Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery) (10 page)

Eighteen

P
ettison’s ex-cleaner,
M
rs
R
ichardson, lived in one of the many back streets in
T
resham, with long rows of redbrick terraced houses in a ribbon of doors and windows from one end to another.
T
he only distinguishing features were variations in front door colours and closed or open curtains.

The Richardson front door was bright red, and what were called the nets were permanently drawn to protect from prying eyes on the pavement, but without shutting out too much light. Mrs Ruth Richardson was a good housewife, and friendly with her neighbours.

Her husband, Tom, was sitting with a neighbour now, talking about his early days. “We met after I came out of the forces. Professional soldier, I was. But then I met Ruth, and fell for her straightaway. We got together, and I came out of the army. Took up gardening, and that’s my life now, as you know from my greenhouse next door!”

“And you do a wonderful job at Cameroon Hall. Beautiful gardens there.” The neighbour stopped, aware that they were getting dangerously close to talking about the zoo. “What about children?” she asked, and then realised that wasn’t very tactful, either. There had never been any young Richardsons in this house, and as far as she knew, there weren’t any visiting.

“Less said about that, the better,” Tom said. “How about a bit of cake? There’s some in the tin. Ruth had a baking session on Sunday morning. Oh my God,” he added, his face crumpling. “She won’t make no more cakes for a while, will she?”

The neighbour struggled to find another subject to talk about, aside from Tom’s damaged wife, still detained in hospital. Rumours were flying up and down the street, and she was longing to ask Tom more pertinent questions. One such rumour was that he had intended to do his wife in, and conceal the body in his wheelbarrow at the hall. This had been elaborated as it went from house to house, and by the time it reached the red front door, the muddled report was that Tom intended to plant her among the wallflowers, but was interrupted by sounds of voices, and in a panic had tipped her out into the zoo’s monkey cage, meaning to collect her later. But he’d not been able to do this before she was discovered, so he’d disinfected his wheelbarrow and gone home.

Luckily, before she could ask him any more questions, Tom said that he didn’t feel like cake, and he’d have a bit of a rest. So the neighbour went home, saying he was to knock at her door at any time of day or night.

*

T
wo streets further along,
D
ot
N
immo sat by her front window, keeping watch over the fancy woman’s house. It was late by the time Dot had finished her New Brooms work for the morning. She made herself a sandwich and resumed her seat. She had noticed Pettison’s van when she returned home, and it was still there. She wondered if he was confessing all to the lovely Betsy. As she took her first bite, the front door was flung open, and the little mild husband was ejected with some force. The door was then slammed shut, and Dot saw the poor cuckold pick himself up, dust himself down and attempt a nonchalant air as he walked down the street.

“Poor little devil!” she said to herself, and went back to the kitchen to collect a coffee cooling on the table. By the time she got back to her chair, she saw that Pettison’s van, so conspicuous with its snarling tiger, had gone. So he’d made it, after all.

As she washed up the few dishes, she thought about the zoo boss. She prided herself on being able to get on well with all of the New Brooms clients, and she looked forward to meeting him. Mrs M seemed confident, and it surely would not be too long before the zoo reopened to the public.

Her appointment with her cousin was in half an hour’s time, and she had to tidy up the BMW before delivering it back to him. When she approached the car, she recoiled with a gasp. A yellow-and-green diamond-patterned snake lay curled up on the roof, and at that instant, it raised its head, looked at her with hooded eyes and then lowered its head again, appearing to go back to sleep. Dot froze. Then she rushed indoors and phoned her cousin.

“Can you come and see to it
now
? I’ll watch to see it doesn’t get away, though God knows what I shall do if it moves! Come now!”

When her cousin arrived, Dot had remembered the trick with a box and a piece of wood, and had trapped the snake where it still rested on top of the car. With a brick on top, it could not escape, and she said he should come in first and talk to her for a few minutes, then he could tackle it.

Mozzie said he knew Pettison quite well, though Pettison was the kind of bloke who kept himself to himself. Good talker, but when you thought about it afterwards, he had said nothing about himself.

“How did you get to know him then?” Dot asked, and her cousin was frank.

“It was all to do with her over the road,” he said, grinning. “Old Pettison rang me up one day, and said straight out that he needed a willing girlfriend. O’course, I’d known her over there for years. Not as a client, o’course, but she had been a prostitute before Ted Brierley took her on. He must have known she wouldn’t give up a lucrative business. He was said to have been her pimp, though I don’t know the truth of that. Anyway, I suggested contacting her, and she was willing. I don’t know whether he became her sole client, but it seems likely. Anyway, after that, Pettison and me met for a drink now and then. Sometimes I can do him a favour; sometimes he can do me one. And don’t ask me about that, Auntie Dot! You know better than that, I reckon.”

“Gimme a clue,” she said.

“This and that, buying and selling, importing and exporting—you know the kind of thing. Uncle Handy was in the same line. Nimmo style, you could say.”

“Mm,” Dot replied. “So do you think it’d be safe for me to work at Cameroon Hall, cleaning the house?”

“As long as you watch your back, you’ll be fine. Anyway, you’ve had plenty of practice in taking care of yourself, haven’t you?”

Dot saw him out, and watched as he gingerly carried the box and piece of wood across the road. There he lifted the snake with a practised hand, and eased it through the fancy woman’s letterbox. He was still laughing as he drove off, waving cheerfully to Dot.

*

T
he policeman on duty outside the zoo put up a hand to stop a smart sports car from going straight through the barrier at the gate.

“Sorry, madam, but the zoo is closed.”

“Okay. Then perhaps you’d like to take this and restore it to its rightful place?”

The policeman peered into the box the driver was holding. “Ah, yes. I see, madam. I think we can make an exception for you. Drive on please, and take the turn to the right for the zoo. I will tell them you are coming,” he added, putting his phone to his ear. Then he closed the barrier and resumed his place on guard. He looked at his watch. The woman shouldn’t take long handing over the snake, and then he’d be off home. What was she doing with the ruddy thing, anyway?

Twenty minutes later, the woman had not returned. He gave her another ten minutes, and then phoned through to check. There was no reply, so he opened the barrier and walked through, heading for the zoo. No doubt he would meet her coming out, but he had to make sure before he left.

Nineteen

T
ed
B
rierley, from the house opposite
D
ot
N
immo, paused in his pacing up and down his small sitting room.
H
e was worried.
B
etsy almost never went out without telling him where she was going or what time she would be back.
T
his evening he was furious when he found the door locked on returning from work.
H
e had let himself in the back way, and looked for a note on the kitchen table, where she always left it if she was going out unexpectedly.

As there was no note, he told himself that she would be back at any minute. Probably gone round to the neighbour’s for a chat, he thought. She did not have many friends, and he knew that it was because of what she called her home-entertainment business. In the beginning, their relationship was one of convenience. She needed protection, and he could give it to her. Then Pettison came along, and the arrangement with him was ideal. He would continue to visit her, but had said right from the start that he was to be her only lover, and if she strayed to her old game of prostitution, then Pettison would end the deal immediately.

Ted knew that Betsy enjoyed getting to know old Pettison, and they had settled down into a three-cornered relationship. Ted’s desires were satisfied elsewhere, and Betsy relaxed when off duty at home. It was a fact that if Betsy had gone back to the old game, they would be financially better off, but Ted had no wish to alienate Pettison, having built up lucrative business contacts with him, and so had agreed to his terms.

He watched the clock until eventually there was a knock at the door, and his fists tightened. She had obviously forgotten her key. He went quickly to open it, and when he saw Dot Nimmo, his anger escalated.

“What’s happened to her?” he said in a loud voice.

“Who?”

“The wife, of course. She’s not here, and I have no idea where she’s gone. Where’s she gone?” he shouted. “You keep a close eye on our business, don’t you?”

“No need to be unpleasant,” said Dot, not in the least offended. “I reckon I can help you there. My cousin’s car was outside while he was visiting me, and when he went to go, he found a bloody great snake on top of the BMW. He returned it to sender, Ted Brierley, via your letterbox.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Dot? A snake! Betsy hates snakes. Come on, no ridiculous excuses. Where the hell has she gone?”

Occasionally, he and Betsy, along with Justin Brookes, acted as safe houses for new and valuable additions to Pettison’s illegal trade. Pettison always laughingly said he was sending them on to good homes, which was not illegal, he assured them. At least, not very.

The snake had been right at hand for Ted Brierley. He considered nosey Dot Nimmo a threat, working for Lois Meade. It amused him now and then to leave small warnings, in the shape of a worm or, in this case, a snake.

“She’ll be back shortly,” said Dot soothingly. “I just came over for a flue brush. Me chimney’s blocked.”

“Mm, well, I suppose you’d better come in. She should’ve been back hours ago. God knows what she’s up to.”

After rummaging about in the shed at the back of the house, he found the long-handled brush and handed it to Dot. “There you are, then. D’you want a cuppa? I’ve been so busy today I’ve not had time to chat to anybody.”

Recognising that he was genuinely worried about his wife, Dot agreed she could stay for a few minutes, and sat down, prepared to listen.

“Good of you to stay,” he said, when they were both settled with coffee. “I’m sure she’ll ring soon, or turn up, wondering why I’m in such a state!”

“It’s because of that accident at the zoo,” said Dot, going in with both feet. “We’re all a bit nervous, aren’t we? So naturally, as she’s probably gone to the zoo to get rid of the snake, you’re bound to be worried. She’ll have gone to see Pettison, I expect, so that’ll be okay.” She grinned, but he did not return her smile.

“Yeah, s’long as it
is
Pettison,” he replied gloomily. He stared into his mug as if his fortune was at the bottom of it.

*

B
etsy
B
rierley was indeed at the zoo. She had found a keeper, and he had been delighted when she gave him the snake. Apparently, it was a rare and valuable one, and he had no idea how it could have turned up in Betsy’s house. He told her Mr Pettison would be curious to see it. She stayed chatting to him for a few minutes, and then he turned away as his mobile rang.

“Call from my husband?” she said with a laugh. “I bet he’s tracked me down. I forgot to leave a note for him, and he worries.”

“No, no, not your husband, Mrs Brierley. It was Mr Pettison, wondering if you’d like to go up for a drink? Seems he recognised your car.” He paused. “He said not to take no for an answer.”

“So what happens if I say no?”

“I don’t advise it. Mr Pettison has automatic control over the main gates.”

“Oh, very well,” she replied. “Let’s go up and get it over with. It’s out of office hours for me.” She grinned. “So I shall not be more than fifteen minutes; well, perhaps thirty.”

“He said I should take you up in my runabout. It’s quite comfortable,” he added, embarrassed by her brassy smile.

“It may be comfortable,” she retorted, “but you look very uncomfortable! Come on, then, lead me to your runabout.”

Pettison was waiting under the hall portico. He smiled his usual beaming smile, and handed her out of the vehicle.

“That will do for today, thank you,” he said to the keeper. “You can go off home as soon as everything is secure.”

“Glad to see you, Betsy,” he continued, taking her hand and leading her inside. “Lucky you turned up when I was feeling in need of company. And thanks for bringing back the snake. Careless of Ted to let it loose.”

“Company is all I’m offering,” she replied. “Can’t stay long. Ted will be worrying.”

“Oh, Ted will manage. We’ll knock back a gin and tonic, and then you can be away home. Give me a couple of minutes to fetch some ice, and then we’ll have a chat. I’d be interested to know what you’ve heard about poor Mrs Richardson.”

“Come off it, Petti!” she replied. “You know you couldn’t stand the sight of her. Probably arranged for her accident all by yourself!”

He did not smile. “I am sorry you feel like that,” he said. “Back in two minutes.”

When he returned, he was not carrying an ice bucket, but a small but deadly looking gun in his hand.

“Now, about that snake. You should not have given it to the keeper. My new people do not go anywhere near the zoo.”

“Too bad. I’m sure you’ll think of something. I had no idea you were at home, and I wanted that thing out of my car as quickly as possible. Ted’s furious with me, as it is. Suspects I’m still on the game. But no, you can relax. No such luck for me.”

“I see,” he said, and frowned. “I think I need to make sure you will do what I say for a little while. Turn around, my sweet, and point your pretty little feet towards the door, and then I will direct you. Don’t try anything stupid or brave, because I hate to be disobeyed, as you know. Off we go, then.”

*

T
he small room at the back of the hall was cold and dark, and Betsy shivered. She was not warmly dressed, having left home in a hurry with the snake. Now she looked around for something to put around her shoulders, but there was nothing. She supposed the room had once been a maid’s bedroom, and not been used for years.

“Robert!” she yelled for the umpteenth time, and banged on the door until her knuckles were sore. “Pettison! Let me out of here, or the police will be up here very soon. Let me out!”

“No need to shout, Betsy.” He was standing at the other side of the door. “The police, in the shape of one constable guarding the gate barrier, has been up here asking for you. I denied having seen you, of course, and wished him well in his search.”

Betsy leaned on the door. “What’s the point of all this? Is this some new setup to liven up a jaded appetite? If so, you can stuff it. I’m not available.”

“You will be delighted to hear that I am cooking a delicious supper for us both, and I shall be bringing it upstairs in due course.”

“Stuff your supper, too!” she yelled. “Let me out of here; otherwise, I’ll never allow you to call on me again.”

“Oh, I don’t think Ted would be pleased about that. I think we can come to some agreement over supper, my dear. Back soon!”

Betsy sat down and thought. She looked around the room for inspiration, and could not believe her eyes. On a rickety bookcase by the door she saw the gun. He had forgotten it! She picked it up gingerly and looked more closely. She was expecting it to be cold and heavy, but it wasn’t. It was quite light, and made of plastic. It was a toy gun, and she began to laugh. The man was unhinged, she thought, but harmless.