,” said Derek.

“Oh, for God’s sake, just drive into it,” said Lois in desperation. “Ten to one nobody’ll check. We shall never get in there if we don’t park soon.” She felt sick in the airless van, but Derek shook his head and drove on until they finally saw someone leaving and moved in quickly. Lois opened the door and struggled out. She drew in deep gulps of wet, fume-laden air, and then helped gather the rest together.

An hour later, Lois had to admit that it was not nearly so bad as she had expected. She and Josie had gone off on their own, while Derek and the boys had headed for the sports shops. In the large central hall it was spacious and, though packed with hundreds of shoppers and sightseers, it seemed airy and light. A magical Christmas display had been set up and queues had formed for a small train which crawled its way in and out of small houses in a scaled-down Swiss village, snow-covered and glittering in the lights, with animated characters from favourite children’s stories waving and bowing in their mechanically good-humoured way.

“Come on, Josie,” said Lois, dragging her away. “You’re too old for that! Let’s get a cup of tea and rest our feet.” They’d done most of the shopping on their list, and needed a break.

As they turned to walk away from the crowds, Lois heard Josie gasp, and then a voice said, “Hi, there, Josie! Fancy seeing you here. How’re y’doing?” Josie had stopped dead and her cheeks were fiery.

“Hello,” said Lois, collecting her wits. “Who’s this then, Josie?” She did not recognize the lad, but a moment later she knew.

“Mum – this is Melvyn.”

“Yes,” said Lois. “So it is. Well, Melvyn, I won’t say nice to meet you. But since we have met, you’d better come and have a cup of tea with us. A chat might be a good idea.”

Melvyn, not in the least daunted, smiled in return, winked at Josie, and followed meekly behind as they headed for a café with chairs set out on a stone terrace surrounded by Italianate box hedges.

∗

“Well, where the hell were
you
, then?” said Lois sharply as she and Josie finally found Derek, Douglas and Jamie looking wistfully at an unbelievably shiny Porsche parked at the edge of the square; first prize in a nationwide charity raffle.

“What’s up?” said Derek. “You look a bit flushed the pair of you? Bin’ sampling some festive spirit?”

He laughed at this, but realized his mistake when Lois took his arm and squeezed until it hurt. “We’ve just had a cup of tea,” she said. “
And
we had company.”

Josie grinned at her father, not in the least embarrassed now. The truth was that Melvyn had been charming and Lois had found it hard to know how to tackle him. He was really very mature for his age, she had thought. But the minute Melvyn had said goodbye and disappeared into the crowds, Lois’s strong misgivings had returned. He was too smooth, too old and too smart to be anywhere near her fourteen-year-old, let alone taking her into deserted factories intent on seduction. She had failed, she knew, to give him any sort of warning. She’d fallen too easily under his spell. My God, he sure knew what he was about.

Derek clammed up when she told him, shepherded them out of the mall and into the car park. It took a long time to find the van, and when they did, it sprouted a notice neatly folded into a plastic bag to keep it dry. A parking ticket. They’d run out of time. All they needed, thought Lois, as she watched Derek, unsmiling and worried, push the notice into his pocket. They drove home in silence, except for Josie, whose soft humming irritated Lois so much that she exploded and threatened to shove her out so she’d have to make her own way home.

Later in the evening, when only Derek and Lois were left watching television in silence, the subject was finally approached. Derek switched off mid-programme and said, “Not watching this, are you?”

Lois shook her head. “Can’t concentrate,” she said.

“Me neither,” said Derek. “Cup of tea?”

They sat side by side on the sofa and talked. “He comes over really nice,” said Lois. “If only we didn’t know what we know.”

“You didn’t say anything, then…nothin’ about that factory business?”

Lois shook her head. “Nope,” she said. “I must’ve been mad. But it just didn’t seem right, what with Josie sitting there trembling, worrying what was going to happen. I mean, I couldn’t say outright that he was a dirty little sod and had better leave our Josie alone else her father’d chew his balls off, could I?”

The ghost of a smile crossed Derek’s face. “Don’t see why not,” he muttered. “Anyway, now we know what we’re up against. Maybe you did the right thing. Y’know, keep it all out in the open, not drive it underground and that. Could be the best thing in the end.”

“Mmm,” said Lois. “Let’s hope so.”

S
mall flecks of wet snow settled on Lois’s windscreen as she drove into Farnden and parked outside Nurse Surfleet’s cottage. It wasn’t so cold now the snow had started, but Lois was apprehensive about her return journey. The clouds hung low and heavy, and were an ominous yellowish-grey colour. She clicked open the gate and walked up the garden path, glancing across at Gloria Hathaway’s blind little house, with its curtains drawn and remnants of unwanted junk mail blowing untidily about the dismal garden.

“Morning, Gillian,” said Lois, as she approached Nurse Surfleet’s front door.

Nurse Surfleet was just on her way out and held the door open for Lois as she walked past. “Morning, Lois,” she said. “Looks like some serious snow on the way. Got to go over to Ringford again this morning. Old Ellen Biggs is worrying me a bit. Not improving, and tries to look after herself, you know. Might have to get her into the Red House for a bit of respite. Poor old thing, very independent…Mind you, she’s got good friends.”

“Shall I carry on as usual, then?” said Lois, her half-formed plan adjusting in her head as she talked. It must be possible, she thought, to get in there somehow. No police on duty this morning, no officious Keith Simpson barring the way. An idea occurred to her, and she called Gillian Surfleet back just as she was opening the garden gate. “I’ve forgotten my keys,” she said. “Sorry!”

Lois waited while Gillian Surfleet came back up the path, into the house and rummaged through the rows of keys, mostly obsolete, on her board in the kitchen. “Here,” she said. “Here’s a spare back door key. Use that and return it next week. And do be careful with them, Lois. I was never nervous in this village…until…well, you know,” she finished, giving herself a shake. She looked again at the board, muttered that she really must sort them out and throw some away. “There’s Gloria’s spares there,” she said, just as Lois had hoped. “Better give those to the police some time,” she remarked as she looked at the clock. “Oh Lord, I’m late! Old Ellen’ll be watching out when she should be in bed. Thanks in advance, Lois. See you next week…bye!”

∗

It was too easy. Nothing is that easy, Lois realized later, but now she just sighed with relief as Gloria’s back door opened smoothly without a sound. A smell of damp and undisturbed air greeted her. The kitchen was tidy, but it was a final, depressed kind of tidiness, with no one to put on the kettle, run the tap, open the cupboards and the fridge or turn on the cooker. Lois wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant smell and walked on tiptoe through to the living room. Don’t know why I’m being so quiet, she thought. Gloria’s beyond hearing anything anymore. She began to whistle, to banish the shivers that had begun to run through her. It wasn’t just the cold – though it was very cold – no, there was something else, something that always takes up residence in an empty house. Lois couldn’t put her finger on it, but decided to have a quick look round, then scarper.

The cottage was small, but had a decent-sized living room. Lois nosed around and the first thing that caught her eye was Gloria’s sewing box half-open, with cotton and silks spilled on to the floor. A cup with mouldy coffee dregs stood on the small table by the diamond-paned window. Everything else looked dusty but ordinary. Nothing remotely out of the ordinary. She debated whether to go upstairs. Might not get another chance. She went swiftly up the narrow staircase and into what was obviously Gloria’s bedroom. Lois gasped in surprise. My God, this was the secret life of Gloria Hathaway, no mistake! A huge bed, an elaborate dressing table, curlicues on the bedhead, silky drapes and frilled sheets, and a pile of dolls, with ringlets and frills. They seemed to be staring at Lois, and she shivered. A spider crawled over one of the china faces, and Lois backed away. God, they were sinister! Lois sniffed. The damp, decaying smell was up here, too. It was all over the house. Lois felt a strong desire to run, but forced herself to turn back into the room. She stretched out a hand to take a book from the bedside table, but before she could look at it, she heard a sound from downstairs, and froze. Her heart thumped wildly, and she looked around hopelessly for a way out. Heavy footsteps, making no effort to be quiet, began to mount the stairs, and Lois shoved her fist into her mouth to stifle a scream.

“Well, well,” said PC Keith Simpson, “and what ‘ave we ‘ere, Mrs Meade? Doing a spot of private investigation, are we?”

His mock copper voice broke the spell of terror, and Lois sat down heavily on a silky, padded stool. “Blimey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” she said. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll explain,” she added, panting heavily.

It took some explaining. Keith Simpson was not stupid and he did not believe her story about hearing a cat calling piteously to be let out. He knew Nurse Surfleet had keys, and he had meant to collect them, so he had no trouble in working out how Lois had gained entry. “What
you
don’t know,” he said smugly to Lois, “is that we check this place every day, and it’s just your bad luck we coincided. Still, lucky it was me and not one of the others. I’ll let you off with a caution this time, provided you promise to let
me
know what you come up with. And no more trespassing. Better get back next door as quick as you can. We’ll be in touch,” he said, as he held the bedroom door open for her. “Notice anything here, by the way?” he added, but Lois shook her head.

Not so clever, Lois, she said to herself, as she went back through the kitchen and headed out to the path at the back of Miss Hathaway’s cottage, thereby denying Keith the fun of watching her ignominious retreat through Gloria’s front garden to the road.

M
elvyn Hallhouse cycled home from school on the last day of term and parked his bike in the backyard of the house where he lived with his family. Home to my family, he said to himself. But it’s not a family like young Josie and her lot; Douglas and Jamie looking so like their father that there was no mistaking their relationship. Melvyn didn’t look like his mum or dad, or any of his brothers. They were all fostered, except him and he was adopted. Although there was affection from his mum shared out equally between them, he had never felt a real sense of family as other people knew it. Affection wasn’t quite enough. There was always a fair hearing if you did something wrong or lied to Mum, but he couldn’t remember a time when, like other mothers, she’d stormed off to school to tackle his teacher with arms akimbo, regardless of whether he had been right or wrong. Melvyn had come to the conclusion his family was different just because of his mum’s even-handedness and fairness. It wasn’t natural. His mates at school from an early age had been toughened up with a quick vent of temper from an angry mother. They knew when to dodge. But they also knew that their mothers were, when push came to shove, on their side. Melvyn was far from sure that he would always have his mum solidly behind him – he tried not to think about his dad at all.

He opened the back door and greeted his smiling mother. “Hi,” he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek. If only he’d known how her heart lifted when he did that, how he was her first and her favourite, though of course it was against all the rules to show favouritism. He dumped his school bag, and changed quickly into clothes that transformed him from a schoolboy into the young man he nearly was. “Can I just have a sandwich, Ma?” he said. “Got to get out early to meet Charlie. We’re going up the centre to do a bit of late shopping.”

“Christmas shopping?” said his mother, taking out the loaf and thin slices of turkey that Melvyn liked.

Melvyn nodded. “Make a start, anyway,” he said.

His mother pushed the pile of sandwiches down with the flat of her hand. “Have you got enough money?”

“Yep, enough for now,” Melvyn said, stuffing his mouth full, and turning on the television.