Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery) (24 page)

Forty-
s
ix

E
arly in the morning, the telephone at
M
eade
H
ouse had begun to ring, and it had gone on intermittently until well after breakfast.

“I reckon the whole world read yesterday’s evening paper!” said Lois, after an amusing talk with Mrs T-J, who said she felt ashamed to find the Pettison story funny, but that he really had it coming to him. “Strange, isn’t it, how wide he had cast his net,” she said. “Lots of people have come out of the woodwork, apparently, claiming to have been tricked by him into parting with sums of money, small and large.”

“Have you heard from Cowgill?” Derek asked Lois now. “He’ll have something to say, you bet.”

“No, but I’m giving him a call later, on a different matter entirely.”

“Not that different,” said Gran.

Lois said nothing. She had to admit that she had no real need to ring Cowgill, but she was curious to have more details about Pettison. It would affect what else had to be done in identifying his suppliers. Would the business of importing poor little animals continue? Without his presence, would Justin or Betsy take over? And how important was he, anyway, in the dangerous network of dealers?

She wondered how the red-paint story, in considerable detail, had got out from the hospital, which would surely be anxious to make as little as possible of it. That a man with evil intent had got into the private wing of the new hospital extension was bad enough. But that he had got out again without being challenged was a very serious matter.

Now, in her office and busy with New Brooms business, the thought came back to her. Who had given the story to the newspaper? She picked it up again, and looked for a byline. No name. At the start of the story, it was anonymously “by our reporter.”

She looked up the number, dialled, and asked for a girl who was one of her son Jamie’s girlfriends. “Diana in the newsroom, please,” she said.

“Hello? Lois Meade here. New Brooms. Is that you, Diana? Ah, nice to hear your voice again. Yes, we’re all well. Have you heard from Jamie? Oh good. Now, dear, I have a request. I wonder if you could tell me who wrote the story about Robert Pettison? No, it’s not idle curiosity! I do have a good reason for wanting to know. Ring me back? Fine. I’ll be here for at least another hour.”

The call came back after twenty minutes.

“Hi, Diana, nice of you to ring back. Yes, I’m all ears. Anonymous call, did you say? But surely you don’t print all anonymous stories from people wanting to cause trouble? Oh, verified by the hospital. Good heavens, what a mess. Oh, would you? That would be really helpful. Hear from you soon, then. Bye.”

Lois sat for another half hour, doodling on the back of an envelope and thinking. Then she put on her jacket and set out for the shop.

“Morning, Josie. All well? Has Matthew got rid of that cough?”

“Almost,” said Josie. “You look like the cat’s got the cream. What’s new?”

“Nothing, really. Not yet. Is the wicked Justin back in the flat?”

“Yeah, I think so. I told him I don’t want to see anything more of him than is necessary. He actually had the cheek to come in and ask to borrow gardening tools! Apparently, he intends putting the patch at the back down to vegetables, with a bit of lawn down the bottom near the pigsty.”

“Sounds like he means to stay.”

“I wouldn’t bank on it, Mum. I couldn’t trust him now, not after messing us about with the flat.”

“Ah, well, there could have been a good reason, I suppose. Still, as long as all is well now, and you make sure you remember to lock up out the back, so you’re safe in here.”

“Yep. Anyway, did you want a word with him? I’m pretty sure he’s in. Sometimes I think he’s got hobnailed boots, the row he makes!”

“Something to do with settling in, I suppose. I’ll not bother him. A clause in the tenancy document about security needs rewording. Just in case.”

But as she left the shop, she saw the nose of the Fiat edging out into the road. Justin saw her and immediately got out. “Mrs Meade, how are you? Looking a lot better than the last time I saw you! Can you ever forgive me?”

“No,” said Lois. “But, to change the subject, I need to see you sometime about the tenancy agreement. Needs rewording.”

“Right. Shall I give you a ring? Oh, and by the way, what do you think of the news? About Uncle Robert, I mean. It’s the talk of the town!”

“It could have been worse, I suppose. The hospital must be really furious. It puts them in a really bad light! They are being very cagey about it, but your uncle is said to have had a relapse. “

“Shame,” he said, and then smiled at her. “Must fly! Late already. Bye, and take care.” He revved up the engine and started off with a squeal of tires.

“What a dope,” muttered Lois. “He’ll come a real cropper one of these days.”

*

J
ustin was heading into
T
resham.
H
e passed the
N
ew Brooms office, and pulled up opposite Dot Nimmo’s house. After knocking at the Brierleys’ front door, he looked at his watch. Not lunchtime yet, so Ted should be safely down at his club. He knocked again, and it was immediately opened by Betsy.

“No need to knock the house down!” she said. “You’d better come in, I suppose.”

Dot, up in her bedroom getting ready to go over to her next job, saw the car, which she recognised, and made a note to have another look to see if it was still there when she went out. She strongly disapproved of Justin having the Farnden shop flat, and had said so forcibly to Lois. “Him being Pettison’s nephew is enough to have nothing to do with him,” she had said.

Inside the Brierley house, Justin sat down on a stool in the tiny kitchen, watching Betsy, as she continued hand washing a pile of frillies while he talked.

“I bet you don’t remember good sensible knickers required for handstands in the school gym?” he said.

“Blimey, I’m not that old!” she said. “And if knickers are on your mind, I’m not available at the moment.”

“No, certainly not,” he said. “I’m here on business. We need to decide what to do now the network is very likely to break down. God knows how much they’ll find out. You got any plans?”

“Oh, I shall have to carry on, if I’m able. There’ll be a lot of work to do, but it is lucrative, and we need the money. Whether Pettison will be well enough to get back into it is another matter. Also, there will be a lot of personal stuff to face. I must say I don’t look forward to it. But, as you know, it is difficult to see a way out without us incriminating ourselves. We’re in a bit of a limbo at the moment.”

“What does Ted think of it all?”

“He hasn’t said much. But on the whole he’s sticking by me, much the same as ever. He ain’t got much alternative, really.”

“So, we’d better keep in touch, Betsy. It’ll be up to us. I do have some thoughts about how we could carry on in the future, once Pettison is out of the picture. And I can’t see him ever taking over again. That episode in the hospital must have set him back quite a bit.”

“So what are you suggesting? I do sometimes think it’d be nice to keep the zoo going without all that illegal stuff. The two of us, and Ted, could carry on with the zoo and any animals we introduce should be aboveboard an’ all that?”

“Yes. If we could make the transition without being incriminated with Pettison’s past, it would be a much better way for the future. You know how to handle the animals, and I’ve a reasonable head for business.”

Betsy looked him up and down, as if sizing up his chances. “Do you really think we’re going to get away with it? All that we’ve done over the years, I mean? Because I don’t. If you ask me, the fuzz are biding their time. They know most of what goes on at the zoo. Cowgill will strike when he’s ready. And it don’t matter how good we are now; our past history will do for us, but especially Pettison, with any luck. We’ll just have to wait and see. The best thing you could do would be to go back to Lincolnshire to be a farmer. How’s your mum, by the way?”

“Bearing up. She’s more or less decided to sell the farm and buy a bungalow. Her friend Vera is willing to go in with her and be a sort of companion. I reckon that’s the most sensible solution, though I’m haunted by my late father’s hopes that I would take it over.”

“Well, he’s gone now, so you’ll have to make your own decisions. Anyway, I’m busy, so if that’s all, I’ll see you out.”

*

O
pposite,
D
ot watched them talking as they came out of the door, and then Justin drove off with the usual high-pitched roar.

“What ho, Betsy!” she shouted across the street. “That was a quick one and no mistake! Doing all right?”

Betsy laughed. “Nosy parker!” she called back. “Come in for cuppa this afternoon? See you then.”

Forty-
s
even

S
aturday was usually the busiest day of the week, but the zoo was nevertheless quiet.
I
t was eleven o’clock, and
M
argie looked around to see if anyone could take over while she stretched her legs and had a coffee.
T
here was certainly no rush of customers to deal with

She stepped out of the ticket booth, and called to the keeper, who was walking through the yard on his way to the animals.

“Hi, Dan! Are you busy? You couldn’t take over for ten minutes, could you? I need a little break. My legs are older than my brain, and they seize up if I don’t walk about a bit.”

He agreed readily, and, armed with the daily paper, he took up residence in her little quarters. There was just room enough to open the right pages, and he settled happily.

“Hi, Margie!” Betsy was already sitting in the café, coffee and a large iced bun in front of her. “I shouldn’t, but I weakened,” she said.

“I expect you have to keep in shape, in your business,” Margie said, with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, well, I may not have to do it for much longer,” Betsy replied. “Things are bound to change around here.”

“How’s Pettison, then? Last I heard was that he was stable, and with a good chance of a complete recovery. We’ve been assured that everything will go on the same meantime, and our jobs are secure,” said Margie. “I should have thought you could say the same?”

“We shall see,” said Betsy mysteriously, and got up to go. “I have to check a few things up in the hall,” she said. “The gossips are busy, as you can imagine. I shall have to see that everything’s okay if he’s coming home soon.”

“You got a key, then?”

“Oh yes,” said Betsy loftily. “Had one for years. I’d best go up and see to the post, an’ that.”

“You’re private secretary now, as well, are you?” said Margie, smiling.

“I do my best,” said Betsy, and walked off.

She was somewhat daunted when she let herself into the hall, and saw a large pile of letters on the doormat. Sorting through them, and discarding all the rubbish, she came across one with a foreign stamp. “Oh blimey,” she said. “Better open this.”

It was from Africa, and the message was blunt. “Dear Sir, your consignment has been dispatched and will arrive soon. Notice of exact time and place of arrival will follow. Yours faithfully,” and the rest was an unreadable squiggle. There were no contact details, and no clues to where exactly it might have come from.

Now what? She read the message again, and made a decision. Taking out her mobile, she dialled a number. “Justin? Can we meet? It’s urgent. Yes, I suppose that will be all right. Your flat, around six o’clock? See you then.”

She stuffed the rest of the post into a bag, and returned to her car. There was nobody around, and she suddenly felt a shiver. It was a creepy old place, she thought, and if any of the animals escaped they’d have a hell of a job finding them. Safely in her car, she drove off down the drive and out into the comforting traffic jam, full of real people going home to lunch.

*

B
ack in her ticket booth,
M
argie
T
urner settled down for afternoon chats with families coming into the zoo. She liked to have a few words of welcome with each lot, and then direct them to where they should start. Most of them chose the chimps, and after that the sadly lonely tiger. He was a mangy old thing, and no one could remember where Pettison had got him from. Most of the time he slept, but occasionally padded over to the visitors and yawned, showing his crumbling old teeth. Only very rarely did he oblige with a roar, and that was when children poked sticks at him, until reprimanded by the keeper.

Before he went into hospital, Pettison had taken delivery of a new, fully grown chimpanzee, bred in captivity and trained to be mild and friendly. So the keeper had said. But today he was clearly depressed. He sat on a branch of dead wood, his head in his hands, looking gloomy.

“Cheer up!” said the father of a visiting family. “It may never happen!”

His wife laughed. “Perhaps that’s why he’s worried,” she said. Suddenly the chimp bounded down off the branch, and came to the front of his enclosure. He banged his huge fists on the bars, and chattered angrily.

“Come away, children!” said the visitor. “Let’s go and look at some little rabbits.”

“Missing his master,” said the keeper, when the incident was reported to him. “Old Pettison had got fond of him, and brought him treats to eat. I expect the poor thing is wondering where he’s gone.”

“He’ll have to get used to somebody else for a while, won’t he?” said Margie Turner, who had heard about it from a visitor leaving the zoo. “If you ask me, it’s a bad idea to get too friendly with animals. You never know what they’ll do next.”