Slated for Death (8 page)

“Oh, God, no,” said Davies, rising from his chair. “Call the nursing home and tell them not to move the body and not to disturb anything. Tell them we're on our way.”

“I already did that. We're too late. The body was removed from the room as soon as the doctor left and all her things have been packed up and the room's been cleaned and readied for the next occupant.”

Davies sank back in his chair.

“We'll have to talk to Penny. She saw the body. Let's see what she remembers. See if she can tell us anything. I'll talk to her and you go to the nursing home and go through the belongings. If the piece of slate is still there, we'll need to find out where both of them came from.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know that'll be a big task; there are so many old quarries around here, but a geologist at the University of Bangor may be able to help.”

*   *   *

“Sorry to bother you, but we've had a setback with our investigation into the death of Glenda Roberts,” Davies said as he sat down on the sofa in Penny's comfortable sitting room.

“I'm always glad to help,” Penny replied. “You know that.”

“I do.” Davies smiled at her. “This is official, I'm afraid. I'm going to have to ask you a few questions.”

Penny raised her hands in a go-ahead gesture.

“I need you to tell me everything you can about what Doreen Roberts looked like when you found her. The position of her body. What your first thoughts were. Start with the run-up to finding her. Put that in context for me, please.”

“She hadn't shown up for the little birthday party they had planned for her. So Jimmy and I offered to go to her room to see if she was on her way. Jimmy knew where her room was. I left him in the corridor—in his chair, you know, in case Doreen was still getting dressed or whatever.”

Davies nodded. “Right. So Jimmy didn't go into the room?”

Penny shook her head. “No, just me.”

“Okay,” said Davies. “Now tell me exactly what you saw.”

“Doreen was lying on top of her bed, fully dressed. It looked as if she had got herself ready for the party, and then, maybe because she was a few minutes early or maybe she felt a little weak or dizzy, or something like that, had laid down again.”

“Where were her hands? Were they folded over her chest like this?” Davies linked his fingers together and placed them over his chest.

“No,” Penny said slowly. “They weren't. They were more like this.” She clenched both hands into loose fists and set them on her upper chest, fingers curled downward, so the knuckles were almost under her chin. “They were like this.”

“Did you notice anything in her hands?”

“Like what?”

“Like anything.”

She shook her head. “No, I didn't see anything. I touched her hand, though, and it was still warm.”

“Now for the hard part. I'm sorry to have to ask you to do this, but can you describe her face?”

Penny looked away for a moment and then started to speak. As she spoke, she gradually turned her gaze back to him.

“Her head was turned toward the door. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful enough, I guess. The bedcovers were smooth. There was no sign of a struggle, if that's what you're asking.”

Before he could respond, a knock on the door signalled the arrival of Bethan. Penny let her in and she sat beside Davies on the sofa.

“Well?” he asked. Bethan nodded and gave him a quizzical look. He hesitated for a moment and then held out his hand. In it, she placed a small evidence bag. He flattened to make the contents more visible and then held it out to Penny.

“The doctor found this in Doreen's left hand when he examined her body. It's a small piece of slate. This is what's got us so worried.”

Penny knew that police officers are not permitted to discuss details of a case so she wondered why he was telling her this.

She reached out for the bag and looked at the small object, then stood up and walked over to a small bowl on the mantelpiece. She retrieved something and then held it out to Davies. It sat in the palm of his hand, smooth and cool with a matte blue-grey lustre. He examined it from all angles. From a side view, tiny striated lines revealed it was made in layers. It was like a block of slate in miniature.

“Where did you get this?” Davies asked.

“At the Dorothea Quarry,” Penny said. “Near Penygroes. I've been there many times to sketch and paint. The buildings have been abandoned and are falling into ruin as nature reclaims them. It's a strange kind of beauty. Desolate and decaying, but romantic, too. If you try, you can just about imagine what used to be. And you wonder how and why it happened. It's better to go this time of year when the trees are bare. In the summer you can barely see the buildings for the foliage.”

“Well,” he said to Bethan. “See if our slate ties in with that quarry or the mine. It must come from somewhere around here.”

“I know you're not supposed to discuss your case with an outsider,” Penny said, “but can you tell me why the slate is important? Doreen's husband worked in the slate mine, I understand, although not the quarry operation, so might she have had an emotional attachment to it? Could the explanation be as simple as that?”

Davies hesitated. “In any investigation police often withhold information or evidence that only the killer knows from the media. It can help later to establish if someone is telling the truth.”

“Penny, we withheld that the body in the mine—Glenda Roberts—also had a piece of slate in her hand,” Bethan picked up the conversational thread. “That one was dark grey and we're looking into it, but we're pretty sure it came from the Llyn Du mine itself.”

“The two pieces of slate would seem to be more than a coincidence,” Davies finished. “It's likely that they tie the two deaths together somehow, but we aren't sure exactly why or how. We didn't realize the doctor had found something in Doreen's hand and of course he had no idea it might be significant in that a piece of slate had also been found in Glenda's hand.”

“In that case,” asked Penny, “what about the other sister? Rebeccah? She was shouting at the receptionist just as Jimmy and I were leaving Doreen's room. Is she a suspect? Or is she next?”

The two police officers exchanged worried glances as they stood up.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Penny asked. “Can I help?”

“Keep your eyes and ears open and if you think of anything that might be relevant, get in touch. And be alert at the Spa to anything suspicious or unusual.”

“The Spa?”

“It's a gathering place for women. Does Rebeccah go there, by the way?”

“No.”

She closed the door behind them and returned to her chair. After a moment she cupped her cheeks in her hands. She was sure she'd left something out, but it was escaping her at the moment. Oh, well. It would pop into her head later and when it did, she'd give Davies a ring.

 

Fourteen

“How are the concert plans coming along?” Penny asked Victoria the next morning.

Her friendly query was met with an unfriendly moan. “Awful. The whole thing is in chaos. We can't decide whether to keep on with the plan to hold it down the mine or try to change the venue. We can't agree on a program. People suddenly have other plans on rehearsal nights. And it's only four weeks away! Say what you like about Glenda Roberts, at least she managed events well and pulled them off.”

“Maybe you should just scrap the whole thing, then,” said Penny.

“I suggested that, but they all said, no, we must carry on. Glenda would want us to. As if that's reason enough.”

“It sounds to me as if the will just isn't there,” said Penny, “and if it isn't, the whole project is doomed. People have to want it to happen and be willing to pull together.”

Victoria looked at her with surprise and admiration. “Now that's leadership talking,” she said. And then her face lit up. “Hey, I don't suppose you'd be willing to take over the concert, would you? What we really need is someone who isn't directly involved, but who'll take charge and tell us what to do. Really, Penny, there's no one else.”

“If I tell them what to do, are you sure they'll do it?” Penny asked.

“Yes. I'll tell them this is the only chance we have of bringing off this concert and if they don't pull together as a team, it won't happen.”

“Give me a day to think about it,” Penny said. “And in the meantime, tell me the names of the sponsors, who's printing the tickets and program, and everything else you can think of. Oh, and is it orchestra only, or will there be singers?”

“There will be a couple of singers, a few musicians, and a special guest singer. I wondered about the program when I first got the sheet music, but it turns out the singer is Karis Edwards.”

“Karis Edwards…”

“Bit of a has been now, but she was pretty big way back in the '80s. Remember that girl group The Characters? She was one of them.”

“Oh, right.”

“There were six of them. According to Google, some have done better than others since the band broke up and everybody went their separate ways. One died, in New York, I think it was. And Karis; well, somehow Glenda got hold of her and she's going to be the musical guest.”

“Are there files or background information on all the concert arrangements?”

“We could ask her sister or her son. I don't know if she worked from paper files or if it's all on her computer. Or maybe it was all in her head.”

“Right.”

“But there is one important thing you should know.”

“And that is…”

“If Karis has already signed a contract, which I expect she has, it'll include a stipulation that she will be paid whether the show goes ahead or not. As the artist, she's set aside this block of time, prepared a repertoire, made arrangements for her personal life, and so on. She'll have to be paid, so that's why it's really important that the concert goes ahead. There's not only her fee to be paid, but there's the venue, too. If Glenda didn't arrange cancellation insurance, and I doubt she did, this could be a big loss.”

“How would the expenses be covered, then? Who would pay?”

“That's just it. I have no idea. I guess we'd have to put on a fund-raiser to raise money to pay off the debt from the concert that never was.”

“Well, when you put it like that … Mrs. Lloyd's always telling me that I should do more in the community, so maybe this is my chance. As I said, give me a day to think about it. But from what you've just told me, if there's no one else, I guess I'll have to take it on,” Penny said. She removed her glasses. “If you're absolutely sure no one else can do it, or wants to, that is.”

Victoria shook her head. “No, you're our last, best hope, I'm afraid.”

Penny rubbed her hands together. “If I do agree to take on the concert, it's on one condition. I don't like the idea of going down the mine. I don't think I'm claustrophobic, but the idea of tons of rock above my head frightens me. So if I do it, it'll be on the understanding that I go down only twice—once for a site visit and then again on the evening of the concert.”

“What about the dress rehearsal? You should be there for that.”

“Don't push your luck.”

Before Victoria could reply Rhian stuck her head around the door.

“Oh, Victoria and Penny. I'm glad I caught you together.”

She leaned back into the corridor and made a little waving gesture at someone, then stuck her head back in the door.

“It's Florence Semble. She's got something to show you and you're not going to like it. Not one bit.”

She stepped aside to usher in Florence, who was well wrapped up against the cold.

“In you go, Florence. Show them what you bought.” Rhian looked at Victoria. “I'd better get back to reception.”

Florence set a plastic bag on Victoria's desk and removed her gloves. With a grimace, she pulled a small white box out of the bag and handed it to Penny. Victoria leaned in closer for a better look.

LLANELLEN SPA HAND CREAM
read the label. “Oh, God,” said Victoria, “it's a knockoff of our hand cream! Who would do such a thing?”

“An idiot who can't spell,” said Florence. “Llanellen with two ells?”

“Where did you get this?” Penny asked.

“In Colwyn Bay. I took the bus to the library as that's where the CD collection is housed. Evelyn's working on her memoir and we thought some music from the time would be helpful to her, so off I went. Whilst I was there I thought I might as well have a look at that market they have, and I found that.” She pointed with distaste at the box. “The neck of some people! I mean, selling that rubbish so close to home. I knew as soon as I saw it that it wasn't yours.”

“Why would they try to sell it so close to home?” said Penny. “They were bound to be found out.”

“Because,” said Florence, “someone is cashing in on the buy-local movement. Evelyn came home from our market with a sachet of what someone was trying to pass off as Welsh Lavender. It was no such thing, in my opinion. Lavender spelled ‘a-r.'”

“What do we do?” asked Victoria.

“Well, first,” said Penny. “We'll ask Rhian to reimburse Florence out of petty cash.” She smiled at Florence. “We don't want you paying for this stuff out of your own pocket. And then, as a thank-you, we're going to give Florence a jar of the real stuff. And then we call the police.”

 

Fifteen

Although she'd known for years that the best days of her singing career were behind her, forty-two-year-old Karis Edwards couldn't quite bring herself to believe the dream was over. As a member of the hugely popular girl band The Characters, she'd made it big, enjoying all the perks that come with that rare kind of stardom. Back in the late 1980s, when the group's popularity was at its peak, in what she referred to as her “carry your bags” life, staff took care of everything. Louis Vuitton trunks filled with stage wear were packed and transported; vanity cases and personal luggage were hand-carried by assistants. Hotel suites were booked, clothes were cleaned, limousines—one for each Character—arrived on time to take them to the airport, and before long they made the transition from first class to private jet. At that point, the lifestyle was beyond any of their wildest dreams: shopping extravaganzas for designer clothes, handbags and shoes that beggared belief, white mountains of cocaine, media begging for interviews, nights out costing thousands of pounds, bodyguards and paparazzi, and huge entourages. Of course, when you've got money, the entourages just materialize and when the money goes away, so do they.