been props, but there was no way of telling without putting it to the test. No, stay quiet and don’t cross him. Bloody hell, had he flipped? But his face was calm, his eyes almost twinkling. She realized with sudden anger that he was enjoying himself.
She had a struggle with herself to keep quiet. It was just possible that she might encourage him to talk. She was sure now that he was pivotal in the whole sorry saga of the slaughtered knight and the knifed peasant tied to a tree. She hoped the story ended in a lucky escape.
“We have about half an hour, Mrs Meade,” he said conversationally, “in which time you can tell me just how much you know, and how much of that you have conveyed to your friend Chief Inspector Cowgill. Young Gary has more or less refused to help me any further, and so I am relying on you to fill in these necessary details.” He had become the suave interrogator, lounging back against the door.
Off his trolley, thought Lois. But not enough, perhaps.
She shook her head. “Don’t understand you, Mr Betts,” she said. “I’m Mrs Meade, boss of New Brooms, client of your wife. Surely you remember that?”
His pleasant look vanished. Now he was the stern headmaster facing a recalcitrant pupil. “Don’t be stupid, woman,” he said. “And don’t waste my time. I know perfectly well that you are a police snout – is that the right term? – and I intend that you shall grass to me as well.” As if in answer to a spoken question, he gestured with the pistol. “And yes, this is real, and it’s loaded. I am not afraid to use it, and have no fear of discovery. I have laid my plans well.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Lois. “Give me a clue, and then I might help.” Humour him, she told herself. There was not much else to be done.
“A clue? A clue for the amateur sleuth? Do you fancy yourself as a modern Miss Marple?” She waited for him to go on. He might start making some sense, with any luck.
“Very well,” he said, and she could almost see the ruler tapping on the blackboard. “A knight in armour is found dead in Dalling church. A man is found knifed and tied to a tree in Alibone Woods. Nobody has been arrested, and as far as the general public knows, there are as yet no suspects. The police are keeping everything very closely under their collective hats. Now,” he continued, puffing out his chest a little, “it just so happens that I know quite a bit about it. Probably a great deal more than the boys in blue.”
Oh God, thought Lois, a power freak. Is that what schoolmastering does for you?
“But I do not know, unfortunately, how far they’ve got in their investigations, and my plans depend on that information. Which is why,” and now his smile was more of leer, “it was so incredibly lucky that you walked into my parlour, little fly.”
Lois looked surreptitiously at her watch. Five minutes gone. She felt calmer now, and concentrated on steering him round to giving away some of his proudly boasted secrets. What would happen at the end of the half hour, she had no idea. Perhaps his well-laid plans would take care of that. She hoped he hadn’t got a mocked-up coffin in the props room.
“So you think I know something about the murders?” she said, with as much innocence as she could manage. “Don’t play games,” he snapped. “You’re no actress, Mrs Meade. You’d never pass an audition in this establishment.” He sniggered. “As indeed, neither did I. Still, they find me useful backstage, and it is a good place for contacts. I understand you have met Mrs Murphy and her friend?” He made it sound like a cocktail party.
Any minute now he’ll produce a dry martini from the drinks tray, thought Lois wildly. She took a deep breath. “I know Joanne Murphy,” she said. “She applied to me for a job, the lazy cow. I know she has something to do with this place.
The pistol came up sharply, and pointed directly at her head. “Leave Prue out of this!” he hissed.
She nodded obediently. “No offence, Mr Betts, just setting out the facts.”
“The facts are gruesome,” he barked at her, “gruesome and wicked and sordid! Drugs, pornography, paedophilia…you name it, as Prue says.”
“Pornography?” said Lois politely. Was he on a roll now? She stayed very still, waiting. He had ceased to look at her, and his eyes were turned upwards, as if to something very nasty in the far distance.
“Little girls are very, er, physical creatures, you know, Mrs Meade,” he said. “And if a man is that way inclined…” He frowned, and gave a sort of shudder, as if to rid himself of unacceptable thoughts. “I had an eight- year-old in school…her family moved away, thank goodness…and she had such a knowing look. The minute she came into my class I knew she was trouble. Always dressed like her favourite pop singer…and…”
“And you…?” said Lois, very quietly.
“Me?” he said, suddenly snapping to attention. “Good gracious me, no, woman! Always very happily married…no, no, not me.” He paused, and she said nothing, just nodded again, encouraging him to go on.
His eyes returned to the distant scene. “No, it was our very own knight in shining armour. Very partial to young damsels, that one. I found out from that silly child. She was talkative and precocious. I didn’t like her much, to tell the truth. But it is not our job to like or dislike. My job is to educate and protect. Protect every single child in my care, just as if it were my own.”
A shadow of pain crossed his face. He’s thinking of Prue, said Lois to herself, and made no comment. Mr Betts closed his eyes for a second or two, but not long enough for Lois to make a move. Then he continued, “I listened to her chatter – in the playground, in the classroom, everywhere – she never stopped. Most of it was nonsense, but one rainy day when they couldn’t go out to play, she confided to me that she’d had her picture taken lots of times, by the major.”
Lois glanced at her watch again. A quarter of an hour gone. “Told you everything, did she?” she prompted.
“That evil man had lured her in,” Mr Betts replied, his face contorted in disgust. “Told her she was very, very pretty, and took photographs. She was pleased, proud of it! I asked if she’d told her parents, and she said yes, well, there was only Mum, and she’d just laughed. And so nothing was done. Our knight errant was free to go galloping off after another damsel.”
“And you decided to stop him?” said Lois, and held her breath. At this vital moment, the sound of running feet broke the spell. Mr Betts looked round at the door, then walked over to Lois and put his hand across her mouth, and the gun at the side of her head. His round, rimless glasses glinted, and she could smell his unsavoury breath.
“Hello! Is anyone in there? Mr Betts, are you in there? You’re wanted urgently! The witness box has collapsed.” The door handle rattled, and then the footsteps retreated. Mr Betts removed his hand, and backed away slowly, still aiming the gun at her. “I must go now,” he said. “No doubt someone will find you, sooner or later. But there’s plenty of time for me to put my plans into action. Oh, yes,” he added, as he took the key from his pocket, “and if you set your policeman on to me, my contacts will know. Your husband’s accident was just a warning. Next time, retribution will be carried out.”
Lois flew across the room, but he was quicker. The door slammed in her face, and once more she heard the key turn in the lock. “Sod it!” she shouted as loud as she could, and carried on shouting until her voice was hoarse. No one came.
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Forty-Four
“Can you see her, Olive?” said Gran, standing tall and looking over the heads of the milling crowds in the theatre foyer.
“No, dear,” said Olive. “Perhaps we’d better wait over by the door, and then we won’t miss her.”
They had loved the play, with Lady Loddon’s dramatic outburst, “No! He is
Olive was looking at her watch, and said, “I really think I’ll have to go now. Don’t like being out on my own
