Never Laugh as a Hearse Goes By: A Penny Brannigan Mystery (23 page)

“Sounds good to me,” said Penny, upending the first bag. A jumble of ties, jewellery, and fragrance boxes tumbled onto the table.

“Let’s see what we have,” said Bronwyn, examining the label on a tie. “Hermès.” She set it down and picked up a box of cologne. “I don’t think this has even been opened. Ralph Lauren.”

Penny picked up a black box and looked inside. It contained two watches, a man’s and a woman’s. “Emporio Armani. My, my.”

She opened another box.

“This might be the watch he was wearing at the conference,” she said. “I noticed something like this on him. I remember the wings. Thought it looked very smart.” She weighed it in her hand. “Feels heavy.”

“I always thought Hywel Stephens had very nice taste, if only a little obvious. You’d see him in the town, in his smart suit, looking so well dressed. I wonder where he bought these things. Nobody around here sells them. We don’t even have a shoe store in Llanelen any more,” said Bronwyn.

“He might order them online. Or go to Manchester to get them.”

And then it hit both of them at the same time.

“He shops in airports. All this is duty-free swag,” said Bronwyn, gesturing at the boxes.

“If it’s genuine. Could be knockoffs.” They looked at each other.

“Does he seem like the knockoff type to you?” Bronwyn half closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t think so either. He seems like a nothing-but-the-best kind of man.”

“So the next question is,” said Penny, “how did he pay for all this? And keep up a household in Spain?”

She handed Bronwyn the second bag. “Here, you take a look through that. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you going?”

But the only reply was the sound of light footsteps running up the stairs. Penny returned a few minutes later with her laptop. “Let’s have a look at that watch with the wings,” she said. “I’ve heard of Rolex watches, of course, but not this one. She typed in the name on the watch, waited a few minutes, browsed a few pages and then let out a little yelp.

“What is it?” asked Bronwyn.

“This watch,” said Penny, “if it’s real, it’s is worth about six thousand pounds. It’s a Breitling.”

“Oh, my Lord,” exclaimed Bronwyn. “That would practically buy us a new roof! What on earth was his wife thinking, trying to donate all this to the charity shop?”

“That’s just it,” said Penny. “She isn’t thinking, so we have to think for her. It could be that all these items will have to be appraised and their value listed as joint assets and taken into account for the divorce settlement.” Bronwyn raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, Bronwyn, you must see that a divorce is inevitable. No amount of forgiveness or counseling will get them past what he’s done. Having a child with another woman is a dealbreaker.”

“I suppose it is.”

“Anyway, what do you think we should do now? I’m so glad you realized that we didn’t have the right to dispose of all this.”

“I think we’d better ring Gareth.”

“Yes, he’ll know what to do for the best.” Bronwyn glanced at the clock in the kitchen and then let out a little squeak. “Goodness, is that the time? I’d best be off. There’s a program on telly tonight that Thomas and I are looking forward to. About water. How water is going to become the Earth’s most precious resource. Prince Charles is doing the introduction.”

Thirty-nine

“So you’re back.” Victoria folded her hands together and set them on her desk. Her mouth was set in a tight line and her shoulders were squared and lifted.

“Yes, I’m back,” said Penny. “I am sorry I’ve been away so much. I’ll do better going forward, I promise. Oh, and here’s the signed contract for the Dilys hand cream.” She set the brown envelope on table and slid it toward Victoria.

“Well, actually, Penny, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said as she picked up the envelope.

“Oh, yes?” Penny picked up her handbag and began poking about inside. Victoria waited. As the silence deepened, Penny stopped what she was doing and looked up.

“What? What is it?”

“I’ve thought about the best way to tell you this and I don’t think there’s an easy way.” Penny’s eyes widened as a twist of fear and anxiety shot through her. “You’re not,” she said, “don’t tell me you’re leaving.”

“I’m sorry, Penny, I’m very sorry. But you remember that man I met on holiday in Italy…”

Penny groaned. “Victoria, he’s married. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“We’ve been e-mailing and talking on the phone. He’s left his wife. He’s moved out and he wants me to come and stay with him, and I’m going to.”

“So what does this mean for our business?” Penny asked in a low, cold tone. “If you want to make a fool of yourself with some Italian, while I’d hate to see you get hurt, that’s your choice. But what are you planning to do about the business?”

“Oh, Penny, please, no, it’s only for a bit. I’m so sorry. I realize it must have sounded as if I’m going for good. I’m not. I thought maybe six weeks or so. I’ve been training up Rhian and thought we could put her in as manager and maybe hire a temp to take over the reception duties.”

She picked up a paperclip and began opening and twisting it. She toyed with it for a few moments and then set it down on the desk

Victoria smiled. “I know you’re not happy with what I’m doing and the implications for the business, but please, Penny, do try to be happy for me. If I don’t go, I’ll always wonder.”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

But as Penny left the room, it wasn’t what Victoria had said that bothered her. It was something she’d seen.

She returned to the manicure room where Eirlys, her young assistant, was busy with a client. She looked up as Penny entered.

“You all right for the rest of the afternoon, Eirlys?”

“Yes, Penny, thanks, I am.”

“Good. I’ve got to go and see someone, but if something comes up I’ve got my mobile so if you need me, just ring.”

On the way out she let Rhian know she was leaving and then, as the implications of what Victoria had just told her jostled for head room with a glimmer of an idea about the murder of Nigel Shipton, she hurried home.

Forty

“Can I see you?” Penny wrapped the telephone cord around her finger.

“Of course you can see me,” Davies replied. “When?”

“As soon as possible,” Penny replied.

“I’m just on my way into a briefing, but I’ll try to get away by four. Should be with you by five. Is that soon enough?”

“It’ll have to be, I guess,” Penny smiled into the telephone.

“Do you want me to bring anything?” Penny thought he was hinting at dinner or a bottle of wine, but she ignored that.

“Yes, there is something I’d like you to bring, if you don’t mind. The Shipton crime-scene photographs.”

Davies groaned. “Aw, Penny, please. You know I can’t do that. Is that what this is about?”

“Yes. I may be able to help you. I think I know something. And you don’t even have to bring all the photos. I just want to see what was on the table where Shipton was working, so if there’s one taken after the body was removed just showing the desk, that’s the one I need. As long as nothing’s been touched.”

“I’ll have a word with Bethan and see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Gareth. Do it just this once and you won’t be sorry. At least, I hope not.”

A few minutes after five he arrived at Penny’s cottage accompanied by his sergeant, Bethan Morgan. “Thought we’d be best keep the visit official,” he said, gesturing at Bethan as they entered the sitting room.

“Of course,” said Penny, following him to the sofa. Bethan opened an official-looking brown envelope, pulled out an eight-by-ten photo and handed it to Penny.

“Here’s the photo of the desk taken just after the body was removed,” she said.

Penny examined it for the briefest of moments. “I thought so,” she said, nodding slowly. “I noticed it at the time, but it didn’t register with me. But now, I think Shipton was trying to tell us something.” She handed the photo to Davies. “Do you see it?”

He examined the photo. “It’s the table in the Library Shipton was working at. Here are his glasses, the books he was reading or working from, a couple of pens, a few paperclips, some loose leaf pages.…” He looked at Penny. I don’t see anything unusual here. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“The paperclips. See how these two over here are normal, but this one,” she pointed to one in the centre of the table, “has been opened. It looks like either the number 5 or the letter S.”

“So it does,” said Davies, “but I don’t see…”

He held out his hand out to Bethan. “Give me the photo with Shipton still at the table.” She selected the one he wanted and passed it to him. He examined the photo and then nodded slowly. “Yes, now I see.” He placed the photo on the coffee table and turning the first photo over so it was white side up, covered part of the second photo. He invited Penny to have a look. “Here’s Shipton’s hand and a bit of his arm,” he said. “I’ve covered up the body; you don’t have to look at it. But you can clearly see that the index finger of his right hand is pointing at the paperclip.” He looked from one to the other. “Coincidence, or is he trying to tell us something?”

“Let’s assume he’s trying to tell us something. If it’s the letter
S,
what could that mean?” asked Bethan.

“I think it points to Hywel Stephens,” said Penny.

“Why?” asked Davies.

“Because he needed money to support his complicated family life. He had two families in two countries. Shipton was officiating at the sham weddings, pocketing the fees himself, and not reporting the income. But, to keep the fraud going he would have had to pay Stephens to fiddle the books. Otherwise, the bishop would have found out that money was missing.”

Davies nodded slowly. “And then Miss Russell noticed the discrepancy in the high number of marriages in Shipton’s parish, but the parish wasn’t bringing in the corresponding income. There should have been more money.”

He put the photo back in the envelope. “The bishop told me that Miss Russell had tried to speak to him the night of the opening reception, and she was waving about some kind of spreadsheet, but that he had brushed her off. I wonder if that’s what she wanted to speak to him about? I wonder where that paper is now. We didn’t turn up anything like that when we went through her things.”

He thought for a moment.

“And then when the bishop refused to speak to her, she thought, right, we’ll see about that and then hatched her little blackmail scheme.”

He turned to Bethan. “Check with the tech team to see what they’ve come up with on Minty Russell’s computer. Especially the deleted items. Tell them we’re looking for a spreadsheet or a chart … something with numbers on it.” He smiled at Penny. “We always find the deleted items much more interesting.”

Bethan rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry, Bethan,” Penny said. “I should have asked. Could I get you a tea? Coffee?”

“I’d love a tea, thanks, Penny. Let me make it.” She raised an eyebrow at Davies. “Sir?”

“Yes, I think I would,” replied Davies.

“I’ll make a pot, then. Won’t be long.”

With Bethan out of the room, Penny realized why Davies had brought her. The silence between them was heavy and awkward. “So,” Davies said, finally, “have you been out sketching much?”

“I’ve been too busy in the Spa,” Penny said. “We’ve got some big changes coming there.” She filled him in on Victoria’s situation. “You’ll miss her,” said Davies. “In all kinds of ways.”

“Yes, but she’s gone away before and we were just fine. We’ll miss her but we’ll manage, as an old boss of mine used to say.”

Bethan returned with a tray and set it down on the table. When she had poured tea for everyone, Davies took a sip, put his cup down, sat back, and closed his eyes. He folded his hands together in a praying gesture and held them in front of his lips. “Now then, let’s revisit Shipton’s death. Bethan, can you read us the statements of where people were at the time of the murder, please.”

Bethan flipped open her notebook and turned a few pages.

“Here we are. The murder is estimated to have taken place about 1:10
P.M.
, give or take a few minutes either way.”

“And of course those few minutes are critical to the timing,” Davies interjected. “Let’s see if we can place Stephens.” He nodded at Bethan to continue.

“Mrs. Lloyd and Florence Semble were waiting in the Gladstone Room for Penny, as the three of them were to share a taxi to Chester railway station. Florence was reading the newspaper. She then went out in the hall to look for Penny. She had a clear view all the way to the Library. If Stephens had been in the hall, she would have seen him. She didn’t see anyone.”

“And Mrs. Lloyd?”

“I don’t have a note here about her. I interviewed them together and they said they were together in the Library.”

“And Stephens?”

“He said he left as soon as he could. He had no further business there, and had appointments scheduled with clients in Llanelen. He said he’d already stayed longer than he wanted to and was anxious to get away.”

“So what time did he leave?”

“He said he left just after the hearse went by. He said he walked with the Blaines to the car park, said good-bye to them there, and they got in their respective cars and drove away.”

“Did you confirm that with the bishop?”

“No, but I will.”

“Ring him now.” Davies and Penny listened as Bethan went through a series of yeses, I sees, and then thanked the bishop.

“Bishop Blaine confirms that they met Stephens in the parking lot, but says that he and his wife left first so he can’t be absolutely certain that Stephens did in fact leave at the same time although he did see him getting into his car.”

“So he could have gone back into the building,” Penny said.

“He could have. But we haven’t been able to find anyone who saw him at the scene. If we’re going to consider him a suspect, we need to establish he was at the scene and had the opportunity. Or, to put it another way, to eliminate him from our enquiries, we need to establish that he was someplace else.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost five thirty. I hope his assistant is still at the office. Bethan, ring her and see if he kept those appointments he mentioned.”