Slated for Death (18 page)

“Who can handle being bossed about.”

At that moment Rhian stuck her head round the door. Victoria and Penny turned their eyes toward her and then exchanged sly smiles.

“What?” said Rhian, looking from one to the other. “What's the matter with you two? Why are you looking at me like that? I just wanted a word with Penny.”

“I had you down to take tickets at the concert,” said Penny, “but Mrs. Lloyd has volunteered to do that. Another task has come up, which I think, that is, we think, you'd be really good at.”

“Oh, yes? What's that, then?”

“How would you like to be personal assistant to our guest artist?”

“Artiste,” corrected Victoria.

“Fine,” said Rhian. “Whatever. Penny, I need to talk to you.”

 

Thirty-one

“Penny, it's my grandfather,” said Rhian. “He's gone bad.”

“‘Gone bad'? What does that mean?”

“Taken a turn for the worse. We're worried about him. The nursing staff told us he's probably getting pretty close to the end.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry to hear this,” said Penny. “Well, you take all the time you need. Do you need to go over to the nursing home now?”

“No, I don't,” said Rhian, “Not right now. But you do, if you can. He wants to talk to you. He's become quite agitated and it seems nothing will do except he speaks to you.” She pulled Penny's coat off the coatrack and handed it to her. “Please. Go now.”

Penny hesitated for just a moment, then accepted the coat and pulled it on.

“Oh, and, Penny, please tell him I'll be over in about an hour.”

Penny welcomed the short walk to the nursing home as a chance to clear her mind and think about all that was going on. Now, in mid-February, the rain had let up for a few days and the freshening wind was blowing a delicious hint of the sweet scent of spring over the hills and up the valley.

Jimmy was waiting for her in the reception area of the nursing home. He pushed his chair closer to her and greeted her with a worried frown. “I knew you'd come,” he said. “It doesn't look good. Still, he wants you to hear what he has to say.” Penny reached for the push grips of the chair and turned Jimmy around. “Do you know what he wants to tell me?” she asked.

“I do,” he said. “He told me last night and then asked what he should do. I said he should tell you and that you'd take it from there. He was comfortable with that. He doesn't want the police. Not here. Not now. Not until … well, after he's gone.”

He led Penny to a closed door just down the hall from the nurses' station. “In here.”

“Are you coming in?” Penny asked.

Jimmy nodded. “He asked me to be there.”

“Is this about what he didn't want to tell me before?”

When Jimmy didn't reply, Penny opened the door and pushed his chair inside.

The small room, painted a dull, flat grey and smelling of a powerful cleaning solution, contained only a single hospital-style bed with side rails, a bedside table, and a straight-back visitor's chair. A lot of thought and effort has gone into making this room as dreary and uncomfortable as possible, thought Penny. It certainly doesn't encourage lingering, and that may be the point for it was to this room that residents were moved as death approached.

Dylan opened his eyes as Penny came closer to the bedside and he gave her a weak but sincere smile. “I'm glad to see you,” he said. She started to say something, but he held out a trembling hand to silence her. Unsure if he wanted her to take it, she hesitated and he withdrew it, lowering it to his side outside the bedcovers. His hand had a slightly bluish, mottled look, which alarmed her. She cast a glance behind her at Jimmy who looked worried.

“I'm sorry I wasn't open with you the other day,” Dylan began. “You see, what I am about to tell you wasn't my secret to tell. It belonged to all of us, and we all kept it. We closed ranks. But I'm the last one left, and now it's time for me to set this burden down. There's no one left to protect and I want to be free of it. I've already told Jimmy and now I'm going to tell you. What you do with it is up to you. But Rhian thinks the world of you and I trust her judgement. I know you'll do the right thing.”

Penny started to speak, but he lifted his hand slightly, frowned, and shook his head.

“Please. You don't need to say anything. Just listen.” She nodded.

“It was a different world back then,” he began, “although it was barely more than a generation ago. We didn't have the opportunities young people have now. The class system was alive and well. Everybody knew where they belonged and those with jumped-up ideas above their station were soon put back in their place. Oh, a few lads might have escaped the town but not many. For most of us, our future was down the mine. You didn't question it; you just joined your fathers, uncles, and brothers. That's what was expected of us, and that's what we did. And it was all we had. We had no prospects of other jobs.

“Aled Roberts was the mine manager and he was the biggest bastard you could ever imagine. You see, we had to bid for the chambers to work. Some chambers had better slate than others. He used to give the good chambers to his mates or those who paid him the most. The rest of us got the poor quality slate. And we were paid by how much we produced and the quality of it.

“So a lot of us hated him. And then he found out that his wife—that's Doreen—was having an affair with Gwillym Thomas. It couldn't have been much of an affair because we all worked such long hours and were so tired at the end of our shift, but I guess they managed to steal away for a bit of time together. We enjoyed the idea that Gwillym was putting it over on him. But somehow he found out and the next thing we knew Gwillym was dead. Bashed over the head with a slate splitter. We had no doubt that Aled had killed him, even if the police couldn't find any evidence he had. So we did what we had to do.”

“You mean…”

“We arranged a little accident. There's always a risk with scaffolding in a place like that. The floor's uneven. It's hard to see in the dark. Maybe a bolt or two wasn't as tight as it should have been.” He closed his eyes and paused to catch his breath, then resumed. “We didn't care if he was dead or just injured, as long as we got him out of there.”

“How many men were in on this?” Penny asked.

“About fifteen. And don't ask me their names. I can't remember all of them and I wouldn't tell you anyway. But out of them, I'm the last one still alive, and I just want this out in the open now. I wouldn't have said anything while Doreen was still alive, but she's gone now, too, so there's no one left to care.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” said Penny. “Her daughter Rebeccah is still alive and she might care about what happened to her dad.”

Dylan made a little grimace that looked almost like a smirk. “Ah, but was Aled her dad? Who knows how long the affair had been going on? Still, he probably was. But then there was the baby that died. Everyone thought for sure Gwillym was the father of that child.”

Having said that, he gave a small nod, signalling he'd said all he had to say, then, with some difficulty, turned on his side to face the wall. Penny pulled the sheet and light coverlet over his thin shoulders, just visible above the blue and white patterned hospital gown.

Jimmy placed his hands on the wheels of his chair and maneuvered himself toward Penny. “Right, well, he looks as if he could use some kip. We'd better leave him to it.”

Penny pushed Jimmy into the hall and turned toward the morning room. “Shall we sit for a few minutes?” she asked. “That's a lot to take in.”

When Jimmy had been arranged in his favourite spot that afforded a good view of the lounge, with Penny seated beside him, he turned to her.

“What did you make of all that, then?”

“Feeling a bit overwhelmed, actually. We've just had two murders described to us. But one thing that strikes me is how people seem so reluctant to talk about the past. ‘What's the point of raking up all that misery?' they say. But wouldn't you think they'd want the truth to come out, no matter how many years later?”

“What about you?” Jimmy asked. “Surely you did things or know things that you'd prefer stay buried in your past. And haven't we all.”

Penny said nothing and after a few moments Jimmy asked, “Right, well, where does this leave us? Where do we go from here?”

 

Thirty-two

Good question, thought Penny, as she trudged back to the Spa along the familiar streets. Where do we go from here? If there was a connection between what happened in the mine all those years ago, and the murder of Glenda Roberts, she couldn't see it. And what about Doreen Roberts? Had her death been an assisted suicide? And if it was, who had done the assisting? Someone who worked at the care home? Rebeccah? But Rebeccah had apparently arrived at the home after Penny and Jimmy had discovered the body, so did that exclude her?

Had anything happened that day that was buried in the back of her mind, waiting to be recalled? As she struggled to bring to the surface something, anything, she had overlooked a friendly voice brought her back to the Llanelen street.

“Hey up, Penny! Mind where you're going!”

“Oh, sorry, Rhian. I was miles away.”

“Just on your way back to the Spa, are you? How was Granddad? Was he…?”

“He was a bit weak. He talked for a bit, and then he dropped off to sleep. My visit seemed to tire him out.”

“Mum's arriving this afternoon. We're preparing for the worst. The doctor tells us it probably won't be long now.”

“I'm sorry, Rhian. It's always difficult to lose someone. Look, take as much time as you need from work.”

“Oh, Penny, thank you for that. I was going to speak to Victoria before I left as I really do report to her, but if you wouldn't mind letting her know that I may not be back this afternoon.”

“Of course.” Penny gave her a little pat on the shoulder and the two set off in opposite directions, Rhian to the nursing home and Penny to the Spa.

“Oh, you're back,” said Victoria a few minutes later, as Penny entered the building and and closed the door behind her. Penny told her that Rhian would need more time away now to be with her family as it looked likely that her grandfather's death was approaching.

“Yes, I was thinking that myself, so we'll all take turns on reception. We'll just do what we have to do while she's gone and hope she's back in time for the concert. Time's flying and it'll be on us before we know it,” Victoria replied.”

“It will,” agreed Penny. “And I for one will be so glad when it's over. How did the rehearsal go last night, by the way?”

“Not bad,” said Victoria. “And I heard this morning from Ifan that Taff's doing so much better, that he'll be fine from now on to lead the choir. Oh, and he mentioned something else we hadn't thought about.”

“What's that?”

“It's about Glenda. Ifan was wondering if we should do something special for her, since she contributed so much to the organizing of the concert. An acknowledgement in the program perhaps. Or dedicate a song to her? And should we offer complimentary tickets to her sister and son—Rebeccah and Peris?”

“I'm impressed he thought of that,” said Penny, “especially when you consider that he didn't care for her very much. Very thoughtful of him. It hadn't occurred to me to do something like that, but Ifan's right. But we mustn't do anything without talking to Rebeccah first. I'll have a word with her. If we're putting something in the program, we need to get her approval right away. But I definitely think we should offer them tickets.”

Penny then gave Victoria a broad, open smile.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Well, I've been wanting to have a little chat with Rebeccah and this is a perfect excuse. I'm glad Ifan thought of it.”

“If you're going to to talk to her, you could always use counterfeit goods as an opener,” said Victoria. “Honestly, just thinking about it makes me so mad. That Glenda could produce those items, ripping off people she knows, and her sister selling them.”

“We don't know for sure, though, that Rebeccah did sell them. Or, for that matter, that Glenda had them made. That's just what someone overhead in the pub. Anyway, I've passed on what Ifan had to say about the knockoffs although I think the police were already looking into that. Still, it's best left to the police, don't you think?”

Victoria laughed. “That's rich, coming from you. Anyway, about Rebeccah. I heard she's staying in Glenda's house now, while she sorts things out. And Peris didn't want want to be on his own, but he wanted to be at home, so Rebeccah moved in.” She checked the client files on her computer, scribbled the address on a piece of scrap paper, and handed it to Penny.

“Here you go.”

 

Thirty-three

“Hello, Rebeccah.”

“Oh, it's you. I can probably guess what this is about. You'd better come in, then.” Rebeccah Roberts opened the door wider and stood to one side as Penny entered. She found herself in a narrow hall and the two women experienced an awkward moment as Penny squeezed past her.

“Come through.” Rebeccah gestured toward a door that led to a small sitting room. The main feature was an electric fireplace with a slate surround and scrolled detailing supporting the mantel piece. Penny reckoned that the slate work was original and at one time the fireplace had burned coal. Several cardboard boxes, taped shut, sat against the walls. Two cabinets, their shelves bare, flanked the fireplace and Penny guessed that the contents were now in the boxes. Following Penny's gaze, Rebeccah commented, “Mum lived here and then Glenda moved in with her when her marriage broke up. Now it falls to me to get rid of all their stuff. I can't afford to keep this place. It'll be up for sale soon.”