“Dunno,” she said. “It’s a bloody riuisance. Left us all in the shit, this has. Anyway, you’d better drink up and go. Old Ted along there don’t like your sort in here. You’ll get me into trouble, and I need this job, Gary. I’ll get in touch as soon as I know somethin’ definite.”
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Twelve
Lois was glad to be out of the house and on her way to Dalling Hall. Yesterday had been a strain, but then the first day of any job is difficult. The difference is, she supposed, that before, she’d always been on her own, working for herself, confident that if a new cleaning job turned out badly, she could always leave. Now she was responsible for four other people, and if New Brooms succeeded, there would be more than four.
She glanced across at the huddled old church, with its surrounding moat and miniature drawbridge. It was a grey morning, and a hazy mist lingered over the fields. Lois shivered. When she hadn’t been worrying about New Brooms, her mind had roamed around what she knew of the major’s strange end. What had he done that was so terrible someone had to kill him? And the way he’d died…she’d heard no more from Hunter Cowgill about that. In fact, she’d heard nothing from him at all, and she’d quite expected him to be round again with more questions. Perhaps he was biding his time, filling in blanks from other sources. Maybe she’d get in touch, ask him about that poor little dog first, and then see what else came up. After all, she reasoned, if he wants my help again, there’s got to be some exchange of information. On past experience, she knew that anything Cowgill deigned to tell her was usually negligible and stuff she knew anyway. Still, it was worth a try.
“Morning, Lois!” said the manager of Dalling Hall. His smile was restored, and Lois guessed he’d had a few bookings since they’d talked. Nothing like a juicy murder to bring out the ghouls. They’d probably arrange guided tours, thought Lois. “This is where the major lay, and there’s the broken effigy of the real knight, in the corner there. Such vandalism! And now come this way, please, where we have coffee laid on in the chancel and you can all purchase a specially written brochure on Dalling Hall and its historic church.”
“Is Hazel Reading here?” she asked, and was gratified to hear a voice behind her. “Yep, I’m here, all ready to start. Mum sends her love. Can’t say Dad feels the same, but who cares!”
“Yes, well, let’s get started, Hazel,” said Lois, and led the way through winding corridors and into the Great Hall, with its limed oak doors at either end, huge portraits by the yard of English kings and queens, and the lovely beamed roof that not even the keenest interior decorator could spoil.
Apart from the occasional interruptions by scurrying staff using the hall as a short cut, Lois and Hazel were alone. Surreptitious glances told Lois that Hazel was unquestionably a good worker, and contrary to her expectations, silent. In the end, it was Lois who spoke. “So you got on all right yesterday with Mrs Jordan?”
“Yep,” said Hazel. “She was OK. Bit daft, an’ that, but OK.”
“How d’you mean – daft?” said Lois.
“Oh, you know, couldn’t stop talking the minute I arrived. Followed me about. Asked questions all the time. Oh yes, an’ this’ll make you laugh! She had this weird head with loads of hair in her bedroom…talk about severed head! ‘Course, turned out it was a wig on a wig stand, wasn’t it. Give me quite a turn for a minute.”
Lois, who had talked initially to Mrs Jordan about the job, looked surprised. “A wig? She didn’t look like the sort.”
“No, she don’t wear it around. She’s in this drama group in Tresham, an’ it’s for a play she’s in. Well, I suppose it’s all right for those that like it. My life’s dramatic enough, without playin’ at it.”
“You mean your dad,” said Lois quietly. Hazel’s face was turned away from her, as she polished an old side table with loving care. There had been a break in her voice. Hazel Reading’s tough, uncaring front that she presented to the world was hard won. Lois wondered why the girl didn’t leave home, go off like others and make her own life.
“Yeah, Dad,” replied Hazel. “Still, our daily dramas won’t turn into tragedies, not while I’m there.” And so Lois had her answer.
“That Gary,” said Hazel, changing the subject, “how did he get on with Sheila Stratford? Funny bloke, but not bad, I reckon. I can just see him getting up speed with the Hoover!”
One of Lois’s first rules for New Brooms had been an absolute ban on discussing one cleaner with another, so she just laughed and said time would tell. She guessed the doctors would soon complain if they weren’t satisfied.
“And that goes for us here, too,” said Hazel with a flourish. “Done my side, so shall I come over and give you a hand?”
Cheeky devil, thought Lois, but she smiled, and the rest of the morning they worked together equably enough.
It was while they were having a coffee break that Hazel remarked casually that Prue Betts had stopped working as a barmaid. “She’s not going to college yet, so it’s a bit of a mystery. The lads in the pub say she told them her dad came on a bit strong about the major, and the dangers of alcohol and stuff, and soon after that Prue left. Shame, really. I liked her, and I reckon she enjoyed it. Grew up quite a bit, did Prue! Haven’t seen her lately, so I expect he’s told her I’m a bad influence.”
“Is he like that, then, her dad?” said Lois lightly.
“Not nearly as bad as mine,” said Hazel with a grimace. “But he is a teacher, and you know what teachers are. Thinks his family should set an example in the village, an’ all that rubbish. But he’s very fond of Prue, and they don’t have many rows…Anyway, Mrs M, it’s time we got goin’ again. Can I do the bridal suite? It’d be nice to think I might need it one day.”
¦
It had been easier at the hall with the two of them. Somehow Hazel’s chirpy enthusiasm made much lighter work of it. Feeling pleased with the day, Lois returned to her sunny office and checked the answerphone. Nothing alarming, thank goodness, but the last message made her smile. Must be telepathic, she thought. “Hunter Cowgill here,” the deep voice said. “Could you give me a ring, Lois? Oh, and I hope New Brooms are sweeping clean.”
She dialled the number he’d given her and when he answered, said, “I was going to ring you anyway. What’s happened about the major’s dog? I said I’d take it, and Derek’s agreed…reluctantly, but he said we could have it.”
“It’s being well looked after,” Cowgill replied. “An old lady heard about him and was very keen. He’s quite a nice old chap. The sergeant got quite fond of him.”
“And the major?” said Lois. “Don’t think he was a nice old chap, not from what I’ve heard.”
“Ah, yes,” said Cowgill. “Well, that’s why I rang. Can you manage a meeting? A few points have come up, and one or two questions you might help with. And,” he added hastily, remembering Lois’s previous insistence on two-way exchange, “I can give you a few pointers, if you’re still interested.”
“Oh, I’m interested all right,” said Lois. “Any bloke who invites young girls into his house late at night is of great interest to me, even if he is dead. Could be part of something bigger, and my Josie is, well, you know…”
“No need to remind me, Lois,” said Cowgill. “Right, then. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning in Alibone Woods. And park your car where I showed you, out of sight.”
Lois sighed. Trudging through muddy woodland paths was not much in her line, but she could see Cowgill’s point. No one was going to talk to Lois Meade if they thought she was in league with the cops. “Ten o’clock,” she said. “I’ll be there.”
¦
“You know that girl, used to be on the school bus? Her dad’s a teacher at Waltonby school?” Josie had spoken with her mouth full, head down, polishing up tomato sauce from her pizza plate.
“Did you say Waltonby?” said Lois.
“He’s head teacher,” said Douglas. “My friend went to school there, and he liked him.”
“What about the girl, Prue Berts?” said Lois, frowning Douglas into resentful silence.
“Yeah, that’s her,” said Josie. “Well, she’s in hospital. Her friend said, on the bus today. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Apparently her mum’s upset, but not saying anything. What d’you reckon’s happened, Mum?”
Lois looked hard at her daughter, and thought she looked shifty. Knows more than she’s telling, Lois
