first. If you have them, this is what you have to do, thought Lois. After all, look at me, still taking for granted that my mother will be there when I want her, put us and our needs before hers.
Lois rinsed out the cups in the sink and put them upside down on the drainer, noticing that tea stains had turned the unglazed edges dark, tobacco brown. They need a good scrub, she thought, but did not attempt to do it. She could not get Gloria out of her mind. Who would want to kill a pathetic creature like that? Ignoring the slowly diminishing sobs from upstairs, she rummaged in the kitchen drawer for an unused notebook she had put in there weeks ago. A few pages for each of her clients, she thought. That should organize the evidence enough for a start.
“But it could be
“Or the Pope!” said Lois crossly. “I’ve got to start somewhere,” she added, and resolved not to tell Derek any more about it. He was clearly not taking her seriously. And anyway, where had he been when Gloria snuffed it?
“Right here, with you and the kids, you dope. For God’s sake, Lois, this is getting ridiculous.” Lois thought otherwise, but decided to drop the subject.
A pile of ironing took her attention for most of the afternoon. She usually listened to the afternoon play while she ironed, but Josie had pop music going full blast in her room, triumphant because Derek had said he’d think about her going to the club. He hadn’t looked at Lois, knowing her view, but asked Josie more questions to which she had given very vague answers. He’d dodged out, back to work, before Lois could tackle him on the subject, and now Josie had taken his ‘think about it’ as a yes.
Picking up a school shirt and starting on the collar, Lois looked at the radio, thought of telling Josie to turn down the music, but decided against it. I’ll just let my thoughts wander, see where they take me. What do I know about the late Gloria Hathaway? She cast her mind back over the time she’d been working in Farnden, and realized that Gloria had surfaced in one way or another quite often. There had been the time she had banged on the doctor’s door halfway through the morning, crying and carrying on, saying she was seriously ill and nobody believed her. Lois had let her in, shown her into the surgery and called the doctor from upstairs. He hadn’t looked too pleased, but had gone in to see Gloria, shutting the door firmly behind him. The crying and shouting soon ceased, and Lois, dusting the picture frames in the hall outside the surgery door, had heard their voices murmuring. Gloria had emerged a while later, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and had marched out, head in the air, away down the path. The doctor and Mrs Rix had had words then, though Lois had caught only a few accusations and sharp advice from Mary that the doctor should treat the silly woman like everyone else. Lois distinctly remembered her saying, “The more you let her get away with, the more she’ll take!” The doctor had slammed out of the house himself after that, and Lois had remembered this particularly, because he was usually such a gentle soul.
Lois folded the shirt neatly, and took a second one from the pile, reminding herself that all doctors have difficult patients, ones who take up far more time than they are entitled to. Still, the doctor had seemed very angry.
And what else? Lois did a mental walk up Farnden High Street and into the gallery. Any connection between Gloria and the gallery? No, she’d never been near, not while Lois had been around. You’d expect her to be the arty- crafty type, but nothing had ever appeared with Gloria Hathaway’s name on it. Mind you, Evangeline was very particular. She could easily have turned down Gloria’s artistic efforts, and then…ah, hang on, there
It had been the week Evangeline was away in Devon collecting paintings and pottery for the gallery. Dallas had had time off and was filling in for his wife. So far, he told Lois, he’d sold nothing. “She’ll be pleased,” he’d said, explaining that Evangeline loved to think nobody else had her gift for bringing off a sale. “You’ll see,” he’d added, “if I sell a picture for four hundred, she’ll be livid.” Lois had thought privately that he was just being nasty, but said nothing. The gallery bell had rung then, and he’d gone off to look after the customer. It had been Gloria Hathaway, and she wasn’t buying but selling. She’d had a clutch of little water-colours of children, carefully done, and nicely framed, but not, Dallas told Lois on his return, Evangeline’s cup of tea. “Shame, really,” he’d added. “She looked so disappointed. Said she had some prints we might be interested in, so I said I’d call in and take a look this afternoon. I might surprise Evangeline with my enthusiasm for the job!” Lois couldn’t remember any more about this occasion, except that when Evangeline returned, there’d been an icy atmosphere in the house for a week or two.
At last the pile was finished, and she struggled up the narrow stairs with the basket all but toppling over.
“Mum!” shouted Josie from behind her closed door.
“What?” said Lois flatly, unforgiving.
“Forgot to tell you,” Josie said, opening her door and trying a tentative smile. “Somebody phoned for you before you came in. Name was Keith something…can’t remember the other name. Said he’d ring back later. Sounded quite nice…you got a fancy man, then, Mum?”
Lois ignored this. Keith? It rang no bells, and she had to content herself with waiting for the telephone to ring.
¦
“Lois Meade?”
“Yes? Who’s that?” She knew, of course, straightaway recognising the voice.
“This is the police – Keith Simpson. We met – ”
“I remember, only too well,” said Lois.
“Ah, good!” said Keith. “Well, as you know, I’m a police constable and cover Long Farnden, where you work…” Oh yes, Bobby on the Beat. Lois did not feel in any way chummy towards Keith Simpson. She answered his next questions unhelpfully in muttered monosyllables. It seemed that Keith had been chatting to the Detective Inspector – Hunter Cowgill – yes, it was a good name for a detective. She must have heard of him? No? Well, he was a legend in the criminal fraternity. “Which I am not part of,” said Lois sharply.
“I told him,” Keith pressed on, regardless of Lois’s hostility, “that you cleaned in several houses in Farnden, and might be worth talking to. So he said I could make a start on that…with your co-operation, that is,” he added hastily.
Lois was very surprised. Blimey, they’d cottoned on to that one pretty quickly. Her opinion of Keith Simpson modified a little. As for Hunter Cowgill – God, what a name! – she had no intention of fraternising with legends of any kind. Still, if she could be useful to them, then they could be useful to her. And she’d be in control, with no duty to tell them anything…or just as much as she chose.
“Hello? You still there, Lois?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. I’m thinking. I’m not sure what you mean by co-operation,” replied Lois slowly. Keith began to give her a lengthy explanation, but she cut in suddenly. “Don’t bother with all that,” she said. “Tell you what. How about an exchange of info?” That sounded good, she thought. Very cool and professional.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” said Keith soothingly. “But a dialogue would be very helpful, Lois.”
“Mrs Meade,” said Lois.
Keith cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he said patiently, “would you be able to come down to the station?”
Lois’s laugh was bitter. “Good Lord, no,” she said. “Um, how about at Janice Britton’s, in Farnden? She was very nice to me…” She paused to let that sink in. “…and three heads are better than two,” she added. Then she rang off, pleased with how things were going.
? Murder on Monday ?
