All thoughts of Mr Betts were forgotten when Lois walked into the hospital. She found Derek sitting up, still swathed in bandages, but smiling crookedly at her and without question being once more her Derek.
She had been warned by the nurse not to expect him to be too bright…his memory might be a bit unreliable for while. “Hi, gel,” he said in a gruffish voice. “Come and sit down and tell me what the hell’s been goin’ on. Can’t remember much about it…Sooner they catch those hit-and-run buggers the better. I didn’t see nothin’…they were prob’ly miles away by the time the cops got there.” Lois silently took his hand. He squeezed, and said, “Give us a kiss then,” and she was only too happy to oblige.
Then she sat down and gave him an abbreviated version of his accident. “Don’t let’s talk about it, anyway,” she said. “I’ve got some letters from the kids here for you. Can you read them, or shall I?”
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Thirty-Four
Lois had resolved that the weekend would be for the family. She agreed with her mother that it would be a good idea for her to go back to her own house for a couple of days, just to give it an airing and see to a few things. Derek had asked her to bring the children, and the nurse had said they could visit if they did not stay too long.
“Will he have bandages all round his face…just have holes for his eyes, like the invisible man?” said Jamie.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Douglas. “Mum said he’s much better. I expect he’ll be sitting in a chair with his clothes on and watching telly and having nice things to eat and drink.”
“On the National Health?” said Gran. “That’s a laugh. Anyway, he’s not going to want you lot arguing the toss, so just you be good and quiet and don’t stay too long.”
Josie had said very little about the accident, and Lois knew that she was more shocked than the boys. Derek tried very hard not to have a favourite, but his girl was special, and she’d always been close to him. She was ready on time, and Lois noticed she had no make-up and her hair was brushed smooth and flat. Her attempt to be a simple, unspoiled teenager for her dad was touching, and Lois took her hand and squeezed it. “He’ll be so pleased to see you,” she said. “Come on, love, help me get the boys into the car without a fight for the front seat.”
Jamie was missing, nowhere to be found. Gran called all round the house, and finally Lois walked down to the bottom of the garden, where she found him picking all Derek’s prize flowers, just in bud and lovingly cared for in time for Long Farnden show.
“Got to take him some flowers,” Jamie said.
Lois took a deep breath. She nodded. “Right you are, Jamie,” she said. “Very nice thought. Now go and get in the car and we’ll be off.” She hoped Derek would see the massacre with the same understanding.
She need not have worried. Derek was so overjoyed to have the kids around him that he took the bunch from Jamie, winked at Lois, and said, “Great flowers, James, thanks a lot.” He was looking nearly like his old self, except for a few plasters and a florid black eye. But after half an hour, Lois saw that he was tired, and rounded up the family to leave.
“Hello! We meet again,” said a voice, and there was the vicar, the Reverend Rogers, peering in at the door and smiling broadly. “Just visiting another patient and thought I’d look in. How are we, Mr Meade? Making good progress?”
The look of alarm on Derek’s face made Lois smile, and she said that yes, he was doing very well, but thought they’d all tired him out, and were just leaving. “I’ll walk with you, my dear,” said the vicar. “Just leaving myself. Now, you be a good chap and look after yourself,” he added, “and God be with you.”
Derek gulped, blew kisses at the kids and Lois, and said, “Thanks, Vicar. See you tomorrow, Lois? Might have some news about coming home.”
The Meades and the Reverend Rogers walked down the corridors and out into the car park, the kids all talking at once with the release of tension, and Lois trying to keep them in order. Finally they were all in the car, and the vicar turned to Lois. “I enjoyed our chat in the church. Any time you feel the need to talk, I’m always available at the vicarage,” he said, and then added, “and by the way, do you remember I said how lucky I was to have Mr Betts? Well, blow me down if he hasn’t tendered his resignation! Wants to leave as soon as he can, without the proper notice. That’s put us in a pickle, I’m afraid, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to manage! Well, now, off you go, and God bless you all.”
So there’s a turn up, thought Lois as she drove off. Betts is clearing out. The kids argued all the way home, but she scarcely heard them. Why was he in such a hurry? As soon as they arrived home, she settled Jamie with a snack in front of the television and went into her office. Breaking her own resolution, she lifted the telephone and dialled Cowgill’s number.
¦
It was cool and damp as usual in the wood, and Lois felt a shiver of unease as she approached the meeting place. Last time there had been a nasty surprise. Cowgill had made little of her suggestion that maybe they should find somewhere else. “After all,” she’d said, “at least one person knows where we meet.”
“Never heard of the criminal returning to the scene of the crime?” he’d replied airily. “We might nab him when he least expects it.”
Now she looked apprehensively at Dick Reading’s tree, but there were no replacements. Thank God for that. I can do without having to cut down Mr Betts from a makeshift gibbet, she thought. Though perhaps he is the hangman…But a village schoolmaster, churchwarden and good family man? Probably not…
“Morning, Lois,” said Hunter Cowgill. “Sorry I’m late. Seen anybody?” She glared at him, and he added hastily, “How’s Derek doing?” She gave him a quick report, and he nodded approvingly. “We’ve had no luck tracing the car,” he said. “But we’ll get them, never fear. Murphy and – what d’you call him? – the Gorilla have also disappeared, but we expected that. They won’t get far. Now, what’ve you got for me?”
“More than you’ve got for me, from the sound of it,” said Lois tartly. She told him about her visit to the pub, and the conversation with Betty Betts. “It seems our Prue got herself in the club, and tried to get rid of it. Ended up in hospital.”
“Is that so?” said Cowgill crossly. “That Betts told us she’d overdosed. Said they wanted to keep it quiet.”
“Didn’t you check with the hospital?” said Lois, surprised at this lapse.
Cowgill shook his head. “Bad, that,” he said. “I should know better,” he added, and rubbed his hands across his eyes. For the first time, Lois noticed how tired he looked.
“That’s not all,” she said. “The old vicar at Waltonby is one of my clients. He found me lurking in Dalling church…and he was on about how helpful Mr Betts was, him bein’ a churchwarden and that. Then I saw him again in the hospital, and he blurted out that Betts had resigned and was off as soon as poss.” She paused, waiting for his reaction.
He said nothing for a few seconds, and then surprised her. “Why were you lurking in the church, Lois?” he said. She stared at him. His face was without expression, his eyes very cold. For God’s sake, surely he didn’t think she was mixed up in it?
“Well,” she said furiously, “I’d just nipped in to see where I could stash a load of drugs, and maybe a corpse or two.” She turned away from him and began to walk back along the track.
“Lois!” She took no notice and continued to walk. “Lois! Come back here, or I’ll arrest you!” She heard him laughing then, and slowed down. He caught up with her, took her arm and said, “Sorry, sorry…mind on something else. Come on, Lois, what did you find?”
“Who said I found anything?” she snapped.
“I can tell,” he said. She told him about the torn-off corner of a ten-pound note, and he nodded. “All fits,” he said. “They handle very large amounts of cash before moving it on. You’ve done well, Lois,” he added. “You can see it coming together, I reckon. Not too much farther to go. Keep at it, and we’ll have a very useful result…quite soon.”
After that, there was no more to say, and they left the wood separately as usual. Lois drove home, wondering what kind of a home life was possible for a man like Cowgill.
¦
