Small Town Shock (Some Very English Murders Book 1) (9 page)

“There’s a look on your face that worries me,” Drew said.
“Like you’re going to start digging around for stuff. I know you said you have
the advantage, being an outsider, but that means you don’t know who you can ask
and who you can’t. Don’t forget that a lot of people have lived here for
generations and some of their enmities go back generations, too. You could end
up in proper bother.”

“I’ll be fine.” Penny felt annoyed. She had hoped Drew
would be an ally, helping her sift through the clues, but if he was just going
to tell her not to ask questions, he was no help at all. “So, where does this
path lead?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hmm.”

They faced one another, and she stared at him. Yes, he had
brought her a head-collar for Kali and yes, it was working fantastically well,
and it occurred to her that she owed him some money for it. But ultimately she
wasn’t going to let herself be deterred from something she really wanted to do.

He crumbled first. “We’ll carry on a little way past the
bridge,” he said at last. “I’ll show you. It’s a nice walk when it isn’t
raining.”

“It’s a nice walk anyway,” she said. “And thank you so much
for taking the time out to walk with me. I do really appreciate it. And the
head-collar. And everything.”

He was walking beside her but he flashed her a sideways smile.
“You’re welcome. I’m just doing my bit to show that our villages and towns
aren’t the stereotype of unfriendly locals.”

As long as they don’t ask questions, she thought to
herself. But she smiled back.

Penny woke up on Friday morning feeling determined to get
to the bottom of the murder case.

Thank you, Francine, she thought. You are right. I’ve
misjudged you … Penny still didn’t want to work with her, and was glad she
wouldn’t have Francine as a colleague again, but she’d opened Penny’s eyes. She
made a mental note to send her a surprise gift of expensive champagne in a
hamper. Then she felt warm and fuzzy. And that was certainly nicer than feeling
stressed and confused.

Yes. Today will be a good day, she decided, humming in the
shower and almost dancing around her bedroom.

Kali was surprised and a little peeved that she got less
food that morning, and stayed stuck to Penny’s side as she chopped up some
sandwich ham and put it in a paper envelope in her coat pocket. The dog’s big
eyes followed every movement of the knife.

“Yes, it is for you, but only when you’re good,” Penny told
the drooling dog.

She took some deep, calming breaths as she clipped the head-collar
onto Kali. After the horrible incidents where Kali had launched herself at
passing dogs, Penny had found that she dwelled on them more and more, building
them up in her mind until she felt quite sick at the thought of going out.

Now, she knew that when she tensed up at the sight of
another dog, she was transmitting her own anxiety to Kali, and Kali was sent
into protective mode – on top of her own fear. She didn’t need a trainer to
work with Kali, Penny thought. She needed someone to train herself first.

She patted Kali and rested her head against her shoulders
for a second. “It will be okay,” she said to both herself and the dog.

Then she stood up and took another calming breath. “Right.
Come on, you. Let’s go.”

As she walked, she tried to swing with a confident stride.
Drew had outlined his theory on the way back the previous day; it was him who
had suggested that Kali’s reaction might be rooted in fear. “You need to make
her feel that seeing other dogs is a really good thing,” he had said. “Like
people take them to the vets for no reason, just for treats, so they associate
it with good things. Eventually, in her head, seeing a dog will trigger her to
look at you for a yummy treat.”

It was a theory that she liked. She resolved to put it into
practise.

The small town was all fresh and sparkling after the days
of rain. The sun was shining and it finally felt like a promising spring day.
There were tubs lining the open market area, and tulips waved their showy heads
in a riot of colour. She discovered that market day was Friday, and the central
area was busy with shoppers and stalls selling watch batteries, mop buckets,
huge packets of chocolate, strange 1950’s aprons in polyester gingham, and a
fish seller who had a PA system rigged up at the back of his refrigerated
lorry.

She was still nervous about walking Kali with so much
distraction there, and she avoided going directly past the market. They turned
right and headed out of town, along their now-usual route to the Spinney and
beyond. At one point they saw another dog in the distance, and Kali tensed, her
ears flattening and her hackles rising. Instantly, Penny grabbed a handful of ham
and began offering it to Kali in a cheerful voice, her hand shaking and
spilling the tasty meat all over the pavement.

Kali was on it immediately, the other dog forgotten as she
searched for every last scrap of meat.

“Oh. Oh! Good girl. Good girl,” Penny said, in wonderment.
So, some things were more important to Kali than other dogs – food was a great
motivator.

She walked along deep in thought.

Everyone has their motivation. Drew said it was love, money
or power.

David Hart had love – Mary, at least. Money? Perhaps. They
said the farm was doing well. What about power?

I need to do some research, she thought.

* * * *

She got back to her cottage and Kali flopped, exhausted, on
the living room rug, and sighed as her eyes closed. Penny had worked hard to
get Kali to walk nicely on the lead, and it was clear that the unexpected
mental exertion was as tiring as the physical exercise.

She decided she needed to work on following the clues that
she had. She lined the suspects up in her head: Mary, the lover; Thomas, the
brother; and Ed, the disgruntled rambler. Thomas interested her the most – she
felt she knew least about him – and she decided to go and talk to Agatha.

After all, as the local hairdresser, she was bound to know
all sorts of things. And though much of it might be classed as gossip, there
could be grains of truth in it.

She left Kali with a rawhide bone to gnaw on, and went out
to the salon, intending to make an appointment for some time later in the week.
Then she planned to come home and make a list of questions and enquiries to ask
Agatha at her appointment.

‘Curl Up And Dye’ was a small salon nestling between the
butcher’s shop and the mini-market. Penny scurried past the big windows of the
mini-market, not wanting to attract Warren’s unwelcome attention. There were
huge black and silver posters in the windows of the salon, featuring
glossy-haired models with digitally smoothed curls and faces like porcelain.
She suspected the general clientele of the salon were after much more practical
hair styles, on the whole.

The bell over the door jingled merrily as she entered. The
three chairs down the left hand side were empty, and Agatha was at the back of
the salon, sweeping up. She was dressed in black, head to toe, except for her
gold lame mules and metallic silver nails.

“Now then, Londoner!” she sang out. “Penny, how are you, eh?”

“Hi, Agatha. I’m very well. How are you?” She wasn’t wildly
keen on being called “Londoner” but it was clear that Agatha meant no harm.

“My sciatica is playing me up rotten, and my salon washing
machine went pop and bang this morning, and my husband used up all the milk on
his cornflakes. Mustn’t grumble, eh?”

“Er … right. No. Quite. Sorry about the … everything. I was
wondering if I might book an appointment for a trim? And maybe a bit of a
restyle? Something … funky.”

“Any time, my love. Are you in a hurry right now?”

“No, no plans. I–”

But it wasn’t a conversational politeness. Agatha meant
something different. “Well, then, I can do you here and now! Would that suit
you, my love? My next appointment isn’t until three, and that’s Mrs Hargreaves,
and she’ll be late. But she’ll bring biscuits, so I don’t mind that at all, eh.”

Agatha put the sweeping brush aside and descended on Penny
like a boulder rolling down a hill, with a slow inevitability, grabbing a gown
as she came. Penny had wanted to prepare but now she was trapped.

No, she told herself sternly. I am not trapped. Here is an
opportunity… Just think on your feet.

“Great!” she said brightly. “Wonderful. Thank you very
much.”

She could do this. After all, in her television career,
she’d had to be so flexible they’d called her the rubber-band woman. If she
could cope with trying to hire forty blue taxis in Mumbai with only three hours
to do it in, she could deal with a sudden haircut.

And it was not only a chance to talk. This was another blow
struck for her new, refreshed, relaxed self. No more sensible, professional
hair styles! Maybe she’d have her hair coloured. Green? Red? Maybe platinum blonde,
giving her dull usual strawberry blonde a startling shine?

Agatha patted a chair. “Can I get you a brew?”

Her instinct was to say no, because few people could make a
decent cup of tea that she liked. She forced herself to accept. It would help
the bonding, and make her look less of a stuck-up southerner, she told herself.
“Yes, thank you, that would be lovely. Tea, with milk.”

Agatha clipped the gown around her shoulders and pottered
off, leaving Penny to stare at herself in the mirror. Usually the lights in a
salon seemed expressly designed to make the clients look half-dead, with their harsh
overhead glare and unflattering angles. Penny suddenly realised the salon was
actually unlit. The sunlight streaming in through the window was the only
illumination.

Then she heard voices from the back room, and with a click,
Penny was flooded with light and the reflection of her features flattened and
aged instantly. Great, she thought. I was enjoying pretending that I was ten
years younger.

She avoided eye contact with herself while she waited for
Agatha to re-emerge with the cup of tea. “Sorry about that, my love,” she said
as she popped it onto a small table near Penny’s hand. “Like I say, the washing
machine gave up the ghost this morning. Bang! I nearly did a wee. I’ve got Ed
in to look at it. Turns out to be a fuse in the plug socket so we had to have
the power turned off.”

“Ed …”

“Here he is!”

A skinny man with razor blade cheekbones and flat, dull
blue eyes came into the salon, carrying a toolbox. He was wearing boots with no
laces, and threadbare jeans that were artfully ripped horizontally all the way
down both thighs in a style that Penny hadn’t seen since the poodle haired glam
rockers of the eighties.

“How do,” he said, nodding politely at Penny. “Now then. All
done, Agatha.”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

He nodded again to Penny, his eyes sliding over his face
without even registering her, and then he was gone.

As soon as they had the salon to themselves, Penny wanted
to leap in with her questions, but first she had to explain to Agatha she
needed a vibrant, exciting, youthful style. Agatha smiled and nodded and said
she knew exactly what Penny wanted. She seemed very confident, but Penny couldn’t
stifle her nervousness as Agatha set about combing through Penny’s hair.

“So, who was that?” Penny asked, trying to keep her head
still. “I have heard of someone called Ed who’s into the ramblers. Is that
him?”

“Oh, the very same. Edwin Montgomery. He leads a lot of
local walks. Yes, he’s pretty handy to have around the place.”

“He looked a bit of a hippy, with that tie-dyed top. I
haven’t seen many of those around recently.” Penny was moving her mental list
of suspects around. So Ed could fix things, could he? That was a clue.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. He’s not been in Glenfield that long
but he was making his mark straight away. He’s a yellowbelly anyway, you know,
a proper native Lincolnshire lad. He organised a litter-picking group and they
planted trees by the slipe and he writes to the paper all the time about
windfarms. I can’t remember if he’s for them or against them, though. But he’s
awfully passionate, one way or the other. I wish I could have half his energy,
eh!”

“Wow. So what’s his job? Does he have an actual job?”

“Handyman, I suppose,” Agatha said. “He does electrical
stuff and basic plumbing and bits and pieces. Not gas. He can’t do gas,
apparently.”

“That’s interesting. And so he was fighting to get paths
re-opened…?”

“Oh, he is always into something. Now, my love, how long do
you want your fringe? I think we can sweep it up here and …”

“That’s fine. Just out of my eyes, thanks.”

Penny took a moment to rearrange her thoughts while she
sipped her cooling tea, and Agatha tutted because she’d moved her head when she
should have been still. Ed had a motive and he had the means to tamper with the
fence.

Although she still wasn’t sure if an electrical fence could
be set to stun or kill. Cath had thought not. She’d insisted the fence wasn’t
to blame. But surely power was power? Whether it came from the mains or a
battery pack, it was still electricity. She remembered something vague from
school about alternating current and direct current, but the details were hazy.

Then she remembered she was here to find out about Thomas,
David’s brother, not try to recall high school physics. Drew had warned her not
to ask questions. But how dangerous could it be? She put the cup of tea back on
the table. “Agatha, what do you know about Thomas Hart, David’s brother?”

It was the wrong kind of question, she realised instantly. It
was too open and unfocused. “What do you want to know, my love?” Agatha said,
tugging at a strand of hair for no apparent reason.