Episode 2 - Respectability onn trial

Monday, Dec. 14 cont. then Tuesday

Cleo thought a lot about Dorothy’s tale of woe, especially about Jane’s slip of the tongue that someone else was helping her, or even forcing her to make mischief. She could remember when Jim, Jane’s sadly deceased spouse, got agitated with Jane for taking up with murky people selling things at the door. He had never got on with her high principles that weren’t high at all, but based on pig-headedness and hypocrisy, and now she was unloading her own bias on Dorothy. If the whole silly business was instigated by someone else, who was it and why?

Gary was suspicious of Dorothy having arrived in time for supper without there having been any plan. He was sort of glad to see her and hope she wasn’t going to harp on the mistakes they had all made during the Peel case.

“What’s up, Ladies?” he wanted to know.

Dorothy was laying the table. Toni, the Danish au pair girl, had organized supper for the infants and was getting them ready for bed. Charlie, Gary’s eldest daughter, aged nearly 14, and PeggySue, aged three and a bit, and the first child born to Cleo after she had started her affair with Gary (but tried for a time to cut him out of her life), were going to sit at the dinner-table. Business would be discussed when the girls were in bed. Toni was going to do some skyping with her family next door – next door being Roger and Grit’s cottage. She would eat supper with them. Grit, Gary’s mother, shared responsibility for child care so that Cleo could get some work done for her detective agency and the part time occupation as an HQ advisor on arrestees and anyone else with a problem.

Since Roger was Gary’s predecessor at Police Headquarters, it was rather complicated to talk shop, but otherwise harmonious. Joe Butler, Gary’s twin brother, who had only been reunited with his mother and brother a year or two earlier after he came from South Africa to look for them thanks to notes in the diary of his late adoptive father, lived with his new wife Barbara in a bungalow the other side of Cleo’s cottage. Barbara was a policewoman on maternity leave; Joe ran the HQ magazine he had renamed ‘Cop’s Corner’. His daughter Lottie went to the same school as Charlie and was the same age. In fact, they shared the name Charlotte, their birth date and looked very alike.

Dorothy was the only non-relative present, but so deeply involved with the family that she felt like a relation and was treated as one – usually.

Tonight, Dorothy was nervous all through supper, as Gary eventually remarked.

“What’s up Dorothy? Have you committed a crime?”

“Of course not, but I’m worried.”

“You can tell me all about it, but first I must make sure PeggySue is tucked in for the night and Charlie has done her homework. Have you, Charlie?”

“It’s too early for bed, Daddy,” said Charlie. “I haven’t finished.”

“When were you thinking of finishing it, Sweetheart?” said Cleo. Charlie was Gary’s daughter by birth, but adopted and loved to bits by Cleo. The feeling was mutual.

“I’ll help you, Sweetheart,” Gary volunteered, sweeping PeggySue up from her chair and leading the way to the children’s room.

***

“Mary Baker has not phoned, so the new posters are probably still intact,” Dorothy whispered to Cleo.

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” said Cleo. “Have you any idea who Jane’s accomplice is?”

“No, but I have seen Mr Thomas coming and going with Hilda,” said Dorothy.

“Who is Mr Thomas? I thought Hilda was a widow named Bone. Don’t say she has a new boyfriend.”

“It’s a long story. Jane told me over the garden fence that Bryn Thomas is some sort of relative of her dead husband.”

“So his name isn’t Bone,” said Cleo.

“Mr Bone’s name wasn’t Bone, either.”

Was this going to be one of Dorothy’s long sagas?

“How come?”

“Jane told me that Mrs Bone was really Miss Bone and had lived in sin with Mr Thomas, who called himself Bone to avoid curiosity.”

“Wow. It’s truly amazing what villagers get up to,” said Cleo.

“That’s not all! Mr Thomas junior turned up at the funeral of the guy he said was his father. Hilda knew nothing about the man and she has no idea how he found out about the funeral.”

“So the son moved in after the father had moved out, so to say. Amazing that Hilda lets him live with her; it’s a bit like having a toy-boy.”

Cleo was highly amused at the idea. Hilda was hardly what you’d call a catch and she had only her pension to live on, unless the guy alias Mr Bone had left her comfortable.”

“She’s scared of him, Cleo. Jane told me that he’s a brute.”

“Wow. Do you think he has put Hilda and Jane up to the mischief with the posters and that letter you received?”

“It’s possible, isn’t it?”

“But why? He has to have a reason,” said Cleo.

“I’ve told you all I know,” said Dorothy. “Maybe Bryn came here to extort Hilda’s house, but he has no legal means if she was not married to his father. The house belonged to her family.”

“Are you sure?”

“The Bones were literally bones of contention in the village. They were churchy, holier than thou and narrow-minded.”

“I expect that’s where Hilda got her ethics.”

“The Bones eventually died out leaving Hilda the house, I understand.”

“What kind of a person is the guy – Bryn, you said?”

“Jane says that he’s weird and volatile in a nasty way,” said Dorothy. “I only saw him a few times. He’s a short, dumpy man with unhealthy looking skin and an effeminate gait. Not exactly a woman’s man.”

“If he is jealous or simply disapproves of those guys dressing up as divas, it might be an explanation.”

“We don’t know if he had anything to do with the poster or that letter, Cleo. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“He may be a closet gay wanting to assert himself in some peculiar way,” said Cleo.

The whispering stopped as Gary came back into the living-room.

“Daughters settled. What are you plotting?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just discussing things. Do you remember Hilda Bone?” said Cleo.

“Wasn’t she the nosey parker who claimed to be one of your sleuths?”

“She had the whole of that road down to Lower Grumpsfield under control, and now she has struck up a friendship with Jane Barker and taken in a lodger.”

“Tittle-tattle, Ladies.”

Cleo explained briefly what Dorothy had told her about Bryn Thomas.

“That man sounds like he is hanging out with Hilda as a form of refuge. I wonder what he’s running away from?”

“We are speculating that he might be responsible for defacing the Licky 13 posters,” said Dorothy. “He might be against my Christmas show.”

Gary was glad that it had not taken Dorothy very long to get to the point.

“So that’s it, I was wondering.”

I came here to telly you, Gary.”

“So tell me what’s troubling you slowly and in chronological order,” he said.

Dorothy explained about the anonymous letter and took the copy out of her bag to show him. Then there was also the fate of the posters to report and what had ensued when she challenged Jane.

“But Jane did not do all that on her own. Someone was leading her on,” Dorothy speculated. “Or was she unaware that her personal disapproval of the show was being instrumentalized?”

“That would make Hilda Bone and Bryn Thomas activists,” said Gary. “The problem is that up to now it’s been trivial stuff. Remember: Jane even owned up to the anonymous letter, Dorothy. If nothing more happens, it was just a silly prank and there’s no case to answer.”

“I’m worried about the wording of that letter. It was a threat against my friends,” said Dorothy. “Jane and Hilda couldn’t have thought that up, and why would Mr Thomas do that?”

“Trying to make himself important,” said Cleo. “He may have wanted to show off his power to Jane and Hilda, and you were dragged into it.”

“It sounds ridiculous,” said Gary.

“We’ll have to find out if Hilda and her lodger are as much against the show as Jane,” said Cleo. “Shall I phone her and ask – a sleuth needing to find out the truth?”

“Can you make her talk?” said Dorothy.

“I wasn’t a social worker in Chicago for years without learning a few tricks.”

***

“Hilda? This is Cleo. Nice to talk to you.”

“What a surprise,” said Hilda.

“I’m doing some research and I need help,” said Cleo.

“I’m all yours,” said Hilda. “It will be just like old times. What do you want me to do, Miss Hartley?”

“I’m Cleo, and I want you to find out who is against the travesty revue.”

“What’s that?”

“The show on Saturday. You know, Hilda. Where the men all dress up as ladies and do song and dance routines.”

“Oh! Is that what you mean? I don’t think I can help you on that.”

“Why ever not, Hilda? Surely you are looking forward to it.”

“No, I’m not. It’s indecent and I’m shocked that Miss Price is allowing it to happen,” said Hilda. “I’m sorry I voted to keep Miss Baker on as curate. A proper vicar would not let such scandalous entertainment into the church.”

“For a start, Hilda, it’s in the church hall, not the church. And it has nothing to do with the church itself except that half the proceeds will be donated to good causes that the church can decide on.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” said Hilda. “Me and Mr Thomas are against it and Mr Bone would have been against it, too.”

“I thought Mr Thomas would be taking part,” said Cleo.

“He doesn’t quite have the figure, Miss Hartley, and he isn’t ... you know….”

“I don’t know, Hilda. Three of the Lucky 13 company are married with families, after all. It is not a sex issue.”

“That’s disgusting, Miss Hartley.”

“I’m Cleo, and Mr Thomas is probably too shy, Hilda.”

“Can we talk tomorrow?” said Hilda. “I can hear him coming in and I don’t want him to find me on the phone.”

“OK. 10 sharp at Crumb’s bakery,” said Cleo.

The phone went dead.

***

Cleo exchanged meaningful looks with Dorothy and Gary.

“You heard all that, folks. What do you make of it?”

“She’s scared out of her wits,” said Gary.

“I agree. She heard that man coming in and did not want him to hear her phoning,” said Dorothy.

“Of course, he would not know if she phoned someone,” said Cleo. “He has a key and probably comes and goes as he pleases. We learnt through Hilda’s apparent nervousness that he does not want her phoning around. I wonder why.”

“I’m going to find out more about your Mr Thomas,” said Gary, tapping on his laptop and eventually getting into the HQ archive.

Police records online did not contain the name, but that did not mean he had not committed some kind of felony further away, Gary reported. He wrote an e-mail to Colin Peck, who was in charge of Middlethumpton records, asking him to look for the man on the national databases, home address unknown, but probably in Wales.

“That’s all I can do now,” said Gary.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” said Cleo.

“Assuming she turns up,” said Dorothy.

“She will,” said Cleo. “She knows that you and I work together and will want me to get you to cancel the revue, Dorothy.”

“Are you going to lead her on?” Dorothy asked.

“There may be no need for that. I could hear panic in her voice, and she can get out of the house by saying she is going shopping. We don’t have to assume that the Welsh guy is sly enough to anticipate everything. Anyway, he might still be asleep at such an early hour. And the panic in her voice may be due to something more critical than putting a stop to that revue.”

“Speculation,” said Dorothy. “We were not going to speculate.”

“I see that you’ve lined up Bryn Thomas as chief suspect in whatever crime he can be proved to have committed,” said Gary.

“Given that the other two are Jane and Hilda, there isn’t much choice of culprit,” said Dorothy.

“Quite,” said Cleo. “More coffee anybody?”

***

Charlie went off to catch the school bus. Toni and Grit took the twins, 15 month old Tommy and Teddy, and little PeggySue to the nursery, where Toni was now doing a practical with a view to taking up nursery teaching rather than studying archaeology. Cleo dressed the 6 month old twins, Max and Mathilda, warm enough to withstand a Siberian winter and set off with them to Crumb’s, thinking fondly of the large bag of donuts she would procure before going home.

Hilda Bone was waiting just inside the bakery.

“I’m glad you aren’t late,” she said. “I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Have some now, Hilda, and tell me what this is all about. You sounded really scared on the phone.”

The twins had been rocked gently in the pram and were thankfully asleep. Hilda and Cleo gave their orders and found a corner table where the pram would be out of the way of other customers and the babies could sleep without being admired. They were beautiful, admittedly, but nevertheless needed their beauty-sleep.

“Start at the beginning,” said Cleo. “And take your time. I’m right in thinking this is about your lodger, isn’t it?”

“Lodger? He says he’s Mr Bone’s son,” said Hilda.

“But his name is Thomas, isn’t it?”

After a painful pause, Hilda told Cleo the story of how Bryn Thomas had turned up after Mr Bone (she still insisted on that name) had moved to the cemetery. Her story was what Dorothy had said that Jane had told, almost word for word.

“Sad about your husband,” said Cleo, deliberately provoking Hilda’s reaction.

“That’s the whole point,” she said. “Nobody knows that I was never married.”

Jane had of course broken confidence by telling Dorothy and Dorothy had passed on the information, but Cleo did not want to drag those two ladies into the conversation.

“You don’t say,” said Cleo, acting shocked.

“You did that with Mr Hurley, so don’t judge me,” said Hilda.

“I’m not judging you, Hilda. I want you to know that I understand. So you were also living together without being married, I understand.”

“In sin, Miss Hartley. Me, a pious person with respectable principles was living in sin.”

“I don’t call that sinful if you loved each other,” said Cleo.

“Oh we did, Miss Hartley - urrmm Cleo. Terribly.”

“So why didn’t you get married?”

“That would have been bigamy for Mr Thomas. He was already married.”

“He could have got a divorce,” said Cleo.

“His standards would not allow that.”

Cleo wondered what kind of standards forbade divorce but allowed you to set up house with some someone else and use their name as a blind.

Before Cleo could formulate a suitable comment, the order arrived: a full English breakfast for Hilda and a pot of coffee for Cleo. The waitress waved the bill around pointedly and Cleo found herself offering a £20 note to cover it. Hilda made a point of pouring out her tea without looking up. Gary would have called that sponging; Cleo justified it as part of her investigation.

“So let’s move on to Mr Thomas junior,” said Cleo. “Why are you scared of him?”

“I didn’t know about him until he turned up on the doorstep and said I would have to pay for the distress I had caused his mother.”

“Wow.”

“I told him I didn’t know anything about him or his mother, but he did not believe me.”

“Should he have?”

“I knew that Tommy had left his wife, but I didn’t know about the son, I swear it.”

“But surely Mr Bone had to pay for the child,” said Cleo.

“He disappeared without trace, Cleo. That’s why he took my name.”

“That’s clear enough, Hilda,” thinking of those standards again and wondering how the son had traced the father.
Deserting a son was obviously permissible in his father’s nterpretation of ethics.

“Next issue: Why did Mr Thomas get Jane to write that abominable anonymous letter?” said Cleo.

Hilda gasped. If she had previously thought Cleo was tapping in the dark, she knew better now. Cleo was a sleuth. In Hilda’s eyes, she had an ulterior motive for contacting her, and she had fallen for the ruse. But it was too late now. Hilda would have to rely on Cleo’s discretion.

“I told him not to, but he gets angry if I say anything. He wants me out of the house, Cleo, and he’ll go to any lengths to achieve that.”

“His lengths can’t be legal. You inherited the house, didn’t you?”

“The lawyer – that’s the late Dr Marble - wrote Tommy’s name into the deeds.”

“And Dr Marble is dead, so he can’t say he was forced to do that,” said Cleo. “That would have made the entry null and void.”

“I wasn’t forced into sharing the house either, Cleo. I thought it was good idea.”

“So now Bryn Thomas is part-owner of the house.”

Hilda nodded miserably.

“He and his mother, and  they wants to sell it,” she said.

“What has that to do with the travesty revue, Hilda?”

“I don’t know, at least ….”

“I’ll find out if you won’t tell me, but there isn’t much time.”

Hilda Bone bit her lip.

“I don’t usually rummage in other people’s property,” she said finally.

“Of course you don’t,” said Cleo. “Did you take a little peek at Mr Thomas’s luggage?”

“Well….Just a small peek.”

“What did you find?”

Cleo was surprised to hear that the contents of Bryn T’s sports bag included a curly blond wig, oodles of theatrical makeup, nylons, a very large velvet frock and a feather boa, but she was took pains not to show any reaction.

“That isn’t normal, is it?” said Hilda.

“No. It isn’t normal, Hilda, but don’t worry. I think I know what is going on in that guy’s mind.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Not right now. Want anything more to eat?”

“A cake would be nice.”

Cleo ordered and paid for the cakes Hilda selected at the counter, another pot of tea, a cappuccino for herself, and a large bag of donuts to take home.

When Hilda’s plate was wiped clean, the meeting came to an end. They would talk again the following morning and Hilda could have another nice breakfast and hear what Cleo had discovered.

***

Cleo was optimistic. Her suspicion tied in with the effeminate looks of the awful Mr Thomas and she thought she knew who she could ask about the guy who covered his own preference with prudery and was anxious to get his hand on Hilda’s house. Cleo was sure he had looked through Hilda’s papers and found the deeds of his father’s part-ownership of it. What a lucky break, he would be thinking, after all the years we didn’t even know where he was, and had set out to manage Hilda’s removal.