Slated for Death (28 page)

As do I, he added silently. He longed to take her hand, hold her, tell her how desperately worried he'd been for her safety, and take her home and take care of her. Instead, he looked straight ahead and said nothing.

 

Forty-six

Penny slept late the next morning, pulling the bedclothes tighter around her shoulders to hide from an annoyed Harrison, who was pawing at her to tell her she was late with his breakfast and he wasn't best pleased. Finally, when he had made it quite clear that there would be no more sleep for her, she gave in, stretched, and got up. And then she noticed the bright light on the ceiling toying playfully with odd shadows and shapes.

She pulled the curtains back expecting to see the green hills beyond. The hills were there, all right, but they weren't green. In one of those late winter surprises it had snowed in the night and everything was covered in a light dusting of white. The winter had been unusually mild and this was the first snow she'd seen in months.

Downstairs, she opened the front door and peered at her garden. The recently opened daffodils, their trumpets bowed under a cap of snow, were toughing it out in a bitter wind as the bright red berries of the flowering quince ignored the snow and kept up their brave, showy display.

She closed the door, went to the kitchen and dished out Harrison's breakfast. Then, knowing she would now be left in peace, she plugged in the kettle and made herself a cup of coffee. Cradling it in both hands, she sat at the table and thought about how she would like to spend the day.

She hadn't been sketching for some time and the combination of a snowy scene that would likely be gone by the end of the day, fresh air, exercise, and time to think was just what she needed after the emotionally demanding events of last night.

Listening to Karis's account of her rejection by her mother and sister had been deeply troubling. It didn't justify murder, of course, but it was a terrible ending to a scenario that had begun many years earlier in a heartbreaking story of childhood loss and pain.

When her phone rang, she knew without looking that it would be Gareth. He'd said they'd want to take her statement today, if she felt up to it, and she was eager to get that out of the way. She went upstairs to get dressed.

He arrived with DS Bethan Morgan about an hour later.

“It all happened so fast,” she began. She described everything that had happened down the mine, and related everything Karis had said.

“She didn't mention the break-in at Glenda's home, but I expect that was Karis,” Penny said.

“We think so,” replied Davies. “The only things taken were the mother's jewellery. In spite of everything, she wanted something that belonged to the mother who didn't want her.”

“That makes sense,” said Penny. “When I was doing her manicure she was wearing a pretty amethyst ring. I commented on it and she said it was her mother's.”

“We'll ask Rebeccah to identify the ring,” said Bethan. “Everything you've told us gives us good background detail for our interview.”

“It seemed to me she gave up very easily,” said Penny. “I wondered why that was. I thought she would have put up more of a fight.”

“It's not that surprising,” said Davies. “People who plan crimes focus all their attention on the committing of the crime and ignore the aftermath. They don't make an escape plan, they don't think about where they'll go, or what they'll do. But in her case, she just seems to have given up.”

“So what exactly led you to Karis as the murderer, Penny?” asked Bethan.

“When I remembered the fragrance and where I'd smelled it, it pointed to her. It's such an '80s smell. She probably likes it because it reminds her of a time in her life when she had a lot more than she has now. And I found the pieces of slate in both Doreen's and Glenda's hands intriguing. Usually the killer takes something away from the victim, but in this case, she left something. I saw that slate as a symbolic calling card. To me, it was a clue that the reason for the killings was connected to the mine. And if we looked deep enough, and went back far enough, we'd find it. And we did. The slate connected the killings of Doreen and Glenda and tied them to a place. Of course, the two women were connected in life, too.”

Bethan and Davies exchanged a quick glance. Davies made a little open gesture with his hands.

“Karis was connected to them in life, too,” said Bethan. “In a terribly sad way. We got the DNA results back. Karis, Rebeccah, and Glenda are sisters.”

Penny nodded. “Yes, we thought so.”

Bethan leaned forward. “No, we thought they might be half sisters. But they're more than that. They're full sisters. Gwillym Thomas, the man Doreen had the affair with, wasn't her father.”

As the meaning of this sank in, Penny leaned back and put her hands to her head.

“Oh, no,” she moaned. “Of course. There was no DNA testing back then, so Aled Roberts forced his wife to give away their child because he thought her father was Gwillym Thomas. But he wasn't. The child was his. His and Doreen's. Oh, that's heartbreaking. Poor Karis.”

“That's another thing,” said Bethan. “We checked her original birth certificate. Her name is spelled C-e-r-y-s, not K-a-r-i-s. The spelling was anglicized probably when The Characters group was getting off the ground to make it easier for international audiences to pronounce it.”

“Unbelievable. Cerys, of all names. It means love.”

“I know. We're only just starting to unravel all the details, but the whole thing resonates with sadness and irony.”

Doesn't it just, thought Penny, thinking about the deaths of Gwillym Thomas and Aled Roberts, who died down the mine so long ago. And now that Dylan Phillips was gone, she and Jimmy were the keepers of the secret. With no one left alive who'd played a part in that tragedy was there any point in opening it all up again? Should the dead be left to rest in peace? Or have they been waiting all these years for the truth to be revealed so they can rest in peace.

“Well, if there's nothing else,” said Davies, “we'll be on our way and leave you to enjoy the rest of your day.”

This was the moment. She hesitated.

“There is one more thing. I've got a story to tell you. It happened down the mine a long time ago, and I couldn't say anything about this until now because it wasn't my story to tell. But now that Dylan Phillips has died, I can tell you.

“It's about the death of Aled Roberts…”

“So it was murder, then,” said Bethan when Penny had finished telling them how the miners had conspired to murder their much-hated boss.

“It was,” said Penny. “And they would have got away with it, too, except Dylan Phillips decided he didn't want the secret to die with him.”

 

Forty-seven

“Would you mind waiting in the car for me?” Davies said to Bethan. “Won't be long.”

When they were alone, Davies gazed steadily at Penny. He'd been wondering what to say to her and in the end, decided to keep it simple.

“Haven't really told anyone yet, but I'm seriously thinking of retiring. I'm owed a few days leave—well, a lot, actually—so I'm heading over to Sherebury to talk things over with Alan Nesbitt and if I still feel like this when I get back, I'll put things in motion. It won't happen right away, of course, but I thought you should know.”

Penny made a noncommittal murmur.

“At one time I'd hoped that you and I…” His voice trailed off.

“I'm sorry, Gareth, I guess I'm just not the marrying kind. Some women aren't. It's just not right for me, not anymore. Once, maybe, but my life is in a different place, now.”

“I know that and I appreciate how honest you've been. Not pretending to feel something you don't.”

“I didn't mean to hurt you and I'm sorry if I did,” said Penny.

He wanted to embrace her, but she stood just a little too far away and there was a hint of stiffness in the way she held herself that prevented him from touching her.

“Right, well, I'll be off,” he said. “I'm guessing you don't want to come to Sherebury with me.”

Penny shook her head, smiled, and he was gone.

She closed the door behind him, gathered up her sketching materials, and set off. She was troubled and she'd always found walking the perfect salve for an uneasy spirit. But it wasn't the exchange with Gareth that bothered her. Jimmy had said something to her last Christmas that she couldn't put out of her mind.

“Don't forget about us, Penny. We're still here.”

She thought about the nursing home and its residents—once vibrant, contributing members of the community who had raised children, baked pies, walked dogs, sung in choirs, read bedtime stories to their grandchildren … done all the daily tasks, that woven together form the tapestry of a life.

And now most of them had been forgotten by families who lived too far away or couldn't make time to visit. Or perhaps there was just no one left.

She sped up and instead of heading into the countryside for a sketching session, she headed to the Spa and walked down the hall to Victoria's office.

“Hello,” she said. “Who's in this morning?”

“Just me and Eirlys. We don't really have anyone on reception. Eirlys is running back and forth.”

“Does she have a client with her at the moment?”

“I don't know. What's this about?”

“Come with me.”

They walked down the hall to the manicure room where Eirlys was tidying up between clients. She looked surprised to see Penny.

“Oh, Penny. I didn't think you were in this morning. Do you want me to take over on reception?”

Penny shook her head. “No. I want to talk to the both of you. I need your help.”

“What is it?” asked Victoria. “You seem wound up. Is something the matter?”

Penny shook her head.

“It's about the nursing home. We need to do something for the residents. They're bored and lonely. I've been thinking what we can do to make things better. I think we should start offering manicures to the ladies at a low price and me, personally, I plan to visit Jimmy at least once a week.”

Eirlys and Victoria smiled and immediately caught her enthusiasm.

“I could do a little harp recital, just a few songs, say one afternoon a month,” said Victoria.

“They'd love that!” said Penny. They looked at Eirlys.

“What if I helped them get on Facebook or showed them how to Skype so they could talk to their families?” Eirlys said. “Not everybody, of course, but the ones who want to.”

“Perfect!” said Victoria and Penny at the same time.

“Look, let's form a little committee, and see what else we can come up with,” said Penny. “Maybe we can speak to the local florist and see if she could help. I'd love to get rid of those dusty old fake flowers in the lounge.”

“And maybe we could work with the owners to get the place painted and freshened up. It really needs to be brought out of the 1980s,” said Victoria.

“I think it's a great idea to do something for them. After all, we'll be old one day ourselves.” said Eirlys. “I'll see if I can think of something that would get some of the young people in town involved.” She gave Penny a broad smile and returned to her work.

“We might organize a little roster of guest speakers,” said Victoria, as they made their way down the hall to the front door.

“Mrs. Lloyd could discuss how to write a memoir!”

“Whatever happened with that?”

“I don't know,” said Penny. “She hasn't mentioned it lately, so perhaps it just kind of quietly went away.”

“You know, if she wrote it, I'd read it,” Victoria said.

“So would I.”

“So would everyone in town.”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

*   *   *

Enthused about the new project to do more at the nursing home, Penny finally set off for her afternoon of sketching. The snow had almost melted away, leaving only patches on the hillsides, but enough to add a bit of visual interest.

But there was one last thing to do before she left the town behind her and began her countryside ramble.

“Hello, Jimmy,” she said. “Just popped in to see how you are this morning.”

He smiled up at her. “Let's sit over here for a few minutes, Jimmy. I'm off to do some sketching and I want to get out before the light changes, but I want to tell you that things are hopefully going to get a little better around here.”

She explained the plans she and Victoria were hatching for the nursing home and then discussed the events of the night before.

“I was that worried about you, love,” he said. “If anything had happened to you, I would…” He turned his head away. Penny gave him a moment to regain his composure and then touched his arm.

“I'm sorry I didn't come to see you as often as I should have,” she said. “But I promise I'll do better. And you be sure to let me know if there's anything I can bring you.”

“I will.”

“See you soon.” And she meant it.

*   *   *

A few hours later, tired, hungry, but happy, she opened the door just as the phone rang. She set her gloves down and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Emyr Gruffydd here. Just wanted to say how much I enjoyed the concert last night and tell you what a brilliant job you did organizing it.”

“Oh! Thank you!”

“Well, there's more to it than that. In fact, I'm calling to ask for your help, really. I've just been contacted by the BBC and they're hoping to bring
Antiques Roadshow
to Llanelen and they want to hold the event at the Hall.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“The thing is, you see, I'm going to need help organizing it. There'll have to be a marquee, and heaven knows what else. So I was wondering if you would consider taking it on.”