enough to make sure he left nothing around by accident. He hadn’t put a foot wrong since that episode of the fall, and he and Evangeline were both behaving like cats who’d got the cream. Lois had noticed the sudden appearance of baby books and waited for the news to be broken to her. She remembered the morning Evangeline had spent writing letters. That was probably when they’d found out. Well, she was not keen to rejoice with the Baers just at the moment. They could guard their wonderful secret for as long as they liked.
Lois decided to keep Malcolm Barratt’s outburst to herself for the moment. If Dr Rix was in a good mood, she might mention it to him on Monday. Thank him for sticking up for her. She had grown fond of the doctor and his wife since they’d opened up the baby’s room, and she trusted him to tell her the truth.
¦
Derek had begun to tidy up the winter garden, pulling up yellowing stalks of sprouts and raking up leaves that had escaped his autumn sweeping. Spring won’t be long, he’d promised her. She had told him about Peter White’s warning and he’d looked alarmed. He never wanted to hear Melvyn’s name mentioned again, he said sternly to Josie, and she’d flounced off upstairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. The subject was closed, Derek had decided firmly, and it was time he got back to earning a living for them all.
Lois could not forget, however. She thought more than once of contacting Hunter Cowgill. Keith Simpson was helpful, but he didn’t give her that comforting feeling of authority in charge. Josie’s troubles were nothing to do with Gloria Hathaway, of course, so she would probably just get a polite brush-off from the Inspector. It would have to be Keith, then, she decided. He might remember something about the Hallhouses, something to reassure her. Lois could not get out of her mind that last sight of Melvyn, his face taut with misery as he watched their car bumping down the rutted track, his hand raised in a hopeless salute to a disappearing Josie.
? Murder on Monday ?
Thirty-Four
Dr Rix was in his surgery when Lois arrived on Monday as usual. She noticed that Mary Rix was still cheerful, full of promises to show Lois how the patchwork was going and plans for attending an exhibition of embroidery and needlework at Ringford Hall in the spring. The house was warm and friendly.
It was half way through the morning when Lois heard the doctor emerge, shouting to Mary that it was all clear and could he please have a cup of strong coffee. He joined his wife and Lois at the kitchen table and the three sat companionably drinking and talking about village events.
“The dreaded J. was waiting for me again this morning, first in the queue,” the doctor said, and his wife grimaced sympathetically. Lois had no idea who he meant, but smiled anyway. “There every week, Lois,” he continued. “One imagined ailment after another. Poor soul is a bit lacking, you know. What a family!” He went on to describe them, being careful not to name names, full of compassion and a sincere wish to do more than he was able.
Lois was fascinated. She looked at Dr Rix with admiration. This was a real doctor, who knew all the village people and listened to their most intimate confidings as well as just their ailments. She thought of the medical practice in Tresham, where you were lucky to see your own doctor and where each patient was given the allotted few minutes’ attention, with no time for the chatting that often led to the real cause of illness.
It was with absolute confidence that Lois said, as Dr Rix finished his coffee and stood up to go, “Could you spare me a few seconds, doctor? I just wanted to ask you something.”
He paused and looked at his wife. She nodded imperceptibly and he said that Lois should fire away, he had no secrets from Mary. For some reason, this took away all Lois’s resolve and she stuttered something about rumours of Professor Barratt going round the village saying bad things about her. “Still,” she added, “I believe you stood up for me, doctor, and I just wanted to thank you.”
To her surprise, Dr Rix said shortly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lois. It doesn’t do to listen to gossip. Now, Mary, if you’ll excuse me, I must get on.” And he walked out of the kitchen before Lois could say anything more.
Left with Mary Rix sitting in silence at the table, Lois felt small and foolish. “Right,” she said. “Better get on myself,” and made to get up from her chair.
Mary stretched out her hand and patted Lois’s arm. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We all know you’re completely reliable. Good gracious!” she continued, “there’s nobody less likely to snoop than you, Lois!”
So they did know. Then why had the doctor behaved so strangely? Oh, sod them all, thought Lois, and went back to work. Halfway through the morning, Dr Rix had a caller. It was Nurse Surfleet and as she was ushered into the doctor’s surgery, she heard her say, “Well, Andrew, I think the time has come now, don’t you? Something will have to be done…” The study door shut behind them and Lois felt that nasty twinge of fear again. She lingered as long as she could, washing out dusters and tidying the broom cupboard, until Mary Rix reminded her of the time. The two were still closeted together as she left. Gillian Surfleet must have walked to the doctor’s. Wouldn’t she usually have had her car?
For goodness sake! Lois mentally rapped herself sharply across the knuckles. Wasn’t it the most likely and normal thing for the community nurse to be in confidential consultation with the local GP? And why shouldn’t she walk? It was only a matter of yards from her house to the surgery. Ridiculous to suppose that they were talking about her. On the other hand, it was Gillian who had warned her against accusations of snooping. But then Dr Rix had denied any knowledge of it. What were they up to? It was beginning to look very much as if they were in league together. But what for? And how was it all connected with Gloria Hathaway?
Lois thought hard about it on her way home and began to see connections. It would soon be time to contact Hunter Cowgill. She had just started on the ironing, and was immersed in a radio play, when the telephone rang.
“Hello, Lois,” said Keith Simpson. “How’s things now? All sorted out with young Josie?” Lois was grateful for his call and said that Josie had gone back to school and Derek had forbidden any more contact with Melvyn Hallhouse.
“By the way,” she said, “I wanted to ask you something.”
Keith had heard none of the gossip about the Hallhouses and suggested she should forget about it. “There aren’t many of us who haven’t given the kids a quick smack in the heat of the moment!”
“Yes, but this might have been a bit different…”
Keith Simpson sighed. “I’m sure we’d have heard if there’d been anything serious, Lois,” he said. Then he announced the real reason for his call. The Inspector would like to meet.
“When?” said Lois, not sure that she was really ready.
“Now…well, as soon as you can get to Alibone Woods,” said Keith.
“But I’ve just started the ironing.” There was no answer to that, as she knew there wouldn’t be, and she put away the ironing board, took her coat, and left the house. It was raining and she stepped straight into a puddle by her car. Her mood was not good by the time she reached the woods.
Hunter Cowgill’s car was out of sight along the track, as before, and Lois walked on past it. He was waiting for her, leaning against a tree. “Ah, Lois,” he said. “Understand you’ve been having a spot of family trouble.”
“Yes,” said Lois, “but that’s not why you want to see me. I haven’t got much time before the kids come back from school, so can we get on with it?”
His face changed, hardened, and he said, “What do you know about the Rixes?”
Lois raised her eyebrows. “Quite a lot,” she said. “I’ve been there a long time. What d’you want to know?” Her mind was racing. She would have had no problem telling Cowgill everything she knew about the Rixes; Dr Rix’s long record of dedication to his patients, his kindness to her, Mary’s courage in dealing with the little nursery. Nothing to hide, not with the Rixes. That is, until this morning. First the doctor’s strange reaction to her thanks for defending her against Professor Barratt, and then the conference with Nurse Surfleet. Try as she might, she could not get rid of a suspicion that something was out of kilter, something to do with her…the snooping cleaner.
“Well, have you ever heard anything said in their house about Gloria Hathaway? More than just the proper reaction to her murder? Were there any quarrels in your presence, between doctor and wife? Ever heard any gossip about the doctor’s private life…you know?”
“Dr Rix? You mean having it off with somebody?” Lois was shocked. The very idea was so unthinkable that she laughed. “He’s like a nice old bear, only cleverer,” she said. “Quite cuddly, in his way, but never sexy!” But as
