The Cold Light of Mourning (16 page)

Twenty-two

T
ell me again,” said Penny as she arranged a new duvet on the small wrought-iron bed in the box room while Victoria set up a lamp on the bedside table.

They had decided to do up the small, windowless room in white and now, with a few strategic splashes of accent colour, it looked just like something you might see in an American style magazine, they were telling themselves. It could easily pass for a guest bedroom in a Cape Cod summer house. All it lacked was an ocean view.

“The first thing that happened was Emyr came in with the dog and we talked about the funeral arrangements. He seemed very unsure but Gwennie kind of talked him into it. And then she said something like, ‘David Williams called from London to say he’d be arriving tonight and that he didn’t know if Anne and Jennifer will be coming but thought they would.’ I wasn’t sure what it meant, but figured you’d know. And, really, that’s about the only thing that happened, apart from the dog bolting in and getting a biscuit. She so loves that dog.

“Oh, and Mr. Gruffydd’s funeral’s on Wednesday at two, but you would have got that from the paper.”

Penny glanced at her, nodded, and went into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with a neat beige file folder and sat down on the bed while Victoria pulled up a chair they had brought up from the salon and faced her.

Opening the file, Penny sifted through a small pile of newspaper cuttings and held one up.

“Here he is. David Williams. From London and best man for Emyr Gruffydd. He acted as the family’s spokesman when Meg Wynne went missing. Anne and Jennifer were the bridesmaids.”

She put the cutting back in the file and looked at Victoria thoughtfully.

“David Williams. Emyr Gruffydd. And what’s the other one’s name?”

“Robbie Llewellyn.”

“Right. I wish Emma were here. She would have known all three of them as children, and she’d have some good insight into the men they are now. ‘Give me the boy and I’ll show you the man,’ she used to say. She used to be able to predict what would become of the kids she taught and most of the time, she was right. Leopards and spots that don’t change.”

They sat in silence for a few moments while Penny shrugged off her memories and returned to the present.

“I haven’t seen anything in the paper yet about the funeral arrangements for Meg Wynne. I wonder what will happen there. Would she be returned to her parents, do you think, or stay here with Emyr?”

Victoria looked blank.

“Anyway, I’ll be playing at the funeral so I’ll keep my ears open,” she said. You’re not going, are you?”

Penny shook her head.

“I’ve got clients and besides, I didn’t know the man. But by all accounts he was well liked and there’ll probably be a big turnout. You’ll get to see your new friend Gwennie again. She’ll be there for sure.”

“Well,” said Victoria, “if I’m in the right place at the right time, I might hear or see something useful. You know how it is. Once we turn fifty we become invisible, so no one will be paying any attention to me.”

Penny thought about this for a moment, and setting the file on the bed beside her, looked at her friend.

“And what did Gwennie say about what was going on the morning of the wedding? I expect she could have seen or heard just about anything and nobody would take any notice of her. She’s just Gwennie. Always there.”

“She said everything was all topsy-turvy. There was just so much happening. She could hear the boys, as she calls them, making plans over breakfast when she went to the dining room to see if they needed fresh coffee. This one had to get a haircut, that one had to pick up the buttonholes, another one was going into the office, everybody was making a trip into town in this car or that one … the Land Rover needed petrol … they were just all over the place.

“Of course, all she really cared about was that the darling dog’s routine not be upset. And she said one of the boys, she doesn’t know who, took her for a nice long walk. But she’d like to get her hands on whichever one it was because apparently he lost Trixxi’s lead and now they have to use the old leather one that nobody likes, least of all Trixxi, until they can replace it. And with all the dreadful things that have been happening in that family in the last couple of weeks, replacing a dog lead isn’t a high priority. Oh, and the dog was wearing a red handkerchief and looked very cute. And that’s about it, really.”

She thought for a moment.

“You know, this sleuthing business isn’t as easy as it looks. It’s hard to remember everything and it’s even harder to know what’s important and what’s not. How can you tell?”

She sighed. “Oh wait. There was something else. She said the nurse who had been looking after Emyr’s father left the house in a big hurry after he died. Said it looked as if she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. What should we make of that?”

Penny gave her head a light scratch, turned to look at the blank wall about three feet from the end of the bed, and then looked at Victoria.

“I don’t know. It’s all really confusing. Let’s go over what we’ve got so far and what we know for sure. Whoever did this was executing a carefully thought-through plan. This was premeditated. Meg Wynne and the other woman were switched just before nine, letting everyone think Meg Wynne was still out and about and being seen. But she wasn’t. And it had to have been done by someone who knew she had the appointment, and made sure the impostor was briefed, dressed right, and ready to go. And whoever did it knew the details of the wedding arrangements, right down to the flowers.

“And Meg Wynne had to have been buried Sunday night because that’s when the grave was opened and by Monday it had been filled in.”

“And they couldn’t have buried the body in daylight—too many people could have seen them,” added Victoria. “And it was
them
. This had to be a two-person job. A man and a woman.”

“Exactly,” agreed Penny. “I wonder. What if they kidnapped Meg Wynne and it all went wrong before they could even ask for the money? Maybe she struggled too much. They say that most kidnapping victims are dead within the first twenty-four hours. So she must have been held somewhere or else her body was hidden somewhere. But where? And more importantly, by whom? And why?”

“Maybe it wasn’t about money, although there was lots of it available,” responded Victoria. “The Gruffydd family could have raised any amount they needed to. No, maybe somebody hated her enough to want her dead.”

“Or feared her enough to need her dead,” said Penny. “From the way the bridesmaids were talking, she was one determined woman. She might have wanted something. Or known something.”

She patted the file and then sighed.

“You know, I think the police won’t be long ruling out the father. I don’t think he had the resources to put the impostor in place and why would he bother? Meg Wynne was out of his life and even if they didn’t like each other much, they probably wouldn’t need to see each other after the wedding. No need to play happy families. Estrangements happen and they can easily last a lifetime. She could have stayed in touch with her mother, but the father didn’t matter. No, I don’t think he did it. And as suspects go, he’s pretty obvious.”

She continued with her train of thought.

“Unless, he was hard up for money. Maybe he was a gambler and owes the wrong people a lot of money and they were threatening to come after him if he didn’t pay up.”

“Do you think Meg Wynne had a will?” asked Victoria. “If she didn’t, and she died before she married Emyr, wouldn’t the money go to her parents? Wouldn’t that be a pretty good motive?”

“Could be,” agreed Penny.

“What about a former boyfriend?” asked Victoria. “Do you think it was a jealous ex-lover … ‘If I can’t have her, nobody can’ kind of thing?”

“Oh I’m sure there are lots of ex-lovers around, but she’d been going out with Emyr for almost two years, I think the bridesmaid said, and if there hadn’t been problems of that kind before, it’s unlikely someone would come crawling out of the woodwork now,” said Penny.

“No, I think whatever happened here, happened close to home. I think this begins and ends at Ty Brith and that’s where we should keep digging.”

She glanced at her watch, stood up, and looked over at Victoria.

“I’ve got to get back to work so I’ll leave you to it. Do you think you’ll be comfortable in here?” She looked around the tiny space. “It’s not much, I know, but on the bright side, you won’t be sharing with a thirteen-year-old.”

“I think so,” smiled Victoria. “I’m all for the simple life, me. Oh, I’m going over to Bronwyn’s to practise this afternoon. She’s had an idea for a song to play at the funeral and she’s asked me to stop for dinner, so don’t wait for me. I’ll be back later.”

As Penny turned toward the door, Victoria said, “Penny, I know we’re all tiptoeing around Emyr because his father’s just died, and everyone’s feeling very sorry for him, but when you said ‘close to home’ do you think he could have done it? I mean, really, we’ve got to consider that possibility, don’t you think?”

Penny thought about it for a moment, and agreed. “I think we need to find out why someone would want her dead. And I wish there was some way we could figure out who that woman was who came to the shop for the manicure. She’s the key to all this, if you ask me.”

“Hey, look at you!” said Victoria. “What are you doing?” And then, a moment later, a look of realization and understanding passed over her face. “Oh, I get it! He rang, didn’t he? He’s taking you out!”

Penny’s fair, freckled skin pinked up.

“Well, if you must know, I’m trying out a new soak I’ve just got in. It comes in lavender, and Mrs. Lloyd will probably love it. I usually try out new products before I use them on customers. It’s just a good policy. It is nice though. Come on, dip in, there’s room here for you.”

Victoria smiled, sat in the chair opposite, and gingerly lowered her fingertips into the warm, fragrant water. As the lavender-scented mist rose between them, Penny asked after Bronwyn and Thomas Evans.

“Oh, they’re great,” said Victoria. “You know what they’re like … they just rub along together like they’ve been doing for years, rough with the smooth and all that.”

Penny nodded.

“She did say something, though, that I wondered about. She asked if maybe I’m wearing out my welcome and if you are still okay having me here. I said I thought you were, that we’ve just done up the extra room, but really you would say, wouldn’t you, if you wanted me out of here?”

Penny reassured her that if that time ever came, Victoria would be the first to know but in the meantime she was glad of her company and she was welcome to stay as long as she needed to.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about the shop, Victoria, and wondered if you’d like me to show you a few things so you could help out a bit more. That way, we could get more customers through and make more money. I thought maybe you could take over the managing of it—order in supplies and look after the business end of things. That would free up my time to take on more clients, and we could share the increased profits.”

“That’s a great idea, Penny, I’d love to,” said Victoria eagerly. “Where do I start? What should I do first?”

“Well, I usually go up to Llandudno to see the wholesaler, so I thought we could do that together and I’ll show you the ropes and after that you can take it on. But I’ll help you.”

“Sounds great! When do we go?”

“Well, I was thinking about going tomorrow as we’re running a bit low on some things, but as it happens, a certain gentleman
is
taking me to lunch tomorrow.”

“I knew it!” squealed Victoria, splashing lavender water on the table as she pulled her hands out of the soaking bowl and spraying water in all directions as she clapped her hands.

And then she asked the question that the supportive good friend in this kind of situation must ask.

“What are you going to wear?”

Penny grinned.

“I’ll sort that out tomorrow. For now, what colour polish do you think I should have? I’ve gone this far, I might as well give myself a manicure. Better yet, why don’t you do it? I’ll talk you through it. And I think I’ll have the Chocolate Shake-speare. It goes well with anything.”

As Victoria rose to get the bottle of varnish from the shelf,Penny placed a wet hand on her friend’s forearm and looked intently at her.

“And you know, I’ve been re-thinking what we were talking about this morning and now I think we shouldn’t have been so dismissive of the father. By all accounts, she was making big money in London and had some really serious jewellery. Her estate has to be worth a bob or two, and if she didn’t have a will, look who’s first in line.”

Victoria’s eyes widened.

“Dear old dad.”

Twenty-three

W
ishing she had put more thought the night before into what she was going to wear, and after much trying on, groaning, and tossing of discarded clothes onto a pile on her bed, Penny finally chose a beige pantsuit with a crisp white blouse. The jacket made a small change from what she usually wore and dressed the outfit up a bit, she thought, but not so much that it looked as if she were making a big deal out of the lunch or attaching more significance to it than it probably deserved.

But she did feel oddly nervous and was looking forward to seeing Davies with a mix of excitement and apprehension. She wasn’t sure why he had asked her, but assumed he just wanted to talk to her in a neutral environment, like he said, and then, when she was feeling comfortable and relaxed, poke around to see if she could remember any more details about the woman who had visited her salon on the morning Meg Wynne disappeared.

She busied herself all morning with customers, glancing out of the window from time to time as the sky became darker and a soft, warm drizzle settled over the valley.

By noon, she was dressed and ready to go, hovered over by an approving Victoria, who had suggested at the last minute that she needed some jewellery and loaned her a necklace made of large brown beads, with small gold pieces scattered amongst them.

“I thought we’d just pop over to Betws-y-Coed,” Davies said when he picked her up. “I have in mind a rather nice restaurant where we can sit outside but from the looks of things, we’ll be better off indoors.”

“Sounds great,” said Penny, smiling at him. “I love picnics but my problem has always been finding other people who like them, too. I think you either like eating outdoors, or you don’t.”

After a few moments driving in silence, Davies asked Penny how long she had lived in Wales.

“About twenty-five years. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“And what part of Canada are you from?”

“Nova Scotia,” replied Penny, and then after the significance of his question had sunk in, she had a question for him. “But how did you know I’m Canadian? Most British people ask me what part of America I’m from.”

“Oh, my nephew went out to Canada to join the Mounties,” Davies replied easily. “And there’s something about the way Canadians say ‘about’ that gives them away every time.”

Penny laughed, fingering her necklace.

“People have told me that before but I don’t hear it myself.”

“It’s true,” said Davies. “Canadians say it so that it sounds like ‘a boot’. Actually, I rather like a Canadian accent, but the really funny thing is that most of you don’t think you’ve got one. You think the British do, and the Americans do, but you don’t.”

“That’s right! We don’t!”

Davies laughed and a few minutes later they pulled into the car park.

The restaurant had a wonderful view of the Conwy River and Penny could see that on a fine day it would indeed be a pleasure to have lunch outdoors on the terrace.

By the time they had settled, ordered their meals—soup and salmon for him and salad and salmon for her—and handed the menus back to their server, Penny found her initial nervousness was wearing off and she wondered if it would seem rude to ask him why he had invited her to lunch.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here today,” he said.

She smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” she said, “and I was trying to decide if it would be rude to ask.”

“No, no, certainly not,” he said. “But I hope you know I don’t usually invite witnesses to lunch. It’s just that you’ve been very perceptive and I had hoped that if we chatted a bit more, in a friendly, casual environment, we might jog your memory a bit.”

Penny hesitated. “I’ll try, but if nothing else has come to me yet, I may not know any more, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Davies said with an encouraging smile. “It’s my job to help you seek out and recover those memories.”

As the server appeared with a basket of warm bread rolls, Davies reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

“I’d like to start by asking you to take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

“What is it?” Penny asked.

“It’s a photocopy of a scrap of paper we found in Meg Wynne Thompson’s room. Sergeant Morgan and I aren’t sure what it means, and she suggested that I show it to you.”

He handed it to Penny and then broke a bread roll in half, buttered it, and sat back while she looked at the document.

“Hmm,” she said after a few moments. “Is it MOMA? Could it be a reference to her mother? Or, what about the Museum of Modern Art? That’s in New York and one of the bridesmaids—sorry, can’t remember which one—told me Emyr and Meg Wynne were going there on their honeymoon. The bridesmaid said she was green with envy that they were going to New York.”

“Did she now?” said Davies.

“The handwriting is interesting, though,” said Penny. “Very stylized, like something an architect would do. A very fine hand, as they used to say.”

Davies nodded. “She was a graphic designer so I guess she would write in that ornamental way. Well, you might be right about the museum. That’s probably what it was.”

Penny handed the paper back to him, and then took a bread roll.

“I love bread,” she said. “I have to really watch it, though, or I’ll eat too much of it. I used to bake my own. There’s nothing like fresh bread.”

“Really?” said Davies. “You baked your own bread? That’s really amazing.”

“My fiancé loved it, too, actually,” said Penny. “It was great fun to bake for someone who really appreciated it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were married,” said Davies. “But you’re not now, though, are you? I see you’re not wearing a ring.”

He smiled.

“Not much gets past me!”

Penny shook her head. “He died many years ago in a very sad accident, before we could get married. He was a police officer, too, so maybe that’s why I know a little about your work and what you have to do here.”

“I’m sorry to hear he died,” Davies said simply. “I lost my wife a few years ago.”

“Oh,” said Penny. “Now it’s my turn to be sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Davies. “Don’t be. I wasn’t much of a husband and we didn’t have much of a marriage left. We’d grown apart. If she hadn’t got sick, I probably would have moved out, but as it turned out, her cancer wasn’t discovered until it was too late and she died within a couple of months.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Well, now that I’ve put such a damper on everything,” said Davies, “I wonder if can find something a bit lighter to discuss. Murder, for example.”

Penny smiled at him and as their soup and salad arrived, decided she was rather enjoying herself.

He took a few spoonfuls of soup and then looked at her.

“Sorry, but I’m curious to know. Did your fiancé discuss his work with you?” he asked.

“Oh, all the time,” said Penny airily. “I loved hearing everything that he did—what he felt he could tell me, of course. I think it takes a really special kind of person to be a police officer. After all, you’re not usually mixing with the nicest people, are you?”

“No,” agreed Davies. “I always thought my marriage would have gone better if she’d taken more interest in my work but she just didn’t want to know. It’s often hard for police officers to see the kinds of things they see, and leave it all behind when they head home. But often the people at home don’t understand what we’re up against, and so we turn to other officers for comfort and support—and that can lead into dangerous territory.

“There was certainly an element of that in my marriage. I was hardly ever home, and just left all the domestic things up to her. She looked after the house and the kids and I paid the bills. And in the end, there wasn’t much left of the two of us.”

Penny murmured sympathetically.

“With my fiancé, it was just the opposite. We enjoyed sharing everything and were very close. I was devastated when he died. Relationships don’t come easy for me. It took me a long time to get close to him and then a long time to come to terms with his death. He was only thirty-two.”

“I have to ask,” said Davies. “What happened?”

“He’d managed to rescue a child who had fallen into the Conwy River,” said Penny. “But the current was too strong and Tim was swept away before the fire brigade could pull him to shore.” She shook her head.

Davies reached out to touch her hand and although she welcomed the warmth of the gesture she felt uneasy with it.

“Now then,” said Penny. “I’ve been giving some more thought to this murder of yours and wondered if you’ve been able to exclude the father.

“It seems to me that he might have had a financial motive, but I can’t help thinking there’s something else going on here. Something we don’t know about yet. Something really big and nasty.”

“I think so, too,” said Davies as their salmon arrived.

“But you’re right—we’ve pretty much eliminated the father. He was either with the mother or at the off-licence when she disappeared. And frankly, I don’t think he had the resources or intelligence to pull off something like this. We’re focusing on the people who were at the Hall but with the funeral coming up, we’ve got to be sensitive.”

They ate in silence for a few moments, and then Penny abruptly changed the subject.

“This salmon is delicious,” she said. “And such a beautiful colour. With the glaze, it’s almost red. How’s yours?”

“Excellent,” said Davies. “And speaking of red. Can you think why a curved piece of red plastic about this long,” he held his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart, “would have been found in Meg Wynne’s hair?”

“Well, I think we can safely say it wasn’t a hair slide. She wouldn’t wear anything so tacky, I’m sure of that.”

“No,” said Davies. “It was a jagged piece of plastic, came off something else. Can’t think for the life of me what it could have been.”

Penny looked at him intently.

“Was it from the murder weapon, do you think?”

“Could have been,” Davies said carefully. “There was blood and hair on it. But people don’t usually try to kill someone with something made of plastic.”

“Unless that’s all there was to hand,” said Penny.

Davies started forward slightly, and then, as if reaching a decision, leaned forward in his chair.

“Look,” he said. “To be honest, we’re at a bit of an impasse here, and I’d appreciate hearing your thoughts. Why don’t I tell you what I think happened and when you know a bit more, you might start to see something that you’d overlooked, or didn’t think was important, in a new light.

“But first, how about another glass of wine?”