Thursday cont.
Cleo had packed Max and Mathilda warm and cosy under a layer
of blankets in the big double pushchair and dressed herself suitably for the
hike to Huddlecourt Minor. It was one of those bitter cold December days when
the wind blew cuttingly and the sun was hidden under a layer of dark grey
clouds. Cleo reflected that they were definitely at the mercy of the elements.
Molly’s pub was almost diametrically opposite the house, so
Cleo decided a coffee at the pub was needed to prepare her for talking to
Jessie. The restaurant behind the pub bar was full. Molly had introduced
continental breakfasts and lots of people who would otherwise have been waiting
at the bus stop for transport to Middlethumpton popped in for breakfast
beforehand. Since the bus stop was also the terminal, the bus driver invariably
took time for a coffee, which Molly regularly donated since the bus could not
leave without the driver, so passengers had enough time to enjoy their
breakfasts, too. Breakneck speeds into town made up for the sluggish bus so
that it arrived more or less on schedule. Everyone was happy about the
arrangement, and that included Crumb’s bakery in Upper Grumpsfield, since Mr
Crumb was able to deliver a lot more croissants and cakes to the pub, afternoon
teas also being on the pub’s innovative menu.
Molly was delighted to see Cleo. The pushchair was parked
next to a corner table, the twins were hugged, relieved of some of their outer
clothing and given a bottle of herb tea each to tide them over. Molly brought
latté for her and Cleo to enjoy with a chat about this and that.
“To be honest, I came to see Jessie,” said Cleo.
“She’ll be here at eleven to help in the kitchen,” said
Molly. “Wait here. It’s warmer. She might be out cleaning somewhere. That girl
works hard.”
“You look as if you have something exciting to tell me,”
said Cleo. “You’re not going to marry Robert, are you (Robert being Cleo’s
ex-husband)?”
“Not Robert, but he still helps with the cooking at the
weekend, and he delivers wonderful steaks.”
“So if it isn’t Robert, who is it?”
Molly had a chequered love life. Robert would have been
ideal except that he did not like intimate moments even with Molly. Molly’s
taste in men was eclectic, but as she got older her lovers got younger and
tended to drop her quite soon after the adventure had started. The baby she had
always dreamt of having had not materialized.
“Jack,” she said.
“Jack who? I don’t know any Jacks. Is he a tall, dark
stranger, Molly?”
“He’s tall and dark, but he isn’t a stranger, Cleo.”
“Should I know him?”
Molly hesitated. Could she tell Cleo? She would.
“He’s Jessie elder brother, Cleo, and don’t say I’m crazy.”
“I knew him as a shy motor mechanic taking the brunt of his
father’s misdemeanours.”
“That’s a long time ago. He took over as head of the family
when his mother died, though he’d been at the head of the family since his
father went to prison. He did a great job keeping them together with his father
in jail and mother carrying on with Kelly until she found her destiny.“
“How old would he be now?”
“About 26,” said Molly. “And I’m 38 next birthday so there
isn’t such an age gap.”
Cleo wanted to say something about that. Hadn’t Molly’s 38th
birthday been and gone several times? But she did not want to spoil Molly’s
illusion and it was none of her business.
“That’s OK if you are both happy with it,” said Cleo.
“Delilah Browne is blissfully happy with Mitch, and she fought against the
relationship for ages before realizing that age is only relative.”
“Thanks for that, Cleo. He really is a nice young man and
he’s taking over that garage where he works when Mr Edwards retires, so he’s
not just interested in me for the money.”
“I didn’t think he would be, Molly.”
“People gossip, Cleo.”
“Ignore them. I’ve told you how badly my skin colour went
down when I arrived here. I think that’s why I hung on to Robert. He was the
only person who was really nice to me in those days.”
“So why do you want to see Jessie?”
“She might be in danger, Molly.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
Cleo proceeded to tell Molly all about Mrs Bone and her
clandestine way of life, how it had ended with the pseudo Mr Bone dying leaving
a son Hilda did not even know about, and how Hilda had been killed in the villa
that had been burnt almost the ground only days before she and the family would
have moved in, and how that son was suspected of having the support of Harry
Marble, who wanted the villa but was not entitled to it ….”
“Wait a minute, Cleo. This is terrible. Why would Marble
burn down the house he thought was his?”
“It is terrible and the house is definitely not his, but
Jessie could be in line for extermination if we can’t find out who started the
fire in our villa. She’s entitled to one third of Dr Marble’s estate and Harry
Marble is in league with Bryn Thomas, the son of Hilda’s dead partner who spent
time in a prison cell with Harry Marble and had plenty of opportunity to plan
and plot – or rather, that’s what we suspect.”
“It’s a terrible mess, Cleo, and I’m not sure I follow the
argument.”
“And we don’t know how much of the story is based on our
imaginations, either,” said Cleo.
“But I’m glad you’ve told me, Cleo. Here comes the lady in
question.”
“Oh, it’s Miss Hartley” said Jessie.
“I’ve come to talk to you, Jessie,” said Cleo.
Molly went behind her bar counter. The breakfast guests were
lining up to pay; the city bus was waiting outside and the driver had been
obliged to serve himself with coffee.
“Sit down, Jessie, and answer my questions honestly,” said
Cleo, leading her to the corner table. The babies were asleep.
“I’m always honest, Miss,” Jessie replied, and that was certainly
a lie.
“How old are you now?”
“About 24, Miss.”
“About?”
“My mum didn’t know the exact date. I think it was June 30th.”
Reflecting that there must be a registration somewhere, Cleo
pressed on. Jessie’s awareness of reality had always been in question.
“Have you ever been to Thumpton Court?” Cleo asked, and
Jessie’s eyes darted from side to side. She shook her head.
“I mean to number 22, a stand-alone villa,” Cleo continued.
“I clean next door. Do you mean the house that caught fire?”
“That’s the one I mean. Did you ever go inside?”
“Me? No Miss.”
“Are you quite sure, Jessie?”
“Well, I did go in there once because the woman I clean for
heard noises there and sent me to see what it was.”
“Did you go in?” Cleo
asked.
“The back door was open, Miss.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“I heard footsteps upstairs, Miss. I got out, didn’t I? I
didn’t want to be bloody murdered, did I?”
“So that must have been long before I moved my office there,
wasn’t it?”
“Office? I didn’t see no office. There was paint and other
stuff in the hall.”
So it was after Gary bought the villa, Cleo decided. Then it
can’t have been long ago, so it could have been Harry Marble she had heard,
unless Bryn Thomas had been there to control what he hoped to have a share in
if he the deal with Marble went through.
“And you don’t know who could have been upstairs in the
house, do you?”
Jessie hesitated again.
“No Miss.”
“Are you sure?”
Jessie was obviously trying to decide what to say next.
“Not then, but there was another time,” she said finally.
“Was that the time you went upstairs, Jessie?” said Cleo.
“How do you know that, Miss?”
“I just know. Can I show you some photos?”
Jessie nodded.
She did not know Bryn Thomas, but when Cleo handed her a
photo of Harry Marble and asked her if that was the man she had been upstairs
with, to her credit she looked embarrassed.
“Did you have it off with him in that nice new bed, Jessie?”
Cleo asked in words she knew Jessie would understand.
“It wasn’t very comfortable, Miss, and he was nasty to me.”
“Did he rape you, Jessie?”
“Is that when you don’t want to?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“I was only trying the bed out, Miss.”
Jessie had been what Dorothy described as “loose” a few
years ago. She was the type of girl men take advantage of. She was sexually
promiscuous and emotionally bereft.
Jessie nodded and a tear rolled down her cheek. Two incestuous kids and
being taken for a ride by yokels was enough badness in her life. Dorothy’s
judgement was not Cleo’s. Joe Coppins had gone to prison for rape, incest, absconding
with a 15 year old, and not least, murder.
“Would you tell a judge about going to the house and what
happened there?”
“Yes, Miss. I’m older now. I know it was wicked. My father
was wicked, too.”
Cleo had no desire to warm up any more old stories. Jessie’s
emotional state was not leased caused by the abuse she had suffered as a child.
“When did it happen, Jessie?”
“In the big house, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll always remember that, Miss. It was the night the villa
caught fire, but I didn’t do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes Miss.”
“So that was when you went upstairs, was it?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Weren’t you afraid in the dark?”
“I’m not afraid of the dark, Miss, and I didn’t think anyone
would miss the nice cover on the bed.”
“But you didn’t take it, Jessie.”
“No Miss. I forgot.”
“Do you smoke, Jessie?”
“No, Miss. What if he comes after me, Miss?”
“We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t.”
“But what if he bloody does?”
“We are looking for him. I’ll let you know how it goes, and
in return, I want you to phone me and tell me if you see him or can think of
any else he said or anything else you did on the night the villa caught fire.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“That will be all for now, Jessie. You’d better go and help
Molly.”
“There is something else, Miss.”
“Tell me.”
“I was upstairs when the fire started, but I was quick and
got out.”
“That side of the house was not burnt down, Jessie.”
“He thought I had gone, you see, but I had crept back to get
the bed cover.”
“Are you sure the villa was already on fire?”
“No Miss, but I smelt smoke.”
“Did you see anyone else at the villa? A stranger, maybe?”
“No, Miss, not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“There were voices, Miss.”
Cleo knew from Chris that Hilda and Bryn Thomas had been
upstairs.
“Did you hear anyone come upstairs after you?”
“I hid away, Miss.”
“Where?”
“In the bathroom, Miss.”
“You were lucky that no one found you, Jessie.”
“Yes I was, wasn’t I?”
“So you didn’t see who it was, did you?”
“No, Miss.”
Molly called her and Jessie hurried to get a tray to clear
away the breakfast pots left by the guests.
***
Cleo realized that the questions she had asked Jessie to get
her talk had produced a motive for Marble or even Thomas returning to get at
her, so she had two prospective attackers rather than one. Jessie had left via
the back door when she thought she would not be seen, whereas the arsonist
would have used the front door, since it was nearer the office. Jessie had
known about the fire. Did she ring the fire brigade? The call was anonymous.
Cleo did not think Jessie would be cunning enough to do that, but what if she
had? From her viewpoint it was the right thing to do. She had virtually broken
into the villa, had fornicated with the guy who thought the villa should be
his, and fled when she thought it was on fire. Cleo hoped someone else would
get clear answers to some of the open questions, but she was doubtful. Jessie
did not trust most people and was quite capable of making things up or not
saying anything at all. Her observational talent was limited and she wasn’t
very bright; in fact, she was exactly the kind of witness no judge wants to
have to deal with. Another question left to be answered was whether Jessie came
back yet again.
***
Cleo was enjoying the afternoon at home with her infants and
Grit when Dorothy rang.
“I decided to get home,” she said, “Linda has very kindly
offered to drive me, and she is staying for the travesty show.”
“That’s great, Dorothy. You are still on the road I take
it.”
“Yes, but the traffic is heavy so we’ll have at least
another hour’s drive.”
“Can you come here before going to your cottage, Dorothy?”
“Why?”
“I have something very important to discuss with you.”
“I was going to cook supper first.”
“Have supper with us, Dorothy. Your friend is cordially
invited, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’m looking forward to meeting Linda and hearing
about Mrs Thomas. Gary is, too. He’ll be glad to hear your news before he goes
to Brighton to investigate other factors.”
“And I’m so looking forward to seeing the children. It feels
as if I’ve been away for a month.”
***
An hour later Dorothy and Linda had arrived safely. Cleo
made a big pot of coffee. The grownups sat in front of a blazing log fire to
drink it. The littlest ones were bounced about on knees and the boys and
PeggySue played in the playpen, which was often a favourite place climb into
since they had a mountain of toys and baby books. To be honest, it was a good place
for them to play quietly. It saved a lot of chasing around and watching out
that no child got near the open fire. The boys were 14 months old and just
about walking. They loved playing with their big sister (aged nearly 4 and a
whizz at kindergarten), and when Charlie arrived after her indoor hockey
practice, organized by Miss Plimsoll and generally ending in a lot of cuts and
bruises, the play-group was complete.
“So what’s it all about?” said Dorothy. “You don’t do things
without a reason.”
“I hardly know where to begin,” said Cleo.
“Then spit it out!” said Dorothy, and Linda looked at her in
amazement.
“Gangster jargon, Linda,” said Cleo, “Al Capone and other
ancient movies on late-night TV, but this is serious.”
“I’m waiting,” said Dorothy, impatient as ever.
“Jane’s house caught fire early this morning,” said Cleo.
“Another case of arson and next door to my cottage? Was it a
mistake? Was my cottage meant to go up in flames? Why didn’t you tell me before
we went to Cardiff? You could have let me know.”
“What was the point, Dorothy?”
“So where is Jane now? She must be very upset, and me not at
home to help.”
“She’s dead, Dorothy.”
Dorothy was shocked, as well she might be.
“Jane is dead? Burnt to death?”
“No. We think she took an overdose of sleeping pills and then
set fire to the living room, which is under her bedroom. But that could have
been an accident, Dorothy. One of her candles. She burnt them in memory of her
husband, Linda. The candlestick stood right next to the photo draped with black
ribbon.”
“But why would she do that?” said Dorothy. “And you should
know, Linda, that Jane loved her husband more when he was dead.”
“Jim loved Jane despite her stupidity, Dorothy. Jane may not
have done anything. It may just have happened. Did she ever complain of
isolation?”
“Not really. She quite enjoyed making all her own decisions,
though some of them were barmy.”
“Such as?”
“The time she took Jim Barker’s hens one by one in a sports
bag and set them free on the common, Linda. But that was when Jim kept them
almost as pets and they roamed around the house. You can’t really blame her. He
was asking too much.”
“He certainly was,” said Cleo.
“Are you sure it wasn’t arson by a stranger, Cleo?” Dorothy
said.
“We are not sure of anything, yet. Chris and his forensic
colleague Ned have collected evidence, but need to analyse it. The fire did not
have a chance to burn the house down. Someone walking past on the way to his
early shift called the fire brigade. So Jane did not suffer burns. The fire did
not get through the ceiling to her bedroom.”
“Was she murdered, Cleo?”
“I don’t think so. Who could have had a motive for killing
her? She was a bit of a busybody, but I don’t think she had any enemies.”
“She had one or two lodgers. One looked furtive, she said.”
“But she was getting friendly with Mr Thomas after Hilda
Bone brought him to meet her.”
“But she didn’t have a lodger when she died, did she?”
“No. She wasn’t sure if she wanted another.”
“What about Bryn Thomas?”
“Why would he set fire to her house?” Dorothy asked.
“Hilda is dead and now Jane is. Isn’t there something fishy
about that? They both had contact with Thomas and what we have learnt in
Cardiff was enough to make me start questioning what Mr Thomas is up to,” said
Cleo.
“What is he up to?” Dorothy asked.
“Let’s wait until Gary joins in the discussion.”
“You’re right. Can we help with the children?”
“That’s a great idea. They need their supper so it’s all
hands on deck. Do you have children, Linda?”
“A son and a grandson, Cleo. I’ll show you some photos,
shall I? They’re on my phone. I’ll get it when there’s a lull in activity.”
***
It was excellent timing of Gary to arrive just then. The
grownups almost outnumbered the little ones. Supper was as riotous as usual.
Charlie declared that if she was not needed she would go next door to be with
Lottie. She had only come home to see what was going on. Barbara, Joe’s wife,
was about the have her baby, so Lottie was trying to get her maths homework
done on her own.
“Bring her here, Charlie,” said Linda. “I used to teach
maths. I can probably help you.”
Charlie’s eyes lit up.
“Wow,” she said “That’s awesome!”
“You have a cute
daughter, Cleo,” said Linda. “PeggySue looks quite like you, and Charlie has
your big smile.”
Cleo purred.
“My wife is the perfect mother,” said Gary, and indulged in
a long, close hug with Cleo that raised a few eyebrows.
“Don’t worry, Linda. It’s all good, clean fun here,” said
Dorothy. “Charlie is Gary’s daughter from a previous marriage, but they love
one another to bits.”
“Are you too tired for maths, Daddy? Do you need a rest
first?”
“A siesta? Just before dinner?”
“Daddy and Mummy like a siesta if they have time.”
“Now and again,” said Gary, hoping Charlie would not start
on her story of the birds, the bees and how to make a big family. Cleo went
into the kitchen to laugh again at Charlie’s timing. Honesty was a family
policy, but that did not mean you had to tell everyone things they need not
know, as Gary had often lectured. Charlie’s argument that Joe and Barbara did it
too was not approved of. Dorothy thought Charlie was getting too much sex
education. Linda was astonished at the free dialogue.
Grit was already in the kitchen seeing to her casseroles,
two of which were going to serve all of them, she hoped.
Cleo felt the need to explain to Linda who they all were.
Linda was very impressed with the wonderful story of Joe and Gary finding one
another and their mother finding the child she had been told was dead. Charlie fetched
Lottie for the maths homework.
“They look like twins,” said Linda.
“We’re both Charlottes, Mrs Fox, said Lottie, on being
introduced to Linda. You should see my daddy and Gary. They are identical
except that my daddy wears check shirts.”
“Could you all call me Linda, please? I feel as if I’d been
here six months.”
Gary set up Cleo’s small computer table in the lounge bit of
the living room and Linda took a seat with the two girls to deal with the maths.
The other grownups finished getting the little ones ready
for bed. Gary was extremely curious about what Dorothy could have found out in
Cardiff. It must be important to the case and of course it was.
“Domestic happiness is all very well,” he said. “But we
still have a number of mysteries to solve. Chris said he’ll pop in round about
nine and by then he’ll at least know what happened to Jane.”
“Doesn’t he ever go to bed?” Dorothy could not resist
saying.
“Pathologists and forensic experts have to go where the
crime is, Dorothy, day and night. Incidentally, your friend Greg is back,” he
added.
“Oh, good! Then I can go to target practice after all. I
only go when he’s around.”
“He’s worried about your gun, Dorothy,” said Gary, glad to
be able to prepare the way.
“Did I hear gun?” said Linda. She excused herself by the
girls and came to the dining table, where Gary, Cleo and Dorothy were already
sitting. “One like this?” she continued, drawing a small pistol out of her
handbag.
“Don’t say you are armed, too, Linda,” said Dorothy, lifting
her own pistol out of her bag.
“I don’t want to believe this,” said Gary.
“You’d better,” said Dorothy. “Women like us need
protection.”
Cleo found it very amusing.
“You two were armed going to see Mrs Thomas, I assume,” she
said.
“I’m glad you did not shoot your way out, Ladies,” said
Gary.
“Do you go to shooting practice, Linda?” Dorothy asked.
“My son is a policeman. He got the pistol for me. It’s
licenced and I can shoot,” she said. “But it isn’t loaded now. It’s only loaded
when I’m out alone at night or think the situation warrants it.”
“Exactly,” said Dorothy.
“I know Fox from CID cooperation,” said Gary. “It’s a small
world.”
Gary could not think of anything more to say about the
pistols. Fortunately supper was ready.
After the meal, Linda, who had left the Charlottes wondering
why algebra had not been interesting before, and Dorothy related what had happened
in Cardiff. Gary made one or two notes, and was gushingly approving of their
success.
“You should have been there,” said Linda.
Gary had not gone there because he had thought it was a
pointless exercise, but Cleo’s glare stopped him from saying as much and, to be
sure, the interview had proved to contain useful information.
But any further discussion was interrupted by Joe’s
phone-call to say that baby Nick had arrived quite suddenly. Lottie was very
excited but prepared to wait till next day to visit her little brother. Gary
drove Grit to the hospital to welcome the newcomer.
Baby Nick had successfully interrupted the brain-storming.
Cleo called Chris hastily to ask him not to come because a
new baby had jumped the queue.
“Not yours, I hope,”
he said.
“Not this time Chris. Joe now has a son.”
“Brilliant. Congratulate them for me”
The party eventually broke up. Dorothy and Linda drove to
Dorothy’s cottage. At dead of night there was not much to be seen of any damage
to Jane’s house, but the ladies were glad to be armed – they had loaded their
pistols before venturing out into the night.
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