Lois Meade 01: Murder on Monday (EN, 2002) (28 page)

Lois thought hard about it on her way home and began to see connections. It would soon be time to contact Hunter Cowgill. She had just started on the ironing, and was immersed in a radio play, when the telephone rang.

“Hello, Lois,” said Keith Simpson. “How’s things now? All sorted out with young Josie?” Lois was grateful for his call and said that Josie had gone back to school and Derek had forbidden any more contact with Melvyn Hallhouse.

“By the way,” she said, “I wanted to ask you something.”

Keith had heard none of the gossip about the Hallhouses and suggested she should forget about it. “There aren’t many of us who haven’t given the kids a quick smack in the heat of the moment!”

“Yes, but this might have been a bit different…”

Keith Simpson sighed. “I’m sure we’d have heard if there’d been anything serious, Lois,” he said. Then he announced the real reason for his call. The Inspector would like to meet.

“When?” said Lois, not sure that she was really ready.

“Now…well, as soon as you can get to Alibone Woods,” said Keith.

“But I’ve just started the ironing.” There was no answer to that, as she knew there wouldn’t be, and she put away the ironing board, took her coat, and left the house. It was raining and she stepped straight into a puddle by her car. Her mood was not good by the time she reached the woods.

Hunter Cowgill’s car was out of sight along the track, as before, and Lois walked on past it. He was waiting for her, leaning against a tree. “Ah, Lois,” he said. “Understand you’ve been having a spot of family trouble.”

“Yes,” said Lois, “but that’s not why you want to see me. I haven’t got much time before the kids come back from school, so can we get on with it?”

His face changed, hardened, and he said, “What do you know about the Rixes?”

Lois raised her eyebrows. “Quite a lot,” she said. “I’ve been there a long time. What d’you want to know?” Her mind was racing. She would have had no problem telling Cowgill everything she knew about the Rixes; Dr Rix’s long record of dedication to his patients, his kindness to her, Mary’s courage in dealing with the little nursery. Nothing to hide, not with the Rixes. That is, until this morning. First the doctor’s strange reaction to her thanks for defending her against Professor Barratt, and then the conference with Nurse Surfleet. Try as she might, she could not get rid of a suspicion that something was out of kilter, something to do with her…the snooping cleaner.

“Well, have you ever heard anything said in their house about Gloria Hathaway? More than just the proper reaction to her murder? Were there any quarrels in your presence, between doctor and wife? Ever heard any gossip about the doctor’s private life…you know?”

“Dr Rix? You mean having it off with somebody?” Lois was shocked. The very idea was so unthinkable that she laughed. “He’s like a nice old bear, only cleverer,” she said. “Quite cuddly, in his way, but never sexy!” But as she said it, she knew that this was ridiculous. The doctor was not all that old, late fifties, and every bit as sexy as any other bloke who’d been good-looking and ambitious in his time. She’d never seen any hugs or kisses with Mary, but they were not that sort. Not in front of the servants, especially snooping ones. What on earth had they got hold of now? His next remark was another shock.

“We are investigating the possibility that Gloria Hathaway may have been closer to Dr Rix than just a doctor-patient relationship,” said Cowgill, in a very official voice. “One or two leads have pointed us in this direction. We shall be asking for his help, of course, but I thought you might be able to come up with something to consolidate our suspicions.”

“Shop the doctor!” said Lois. “Why should I do that when I’ve never seen or heard anything out of the way? I know for a fact that Gloria Hathaway was a disgusting old cow, but not with the doctor. He’d never have had anything to do with her…couldn’t get her out of his surgery fast enough. No, you’re barking up the wrong tree there, Inspector.”

Cowgill said, “Disgusting old cow? Do you want to tell me more about that?”

So Lois gave him an edited version. It was a relief to tell someone outside the family, someone who scarcely knew Derek.

He just nodded and put his hand on her shoulder. “Bloody men,” he said sympathetically. He asked no more questions about that and returned to questions about the doctor.

“We just need to find out a bit more,” and he gave her that half smile. “There are, of course, other people who have come to our notice as suspects. They’re not confined to your clients only! We have had information about the doctor from a village source…no one you know,” he added, his voice warming. “And I’m afraid it is important enough for me to get you out here in the middle of a damp wood in winter when you could have been ironing and preparing tea for your family.”

“Have
you
got a family?” Lois asked suddenly.

His face closed up. “Yes and no,” he said. “But you won’t want to know about that. Anyway, Lois, if you could just tell me anything…your routine at the doctor’s, who lets in the patients, how much Mary Rix is involved in the practice, that kind of thing?”

He looked quite human now, even a bit sad, so Lois told him about Gloria being a regular at the surgery, about Mary Rix being cross that she took up so much of the doctor’s time. She said it was nothing untoward. Everyone knew that Gloria was a creaking door, always some small ailment, but never anything really serious.

“It was serious in the end,” said Hunter Cowgill, and Lois waited for him to continue, but he changed the subject. “Anyway, thanks, Lois. And if you think of anything else, just get in touch. Simpson thinks a lot of you, you know. Said you’d had a really rough time with your daughter. I do appreciate your coming.”

Lois shrugged and started back along the track. She half tripped over a concealed tree root and at once Hunter Cowgill was at her side, his hand under her arm. “Careful,” he said smoothly. “We don’t want you coming to any harm.”

∗

The ironing was finished by the time Josie came trudging through the door, shoulders drooping as if carrying the cares of the world.

“Hello, love,” Lois said. “Busy day at school?”

“It was all crap,” said Josie. “I’m tired. Don’t want any tea.” She dumped her bag on the floor and went through to the hall and up the stairs without answering Lois’s questions. Lois forgot all about the Rixes and Detective Inspector Cowgill and rushed upstairs after her.

“Don’t you feel well?” she repeated anxiously. “Let’s have a look at you.”

With relief, she saw that Josie’s eyes were clear, her cheeks a healthy pink from the cold rain and that apart from an expression of utter misery, she looked fine.

“I suppose it’s Melvyn,” she said. Might as well come straight to the point. “You think you’re missing him?”

Josie gave her a contemptuous look. “I
am
missing him,” she said and sat down on her bed, cuddling the ginger kitten and turning her back on her mother.

“Got a telling-off today,” she said after a few minutes’ sulky silence.

“What for?” said Lois.

“Not doing my homework,” said Josie, with no sign of remorse. “Why can’t I leave school and get a job?”

“Because you are too young, as you very well know!” said Lois, losing patience.

“Melvyn said I could go and stay at his house, with his Mum and Dad, in the Easter holidays,” Josie said tentatively, as if knowing the answer to that one.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lois. “You know your father would never hear of it. Don’t even suggest it to him.”

“But
you
could, Mum. He listens to you.”

“I agree with him!” said Lois.

“Oh, go away,” said Josie.

Lois took a deep breath. “Josie Meade,” she said. “Look at me, please! I am not going away. You are my daughter and you’re still a child. Your dad and me are responsible for you and until you’re old enough to support yourself, you’ll do what you’re told. And be cheerful about it.” Josie was sitting up straight now, alarmed at her mother’s sharp tone. “And as for Melvyn,” Lois continued angrily. “You can just forget he exists. There’ll be plenty of boyfriends for you, you stupid girl. Nice lads, with proper ideas of how to go on. If you carry on with this nonsense, you’ll end up with a social worker and quite likely put into care, being out of our control. So, if that’s what you want, OK, carry on. Please yourself. But in the meantime, Dad and me will give the orders, and you’ll do as we say.”

She steeled herself against weakening as she saw tears slide down Josie’s face. “Now get yourself cleaned up and come down and give me a hand with the tea,” she added briskly. “Oh, and there’s something else,” she said. “Did you ever go to Melvyn’s house when they lived in Tresham?”

Josie nodded. “Once or twice,” she said.

“And meet his Mum and Dad?” Josie nodded again. “They were nice,” she said. “At least, his Mum was.”

“What about his Dad?” said Lois.

Josie hesitated. “Bit funny,” she said.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, sort of quiet and serious. Not friendly and nice like our Dad is most of the time. They were all a bit scared of him, I reckon,” she added.

“Right,” said Lois. “Now, downstairs in five minutes, young lady, and no more of this nonsense.” She patted Josie’s back forgivingly. But inside she felt uncomfortably apprehensive. I wish none of this had ever happened, she thought. Gloria and Derek, the doctor and Mary, horrible Malcolm Barratt, Josie and Melvyn. What was coming next? She went slowly downstairs to welcome her mother and Douglas and to give Jamie a bit of a hug.

L
ois parked outside the Barratts’ house instead of driving in. She was unsure of her reception this morning, her last words flung at Malcolm Barratt having been on the lines of good riddance to bad rubbish. She had intended never to go to the Barratts again, but Hunter Cowgill’s gentle hint had convinced her that she should carry on, see it through to whatever nasty end was in store. She was sure now that Gloria’s murder had been the result of circumstances involving more than one of Farnden’s respectable residents. Not that the actual killing was necessarily done by more than one person – and she still was not sure who did it – but she was quite sure that the Rev Peter White, Professor Barratt, and possibly Dallas Baer were all entwined in something very nasty. The doctor and Nurse Surfleet were also involved, she was sure of that. Gillian Surfleet had certainly been fond of – possibly in love with – Gloria Hathaway. That could well have meant jealousy, revenge, collusion…And Dr Rix, well, she could not bring herself to think ill of him, and put it to the back of her mind. No, the other four were definitely guarding a slowly emerging secret, and all of them were rattled.

It had to be sex. One single woman living alone and, as Lois knew, one who was more than willing. So far, so clear. Lois was beginning to have more than glimmerings of what exactly had been going on.

Her thoughts were roughly interrupted by the Barratts’ front door being jerked open as she walked up the path to the house.

“Lois! I thought you said you weren’t coming back!” It was Malcolm, still in his pyjamas, feet bare and hair wild. “Thank God,” he continued. “I had no idea what to say to Rachel if you didn’t turn up…come on in, woman, quickly.” He took her hand and pulled her into the house, releasing her at once when he saw her face. “Sorry! Sorry! No offence…Now listen, quickly, before Rachel comes down.” He followed her into the kitchen and shut the door.

“I know now it wasn’t you. It was Rachel, sifting through my papers. Tidying them, she said. Saw that name and number and tried it out. Big scene! But it’s all sorted out and if you could forget our little contretemps the other day, I’d be eternally grateful…
please
‘, Lois?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Lois, turning her back on him. She began collecting her cleaning things, and added, “I shan’t say nothing. But if you ever try anything on again – ”

He put up his hand, as if to ward off a blow. “Never! Trust me, Lois. Friends again?” His smile was sickly and anxious. Sounds of footsteps down the stairs sent him charging out of the kitchen, and Lois heard voices, not raised, but some commonplace interchange. Then Rachel came into the kitchen.

“Morning, Lois. Are you feeling better?” Lois did not know what to say to this, but presumed that Malcolm had made illness an excuse for the lack of cleaning done last week.

She nodded. “Fine, thanks,” she said.

The morning passed slowly. With Rachel back in full control, the house was clean before Lois began. But why should she worry? Rachel had asked her to go over the inside of the bedroom windows, so she began on the big bedroom which overlooked the main street. As she worked, her eye was caught by a couple of figures standing on the doorstep of Dr Rix’s house. One was Keith Simpson, she was sure. He had a peculiarly upright stance that matched his official language and his undoubtedly righteous nature. The other, she now saw, was Detective Inspector Cowgill. Lois’s heart sank. The door opened, and she saw the two men disappear inside. If only she could hear what was being said. And yet…she was glad that she could not. Of all the people involved in what she now thought of as a conspiracy to murder, Dr Rix was the one who concerned her most. She was sure that whatever his involvement, it was not a cruel or violent one. A man who on almost every occasion had been kind and considerate to Lois, with an excellent reputation in the village, could only have been caught up against his will, surely?

As she moved on to the next room, again with windows facing the road, Lois was so astonished at what happened next that she dropped her duster out of the open window on to the flowerbed beneath. The doctor had appeared at the door, with Keith and the Inspector on either side, and they were clearly
escorting
Andrew Rix from his house to the police car waiting outside.

Lois rushed downstairs and out to the gate. What am I doing? she thought, as she watched the police car drive off slowly and then disappear up the Tresham road, villagers outside the shop staring as it passed, She had a mad impulse to stop the car, demand an explanation. How stupid, she thought, as she retrieved her duster from the flowerbed. Poor Mary Rix. Lois walked back into the house, holding out her duster in explanation, and met Rachel coming into the hall with a vase of fresh flowers.