The Price of Butcher's Meat (45 page)

Aye, quite right, the patient comes first, eh? So how was poor Mr.

Roote?

Fortunately he didn’t seem to have done himself any real damage,
so it was just a case of cleaning him up and drying him down as
best I could. And while I was doing this, people started coming
back inside, all talking about the murder, naturally.

That must have been a shock.

Of course it was a bloody shock! She was an old monster, but that
didn’t mean she deserved to be killed and roasted like a pig! I
couldn’t take it in. I just concentrated on getting Franny sorted. He
was really upset, didn’t want to leave, but I told him if he didn’t get
himself home and into some dry clothes, I wouldn’t answer for the
consequences. A man in his circumstances is very susceptible to
pneumonia. I wheeled him out to his car and helped him in. I offered to go with him, but he said no, he was fine now. Then he
drove off. I was going to go back into the house, but suddenly I
couldn’t face it. Also I’d got myself all mucky cleaning up Mr.

Roote. So I got into my own car and drove back here. I got myself
cleaned up, then I had a word with you, remember?

A pleasure as always, Pet, but why did you do that?

I don’t know. I thought, being a policeman, you ought to know
what was going off. After we’d talked, I went up to the clinic, saw
Lester’s car there so knew he was back. And I went in and we talked
things over.

And cooked up your little story, to save us poor overworked bobbies from wasting time down a dead end. Kind of you, except of
T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 3 3

course you haven’t done it. Does Lester know you’ve changed
your mind and are telling me what really happened?

Yes. After he rang me to warn me you were coming to see me, I
looked out of the window and I saw you sitting out there on the
lawn, and after a while, just watching you, I found myself thinking, That doesn’t look like a man I want to lie to. So I rang Lester
back and told him I’d decided to come clean.

Did he give you an argument?

Not really. He said it was up to me, he was still ready to stand by
our story, even if it meant lying in court. I said I was really grateful but I didn’t want it to come to that, and he said in that case it
was probably for the best, and to tell you he was sorry, and if you
wanted to see him again, this time he’d be completely frank with
you.

Big on him! So then it was love and kisses down the line and
promises you’d meet up later for something a bit more substantial. Nay, don’t look offended, lass. With old Daph out of the
way, you don’t want to hang about. Strike while the iron’s hot.

And when you’ve both got your breath back, you can tell Lester
I’ll look forward to talking to him again, but meanwhile I’ve got
other fish to fry. Right? Now I’ll be off. Take care, Pet. And try
not to kill any patients, eh? Not with the boys in blue all over
the town! Cheers!

8

So what do you make of that, Mildred? I could do with a bit of female
input.

Nowt worries me more from a woman than a sudden rush of honesty. Usually means they’re hiding something, in my experience!

Old Fester too. Mebbe after I went back in to pick up my fi le and
Mildred, he got to thinking I could have been eavesdropping on his call
to Pet. Mebbe it weren’t Pet’s idea to come clean, but Fester’s. Mebbe
there’s something he’s more worried about me finding out than that the
two of them were both wandering round loose during the period when
Daph got topped. I’d put money it’s got summat to do with that song
about the Indian maid, the one that got Fester so upset when Ted the
bart whistled it in the pub. I were singing it in the shower when Pet
jumped me. Got to give it to her, the way she explained doing that were
pretty convincing! Don’t know why they give Oscars to them Hollywood
stars for spouting some other bugger’s lines when half the women I know
could act ’em off the screen without breaking sweat! No, it was Daph
visiting me, then me singing “The Indian Maid” as did it.

My guess is Daph must have got something on Fester, something that
meant he couldn’t just tell her to sod off and bother some other bugger.

She wants him, but she can’t buy him, ’cos, first off, he seems pretty comfortable already, and second, it’s clear the one intimate part of herself she
kept out of everyone’s reach was her purse! Nay, it had to be summat really
personal to keep him dangling at the end of Lady D’s string.

Likely Pete’ll think I’m delusional if I tell him any of this. Any road,
last thing I want is him getting a sniff of my knee trembler with Pet.

Don’t think he’s got any secrets from Ellie. Okay, she wouldn’t go runT H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 3 5

ning to Cap, but by God, the reproachful glowers I’d have to put up
with! So I’ll sit on that till I know what it is I’m sitting on, as the actress
said to the bishop.

What Pete will like is knowing how the wine got on Daph’s dress. I
can see his eyes lighting up as he thinks, What if it went further than
wine throwing and ended up with Pet on top of her, throttling the poor
old biddy? Doesn’t mean to kill her, but when she realizes how far things
have gone, she rushes off to fetch Fester. So they decide the best thing is
to stick her in the hog roast!

Doesn’t sound all that likely to me. And it ’ud mean all that stuff
about fixing then unfixing their stories was even more complicated than
it looks! No, like all the best lies, I reckon most of Pet’s story is true, up
until the storm starts anyway.

So what was all that stuff about squealing pigs she overheard? Mebbe
the animal rights nutters had got close enough to really put the frighteners
on Daph. But you don’t soften people up, then top them, do you?

So where now? Report back to Pete?

Nay, he’ll have plenty of other things to worry about. And I don’t
want to look like I’m hanging around, all pathetic, like them poor old
sods who sit on park benches watching the lasses playing tennis.

Not that I’d mind the company of a bit of young stuff for a change.

That lass of Stompy Heywood’s now, she’s got an interesting way of looking at things. And a nice turn of phrase. If I’d caught her a bit younger,
she might have trained up into a good cop. Said I needed a bit of female
input, didn’t I, Mildred? And talking to her ’ud give me the chance to
take a closer look at the Parker setup. Sounds like if anyone will benefit
from poor old Daph’s departure, it’s Tom Parker. Now he’ll have free
scope to put all his daft ideas into action!

So Kyoto House it is. But how am I to get there? That’s the rub. No
problem, Pet ’ull fix me up a lift. Her and Fester will be only too glad to
see me off the premises.

And if I time it right, I might get a bite of lunch too!

9

FROM:

[email protected]

TO:

[email protected]

SUBJECT: whos a big twit then?!

Hi!

Ive done it again! Why should I be surprised? This started—more or less—with me dropping the old lemonade jug & seeing it hit the one stone remaining in Mill Meadow, like Id aimed it. That should have been a warning. Charley girl—you dont want to get mixed up in this—but mixed ups what I am!

Sorry—waffling—dont

worry—Ive not been arrested or anything like that—tho maybe I should be.

Back to the beginning—after I shot my last off to you I felt a lot better—also felt in need of coffee—so went downstairs to find Mary preparing a tray with a cafetiere & some choc cake—which she was going to bring up—in case I wasnt well! Typical—time to think of

others—even in the middle of a

crisis—which it is for them. Got to remember that. For them its a crisis—for me its just grand opera. I can leave the theater anytime I like—head for home—get my life back—turn all this into an anthology of entertaining anecdotes for my mates.

But Tom & Mary will be back here on the stage—having to deal with whatever comes up.

The kids were playing somewhere in the

garden—making a lot of

noise. Id seen Minnie briefly as I came downstairs. Shes seriously pissed with me—returned a glower for my friendly smile—& vanished. At Marys suggestion I took my tray outside onto the terrace—& she joined me—& I got stuck into the coffee & cake—yummy! For a few minutes it was easy T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 3 7

to forget everything that had happened. The sun was shining—the sea was sparkling blue like a Riviera tourist poster—not a hint of yesterdays storm—& the visibility was so good you could probably see all the way across to Holland—if (I recalled Sids remark) you really wanted to.

Then Tom came up the drive.

Nice to see him—of course—but it did mean end of quiet interlude time.

Even as he walked across the terrace toward us—he was launching into a blow by blow account of his morning so far.

Spent most of his time—I gathered—making sure everyone affected by the development plans understood Lady Ds death didnt change anything.

Comfort & light

peddler—thats Tom. His message to them

was—Lady D

would have wanted them to go ahead with the Festival of Health as planned—put the tragedy behind them—full steam ahead to the Promised Land—with Sandytown on the map as its unrivaled capital—a fit memorial to dear dead Daphne!

Sunny optimisms no substitute for the real stuff—& it was maybe irritation at having my sunlit moment so quickly interrupted that made me object—but surely everything depends on the will? What if Lady Ds heir—or heirs—dont care to continue supporting her investment?

He said—theyd be mad not to—the future was gilt edged—& there were safeguards built into the consortium agreement—to protect a survivor if one partner died.

Instantly—you can see how my minds working!—I thought that sharp-eyed Pascoe would see this as a motive—specially once he ferreted out how Tom

& Daph used to fight about various details of the scheme.

Didnt say anything of course—but could see Mary was worried about what was going to happen next. As Ive said before—suspect she feels—for all her reservations about Daph—that at least the old girl acted as a coun-terbalance to Toms flightier notions! But it soon became clear he wasnt so naively optimistic that he hadnt been thinking about the will also. He said hed been in touch with his solicitor whod made contact with Lady Ds London lawyers—whod told him that their Mr Beard was already on his way up to Yorkshire. No details of the will were forthcoming.

3 3 8

R E G I N A L D H I L L

—but I do not doubt that Edward will inherit the bulk—they have been so close since Sir Harry died—said Tom.

—& what about poor Clara?—said Mary—doesnt she deserve some compensation for what she has had to put up with?—

Which prompted me to wonder where poor Clara was.

I was told she had gone out shortly before I got back.

—I think she just wanted to get some fresh air & walk around by herself—Mary told us—she said she thought she might pick up some of her things at the hall later—the poor child looked as pale as a snowdrop—tho of course some people do have that natural subtle skin tone—

There can be few people less capable of malice than Mary Parker—but I still felt my ruddy sun-smacked cheeks were being glanced at!

Tom went on to say that hed met Sergeant Whitby—whod told him he was searching for Hen Hollis—to help with inquiries—but he wasnt at home & no one seemed to have seen him since he left the Hope & Anchor last night.

I think we all thought—last time Jug Whitby went looking for a Hollis—he found him dead!

Tom had also checked out Diana. Shed sent apologies for not calling at Kyoto House this morning to offer moral & medicinal support—but her friend Mrs Griffiths had started packing to go home & Di was trying to dissuade her—presumably not wanting the word to spread that S-town was the new murder capital of the UK— & then the police had turned up to take Sandy in for more questioning! This had naturally thrown Di into a decline—from which she was still recovering—poor thing!

Mary rolled her eyes heavenward as she listened to this—whether in exasperation at the hypochondria—or gratitude at being spared the visit—I couldnt tell!

I noticed Minnie had done her stealth bomber thing at this point & ma-terialized within eavesdropping distance—not wanting to miss hearing any fresh news her dad brought. Looking at her I felt a sharp pang of guilt—adults shouldnt off-load their crap on to kids—I can recall mum sermonizing the HB

on that very subject!

T H E P R I C E O F B U T C H E R ’ S M E AT 3 3 9

Time to build bridges.

I said—hey there Min—what time are we going then?—

She glowered at me & said—going where?—

—thought wed arranged to go for a swim in the pool—I said—I know I said this afternoon but I could manage now if you like—of course if youre too busy . . .

I could see her shilly-shallying between the chance to put me down & the prospect of going to the hotel & maybe seeing Uncle Sidney. No competition really. With a weary curl of the lip she could have sold to Ice Queen Esther—she said—oh all right—Ill get my things—

—let Charley finish her coffee—commanded Mary—& say thank you—