Never Laugh as a Hearse Goes By: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (22 page)

And then, after a moment’s silence, Ros asked, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’d love one.”

Ros got up and a few minutes later the sound of running water in the kitchen filtered into the sitting room as Ros filled the kettle. Then came the comforting domestic rattle of cups, saucers, and spoons being set out on a tray. Penny looked around the room, taking in all the photos of a small boy. If there had been family photos that included the boy’s father, they had been removed.

“I didn’t know what to think when Mum told me Daddy had been murdered,” Ros said when she returned. “We had been estranged for the past few years, Daddy and I, after he put his midlife crisis before all of us. My mother and sister and me. But lately I’d been thinking about my son, Tudur. That’s him, there,” she said, her voice shaded with pride as she pointed to the photos on the mantelpiece. “I thought about him growing up not knowing his granddad and was that fair to him. Grandparents can bring such joy into a child’s life. So I was just starting to wonder if there would be a way to have Daddy in Tudur’s life without upsetting my mother, when all this happened.”

“It must have been terribly difficult going through the death of your father and the business with your husband at the same time,” Penny said. “I cannot imagine what that must have been like.”

Ros gave a little shrug and then a heartbreaking little laugh. “Well, of course it’s over between Hywel and me. An affair is one thing, but to set up home and have a child with someone is the ultimate betrayal. I’ll never get past that.” She looked thoughtful. “And yet, in all this, I have to keep reminding myself that it is not that child’s fault. That child had nothing to do with this. And that child is actually my Tudur’s half-brother. So the big loser in all this mess is Tudur. He’s lost a grandfather he barely knew, a half-brother he never knew, and his father, whom he adores.”

When the kettle whistled, Ros stood up. “Listen to me going on. But you can’t imagine what a relief it is to put into words all these thoughts that have been going through my head. You’d be surprised how people keep away from you at a time like this.”

“They may not know what to say,” said Penny. “They may be afraid of asking too many questions or saying the wrong thing.”

“Maybe,” said Ros. “I’ll be right back.”

She returned a few minutes later and set a tray down on the coffee table. “Help yourself,” she said. “The milk’s good. My friend next door, who’s been looking after Tudur while I fall apart, has been great about getting in things for me.”

“Oh, right,” said Penny. “Sorry, I didn’t think. I should have asked if you needed anything.”

“I don’t need anything brought in, but I need some stuff taken away,” Ros said. “I’ll get it when you leave. It’s in a bag upstairs.”

“Fine,” said Penny. “Not a problem. Whatever I can do.”

She took a sip of tea and then set down her cup.

“There is something I wanted to ask you, and if you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”

“Is it about my father?”

Penny nodded. “Fine,” said Ros. “And then I want to ask you a question or two of my own about him.”

“Well,” said Penny. “It’s like this. Murders generally don’t just happen out of the blue. Oh, sometimes there are those awful situations you hear about on the news when a deranged or mentally ill person pushes a stranger to their death on the underground, but normally, murders don’t happen that way. Usually, there’s a situation that develops, often over time, but sometimes quite quickly and the murderer feels pushed to act.”

Ros nodded.

“I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about your father so I could get to know him better. Get a sense of who he was as a person.”

“You feel a connection to him because you found him, is that it?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“Right. Well, growing up I didn’t have any sense of what my parents’ marriage was like, or what the truth of it was, but children shouldn’t be part of that. The relationship should be private between the two grown-ups. They say it’s not a good thing to fight in front of your children, and my parents didn’t. Whatever was going on, they kept it behind closed doors and that’s the way it should be.

“So it came as a huge shock when my mother told me and my sister that Daddy had told her he was a homosexual and was leaving her to get in touch with his gay side, or however he put it.

“And then off he went on holiday somewhere and came back with that odious man, Odogwu, as his companion. My poor mother was so humiliated; she didn’t want to show her face in the town. Everyone was talking about us; it was the juciest scandal to hit Abergele in some time, I can tell you.”

“Yes, I bet it was,” agreed Penny. “But things do blow over and people forget and move on.”

Ros nodded. “Still, my mother didn’t want to stay, so she moved away. I was married and living here in Llanelen with Hywel. We were happy, or at least I thought we were.

“But what struck me about poor Daddy and his midlife crisis was that something had gone terribly wrong with him. It seemed as if his filters had been switched off and all his inhibitions were gone. I thought Odogwu was taking advantage of him. Using him for his own ends, like.”

“You may be right, Ros.”

“There was just something about Daddy’s wild behaviour that was so out of keeping with his character. He used to be very conservative and staid, and then suddenly to be wearing brightly coloured shirts and loud, clunky jewellery just didn’t seem like him.

“And the money! Apparently he was spending money wildly on all sorts of things he didn’t need or even want. He bought some kind of rare, purebred dog that cost thousands of pounds and then a few weeks later gave it away to a couple of kids he met at a homeless youth shelter. I felt terrible when my sister told me about that. For the dog, not the money.”

“And your sister,” said Penny. “Where is she?”

“Oh, she’s with my mother in Manchester. They were always close, those two, and…” Her voice trailed off.

“You were close to your dad,” finished Penny for her.

Ros’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and she nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. “And when he died, at first I was conflicted but then it was as if all that lost time fell away and none of it mattered anymore.”

“What about funeral arrangements?” Penny asked.

“I don’t know,” Ros said. “I doubt my mother will claim his body.”

“And if the police or authorities don’t know about you, as his daughter, then they can’t get in touch,” said Penny. “Should you think about doing that for your father? So that if the manner of his death wasn’t dignified and respectful, at least you would have the comfort of knowing that you did everything you could for him after that.”

Ros nodded slowly, and the tiniest flash of relief and brightness flashed across her face. “I didn’t look at it that way, but you may be right. I’ll think about it.”

“I can give you the name of a police officer to call. He’ll know what to do,” said Penny. “But maybe don’t mention we had this little chat when you speak to him.”

“Right.” Ros stood up. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel. It was a huge relief to get those things out. I can’t talk about my father with my mother and I can’t talk about Hywel with my friends, who just want to bash him.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I have to pick up Tudur. He has a play date next door. My neighbour’s been wonderful looking after Tudur, but I don’t want to abuse her kindness. I’m just trying to keep everything as normal as I can for him.”

“Yes, that’s best, I’m sure,” said Penny, “although I know next to nothing about children. Still, it seems sensible.”

“Let me get that bag of Hywel’s things. I haven’t started packing up his clothes yet. He may want to come and get them, I don’t know. I’m just getting rid of the small stuff for now.”

“This may be very cold comfort,” said Penny, “but I doubt very much if the relationship with the Spanish woman will survive this. It was fine as long as no one knew and he probably found it all hugely exciting but now that it’s out in the open,” she shook her head, “I would be very surprised if it lasts. So in the end, he’ll lose everything he loved and that mattered to him.”

Ros managed a weak smile. “So did I,” she said, “but there’s a certain justice in it if he does lose everything. If it happens. I thought the same thing myself.”

She disappeared upstairs and returned a few minutes later with two plastic carrier bags. “Here you go,” she said, handing them to Penny. “If you don’t mind dropping them at the charity shop.”

“I wonder,” said Penny. “This time of year Bronwyn’s always so desperate for good items for her church jumble sale. Would it be all right if we put them in her sale rather than letting the charity shop have them?”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you do with them, Penny, as long as they go to a good cause and they’re out of the house and I don’t have to look at them anymore. There’s some good staff in that lot.”

As Penny turned to go, Ros let out a little shriek. “Hang on just a moment, Penny. There’s something else.” She dashed into the kitchen, returned with a plastic bag and bolted to the bookcase. She pulled out a few volumes and dropped them in the bag.

“Here,” she said, holding out the bag to Penny. “Can you manage these as well? The other bags aren’t too heavy and if you could get rid of these books, that would be great.”

Penny peered in the bag. “Sure.”

“They’re Harry Potters. Hywel loved Harry Potter. Read all of them.”

“But don’t you want to keep them for your son?” Penny asked. “He’ll be ready for them in a couple of years, won’t he?”

“When he is, I’ll buy him his own books. Those ones,” she gestured at the carrier bag, “those ones I don’t want anymore.”

“All right,” said Penny. “Leave it with me. I’ll see that all of this gets sorted.”

“That would be great, Penny. I do feel better. Thanks for taking care of those bags. And for listening.” She closed the door behind Penny, after catching a glimpse of the twitching net curtain at the attractive stone house across the way on Rosemary Lane, where Mrs. Lloyd and Florence Semble lived, and returned to the sitting room. She sat down on the beige sofa and looked at the name and number of the police officer Penny had given her.

I’ll call him when I get home from picking up Tudur, she thought, setting the paper down beside the telephone and reaching for her house keys.

Thirty-eight

“Oh, hello, Penny,” said Bronwyn into the telephone as she shifted a few items around in her refrigerator. “No, this is a perfectly good time. I was just thinking about what to have for dinner.”

“I’ve got some items for your jumble sale,” said Penny. “I haven’t been through them yet, but I expect they’re pretty nice. Used to belong to Hywel Stephens.”

“Used to?”

“His wife bundled them all up and gave them to me to take to the charity shop, but I asked if I could give them to you instead for the jumble sale.”

Bronwyn closed the refrigerator door.

“Penny, in that case then, I am not sure they are hers to give. If they belong to Hywel Stephens, then I believe it is he who makes the donation, not an angry, scorned wife, no matter how good her intentions. Hell hath no fury, remember. And we would not want to be liable if he turned up demanding his property and we had to say, oh, sorry, we sold it in the spring jumble sale.”

Penny gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh, gosh. I never thought of that. Yikes.”

“At least, I think that’s our position. This same situation happened once before and that’s what Thomas told me. If Thomas says we can’t take it, you could always give it to the charity shop I suppose, but I’d be careful if I were you, because you’re the one who is actually getting rid of his property, if you see what I mean. And it isn’t really yours to give away.”

“You’re absolutely right. Well, I’ll just hang on to it. He may turn up looking for it as he’s got to come back sooner or later and he might want it then. The main thing for now is that it’s out of the house and Ros doesn’t have to look at it. I think that’s what mattered most to her.”

“I suppose it was awfully good stuff,” said Bronwyn wistfully. “Mr. Stephens always looked very well-turned out. I suppose there are nice ties and such.”

“I didn’t really look at it,” said Penny. “Just peeked in the bag, the way you do. There were some ties and small boxes. The ties looked to be of very good quality, I must say, although I don’t know that much about them. But I did spot a very nice designer label or two.” There was a silence at the end of the line.

“Still, I’d be curious to know what I’ve passed up,” said Bronwyn finally.

“Well, shall I come over?” asked Penny. “This is definitely something we don’t want to be doing at the Ivy over a Welsh rarebit.”

“No, we don’t,” agreed Bronwyn. “And maybe we’ve had enough Welsh rarebit for the time being.”

“Delicious though it is.”

“I think it might be better if I came to you,” said Bronwyn. “So you don’t have to be carrying it around and Thomas doesn’t see us. The evenings are staying lighter much later now, so how about I walk Robbie over to yours after supper? If you were to have coffee and cake on offer, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Cake from the Ivy?”

“Mm. Chocolate or carrot, if possible.”

“Sounds great. See you about seven?”

*

Penny spooned some coffee into the French press, filled it with hot water, and set it aside. She cut each piece of cake into two and set the two halves on plates. “I thought we’d have a sliver of carrot and walnut cake each,” Penny said, handing a plate to Bronwyn.

“Oh, lovely. Aren’t we are lucky to live so close to such a wonderful bakery?” Bronwyn raised a fork. “Shall we eat first and then go through the bags?”

“Yes,” agreed Penny. “Why don’t we? We don’t want to touch anything with sticky fingers or spill coffee.”

A few minutes later Bronwyn put down her fork. “That was a lovely treat, but I couldn’t manage something like that every day. I’ll just leave my coffee here,” she said, setting her cup on the kitchen counter, “and let’s see what there is. What do you say we tip everything out on the table and sort it into piles?”