Slated for Death (4 page)

“I haven't heard yet how Glenda died,” Mrs. Lloyd went on. “Was it an accident? I suppose all kinds of dreadful things can happen in a mine.” She brightened. “Has that nice policeman of yours said anything to you?”

Penny shook her head. “Now, Mrs. Lloyd, we've been through this before. You know he's not my nice policeman, although he is a policeman and very nice. We're just friends, that's all.”

“Well, yes, all right. I know you've told me that before. I was hoping things had changed. We all had such high hopes for you and him, Penny. But never mind that now. Tell me, did he mention anything to you about how she died?”

“No, he didn't because I haven't spoken to him. I expect the investigation is just getting started. I wondered about the logistics of dealing with a body found down the mine. I expect that'll be causing lots of problems for them.”

“Well, the policeman in charge, the senior guy that Penny knows, he's going to talk about it on the telly just before lunch,” Eirlys said. “So maybe he'll explain everything then.” Both Penny and Mrs. Lloyd turned their attention to her.

“He is? Where did you hear that?” Mrs. Lloyd asked.

“Twitter.” She reached in her bag, pulled out her phone, gave it a few clicks, and after a bit of scrolling, held it out so Penny could read it.

“You follow the North Wales Police on Twitter?” Penny asked.

Eirlys shrugged. “I follow lots of North Wales people on Twitter. Don't you?” Penny's eyes widened. “And at the very least, Penny,” Eirlys continued, “if you don't personally, you should have a Twitter account for the Spa. It's really easy. You can get followers and promote specials to them. And do you know that the biggest users of Facebook are women over forty-five? Have you been on Facebook lately?”

“You're absolutely right, Eirlys,” said Penny. “We should do more with social media. You carry on with Mrs. Lloyd while I go and speak to Victoria.”

“Before you go, Penny,” said Mrs. Lloyd, “Florence asked me to be sure to get more of your hand lotion today. She goes through gallons of it, especially this time of year. Says she's never seen anything like it, it's that good. Well, I say good. It must be extraordinary, to get Florence so excited.”

Penny gave Mrs. Lloyd a quick smile. “I'll get some for you.” She returned in a few minutes and set a small box on the table. “There you go. Rhian's added it to your bill.”

“Put it on my slate, as we used to say.” Mrs. Lloyd picked up the box and admired its simple yet striking black on white design.

“Very nice. You've done a lovely job, Penny, with your own product line. I believe I was the one who suggested to you a while back that you should develop some brands of your own, but you have made rather a good go of it, I'll give you that.”

“The lotion is amazing. It really does wonders for your hands, especially in winter. We were lucky to get that formula from Dilys. Oh, by the way, we're about to launch a new product that I think you'll also like. It's a lavender linen spray made from locally sourced lavender grown right here in Wales. It's heavenly.”

“Oh, I love lavender. When will it be available, do you think?”

“In a few weeks. We're just signing off now on the packaging design. It's also being made from a formula we licenced from Dilys. There's a special ingredient in it that adds a subtle scent of something deeper.” Penny smiled. “I'm enjoying learning about the fragrance world.”

“Well then, Penny,” said Eirlys, “you'll be wanting to get your Twitter account up and running so you can use it to get the word out about our new linen spray.”

“Yes,” agreed Penny. “I'll have a word with Victoria about it. I have an idea about who should run the Twitter account.” She placed a hand on Eirlys's shoulder and was rewarded with a broad smile from a young, upturned face.

“Twitter?” Mrs. Lloyd asked Eirlys as Penny was leaving. “'I've heard about that. Would I like it, do you think? Tell me all about it.”

 

Six

“Let's go up to the flat,” Victoria said a few minutes later. “We can have our sandwiches up there whilst we watch the news conference.”

Just over a year ago Penny and Victoria had bought and restored a decaying stone building beautifully situated on the banks of the River Conwy. Reopened as the Llanelen Spa, the building included a spacious flat on the third floor, which Victoria called home. Beyond the obvious advantages of living above the shop, the flat featured striking views of the ever-changing river and the green hills beyond.

Penny now walked over to the window in the sitting room, pulled back the curtain, and peered out. The river sparkled in the winter sunshine as it splashed its way through the town on its journey to the Conwy Estuary and from there into the Irish Sea. She let the curtain drop and turned back to Victoria.

“There's something about living near water, isn't there?” she said. Victoria nodded. “It's always the same, and always changing, that view,” Victoria replied.

Penny plunked herself down in a comfortable armchair as Victoria took her place at the end of a love seat.

“Have you heard how Glenda died?” Victoria asked.

Penny shook her head. “Mrs. Lloyd just asked me that. I haven't talked to Gareth. Until they know for sure how she died I expect he's leading the investigation. But I should call him to let him know that she was here at the Spa yesterday morning. The detectives are always keen to track the last twenty-four hours in the victim's life. If she was a victim, that is.”

Victoria switched on the television and a few moments later the familiar figure of Penny's friend DCI Gareth Davies filled the screen. He stood in front of a backdrop that showed the logo of the North Wales Police Service and although he appeared businesslike and poised, his eyes betrayed anxiety and concern. His face looked lined and he looked tired.

He glanced at the sheet of paper in his hand and then began to speak in short, strong sentences.

“It's been a long and difficult night. A body was discovered yesterday just after closing time deep in the Llyn Du mine. Although formal identification of the body has not yet taken place, we are confident the body is that of Glenda Roberts. Her family has been notified. And although the cause of death is yet to be determined, we are treating her death as suspicious.”

A large photo of Glenda appeared on a screen beside him. He paused for a moment and tipped his head toward it.

“We are appealing to anyone who saw Glenda yesterday to contact us as we are anxious to retrace her steps. We especially want to hear from you if you were one of the visitors to the mine yesterday. You may feel that you do not know anything or have any information that may be useful to our inquiry, but if you saw her, we need to hear from you, no matter how trivial you think your information is.”

“See?” said Penny. “Told you he'd want to know she was here. Trivial as it may seem.”

He gazed steadily and confidently into the camera and gave the phone number to call if anyone had information and then referred viewers to the police Web site for more information. After a moment, the scene faded and the newscast resumed.

Victoria switched off the television and the two sat for a moment in reflective silence. And then Victoria spoke.

“Well, there we have it. So, yes, you do need to call him. You know, I've been thinking a lot about Glenda. This St. David's Day concert was the second event I'd worked on with her. She liked to run things. She was a good organizer and put on a good show, but she could be abrasive. And on each project she seemed to need to find someone to hate.”

“What do you mean, ‘hate'?”

“Well, last time it was the Jubilee concert. Remember that? You were there. Outdoors, at the cricket ground? Music through all the decades of the Queen's reign? Well, Glenda really took against Ifan Williams for no reason that I could see. Seemed to positively loathe him. Or at least, she unleashed all her frustration on the poor man. Constantly berating him. As if everything that went wrong was down to him. He's the conductor, for heaven's sake. It wasn't his fault if people didn't show up on time for rehearsal. Or that it rained on the morning of the concert and the ground was wet! And yet she kept having a go at him, and in front of everybody.” She made little snapping motions with her fingers. “Pick, pick, pick, if you know what I mean. And talked about him behind his back to the others. Really awful, that was. Small and mean-spirited.” Victoria thought for a moment.

“And yet it was all done in a rather sly manner. Nothing overtly critical, just little nasty digs.”

“And this time? Was there someone this time she didn't like?”

“Oh, yes.”

Penny raised an eyebrow.

“Me. She was starting to have a go at me.” She made a little moue of distaste. “I could see where she was going and I wasn't looking forward to it. In fact, I wasn't going to have it. I was prepared to stand up for myself and tell her exactly what I thought of her.”

Victoria took a sip of water.

“But generally, though, she was well-regarded in the town, as far as I know,” said Penny. “I didn't know her at all, besides seeing her in here every now and then, but I never heard anything bad about her.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Victoria, with an edge in her voice. “Except for the part where she could start a fight in an empty room, she was a real pillar of the community, that one. Making Llanelen a better place for us all to live. Doing good deeds all over the place. Glenda always had more pies than fingers to put in them. In the queue somewhere for an OBE, I shouldn't wonder.”

“Oh, dear,” said Penny. “You really didn't like her, did you?”

“I saw her differently than the others did, I guess. All fur coat and no knickers, in my opinion. I hated all that false humility. And yet she seemed to take in everybody else with it. They thought she was wonderful. Always giving so freely of her time to organize wonderful events for the community. Running this, finding sponsors for that. She seemed to know a lot of people. And if there were people who didn't like her, I never heard. I think people were afraid to criticize her.”

“Why?”

“She just had some sort of power. I don't know what it was. Connections? Success? I don't know.” Victoria shrugged. “I always felt a bit like the kid in ‘The Emperor's New Clothes.'” She gave Penny a level look. “As if I saw through her somehow, and others didn't.

“And you know, people who matter did take notice of her,” Victoria continued. “Yes, she dined occasionally with the lord lieutenant himself.” She glanced at her watch. “Or so I heard.” She stood up. “We'd better get to work. The afternoon clients will be arriving.”

Penny reached up and gently touched her arm. “We can be a few minutes late. Please sit down. I want to hear more about her.”

“Well, what were your impressions of her?” Victoria asked. “She was in the spa every six weeks or so to get her hair done. You saw her.”

“I don't really remember her that well,” Penny said. “I knew her to see, of course, but I didn't take that much notice of her. She got her nails done occasionally, but Eirlys did them.

“It's funny, that. You see someone occasionally and then, when something like this happens and you try to remember everything you can about that person, you find you can't remember very much at all. I never even knew she was Doreen's daughter.”

“One of them,” Victoria said.

“Doreen had two daughters?” Penny asked.

“Rebeccah. But I gather she and Glenda were chalk and cheese. Very different. Our Glenda had aspirations and Rebeccah didn't do much of anything at all. Sold cheap tat down the local market, apparently.”

“Well, I guess that's a job of some sort.”

“Speaking of jobs…”

 

Seven

“What do you make of the bite mark?”

Sgt. Bethan Morgan kept her eyes on the road as she and Det. Chief Inspector Gareth Davies drove along the A55 North Wales Expressway from Bangor to Llandudno. They had just attended the postmortem examination of the body of Glenda Roberts and had been shown a clear and recent bite mark on the inside of her right forearm. The area had been swabbed for DNA and close photographs taken. The pathologist wasn't optimistic, though, that they'd get any DNA from the wound. It was a day or two old and Glenda had most certainly showered or bathed since the bite had been inflicted.

“I've been thinking about that,” Bethan replied. “And asking myself, who would bite another person. And the only answer I can come up with, really, is a child.”

“A frustrated child who is also very angry,” Davies replied.

“Or frightened?” Bethan suggested. “But the pathologist said the size of the bite indicated an adult, not a child.”

“That's troubling,” commented Davies.

The pathologist recorded cause of death as blunt force trauma. “I know what you're going to ask me now,” he had said to Davies. “Could she have fallen? And the answer is no. The head injuries are not consistent with a fall. Someone delivered several blows to the back of her head with something sharp and flat, I would say. You wouldn't have seen the extent or nature of the injury while the body was in situ at the mine and especially in the darkness; we needed to get her up on the slab to get a good look at it. I can't say exactly what kind of weapon or instrument caused the injuries, but the blows were delivered with strength and intensity. The assailant certainly meant to inflict great harm, or more likely, to kill.” The pathologist peeled off his gloves, and dropped them into the medical waste bin. “Sorry I can't be more helpful with the type of instrument. I expect determining what the weapon was will be at the top of your to-do list.”

Davies sighed and glanced out the car window. The afternoon was wearing on and the countryside would soon be shrouded in semidarkness. It got dark early, this time of year, in this part of the world, and the day had brought the kind of rapidly changing weather often seen here. Rain, heavy at times, had now eased off, giving way to a pale sky filled with purplish-grey clouds, some of them tinged with pink along the tops. The waters of the Menai Strait, which separates the mainland from the island of Anglesey, pounded the shore in white-capped waves. His thoughts returned to the question of the weapon when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and then pressed the button.