that one, and abandoned it.
“Fine, thanks,” said Lois. “And you?” Silly question, she thought. It was the vicar’s busiest time of the year, she supposed. He looked so friendly and concerned that she broke her usual rule and sat down to sip scalding hot tea and allow him to chat. And anyway, something useful might come up.
He was in the middle of a long story about the children carol singing round the village, and her thoughts were wandering, when he got up suddenly and said, “There’s a policeman at the door, Lois. Better let him in, if you don’t mind. I’ll just tidy up,” he added. “I’m afraid I haven’t combed my hair yet!”
Not much difference when you do, thought Lois, but obediently went to the front door and opened it.
“Good morning,” said Hunter Cowgill, as if they’d never met before. “Is the vicar at home, please?” His eyes were distant, and Lois caught on quickly.
“Yes,” she said. “Who shall I say?”
Inspector Cowgill gave the tiniest of nods, and said, “Police, madam. Detective Inspector Cowgill.”
“Wait here,” she said. “I’ll get him.” The Inspector looked faintly annoyed at being left on the doorstep, but it was only seconds before Peter White was there himself, ushering the Inspector into his cold sitting room.
Lois took her cup of cooling tea with her and made for the study, where she began dusting and tidying his papers. Better not use the cleaner yet, not until she’d had a chance to catch a word or two of their conversation.
“Sorry to trouble you, sir, but I wonder if you’d mind answering one or two further questions?”
“Of course,” said Peter White, but his voice trembled, and Lois frowned as she heard the door shut firmly. Why was he nervous? She walked quickly to the cupboard where he kept his old jacket and pulled it out. The stain was still there, and she sniffed. Creosote. Unmistakeably creosote. She put it back and returned to the study, switched on the cleaner and moved swiftly over the worn carpet. Nothing more to be heard now, so she might as well get on and keep her ears open for when the Inspector left.
He was there for a good half an hour and by the time he was on his way out the conversation was restricted to formalities. “Thank you very much, sir,” said the Inspector.
“Not at all.” Peter White’s voice was over-polite. “Only too willing to help in this ghastly business,” he added. The door shut, and the vicar came quickly into the kitchen, where Lois was washing up last night’s supper dishes. “Strong coffee,” he muttered, and switched on the kettle.
“Let me make it,” said Lois. “You’re all of a shake.”
The vicar took a deep breath, and looked at her gratefully. “Ah yes, how kind. Thank you, my dear,” he said, and slumped down into a chair by the table.
Lois made the coffee and found a packet of biscuits. “Here,” she said, “have a couple of these. Did you have any breakfast?” She had seen no evidence of it, no cereal dish with cornflakes stuck hard, no sticky marmalade knife.
“Um, no, actually, I wasn’t hungry,” said Peter White, and pushed the biscuits to one side.
Lois took out a couple and put them on a plate. “Here,” she said again, “Mother’s orders. Eat up.”
Peter White’s face cleared for a moment, and he looked at Lois with a tentative smile. “Goodness, Lois,” he said, “I’m old enough to be your…er…brother. Still, I’m sure you’re right. Thank you.” He began to nibble one of the biscuits and sip the hot coffee.
“Nosey parkers, these cops,” said Lois conversationally.
“Oh yes, but it is their job,” said Peter White quickly. “Though I had told them all I knew already.”
“Fresh evidence come to light?” said Lois casually.
“I’m not sure,” said the vicar. “The Inspector did go on asking questions about Gloria’s personal life – whether she had confided in me in my professional capacity, had I heard anything from other parishioners, that sort of thing.”
“And have you?” said Lois, bluntly now.
Peter White looked at her in surprise. “That kind of thing is told to me in strictest confidence, Lois,” he said reprovingly.
“Yeah, but have you?” said Lois again. To her surprise, instead of telling her to get on with her work, he laughed. “Really, you’re incorrigible!” he said. “But I’m afraid I can’t satisfy you any more than I did the Inspector. The only time I saw Gloria for more than a few minutes lately was that time she had been ill, and I made a pastoral visit. She was perfectly polite and nice, and I remember thinking what a comfortable home she had in her little cottage, but that was all. All very correct and blameless, I’m afraid!” But he didn’t tell Lois about the dressing gown falling away from shapely legs, the glimpse of pleasantly full breasts. He did not mention that Gloria had insisted on mending his socks, or…No, enough was enough. Sins of omission, though, he warned himself.
“Ah well,” said Lois. “Maybe you’ll think of something. Oh, and by the way,” she added lightly, “that old jacket of yours has a nasty stain on the sleeve. It smells like creosote. How did that happen?”
The vicar’s reaction was swift. He jumped up and fetched the jacket at once, handing it to Lois. “Quite right, my dear,” he said, “would you drop it into the cleaners in Tresham for me? Many thanks.” He headed off towards his study. Lois looked at the offending jacket, sniffed again at the sleeve, and then quietly put it back in the cupboard.
¦
Josie had hung the mouse tableau in her bedroom and though Derek had not been at all happy about it, he agreed that they should say nothing more to her. If they made a great thing of it, Josie was quite likely to go underground, meet Melvyn secretly and God knows what might happen. Lois had reminded Josie that she would have to start taking school work seriously now, and no more gallivanting with Melvyn’s gang.
Josie had no intention of leaving it there. She had been astonished when Melvyn turned up with the present. How did he have the nerve? But he’d seemed so sure of himself, and now she knew he cared for her. That picture had been expensive and although he’d always got money, she knew he was on a fixed allowance. She looked at herself in her dressing table mirror. What does he see in me? she thought. She never believed her parents when they told her she was pretty and had a good figure and shouldn’t worry about a few spots and pimples. They would go, they said, when she grew up. Well, if Melvyn Hallhouse fancied her, she was grown up enough. She took out a bottle of dark purple nail polish from her drawer and began to paint her nails. Her homework lay unopened on her bed, and she heard her mother calling from downstairs.
“Coming!” Josie yelled.
“Melvyn’s here!” Lois added, her voice annoyed and sharp. “I’ve told him you’re not going out week nights.”
Sod it, thought Josie. She waved her hands about to dry the polish, and gingerly opened the door. The delicate mouse tableau caught her eye, and she smiled.
“Hi,” said Melvyn. “Like your nails…”
Josie melted. “Thanks,” she said. “Has Mum…?”
“Yep, and quite right, too,” said Melvyn, with a quick glance at Lois. “Get your homework done first and then I could come back and have a cup of tea, maybe, Mrs Meade?”
Blimey, he never gives up! Lois nodded weakly, and opened the back door. “Don’t bother if it’s raining,” she said. “Usually takes madam here the whole evening to finish anyway. She’ll see you tomorrow, I expect.”
“No problem,” answered Melvyn with his charming grin. “I’ll just call in and see. Got to fetch something from a mate on the estate. See you later, Josie.” He grinned again at Lois, and disappeared into the darkness.
Irritated, Lois shooed Josie back upstairs. Thinks he can charm the birds off the trees, she said angrily to herself, and went back to watching television. But when Derek asked her what the programme was about, she couldn’t tell him.
? Murder on Monday ?
Nineteen
Friday, and Lois was on her way to the Baers’. She could see Gloria’s cottage at the end of the street and thought of the newly-creosoted trellis in the porch. So, they’d all brushed past it on their way in – Doctor Rix, Prof Barratt and Peter White. Not Derek, of course! It really didn’t mean much, as far as the doctor and the vicar were concerned. There was every reason for them to be visiting Gloria, who had been ill. That left
