Found Guilty at Five (3 page)

F
OUR

L
OIS AND
G
RAN WERE WATCHING
A
NTIQUES
R
OADSHOW
ON
television when Jamie stuck his head round the door to say he and Akiko were off to see Mrs. T-J at Stone House.

“Shan’t be late back,” he said. “I’m sure the old thing goes to bed about nine thirty.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Lois said. “She’s full of surprises, that one.”

“Including being one of your latest recruits? I can’t see her down on her hands and knees cleaning the vicar’s front step.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jamie,” Gran said. “And if you are late, you and Aki-ki-ko must be very quiet. That attic bedroom is directly above mine, and I’m a light sleeper.”

“Since when?” Lois laughed, and Akiko added that she always took off her shoes on entering a house. This was the custom back at home.

“So that’s why you’re always around in stocking feet,” Gran replied. “I thought maybe Jamie had been taking you in the wet grass.”

“Mum! Now you’re being ridiculous. Have a nice time, you two, and give our regards to Mrs. T-J. Are you going in the car? It’s easy walking distance.”

“But there is my cello, Mrs. Meade. It is almost as big as me! It will be safer in the car.”

*   *   *

T
HE PLEASANT SITTING ROOM IN
S
TONE
H
OUSE WAS FULL OF
evening sunlight, and Akiko looked around appreciatively. A crystal vase full of flowers stood on a table by the window, and the grand piano half filled the room. Placed on it were silver-framed wedding photographs from two generations, and over the fireplace hung an oil painting of a serious-looking man in military uniform.

“My late husband,” Mrs. T-J said, noticing Akiko staring at it. “He looks stern there, but he had his moments. Very good father to our Robert. Much missed.” She took up a photograph from the piano. “That’s Robert with Felicity on their wedding day. Terrible day, rained nonstop.”

Akiko opened her cello case and withdrew the instrument, and Jamie handed Mrs. T-J a pile of music.

“Would you like to choose?” he said. “And are you going to play the accompaniment, or would you like me to do it?”

“Oh, you, of course, Jamie! My accompanying days are over. I was joking when I offered to play. Fingers like bananas now, I’m afraid. Here, how about this Elgar piece? One of my favourites.”

*   *   *

D
EREK, WITH HIS ELDER SON
D
OUGLAS, WAS PASSING BY
S
TONE
House on his way home from the pub, and heard lovely sounds coming from the open window. “Ah, that’ll be Jamie and his girlfriend,” he said.

Douglas said nothing. He was now a married man, with a small son, and his chief concerns were for his own family. He’d noticed Akiko, said she was charming and given her no more thought.

Derek, on the other hand, had thought hard about Jamie with a foreign girlfriend. Very nice girl, she seemed on first acquaintance. It was a pity Gran could not accept her with good grace. He wasn’t sure whether his mother-in-law disliked the girl herself, or found her alien and different, and therefore suspect. He would have to have a private word with her, though unfortunately, private words with Gran usually ended up with her shouting only too publicly that he was wrong and she was right.

His thoughts moved on to the Norringtons. There had been a lot of talk in the pub about the new owners of the hall, and many people thought they might well be good for the village. Opinion was divided, however, between the generations. The old guard could not get used to the idea of so much change. New people at the hall, and obviously nouveau riche
,
as against the inherited wealth and connections in high places of the Tollervey-Joneses.

Then Douglas, visiting from Tresham, had put a spoke in the wheel by suggesting that the Tollervey-Joneses were not all that aristocratic. “Coal mines in Derbyshire, that’s where their money came from way back,” he had said. “Exploiting the masses. And they were no better than the rest of us. The old great-great-grandfather was a blacksmith. I suppose,” he said, making an effort to be fair, “you could argue they did well by their own efforts, and had a right to be toffee-nosed.”

A hubbub of conflicting support and disagreement in the pub had ensued, and Derek decided it was time to leave for home.

“It’s the same nowadays,” he said now. “Take Jamie and his career in music. No musicians on my side of the family. And no one on your mother’s, so far as I know. None of the rest of us are musical, and he didn’t have any special encouragement. But look where he’s got to! Playing the piano all round the world, and sometimes his name is mentioned on the radio. We shall see him on the telly soon, I’m sure of that.”

They had arrived at Meade House, and Douglas opened the gate for his father. “Yeah, but he got given that piano, remember? Maybe none of us got the chance, until Jamie,” he said. “By the way,” he added, “Akiko is his colleague, not his girlfriend. Haven’t you noticed he stresses that?”

“So he may. But I know a girl in love when I see one. We shall find out, son. Now, in we go, and make sure you walk straight. Our gran can spot a man who’s had one too many from a mile away.”

“Right. Better leave the gates open, so’s Jamie can bring in his car. The precious cello, you know. Jamie’s a bit of a softy, so I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

“Don’t you like Akiko, then? She seems a really nice girl to me.”

“Very pretty, very polite, and a bit chilly. I tried talking to her about her home, but she froze me out. Not one word about her folks. A bit strange, don’t you think?”

“I did notice, Douglas. But it’s none of our business. Leave it to Jamie. That’s my advice, though I doubt your gran would agree!”

*   *   *

A
N HOUR OR SO LATER,
A
KIKO SLIPPED BETWEEN THE COOL
sheets of the bed in the attic and thought about the evening performance at Stone House. Her brain was still fizzing, and she did not feel in the least sleepy. She and Jamie had played well, and she had to admit that her growing affection for him was affecting her playing in a good way. Jamie was a real friend, kind and gentle, and helpful when help was needed.

She sat up in bed and plumped up the pillows. Settling back, she thought about the time she had arrived in England to attend the college of music, knowing no one, and with only her father coming to see her as often as he could manage. He had tried everything to dissuade her from leaving Japan, but in the end he could see a permanent rift between them developing and had given in.

In giving way, however, he had arranged to keep in touch with her in several ways, including visiting her on a regular basis and appointing an employee to keep an eye on her. Her mother had died when she was two, and she had been cared for, by first her grandparents, then by a wonderful nanny and a succession of housekeepers. Money had been no problem, as her father had become very wealthy. He had warned her that she might encounter ill feeling among British students, and she was aware that the two countries had been enemies during the last world war. But that was a long time ago. He had also advised her not to talk about her life in Japan. Being a rich man’s only daughter without friends could make her vulnerable to unscrupulous advances. She had soon made one or two friends at college, of course, but otherwise tried to remember her father’s advice.

She turned over in the narrow bed, and still sleep refused to come. Jamie had been so kind today, so happy and at ease at home with his family. She remembered when she had first met him, when he came to give a recital at the college, and at the reception afterwards he had approached and offered her a drink. He said afterwards that she had looked like a small, sad child, standing alone in the corner of the room. After that, they met again a couple of times and talked about playing together. She protested that she was still a student, and he was rapidly becoming an international star. He persisted, saying playing an instrument was like a game of tennis. Don’t play with rabbits, play with people better than yourself, where there would be a challenge. He made her laugh, and she had begun to rely on him for companionship as well as music.

Jamie was proved right. She had succeeded beyond high expectations, and done brilliantly in her examinations. Their partnership had developed, and now here she was, a guest in the Meade family house, rather too obviously regarded as Jamie’s girlfriend. Did it matter? She finally fell asleep without coming to any conclusions.

Jamie was also still awake. Together, he and Akiko had delighted Mrs. T-J, and when he was left alone with the old lady for a few minutes, she had said to him that she liked Akiko very much and he should think about getting his feet in the stirrups. Her meaning was clear and alarming, to him at least. It was much too soon to think about that!

His room seemed stuffy, and he got out of bed to open a window. There was no moon, but a security light at the corner of the house shone on his car. To his irritation, he saw the outline of the cello, resting on the backseat, and realised they had not brought it in with them. They had been chatting away about the evening’s success, and Akiko must have forgotten about it. He sighed. It would be safe enough. Probably safer than in the house. The car was thoroughly locked and alarmed, as always.

He turned away from the window, but as he did so, a shadowy movement outside in the garden caught his eye. What on earth was that? He stared down, but the shadow had gone. Maybe a fox after Mum’s chickens. He yawned. They could investigate in the morning. He climbed into bed, shut his eyes and was quickly asleep.

*   *   *

N
EXT MORNING, THE START OF THE WORKING WEEK, THE
M
EADES
were down to breakfast early. Derek had already left by the time Jamie and Akiko appeared, and they announced that they would be away straight after breakfast.

“We play at a concert tonight,” Akiko said. “At the Wilmore Hall. A very important fixture. Fixture? Is that right, Jamie?”

“Could be,” said Jamie, smiling, “but it sounds more like a football match than a recital. But the meaning’s the same.” He patted her arm, and she smiled at him.

“By the way,” she said, “I left my cello in the car. I will just go and check it is still there.”

“It was at one o’clock this morning! I looked out of the window and could see it safely on the backseat.”

But in the next couple of minutes everything changed. Akiko ran back from the car screaming, “It’s gone! Jamie, my cello has gone!” She crumpled onto a chair, and burst into heartrending sobs.

Lois moved quickly to comfort her, and suggested Jamie should have a second look. “Did you check the boot?” she said.

“But I saw it on the backseat,” he said urgently, also trying to soothe Akiko, who turned on him angrily.

“It is your fault! I always bring it in with me where I am sleeping! You made me forget! What are we to do for tonight’s concert?”

Gran bridled. “Hey, wait a minute, Akiko!” she said. “That cello was your responsibility. It’s not fair to blame Jamie. You may come from a country with different ideas, but over here we own up to our mistakes.”

“Hush, Mum,” said Lois quietly. “Akiko is naturally upset.”

F
IVE

I
NSPECTOR
C
OWGILL WAS AT HIS DESK, STARING AT NOTHING
in particular and thinking about Lois. She had looked fabulous at the wedding, elegant and restrained in a dove grey suit. Her long dark hair had been put up in a silky plait, and her legs . . . This won’t do, Inspector, he told himself. Down to the business of policing. But his thoughts wandered on, remembering that Lois had been very busy, trying to be everywhere at once, looking after guests and bridesmaids, and generally not having much time to talk to him. When he had tried to tell how beautiful she looked, she had been impatient and he had felt unreasonably hurt. Surely now they were practically related, she would treat him more warmly?

But then he knew it would not be his Lois. He loved her bright sharpness, and even affectionately tolerated her refusal to treat him with anything like respect. But at least he could call her now with his thanks for her brilliant organisation of the wedding. He stretched out his arm to pick up the phone, but it rang before he touched it.

“Inspector Cowgill here. Oh! It’s you, Lois. I was just about to—what was that? What did you say? A
cello
? I don’t remember anyone playing a cello at the reception? All right, all right. Calm down, dear. Just repeat the details slowly.”

Lois frowned. This was all she needed. Sometimes she thought Cowgill was not hearing so well, but it could equally well be a ploy to slow her down. She explained the situation as succinctly as possible, and ended by saying that as Jamie’s mother, and because the cello went missing on their driveway, she felt it her duty to do all she could to recover the instrument.

“The case of the missing cello, eh? Well, I shall certainly put my sleuths on to it.”

“Cowgill! Are you taking this seriously? If not, you can forget your special relationship with the Meades. Now, when can I come in to brief you?”

“Now, if you like,” Cowgill said blandly. “Not much on my desk this morning. Now I’m semiretired, they tend to leave me alone. But I can still make them jump to it, Lois. Be here at ten o’clock, please. And don’t be late. I have an appointment later.”

“With a small white ball? You don’t fool me, Cowgill. I’ll be there.”

She grinned as she replaced the receiver, and set her mind to sorting out New Brooms problems. The weekly staff meeting was at twelve, so she would have to be back for that. She did not intend to waste much time with the inspector, but knew from Josie’s Matthew that he more or less refused to accept retirement and was still considered to be the best brain at the police station. And, of course, he had the connections countrywide. These might be needed, if, as Lois suspected, the theft of the cello was not a local crime.

*   *   *

T
RESHAM WAS CROWDED, AS IT USUALLY WAS ON A
M
ONDAY.
Shoppers were no longer starved of shopping opportunities over the weekend, what with supermarkets and even some town shops opening seven days a week. But in town, every Monday, local organic vegetable and fruit stalls gathered in the market square, together with farmers selling meat and milk products and marvellous baking done by their wives.

Lois pushed her way through wonderful smells of fruit and herbs fresh from nearby gardens. Derek grew their own vegetables, and Gran would be offended if she went home with a cake baked by another woman. But the smell of new bread was too much for her, and she bought a small loaf, broke off the crust and ate it before she reached the police station.

“Inspector Cowgill, please,” she said to the fresh-faced young policeman on reception duties.

“Go straight up, Mrs. Meade,” he said, with a knowing smile.

“You can take that smirk off your face,” she said, and marched towards the stairs.

By the time she reached the second floor, Cowgill was standing by his door, beaming at her. “Good morning, mother of the bride!” he said.

“Yes, well, good morning to you, too. It went well, didn’t it? Your Matthew was a star, and I thought they looked the perfect pair. Now we’ve got that out of the way, can we talk about my reason for being here?”

She followed him into his office, and he buzzed reception to say he did not want to be disturbed for half an hour or so.

“That’s how rumours get round the station,” Lois said. “Anyway, the thing is, Jamie’s colleague came to Farnden for the wedding, and she had her instrument with her. She has it with her if possible at all times. They went to play for Mrs. Tollervey-Jones at Stone House, and when they came back, by mistake left it in the car, which in theory was fully locked and alarmed overnight. In the morning the cello was gone. Jamie was up opening his window at one o’clock in the night, and it was in the car then. He could see it. That’s about it, so far.”

“Was the car taken with the cello in it?”

“No, of course not. The door had been opened, somehow without setting off the alarm. They could have forgotten to activate it, what with the excitement of the weekend. That’s what I think, anyway.”

“No noises to wake up any of the family?”

“No. Absolutely nothing. Unless Jamie had been woken by a sound without realising it.”

“Right, Lois. Leave it with me, and I’ll get the chaps on to it at once.”

“And meanwhile,” said Lois, smiling at him warmly, “I shall be contacting my new colleague to start ferretin’. Immediately, if not sooner, as my dad used to say.”

“Did you say a new colleague? Paid help?”

“You know me better than that. Anyway, my new colleague is on a one-case trial. If she’s no good, she gets the boot.”

“So it’s a woman? I can’t see this new association lasting long, Lois dear. But be careful who you trust.”

“I’m off now,” Lois said, making for the door. “Keep me in the picture.”

She drove home thinking about her new ferretin’ associate. This was, of course, Mrs. Tollervey-Jones, who had proposed herself for the job, soon after she had sold the hall. Not happy with Stone House as it was, she had had builders and thatchers in for weeks, but now it was all finished, with the most beautiful Norfolk reed roof, and inside, all modern conveniences without spoiling the priceless features of the original structure.

The house had been built in the year of the Armada, and had once been named after the famous rout of the Spanish in 1588, but a succession of owners had changed its name until Mrs. T-J came along, and she would on no account live in a house called Olde Timbers. “A good plain name is what’s needed,” she had said to Lois, and Derek’s suggestion had been accepted. With nothing more to do, Mrs. T-J was ready for action.

*   *   *

D
RIVING INTO THE VILLAGE,
L
OIS DECIDED TO TACKLE
M
RS.
T-J straightaway. She would fill her in with the bare bones of what had happened, and leave it there. But, most importantly, she would impress on her again the necessity of reporting at once anything of use she might discover. “I shall expect you to tell me
everything
,” she had said.

Stone House front door was open, with nobody in sight, and Lois reflected that Mrs. T-J would have to remember that she was living in the centre of a village with the pavement only yards away, instead of being cocooned inside a large mansion with acres of parkland protecting her from sudden intruders. “Yoo-hoo!” she called, and was answered by a faint shout from the garden at the back of the house. She walked through, and caught sight of a wide, green corduroy-clad bottom bent over a flower bed.

“Mrs. Tollervey-Jones, can you spare a minute?” No harm in being polite, thought Lois. She had not admitted as much to Cowgill, but she was already deeply regretting the whole business of Mrs. T-J joining her ferretin’ team of one. New Brooms, yes, but Mrs. T-J had made it clear that she was not prepared to handle mop or duster. As for ferretin’, Lois supposed she would have to give her a chance, and then ease her out as soon as possible.

Coffee appeared, quickly and efficiently made by Mrs. T-J in her new kitchen, and Lois sat on the edge of a massive armchair while details of the new case were explained.

“Good heavens!” said Mrs. T-J. “Akiko will be absolutely heartbroken. You could tell by the way she handled it that she loved it dearly. Now, who do I know in the musical instrument world? Ah, yes, Lois, I have it. My late husband was on the board of Bowley and Weeks, the oldest dealers in London. He was very pleased with a new, young board member, who should still be around. He might well have some ideas.”

She half rose, as if going at once to the telephone to make the call. Then she remembered that she was very much a new girl, and sat back. “What do you think, Lois,” she said. “Would that be a fruitful idea, do you suppose?”

Lois did not reply immediately. She would have to get used to this. Then she considered carefully, and said she could see no reason why this should not be a first step. No doubt Akiko could supply details of the cello, including an estimate of its value. The motive for stealing would be important, she stressed.

Mrs. T-J was tactfully humble, and pretended that this aspect of the theft had not occurred to her. “I see I have a lot to learn,” she said, as she saw Lois to the door. Then she rallied. “But ideas are my forte, my dear! Never short of them. I shall be in touch.”