Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002) (27 page)

“Sorry for him?” Derek said in disbelief and Lois put her finger to her lips.

She nodded. “It was his face,” she whispered.

“And what about what he’s done to our Josie?” Derek was having difficulty keeping his voice down and Josie stirred in the back seat.

“He never done nothing,” she said in a small voice. “So there. Never touched me. Well, not like…you know. Had my own bedroom. It was nice. Clean, Mum, in case you were wondering.” There was a pause and Lois and Derek looked at each other, but said nothing. “We went for a walk. It was magic. And the dogs didn’t even have to have no leads…I wish I could’ve stayed there for ever!” Then she was crying as if her heart would break. Derek drove on in silence, and Lois, for once, could think of nothing to say.

∗

The police accepted that they wished to take no action and Keith Simpson repeated how pleased he was that it had all turned out reasonably well. “She’s probably had enough of a fright not to try anything like that again,” he said to Lois.

She agreed, but as she put down the telephone, she muttered, “I’m not so sure.”

Nurse Surfleet had called later, anxious and a little annoyed. “When you didn’t show up,” she said, “I naturally thought something was wrong. You always let me know, otherwise…” Gillian Surfleet had indeed been anxious, but for herself rather than Lois. There was an unpleasant atmosphere in the village, very like the ominous presage of a storm. Lois had not told her the truth, but invented a really bad headache.

“Even I get ill sometimes,” she’d said shortly.

The remains of the day were spent sorting out Josie’s clothes, retrieving the boys from her mother and attempting to fix her mind back on the routine of house and family.

“School tomorrow for you, young lady,” Derek said to Josie. “If you can go gadding round the country, you can damn well survive a day at school.” He was still angry, but Lois could see he was thawing. Josie kept out of his way until bedtime, but ventured a quick goodnight kiss on her father’s cheek. “Night,” he said gruffly. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

∗

As Lois parked outside the vicarage on the Thursday, she reflected that although she had had one of the worst times of her life, here she was, back at work, greeting the Reverend White, just as if nothing had happened. Her hands trembled a little as she dusted and polished, and while she had the vacuum cleaner going, Peter White suddenly appeared, yelling at her that he was going to the shop. She jumped like a shot rabbit and switched off the machine.

“Sorry, Vicar. Startled me.”

Peter White looked at her pale face, at the black smudges under her eyes and said, “Anything wrong, Lois? You know you can talk to me.” Even as he said it, he doubted very much that she would confide in him.

To his surprise, she slumped down in his desk chair. “I wouldn’t mind a quick chat, if you’ve got time,” she said. The shabby familiarity of Peter White, his air of being defeated before he began, suddenly made it easy for her. Her earlier suspicions of him faded. He was just what he seemed to be, an ordinary bloke, not very good at his job, but with his heart in the right place. She told him the story of Josie and Melvyn without a pause. She did not include Derek’s defection, or her nasty experience with Professor Barratt, but stuck to the terror she had felt when Josie, aged fourteen and very vulnerable, had gone missing. She told him about the long journey north, and the relief in finding Josie, but tempered with fears of what the pair might have been up to. “According to Josie – ” she said, now almost talking to herself, unaware that Peter White had moved across his study and was perched on a window seat staring at her intently – “and I believe her though Derek doesn’t, nothing wrong happened between them. He’s a strange lad, that Melvyn. Not like the other kids at school. Old for his years.”

As she came to the end, there was a small silence, and then Peter White said, “Lois dear, there is something you should know.” He was very serious and she turned to look at him enquiringly. She had expected soothing words, assurances that would set her mind at rest. But what he said next was far from soothing. “I have come across the Hallhouse family in the past. There was gossip there a while ago. It might be as well to keep Josie away from Melvyn.”

“What kind of gossip?” said Lois sharply.

“It was the father…well…he’s very strict…belongs to some bigoted religious sect.”

Oh, so that’s it, thought Lois, and relaxed a little. Vicar has it in for them because they’re not Church of England. But it wasn’t that, she soon learned.

“The wife is a very good woman, apparently,” he continued. “Does all kinds of charity work in the town and the boys love her dearly. But there was gossip about the father. Seems he was a bit more strict than we’re used to these days and the young ones were very afraid of him, so the story went. It was just local gossip, but I did hear some rather unpleasant rumours about violence and aggressive behaviour.”

“Well, what’s that got to do with Melvyn?” Lois asked and found herself thinking defensively that whatever else, he seemed one of the most gentle lads she had met. None of the crude belligerence of the other kids on the estate. He handled Josie as if she was a china doll.

“Probably nothing,” Peter White said slowly. “I just thought I’d mention it. You know what they say about violence breeding violence.”

“Oh right, yes, thanks, Vicar,” she said.

“Derek has threatened Melvyn with God knows what if he comes near Josie again. Looks like Josie’ll need watching, too. Mind you,” she added, “Derek gave them such a blasting I don’t think they’ll try anything on again.”

Peter White’s expression did not change. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said quietly. “Don’t forget Melvyn is a young man in many ways. Not a child any more. Not like Josie. Now, Lois,” he added with unusual confidence, “it is time for coffee for both of us. And you are going to sit down with me in the kitchen, whether you like it or not!”

Ten minutes before Lois was due to leave the vicarage, there was a knock at the door. She heard the vicar open it and then the unmistakably brisk tones of Nurse Surfleet. “Just delivering these parish council papers,” she said. “I’d like you to have a good look at them before the meeting, if poss.” Lois eavesdropped idly. She wasn’t really interested, still brooding about Josie. Then she heard her name. “Is Lois still with you?” Gillian Surfleet said, and then the vicar came to the foot of the stairs and called.

“Just a little word, Lois,” said the nurse, when the vicar had shown them both into the sitting room and shut the door. “I just thought I should warn you.”

Oh God, thought Lois, not another sodding warning!

Gillian Surfleet was continuing, “It seems Professor Barratt has been saying to one or two people – I heard him myself in the shop – in a jokey way that we should all beware of Lois Meade, the snooping house cleaner. “Lock up your papers!” I heard him say to Dr Rix. The doctor was buying stamps and looked very surprised.”

Lois was stunned. How bloody dare he? She resisted the impulse to rush out and tackle the Professor. Instead, she asked, “What did Dr Rix say?”

“Snubbed him good and proper,” Gillian Surfleet said. “Told him you had an exemplary record and had been a good friend to his family for some time.”

“And what did he have to say to that?”

“Unsquashable, that one. Just laughed, said one of his stupid Latin things, and added that the doctor couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. Then he left the shop, still laughing!”

Gillian patted Lois on the arm, told her not to worry, but just be a bit cautious, then she was gone, saying she had to rush off to Fletching on an errand of mercy. Lois’s first reaction was to go at once and sort out that disgusting Malcolm Barratt. What did he think he was playing at? When she calmed down, she began to think more rationally. There must be some reason for his actions.

Was he scared she would make public his threatening behaviour? Was he frightened of something else, something she might have discovered about him if she had indeed been shuffling through his papers? Better do nothing, she decided finally. Give him enough rope and he could quite possibly hang himself.

∗

The rest of the week and the weekend at home with Derek and the kids passed in an unnatural calm. When they spoke to each other, it was about trivial household matters. And at the Baers’ on Friday, neither Dallas nor Evangeline had talked much to Lois, beyond the usual greetings, instructions and polite enquiries about her family. Lois had noticed that there were no papers on Dallas’s desk. This was unusual. There were always piles of papers and an expensive onyx desk set. That was still there, but the trays of papers had gone. So, the distinguished professor had been talking to Dallas, too. Well, what did it matter? If Dallas Baer had anything to hide, he was sly enough to make sure he left nothing around by accident. He hadn’t put a foot wrong since that episode of the fall, and he and Evangeline were both behaving like cats who’d got the cream. Lois had noticed the sudden appearance of baby books and waited for the news to be broken to her. She remembered the morning Evangeline had spent writing letters. That was probably when they’d found out. Well, she was not keen to rejoice with the Baers just at the moment. They could guard their wonderful secret for as long as they liked.

Lois decided to keep Malcolm Barratt’s outburst to herself for the moment. If Dr Rix was in a good mood, she might mention it to him on Monday. Thank him for sticking up for her. She had grown fond of the doctor and his wife since they’d opened up the baby’s room, and she trusted him to tell her the truth.

∗

Derek had begun to tidy up the winter garden, pulling up yellowing stalks of sprouts and raking up leaves that had escaped his autumn sweeping. Spring won’t be long, he’d promised her. She had told him about Peter White’s warning and he’d looked alarmed. He never wanted to hear Melvyn’s name mentioned again, he said sternly to Josie, and she’d flounced off upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. The subject was closed, Derek had decided firmly, and it was time he got back to earning a living for them all.

Lois could not forget, however. She thought more than once of contacting Hunter Cowgill. Keith Simpson was helpful, but he didn’t give her that comforting feeling of authority in charge. Josie’s troubles were nothing to do with Gloria Hathaway, of course, so she would probably just get a polite brush-off from the Inspector. It would have to be Keith, then, she decided. He might remember something about the Hallhouses, something to reassure her. Lois could not get out of her mind that last sight of Melvyn, his face taut with misery as he watched their car bumping down the rutted track, his hand raised in a hopeless salute to a disappearing Josie.

D
r Rix was in his surgery when Lois arrived on Monday as usual. She noticed that Mary Rix was still cheerful, full of promises to show Lois how the patchwork was going and plans for attending an exhibition of embroidery and needlework at Ringford Hall in the spring. The house was warm and friendly.

It was half way through the morning when Lois heard the doctor emerge, shouting to Mary that it was all clear and could he please have a cup of strong coffee. He joined his wife and Lois at the kitchen table and the three sat companionably drinking and talking about village events.

“The dreaded J. was waiting for me again this morning, first in the queue,” the doctor said, and his wife grimaced sympathetically. Lois had no idea who he meant, but smiled anyway. “There every week, Lois,” he continued. “One imagined ailment after another. Poor soul is a bit lacking, you know. What a family!” He went on to describe them, being careful not to name names, full of compassion and a sincere wish to do more than he was able.

Lois was fascinated. She looked at Dr Rix with admiration. This was a real doctor, who knew all the village people and listened to their most intimate confidings as well as just their ailments. She thought of the medical practice in Tresham, where you were lucky to see your own doctor and where each patient was given the allotted few minutes’ attention, with no time for the chatting that often led to the real cause of illness.

It was with absolute confidence that Lois said, as Dr Rix finished his coffee and stood up to go, “Could you spare me a few seconds, doctor? I just wanted to ask you something.”

He paused and looked at his wife. She nodded imperceptibly and he said that Lois should fire away, he had no secrets from Mary. For some reason, this took away all Lois’s resolve and she stuttered something about rumours of Professor Barratt going round the village saying bad things about her. “Still,” she added, “I believe you stood up for me, doctor, and I just wanted to thank you.”

To her surprise, Dr Rix said shortly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lois. It doesn’t do to listen to gossip. Now, Mary, if you’ll excuse me, I must get on.” And he walked out of the kitchen before Lois could say anything more.

Left with Mary Rix sitting in silence at the table, Lois felt small and foolish. “Right,” she said. “Better get on myself,” and made to get up from her chair.

Mary stretched out her hand and patted Lois’s arm. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We all know you’re completely reliable. Good gracious!” she continued, “there’s nobody less likely to snoop than you, Lois!”

So they did know. Then why had the doctor behaved so strangely? Oh, sod them all, thought Lois, and went back to work. Halfway through the morning, Dr Rix had a caller. It was Nurse Surfleet and as she was ushered into the doctor’s surgery, she heard her say, “Well, Andrew, I think the time has come now, don’t you? Something will have to be done…” The study door shut behind them and Lois felt that nasty twinge of fear again. She lingered as long as she could, washing out dusters and tidying the broom cupboard, until Mary Rix reminded her of the time. The two were still closeted together as she left. Gillian Surfleet must have walked to the doctor’s. Wouldn’t she usually have had her car?

For goodness sake! Lois mentally rapped herself sharply across the knuckles. Wasn’t it the most likely and normal thing for the community nurse to be in confidential consultation with the local GP? And why shouldn’t she walk? It was only a matter of yards from her house to the surgery. Ridiculous to suppose that they were talking about her. On the other hand, it was Gillian who had warned her against accusations of snooping. But then Dr Rix had denied any knowledge of it. What were they up to? It was beginning to look very much as if they were in league together. But what for? And how was it all connected with Gloria Hathaway?