ideas?”
Lois was tired, dispirited. “The police station?” she said.
There was a pause. “Not feeling too well?” said Cowgill.
“I’m all right,” Lois replied, and applied herself to finding a suitable place for a tryst with a policeman.
“Well,” said Cowgill, after waiting a few seconds, “I was wondering if you still take the old lady’s dog for a walk? You do? Right, well, that would be the perfect cover. At the bottom of the recreation ground, there’s a gate and a footpath. It leads through the old allotments down a track to a barn. It’s not used at all now, but the track’s good. Nobody goes down there. Belongs to the parish council, but they don’t use it any more. They asked us to keep an eye on it, in case of vandals, and we locked it up. I’ve got a key.”
“Who else has got one?” said Lois. She didn’t much like the sound of it.
“Nobody,” said Cowgill. “At least, yes, Constable Simpson has one. The parish council are quite happy about that. Only too pleased to offload the responsibility. They can go to him if they want to get into it, and I’ve told him not to give anyone the key unless I OK it first.”
“Well, I dunno, I suppose it’d be all right.” Lois hadn’t the energy to argue this morning, and she did want to see him urgently.
“Right, then. Twelve o’clock suit you?”
“Sooner,” said Lois. “When I get back, the old lady likes to chat, so make it ten, and I’ll be there.”
¦
Cowgill was waiting for her. She peered into the dusty window of the barn, and he immediately opened the door. She slipped inside, dragging the dog, whose every instinct told him not to enter an unknown, dark interior. Cowgill locked the door behind her.
“For goodness sake!” Lois felt irritation rising. This cloak and dagger stuff could not possibly be necessary. Sometimes she thought Cowgill enjoyed it, playing the great detective.
“Security,” he said now, “in your interest, Lois. Trust me.”
“Just as well I do,” she replied tartly. “Shut up in a mouldy old barn with a strange man, with only this flea- bitten old dog for protection.”
Cowgill smiled his chilly smile, and said mildly, “Hardly a strange man, Lois.”
“Well, anyway, get on with it,” she said. “What’s new with the Abrahams?”
“It’s the brother. We need to find him. Something’s come up…One of his creditors over the other side of Tresham has taken his own life. Wife says he was very depressed about money, and desperately needed what Abraham owed him. Seems our Edward turned up last week and threatened him to keep quiet, or else. She has no idea where he came from, or where he’s holed up. But it’s very serious now, Lois, and we need to find him.”
“Oh, my God,” said Lois. “Poor Enid. I suppose you’ll be searching the mill?”
“We did that last week,” said Cowgill. “We found nothing, except Enid, her father, and a reclusive old mother who shouted at us to clear out. Nothing in the barns or anywhere else.”
Time to tell him about last night, thought Lois, and gave him as lucid account as she could manage whilst the dog tried desperately to escape.
“Are you sure it was a body?” said Cowgill. He was all attention, willing her to remember. “Not a hundred per cent,” said Lois, shaking her head. “It was so dark, and there were shadows and noises everywhere. But I could swear that I saw a face. So yes, I suppose I am sure. And it certainly wasn’t there when old Abraham and I went back, and Bill couldn’t see it either. Mind you, the rate the water was flowing, it could easily have been swept on downstream.”
Cowgill asked her a few more questions, and then Lois said she was leaving. “Got to get this dog back,” she said. “Old Polly will worry. Let me know if you find anything.”
Cowgill nodded and put out his hand to touch her shoulder. “Thanks, Lois,” he said. “Take care. I shan’t be happy until we’ve got that Abraham. Nastier customer than I thought.”
Huh, thought Lois, as she trudged back up the playing field, the dog pulling at the lead and straining her arm, much he cares about my safety. And then she knew she was being unfair. He had a job to do, and because she had always refused payment, saying she was no snout, she was perfectly free to get out of her involvement any time she liked.
“So on we go,” she said to the dog. “You’ll get your biscuit, and I’ll get a rocket from your mistress.”
¦
There was a message waiting for Lois when she returned home. Enid Abraham had left her glasses at Farnden Manor, where she had been cleaning this morning. Should they drop them in to Lois in the village? It would be no trouble, and they didn’t like to think of Enid having problems without them. She was such a good soul, such a reliable help. They had found them in an upstairs bedroom, on the windowsill, and were quite sure they were Enid’s.
Farnden Manor was a ancient house, and historic for two reasons. One was its age. It had been built halfway up a hill outside Long Farnden, overlooking the village, in a peaceful, bosky position, and had stood there for four hundred years, until twentieth-century demands had caused a motorway to be built uncomfortably close. The other was that its owner, a man of extraordinary imagination and engineering skill, had some years ago arranged for the house to be moved, in its entirety, uphill, with a better view of the village. This had been an epic feat, and for a while had achieved international status in the media. All this was now largely forgotten, and Long Farnden had spread itself to meet the manor, with its new community hall, the playing fields and discreet housing delopment.
Lois said if the client was coming in to the village anyway, that would be very kind, and put down the phone. She quickly settled in to a morning round of telephone calls and adjustment of schedules. Sheila Stratford was off sick – only a nasty cough, she said – and Lois was juggling with Sheila’s jobs, giving Hazel extra hours and doing some herself.
Light snow was falling outside the window, reminding Lois that it would be Christmas in a couple of weeks. She’d left much of the shopping to Gran this year, but planned this afternoon to go into Tresham to buy Derek a present, and clinch the decision on what to get for Josie. She had given them a list of unsuitable clothes, and Douglas’s consisted entirely of obscene rap discs. “Don’t see any harm in them meself,” said Derek, when Lois exploded. “The lad’s goin’ to listen to his friends’ if he don’t have his own, so we might as well give him what he wants. At least it’s not a piano!” he added darkly. He had not taken Jamie’s request at all well. No son of his was goin’ to have piano lessons…bloody Fairy Snowflakes and Off We Go To Bloody Market…He couldn’t stand it!
Derek seldom swore, and Lois could see it was going to be a battle. Still, this was only round one, and Derek was such a softie at heart that he almost always gave way in the end. “Best thing,” said Lois, when he had calmed down, “is to see how much they want for the piano, and then think again. Enid’s offer to teach him for nothing is quite a bonus, Derek,” she added, but he said nothing and slammed out of the kitchen.
When Enid called in at lunchtime for her glasses, Lois asked her about the piano. “Did you have a chance to mention it? I forgot when I talked to them.”
Enid nodded. “They said if you could arrange to move it, you could have it for nothing.” She smiled proudly. “It’s a good piano, Mrs Meade,” she said, “better than mine.”
“Right,” said Lois, “then you can tell them I’ll be in touch. Derek and his mates can handle the move. Just got to get the OK from him, and then we’re in business.”
“Oh, I don’t want anything!” said Enid, looking alarmed.
“No, no,” said Lois, wondering where Enid had been for the last thirty years. “Just a thing people say.” Then she remembered the Abrahams had no television and weren’t allowed to listen to the radio. That would account for Enid’s old-fashioned – though some would say correct – mode of speech. “Anyway, Enid, I’ll let you know what happens.” She handed her the glasses, and said, “Didn’t know you needed these? I’ve never seen you wearing them.”
“Only for distance,” said Enid. “Considering my age,” she added modestly, “my sight’s pretty good. I can even do my lace work without specs. No, I only need them occasionally, thank goodness. Funny really, Edward’s the same. Just needs glasses for distance…”
Her voice tailed away, and Lois said, “Probably because you’re twins.”
Enid’s reaction was sharp. “Of .course we’re not twins. Wherever did you get that idea from, Mrs Meade?”
Lois shrugged. Bridie must have been mistaken. “Sorry,” she said. “Mixing you up with somebody else. And by
