Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery) (18 page)

Thirty-
f
our

R
obert
P
ettison was beginning to feel threatened.
T
he police were still circling like vultures, every day turning up with some trumped-up reason to inspect everything, from the house to the zoo to the gardener’s shed.
U
p to now, and with
J
ustin’s help, he had managed to conceal animals which could be construed as illegally obtained straight from the wild.
H
e now concentrated on small creatures that were easy to hide, and so far none had been visible to nosy policemen.
A
ll such animals he bought for resale, and mostly on commission, with regular customers around the country.

But now there were other people bothering him. Dot Nimmo, for one. It had probably been a mistake employing her, knowing she worked for the celebrated Lois Meade, with the latter’s close association with Inspector Cowgill. Dottie was always nosing around, asking about the locked room and announcing that she intended to turn out the cupboards in his office. “Full of rubbish,” she had said. Maybe she would call it rubbish, but those locked cupboards were full of records that were highly incriminating rubbish, going back years. He had forbidden her to touch them, of course, but Dot Nimmo had never obeyed orders and, he suspected, she was not about to change.

Perhaps he would give her the sack. But that would bring him face-to-face with Lois Meade, whose eyes were everywhere, and who would inevitably ask questions he would rather not answer. So, he would have to find a way of dealing with Dottie. He thought of several ways, but the one he liked best was already tested and tried. Several of his animals had poisonous bites, and he could easily arrange for one to escape, blaming it on the keeper, or Margie Turner, when she was filling in.

Then he thought again. No, maybe not poison. One more poisoning would be a death too far. He would have to think of another kind of accident that would not necessarily kill Dot, but render her unable to do any cleaning for the foreseeable future. Yes, that would be best.

Feeling cheered, he got up from his chair by the fire, put out the lights, made sure everywhere was safely locked and bolted, and went upstairs to bed, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a hot-water bottle in the other. Two steps from the top, he tripped on the worn carpet and went flying down the stairs, bumping from one step to another and yelling as he went. His glass of whiskey broke into pieces around him, and the hot-water bottle burst, spraying his face with boiling water.

He reached the floor headfirst, and there was a dreadful cracking sound as bone hit ceramic tile. His last thought before he blacked out was that now he knew how to deal with Dottie Nimmo.

*

I
n the warm flat above
F
arnden shop,
J
ustin
B
rookes had fallen asleep in his chair, while the television churned on to a snoring audience. He finally awoke to the sound of the telephone, and fumbled around until he found it.

“Hello? Oh Mum, it’s you.” His stomach lurched, and he gripped the receiver more tightly. “Mum? Don’t cry, Mum; take your time. When was it? Oh, nice that you were with him. It was kindest, really. And he’d had a good innings. Is anyone with you? Oh yes, that nice post lady. Well, I’ll leave first thing in the morning, and should be with you in a couple of hours. Then I’ll organise everything. Now you’re not to worry. Try to get some sleep. Bye-bye, Mum. Love you.”

He put the phone down, and was suddenly hit by huge, wrenching sobs. His father was dead. A father who had been steadfast, always defending him against criticism and doing his best to keep a wayward son on the right path. Oh God, please give him rest, and help me to lead—what is it?—a righteous and sober life. In the future. Somehow.

*

T
he following morning,
J
ustin was as good as his word, and left Farnden after an early breakfast. He took his good businessman’s suit with him, intending to stay in Lincolnshire until after the funeral. He could help around the farm and, in talking to his mother, get some idea of what to do next. He had to face the fact that his uncle and the zoo were going to be closed down in the near future. Uncle Robert thought he was bombproof, but Justin was well aware that the net was drawing tighter. Should he stick by the old idiot, or leave while the going was good?

As the miles sped by, he tried to add up the respective pros and cons. If Pettison should end up in jail, then there would be the perfect opportunity to clean up the zoo, get rid of illegal animal immigrants and run the place as one of the best private zoos in the country. He liked the animals. Not in the stupid “people” way of his uncle. But the chimps and the other captivity-bred monkeys were fun, and he might even build an elephant house, and give kids rides around the grounds. A small elephant, it would need to be.

He laughed. He really knew nothing about keeping animals. But he could learn, and it would be fun doing it.

The other course of action was clear. He could do what his mother dearly wanted, take over the farm, get married and have a family, and they could all live happily ever after. But could he change his present way of life so abruptly? His mother and the farm could tick over for a year or two, to give him time to decide. In any case, now was not the time to worry her with his indecision! He could stay with her for a couple of weeks, and help her to sort out solicitors and all the trappings of the law. He was fairly sure that his father had willed everything to Mum, so it shouldn’t be too complicated.

Back in the shop, Josie was opening up when she saw a note put through the letter box. It was from Justin, saying his father had died and he was away to Lincolnshire, and did not know when he would return. He left two telephone numbers, and a cheque for the next installment of rent.

Poor fellow! thought Josie. But perhaps it was all for the best. The old man had been hanging on for so long, in a more or less zombie state, and now Justin and his mother could move forward. She wondered whether to send a card, and then realised that she did not have the address.

Lois appeared, having run down from home to buy milk. “We never seem to have enough,” she said. “How’s everything, Josie?” she asked, seeing her daughter’s solemn face.

Josie explained about Justin’s father, and said she was thinking about tidying and cleaning the flat, so it would be nice for him to find on his return. “He didn’t mind a bit, last time I went up there. I might tackle the shed, too. I know he cleared one end of it, but there’s still a lot of our junk out there.”

“Good idea, so long as you’re sure he won’t mind. I’ll give you a hand with the shed, if you want. I’m free this afternoon. Any use?”

Josie said the two pairs of hands were always better than one, and accepted gratefully. She offered Lois a coffee, and was about to go into the stockroom to make it, when her phone rang.

“Shall I get it?” Lois said.

“Better not. It’s bound to be some supplier.” Josie picked up the receiver and her smile faded. “Oh my God! Hang on; I’ll put you on to Mum. Dot Nimmo,” she mouthed to Lois and gave her the phone.

After a few minutes, she handed it back to Josie, and shook her head. “I don’t know whether it’s bad news or good,” she said, and explained that when Dot went into Cameroon Hall this morning, she found everything still and quiet, dark because the curtains hadn’t been drawn, and all Pettison’s dirty dishes from yesterday on the kitchen table.

“And then she found him lying on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and a puddle of whiskey and water mixed, out cold. She thought he was dead, but then saw his leg begin to move. She rushed to call the ambulance, which was there in record time. They took him to the hospital, where they said he had a broken leg and multiple injuries. Poor Dot was sounding nearly hysterical. At least, that’s what I thought. But no, not Dot. She was actually making a big effort to stop laughing!”

“Good heavens! It’s one thing after another this morning,” Josie said. “First Justin’s father and now old Pettison out of action.”

“I hope there’ll not be a third, then,” said Lois. “Just watch where you put your feet, Josie love. I’m off now, and I’ll see you after lunch.”

*

I
t was not until
J
ustin had eaten a sad lunch with his mother, and had returned from taking her on a food-shopping trip to nearby Spalding, that he remembered the cage and the little animals, concealed in the garden shed behind his flat. He swore to himself, and went into the chilly front room, never used except for family Christmases and funeral wakes, and dialled Pettison’s number. He would have to explain, ask him to collect and hope that he would understand.

There was no reply, and he finally left a message asking Pettison to ring him, saying it was urgent. He went to join his mother in the kitchen, wondering what to do if his uncle did not ring him back. Should he ask Josie to find them and take them to the zoo? No, the fat would really be in the fire if he did that. He would have to rely on Uncle Robert. There was nobody else. The new keeper had not been in on everything, and in any case, he couldn’t think of a good story the man could tell when asking for the key to the shed. Then, of course, there was always Betsy. He had had his own key to the shed copied and left it with her, in case of emergencies. Well, this wasn’t an emergency. Not yet, anyway.

Perhaps nobody would find them, and they would die. He saw again the little faces looking at him. Sod it! They were trapped, but then so was he. And he had more to lose. But what more could you lose than your life? If Uncle Robert did not ring him, he would think again, and the hell with it. At least he would not be responsible for animal murder.

Thirty-
f
ive

G
reeted with the news of
P
ettison’s accident,
M
argie
T
urner stepped in and said she was quite capable of running things from her kiosk for the present, and she would ask her friend
D
ot
N
immo to help.

“Dot is a cleaner here,” she explained to the young policeman, who had turned up to see if there was any help needed. Inspector Cowgill had sent him, he said, and he was obviously dying to do something exciting, like cleaning out the tiger’s cage, or swinging around with the chimps.

“We’ve got a new keeper, and him and me can cope well enough, with Dot Nimmo alongside.” Margie had seen the constable’s face fall, and took pity on him. She said that he could help her handle the big bales of wood shavings used for bedding. When that was done, she sent him away, saying she would always ring if she needed further help.

“There’ll be some others coming from the police station,” he said. “Inspector Cowgill will be going up to the house later on.”

“That’s fine,” said Margie. “I know him well. He’ll probably have his lady friend in tow.”

*

M
argie was wrong for once, as
L
ois was already down at the shop when Cowgill rang, and Gran forgot to pass on the message. Josie and her mother had made a start on the shed, and although it was a lot more empty than it had been, there were still a number of things to go into the skip, and others which Josie said she would take home to the cottage.

“Do you think you should check on Gran in the shop?” Lois said now. “Her arithmetic is not what it used to be.”

Josie laughed. “I’ll just make sure she’s okay; then we’ll tackle the rest.” She disappeared, and Lois looked round at the other items to be dumped. There was a very old pram, probably vintage, left by the previous, elderly owners, and also a ferocious-looking mangle, with a long iron handle and hefty wooden rollers. These things never wore out, thought Josie. Perhaps some collector might be interested in them. She had to wait for Josie to help her move them outside, where Derek could collect them. She took down the piece of cloth over the window. Surely Justin wouldn’t want that? It effectively shut out all the light. She threw it in the big bin outside the shed, and went back in.

A white bag on a high shelf at the back caught her eye. It had been torn and looked like rubbish. She put out a hand to grab it, but felt something inside. She removed the cage carefully, and something glinted at her from inside. It disappeared, and she blinked. A result of coming in from the sunlight outside, she thought. But then it happened again, and she moved to look closer.

Two pairs of eyes stared at her, and she saw two little animal bodies, frozen with fear.

“What the hell are these!?” she shouted, and Josie came running. “Oh Lor, Mum,” she said. “They must belong to Justin. Maybe he’s keeping them as pets? What on earth
are
they?”

“They’re not mice,” Lois said.

“Not gerbils or hamsters,” Josie said.

“They’re furry, but smooth with it. And they have tails like mice. And long trunky noses. They’re not baby rats, are they?” Lois asked.

“I can’t be doing with rats,” Josie replied, backing away.

“No, I’m sure they’re not rats. Best not tell Gran, or she’ll have hysterics. We’ll get Derek down to have a look at them after the shop’s shut. Have they got food and water?”

They found the foodstuff for them and pushed it through the bars at the back of the cage, and managed to fill up the water bottle upended and attached to the inside. Then they just stood and watched, riveted to the spot, as the creatures began to move, eating so neatly.

“Aren’t you finished yet, you two?” yelled Gran from the shop. “I have to go round to Joan’s soon. She said to come round and have a cup of tea.”

Josie yelled back that they would be finished in five minutes, and then she could leave. Lois put the bag back over the cage, and turned to Josie.

“And then we’ll lock up the shed, and ring Gran to ask Derek to come down as soon as he’s back from work,” Lois said. “Don’t worry, Josie dear. We’ll sort it all out. Poor Justin must have forgotten all about them, what with his father dying, and all that.”

*

W
hen
D
erek came home from work, he was greeted by Gran, saying he was to go straight down to the shop, where Josie and Lois were still tidying up.

“They want you to do something in the shed,” she said. “They wouldn’t tell me what it was, but they were both excited. By the way, young Justin’s gone off to Lincolnshire. His dad’s died, and he’ll be away for a couple of weeks. Now, do you want to hear the latest tidbit of gossip? Dot Nimmo phoned, and we had a chat. You know that Pettison at the zoo? Him that’s the boss, and lives by himself up in the big house? Well, when Dot went in first thing—she goes in to clean most days—she found him at the bottom of the stairs, surrounded by a broken whiskey glass and, to all intents and purposes, dead. Then, guess what happened?”

“Get on with it, Gran. I’m tired and hungry, and don’t much care about Pettison, alive or dead.”

Gran sniffed. “Oh, very well. I won’t tell you any more. You’d better get down to the shop, so that you can all come back and have our tea.”

“Gran!”

“Well, he wasn’t dead, but had broken a lot of bones and is in Tresham General Hospital. Very serious accident, they said on the news.”

Derek stood up from the kitchen chair where he had flopped down, exhausted. “I’ll walk down to the shop, then. Five minutes, an’ I’ll be back. Perhaps we could have supper on the table?”

“Yes, sir; no, sir; three bags full, sir.” Gran sniffed again, and turned her back on him.

Lois and Josie were sitting in the stockroom discussing what they had found when Derek arrived. Lois could see at once that he was in a very bad mood.

“Something wrong?” she said, kissing his cheek.

“I was having hallucinations on the way home,” he said. “A warm kitchen, with good smells coming from the Rayburn, and a beautiful wife in a frilly pinny stirring a saucepan, with a happy smile on her face. And what did I get? A mother-in-law with a frown, ordering me to turn round and go out again into the cold night air, to find my wife and daughter with a problem. Oh yes, and something about the zookeeper having had a fall. Apart from that, no, nothing’s wrong.”

Lois and Josie laughed. “Poor old thing,” said Lois. “Well, this won’t take long. Come out to the shed. We’ve got something to show you.”

When they put on the light and removed the bag, the little cage was clearly visible, and inside the small occupants once more stared out.

“For God’s sake, what the hell are those things?”

“Baby elephants,” said Josie.

“They look like shrews to me,” Derek said, peering more closely. “But shrews don’t have that long snout, do they? Very small anteaters? They’re actually quite sweet, aren’t they, Josie? Bright little eyes. Not really frightened of us. But I see what you mean by baby elephants! Let’s hope they’re slow growing. So what d’you think? Is Justin keeping them as pets? Did he say anything about them before he left?”

Lois shook her head. “No, he rushed off up to help his mother, didn’t he, Josie?”

They decided to try and find Justin’s home number and ring him to see if they needed to do anything with the baby elephants before he returned. Then they shut up the shed and locked it, and made their way back to an irritated Gran.

“So what’s so important about a couple of white mice?” she said.

“Good guess,” said Lois. “No, not mice, but something rare, I reckon. We’re going to get hold of Justin. But supper first! Derek is faint from want of food.”

“Oh, and by the way, Lois, Cowgill rang, and Dot Nimmo rang. Cowgill said he’ll try again tomorrow, and Dot said to watch the news on the telly. I reckon it’s something to do with that Pettison at the zoo. He fell downstairs and Dot found him this morning.”

“Dead?” said Lois sharply.

“No, but badly hurt. He’s in hospital. Now, please get on with your supper. They’re showing a good film in the village hall tonight, and I’m going with Joan. You’ll wash up, won’t you?”