Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery) (14 page)

Twenty-
s
ix

D
ot
N
immo was still eating toast and marmalade when her phone rang.
I
t was
L
ois, and after apologies for ringing so early, she asked
D
ot whether she could give up her
W
altonby job to
F
loss this morning, and do an emergency clean up at
C
ameroon
H
all.

“Pettison has been on the phone, sounding rattled. I don’t know what it’s all about, but he wants you to go up as soon as poss, to tidy up and generally clean around, as he is expecting a guest. I said that would be okay, and hope you don’t mind, Dot?”

Dot said as long as Floss was happy, she would do anything that Mrs M asked. She said she would get ready swiftly, and be up there within half an hour. She felt a frisson of excitement, and wondered who the guest could be. If he was part of the Tresham underworld, it was quite likely that she would know him—or her. But then, why would Pettison ask so specially for her? He knew her background intimately. Maybe that’s
why
he had asked.

She sluiced her face in cold water, and sprayed scent liberally behind her ears and on her wrists. Covers a multitude! she thought. The traffic was heavy in town, and she had to sit at traffic lights for what seemed longer than usual. She listened to her local radio station for news of road congestion, and jerked to attention at the mention of another death from snakebite. This time it was not at the zoo, but at the home of a private owner the other side of the county. She made a mental note of the name, and listened for more information. But it was a brief news item, and other, more cheerful stories followed.

Must make sure Mrs M knows, she thought, and drove up to Cameroon Hall, thinking what she would do if one of the wriggling things escaped up to the house and confronted her on the job. Another thought struck her. Was Pettison’s mysterious guest, needing such prompt attention, anything to do with the radio news item?

She parked her car and went quickly up to the back door of the hall. Pettison opened it almost immediately, and welcomed her in.

“Most grateful, Dottie,” he said. “And so sorry for the sudden summons! I have my distant cousin coming from Africa, and I would like to be shipshape when he arrives.”

“You can’t have made it so dirty since yesterday!” said Dot. “But I’ll have a go, and leave everything tidy.”

She started on the kitchen, and realised why he wanted her services. There were newspapers everywhere, not stacked tidily, but half opened and strewn on the floor. All the crocks from his meals since yesterday were heaped on the draining board, and there was cold greasy water in the washing-up bowl.

His cat, a large evil-looking male tabby, sat next to a half-eaten chicken leg, and glowered at her.

“Shoo, you nasty thing,” she said, and pushed it firmly onto the floor, where it yowled and spat at her, then fled rapidly away.

A bin labelled
FOR COMPOST
spilled its contents onto the floor, and she saw that it consisted mainly of a mouldy cabbage and oozing potatoes that had seen better days.

So much for saving the planet, she thought bitterly, and tipped it away. When she reached the sitting room, it was marginally tidier, but the drawers of a music chest had been emptied, and the decorative covers of old Victorian songs had been dumped on the sofa, where they were slowly sliding off onto the carpet.

“What a disgrace!” she said loudly, hoping he would hear. “Those lovely sheets of music are valuable to collectors.”

“Would you like them, Dottie?” he said, appearing like a jack-in-the-box at the door.

“No thanks,” she said. “But you should sell them, if you don’t want them. Where did you get them, anyway? I don’t remember seeing that chest before. Is it new?”

“New to me,” he said. “Fell off the back of a lorry, as they say. I am keeping it in safe custody until a buyer comes along. Nice piece, that chest. Lovely way of keeping music, with drawers that have a front that lowers like a little shelf.”

“Yes, well, I must get on. Coffee at eleven, don’t forget.”

He nodded, and disappeared. His study was at the back of the house, and she heard the door shut behind him. That was where she preferred him to be, safely shut away from her until it was time to go home. He gave her the shivers when he came too close.

She had been warned by Mrs M, and knew that at any time she would be able to refuse to do the job, and a replacement could be found. But she did not plan on that. She meant to stay until the whole business of trespassing reptiles and sudden deaths was dealt with.

Mrs M was cheerful, but Dot knew that she worried about Josie in the shop. One snake, one toad, one frog and a rat infestation, all more than enough for the girl to dismiss as accidental. They were lucky that a tenant had been found for the flat, as damaging rumours had gone swiftly round the village and beyond.

Pettison appeared again, this time in the guest bedroom, where Dot was dutifully making up the bed with clean sheets and pillowcases.

“Sorry, Dottie!” he said. “Change of plan. Guest is arriving earlier than expected. Called from the station, and is hoping to be here in half an hour or so. Could you finish that, and then leave the rest until Friday? You have worked your magic beautifully downstairs!”

Dot sighed. She picked up her cleaning things, and made for the stairs. As she passed the locked room, she saw there was a key in the door.

“Does he get to see inside the inner sanctum?” she asked.

“Time to go,” he replied, and almost pushed her downstairs.

“Just watch it, Pettison!” she said. “You know better than to do anything to harm me. I know too much, so lay off. You look scruffy, if you don’t mind my saying so. Best scrub up, and have the kettle on ready to give him coffee.”

She put her cleaning things away, and prepared to leave. She was halfway down the drive when a taxi came along towards her. The track was narrow, and it slowed down as it passed. She caught sight of a passenger seated in the back. It was a man, wearing a hat pulled down over his face. In spite of it being a quick glimpse, Dot knew that she had seen the man before.

*

“
I
might be mistaken,” said
P
ettison’s guest, “but I could have sworn it was old Handy Nimmo’s wife passed me on the way here. Going down your drive. What are you up to, Pettison?”

“Up to? Why, nothing at all. And you’re wrong about Nimmo’s wife. I’m sure I saw a notice of her demise recently in the local press. Now, did you have a good flight? And your luggage got through safe and sound? We must have a glass of hock to celebrate.”

His guest sat down in the sagging sofa, and looked around. “Certainly spruced this place up a bit,” he said. “Needs repainting right through, of course, but that would cost a bit. A bit short, are you, Robert, old son? Well, I’ve brought a treat for you this time. Very pretty, very rare. Needs careful handling, but very desirable.”

“Only one?” said Pettison. “That’s not going to restore the hall to its former glory!”

“Now, now, don’t be greedy. More to follow, if all goes well. Things are getting a lot more difficult in this particular market, as you know. Which means, with luck, that lack of availability will cause selling prices to rise. And that’s good for you and me. By the bye, the taxi driver had the local radio on in his cab. Something about a woman having been bitten by a snake in this neck of the woods. Anything to do with you, Robert?”

“Of course not,” said Pettison.

*

Instead of going home, Dot drove out to Long Farnden on the off chance of seeing Mrs M. It was raining hard, so hard that Dot could barely see beyond the windscreen. She cut down her speed, and thought about what she had seen at Cameroon Hall. Pettison was possibly involved, maybe disastrously, in the latest reptile accident. She had heard a later bulletin as she drove along, and this had been optimistic. The woman had been taken to hospital, and was said to be doing well. She would definitely recover from the nasty bite.

This particular snake had been a pet, kept by the woman’s husband in a shed at the bottom of their garden. Apparently it was handled regularly, and was said to be very gentle and cooperative. He was usually the one of the family who would approach the snake, and on this occasion the wife had gone into the shed, meaning to find a screwdriver and leave swiftly, but the snake had uncoiled rapidly and struck.

A warning against keeping wild animals as pets followed on the news broadcast, and Dottie nodded to herself. Surely the time would come when Pettison would be forced by law to shut down his zoo, and return the animals to their natural habitat. The snake had been obtained locally, so the owner had said.

She drew up outside Meade House, and went in. Lois greeted her at the door, and Gran, forcing a smile, offered cups of coffee, which Lois accepted.

“Come on into my office, Dot,” she said. “You’ve finished very early, haven’t you?”

Dot explained what had happened, and said she would like to discuss New Brooms involvement with Pettison and his zoo. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, Mrs M, but it’s my duty to warn you about that man. When Handy knew him years ago, he used to say he could be very violent, and had once or twice been in a fight. Money talks, and it had all been hushed up.”

Lois frowned. “Are you sure you want to go on with this job, Dot? I can get you, and the rest of us, out of it today, if you have any doubts at all.”

“Not for myself, Mrs. M. But I wouldn’t want you, or the other girls, going up there. I can handle Pettison, and he knows it. So I shall be fine, and useful too, I hope. If all goes well, I’d like to see that devil made to pay the price for all the trouble he’s caused.”

“Very well. But I don’t want you taking any risks. It’s not worth it, Dot. Best leave it to the police.”

Dot laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk, Mrs M, if you don’t mind my saying so!”

At this point, Gran came in with coffee. She dumped one mug down in front of Dot, and handed the other to Lois without a smile.

“We’re out of biscuits until I go down the shop,” she said, and Lois forbore to say that she knew for a fact that there were two packets of chocolate shortbreads in the tin.

“So I’ll go up there again tomorrow,” Dot said, ignoring Gran’s dirty look. “With any luck, I shall see the guest. I was certain I recognised him, though he had his hat pulled down. If it was who I thought it was, then Pettison is a fool.”

“How does he convince the inspectors?” Lois asked. She was puzzled. After all, if a dangerous dog bit someone, it was put down immediately. But these creatures of Pettison’s lived on. Did he know someone high up in the police who got him off the hook every time?

Dot tapped the side of her nose. “Conspiracy,” she said. “Payoffs. Far be it for me to criticise the police force, but there are rumours. Always have been. Some of Handy’s friends got away with murder, as they say. Not actual murder, as far as I know. But I wouldn’t be surprised. Conspiracy was rife, Mrs M, though I says it as shouldn’t.”

“Sounds as if we should pull out, then? Please tell me honestly what you think, Dot. We’re not conducting a crusade on behalf of wild animals here. I have a cleaning business, and it is my duty to look after my team. And that goes for you, too.”

Dot shook her head. “Trust me,” she said. “I come from a different world from the other girls, and Andrew, and I know how to look after myself. I promise I’ll tell you if it gets too hot.”

When Dot had gone, Lois picked up her phone and dialled Inspector Cowgill. When he had heard what she said, he answered seriously.

“I think you should let me make some enquiries and then you come in and we can see what’s to be done. I must say Dot Nimmo is probably the best spy we’ve got!”

“And I’m anxious not to lose her. I’ll see you about four o’clock this afternoon.”

Twenty-
s
even

J
ustin sped through the flat fens, heading for
S
palding, where he planned to stop for a snack, and then on home.
H
ome?
F
or him, home was now the small flat above a village shop, a paradise compared with the flea-infested bed-sitter in
T
resham.

His mother had been in tears, and had clung to his hand as he tore himself away. Promising to return soon, and at any time she needed him, he had jumped into the Fiat and waved as he drove off. He had collected two island mice from the barn, put them in a small carrying case in his car, and gone back indoors to say a last goodbye to his father, but the small hump under the bedclothes had not moved, and his eyes had been closed. Surely he could not last much longer? He was taking only liquids, and this morning not even the creamy gruel his mother had prepared had been touched.

As a sudden flurry of rain hit the windscreen, he slowed down and thought about the farm. He had tried to persuade his mother to sell it, once his father had gone. The idea of a bungalow had seemed to appeal to her, but then she had wept again, and said the Brookeses had owned the land for generations, and she dreaded being the one to hand it over to someone else. She had once more asked him to think about taking it over.

The idea did not please him. A part of him liked a life of action and excitement, walking on the edge of things. Being an actor gave him that kind of life. It was a struggle to make ends meet with the scarcity of good parts to play. The one thing he regretted more than any other, however, was his association with his uncle, Robert Pettison. The man was a monster, and a ruthless one, as well as an affectionate and generous uncle.

Apart from taking over from his father in the animal trade, Justin had got himself into gambling debts as a young layabout, and had helped himself to a small amount of untended cash in his uncle’s office. Pettison had discovered it, refused to regard it as a loan, and had held it over him like the sword of Damocles, threatening to inform the police. It had been a small offence, and he had subsequently repaid the amount in full, but it had been a theft, and Pettison let it be known that Justin’s parents would be most upset if they heard about it. Perhaps he had thought his way of dealing with it would be good for Justin’s character. In any case, here he was, still beholden to his uncle.

Parking by the river in Spalding, he walked along the path beside the flowing muddy water into the centre of town. He found a café for a snack, and sat on a stool by the window, watching the inhabitants going about their business. Lucky people! Living lives of innocent work and family life, he thought, and felt very lonely. He made a decision, one made many times before, that he would cut himself off from his uncle, at least from his illegal pursuits. Then he could build a new life, find a wife, have children, join the rest of the human race.

*

“
H
e’s back,”
L
ois said, coming into the shop. “
I
saw him getting out of his car round the back. He looked as if he had all the cares of the world on his shoulders.”

“He’ll be glad of the goodies I left for him, then,” said Josie. “I put in a bottle of wine, too. On the house, that’ll be. Perhaps his father has died, or is going fast? He’s an only child, he said, so it’s even worse, carrying the burden of grief, and supporting his mother at the same time. We had a chat before he left, and he’s worried about who will carry on the farm.”

“Him, maybe? If so, you’ll be looking for a new tenant shortly. Now can I have some of that grapefruit marmalade your dad likes?”

“Doesn’t Gran have a monopoly on homemade marmalade in Meade House?”

“Yeah, but she only makes orange. A couple of jars, please.”

The door opened, and Justin came in. “Hello, I’m back,” he said. “I need a few supplies, when you’re ready, Josie.”

“A good fairy has left a box in your flat,” said Lois, and watched his reaction.

“You’ve been in my flat? I’m not sure—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Josie. “I didn’t look around. I just put the box in your kitchen, and a ready meal in the freezer. How was your father? Any improvement?”

Justin shook his head. “Afraid not,” he answered. “I’ll be going upstairs, then, and thanks for the groceries. I’ll settle up later.”

Up in his flat, he looked around. Thank heavens he had tidied up before he left! Nothing incriminating left out. He went into the kitchen and found the box of groceries, and a bottle of red wine. He read the note beside it. “On the house! Welcome back. Josie V.”

He looked out of the open window across the houses and to the playing field beyond, where a young boy kicked a ball about with his father. Both were shrieking with laughter that travelled to where he stood, and he could not stop the tears squeezing out from under his eyelids.

*

A
t
C
ameroon
H
all,
D
ot was cleaning silver, and asked Pettison if his guest was still upstairs, as she didn’t want to disturb him with the vacuum if he was asleep. But he had gone, apparently, quite early in the morning.

“He recognised you, Dot,” Pettison said. “I told him you had died recently, just in case.”

“In case of what?” Dot replied.

“In case you would rather not have been recognised. He is a dangerous person to know, but we get on well together.”

“Wasn’t he that man from the Far East somewhere, the one that crossed Handy’s path once or twice? If so, you’d be far better using someone else. He’d slit your throat as soon as look at you!”

Pettison laughed. “Not if I’m ready for him,” he replied. “No, he brought me a very beautiful person to add to my collection. And don’t worry; she’s put away in a safe place.”

*

A
t four thirty precisely,
L
ois sat down opposite
C
owgill at his desk, and said that she had one very important question to ask.

“Ask away, my dear Lois. And may I say how lovely you are looking, as always?”

“I can’t stop you, but I’d rather you didn’t. Now concentrate, Cowgill. It is very simple. I want to know why Pettison has not had his zoo with its dangerous animals closed down by the law, long before this?”

“Good question, Lois. But the answer is not so simple. He has animal-protection organisations inspecting him, and we have been called in on a number of occasions when a visitor has been mildly hurt. Usually a child sticking its fingers in where it shouldn’t. We have insisted he tighten up security, and he always obliges. The animals’ papers are beyond reproach, all bred in captivity and so legal. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t have some spy who warns him when we do spot-checks.”

“Well, can’t you find out?”

“Difficult. Everything points to a bent copper. Now, we arrive at an even more complicated place. The police officer in charge of such checks and inspections is Josie’s husband, Matthew Vickers. You see my difficulty? Even more complicated, Pettison occasionally pleads exemption because he has breeding programmes in place, helping to increase the numbers of rare animals.”

“But if you’re worried about Matthew being a member of my family, why don’t you take him off that particular case, and put him elsewhere? Maybe hunting for real criminals. He’s a clever fellow, our Matthew, as well as being your nephew and my son-in-law.”

“That’s just it. Matthew is by far and away the best cop to be communicating with a slippery character like Robert Pettison. And I could swear Matthew is no double agent! No, I shall arrange to monitor Pettison myself, alongside Matthew, and we should be able to trip him up. The surest way of doing this is to catch him in the act of receiving or handing over the wretched animals. Now, we go on to Dot Nimmo’s reports from Cameroon Hall. Can you help me out there?”

Lois nodded. “She has already told me some useful things. First, Pettison is very jumpy when she is there. Follows her from room to room, or hides in his study. She has discovered the locked room that I told you about, but doesn’t know what’s in it. I decided not to tell her, and hope that he doesn’t think of showing it to her himself. Dot is quite sensitive in her way, and not fond of creepy crawlies.”

“Anything else?”

“Patience, Cowgill. There was another very interesting thing. Pettison had a guest who stayed overnight and then departed early in the morning. Dot was in her car going down the drive on her way home when the taxi carrying the guest passed, going towards the house. She thought she recognised him from the early days when her husband, Handy, was active in the underworld. From Africa or some such. Nasty and dangerous, according to Handy, apparently.”

“Name?”

“She couldn’t remember, or get near pronouncing it. Anyway, Pettison told Dot the next day that his guest had recognised her, and been sad when told that she was dead. Pettison thought he was doing the right thing, so he said. But the most important thing is that this guest brought “a beautiful person” with him. There was no lady guest, and Pettison said she was put away safely. I suppose you know about his ‘people’ thing?”

“Thanks, Lois. That confirms our fears that Pettison is actively trading in illegal wild creatures, keeping some out of sight in transit, and selling them on to wealthy collectors and individuals who fancy an unusual pet.”

“So what are we going to do about it? Dot is determined to stay cleaning at Cameroon Hall, swearing that she can look after herself.”

“Softly, softly catchee monkey, Lois. That’s what we shall do. Keep me informed on Dot, and I will let you know what our Matthew can discover. We need to catch Pettison in the act of handing over or receiving an illegally imported animal. He is part of a huge network, and would be a very useful person to talk to. Would you be able to work on that?”

Lois nodded. “We have a secret weapon, you know. Don’t forget my friend and colleague, Mrs Tollervey-Jones, late of Farnden Hall, and now living at Stone House in the village. She has done some good work, and has lots of experience with foreign parts. I haven’t been able to use her since she arrived back from Japan, full of beans and raring to go, dear old thing. What do you think?”

“Whatever you think best, Lois. I have to warn you that there are dangerous people involved in this trade, and they would think nothing of removing any obstacle that gets in their way. Take care, my dear. You are very important to me. And how is Josie getting on with the new tenant in the shop flat?”

“My daughter is important to me, Cowgill. So far, our new tenant has been fine, but if he puts a foot wrong with Josie, I’ll have his guts for garters, so I will.”