? The Shooting in the Shop ?
Ten
Jude’s first instinct was to ring the Le Bonniers’ house. If there was bad news, she wanted to hear about it straight away. She never saw any point in prevarication.
Her primary anxiety was allayed as soon as the phone was answered. By Lola. Her voice sounded tight with stress, but at least she was alive.
“I was desperately sorry to hear about what happened at Gallimaufry.”
“Oh well, it was only stuff,” said Lola.
“But you yourself are OK?”
“I’m fine. We were all here when it happened – me, Flora, the kids.”
“And Ricky?”
“Yes, of course, Ricky.” The answer was rather brusque, almost as if she were dismissing the relevance of her husband. “The first thing we knew about the fire was when the police rang this morning.”
“It must be terrible for you, Lola, after all the work you put into that place.”
“Oh, well…Easy come, easy go.” She was trying to sound nonchalant, but couldn’t quite carry it off. There was a silence, then Lola went on, “Presumably you’ve heard the latest about the fire, have you?”
“You mean that there was a body found there?”
“Yes. A woman’s body.”
“Have the police told you who…?”
“No. They’re still involved in forensic examination and what have you. They’ve said they’ll let us know as soon as they’ve got a definite identification.”
“Who lives in the flat over the shop?” Jude just managed to avoid saying ‘lived’.
“No one. When we took the place on, because the flat was furnished, I thought we should let it out, so that at least we’d get some income if things got hard – at that time having no idea of quite how hard times would get – but Ricky said no. He never likes thinking about the details of finances, calls all that ‘penny-pinching’. He likes to think in terms of ‘the bigger economic picture’.” There was irony in the way Lola quoted her husband, possibly even veiled criticism.
“So the flat was empty?”
“Empty of people, yes. I used it for storage. There was a lot of stuff up there, piled on top of the furniture and beds.” Her tone was kept determinedly light, but Jude could feel Lola trying to come to terms with the scale of her losses.
“So you haven’t any idea who the dead woman is?”
“No. I’ve checked the obvious people, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone missing. My mother-in-law Flora’s here with us. Ricky took Polly to Fedborough Station yesterday afternoon to get a train up to London. He’s checked she’s at home with Piers. I’ve called Anna and Bex…you know, they’re two of the assistants.”
“Did they know about the discovery of the body?”
“I don’t know. Neither of them mentioned it. And I didn’t raise the matter. I don’t want to add to the dripfeed of local gossip. Anyway, Anna and Bex’re both fine. And I’ve rung around all the other casual staff. Also fine.”
“So it sounds like whoever died in Gallimaufry, it wasn’t anyone you knew.”
“That’s the way it seems,” said Lola Le Bonnier.
¦
Sadly, she was wrong. On the national news the following morning, it was announced that the body found in the burnt-out shop was that of the owner’s stepdaughter, Polly Le Bonnier.
? The Shooting in the Shop ?
Eleven
Carole had been ambivalent about getting a Christmas tree. She hadn’t done so any other year since she’d been alone in Fethering. But then again she hadn’t had Stephen and family coming down any other year since she’d been alone in Fethering. And Lily was getting to the age when she might start to take an interest in pretty lights and shiny baubles. It’d really only be for the hours when they were with her, which was a bit of an unnecessary indulgence…but then again…She ended up buying a Christmas tree about three feet high, and a set of fairy lights. And a box of assorted glass baubles. And some lametta. And a little silver fairy to perch on the topmost branch.
Carole thought she’d been rather foolish to buy all the stuff, but she did enjoy setting it up. And while she dressed her Christmas tree, she thought about Polly Le Bonnier. She did an action replay in her mind of the conversation they had shared at Jude’s open house, and tried to identify anything the girl had said that might be odd. But nothing came. Except that line “I know where things went wrong for me.” That was intriguing, but now there was no chance of finding out from Polly what she had meant.
A more obvious question was: why, though, when her father had taken the girl to Fedborough Station to catch a train up to London, had she ended up back in Fethering? Carole concluded with some frustration that she didn’t have enough information to provide an answer. But the mystery still niggled away at her.
¦
Jude phoned her round five that afternoon. “I’ve just had a call from Lola.”
“Oh, anymore news about how it happened?”
“No. Well, if she had any, she didn’t volunteer it to me. But listen, Lola’s got Piers Duncton with her…”
“Polly’s boyfriend?”
“Exactly. Apparently he’s in a terrible state – which is hardly surprising. He feels confused and guilty. I get the impression Lola’s finding it difficult to deal with him…you know, she’s got the children and Ricky and his mother and…I think she’d be quite glad to get Piers out of the house for a while.”
“So?”
“So she was suggesting he might come and talk to me.”
“What, you as a healer?”
“No, no. Me as someone who gave a party which Polly attended. Piers is desperate to work out what happened to his girlfriend in the hours before she died. He wonders whether she might have said anything to someone she’d seen at the party, something that might give a clue to what she was feeling, or what she was planning to do.”
“It’s funny, I was just thinking the same myself.”
“Well, anyway, I said fine, he was welcome to come here and ask me anything he wanted. Lola sounded so relieved. I gather things are pretty tense up at their place – one of the kids, Mabel, the little girl, is laid up with an ear infection, one of the Dalmatians has just had puppies – and Piers may be just one extra complication she could do without right now. So he’s on his way.”
Carole, hypersensitive to any imagined slight, immediately thought that she was being excluded. “Very well,” she said shortly. “Let me know if he tells you anything interesting, won’t you?”
“Carole…” Jude lengthened the name in mild exasperation. “What I was going to say was why don’t you come round and talk to Piers as well? You spent at least at much time at my party with Polly as I did, probably more.”
“Yes,” said Carole. “That’s true.”
¦
He was tall, gangly, with big ears and a big mouth. What would be called ‘a mobile face’. There was no surprise that he worked in comedy. But he wasn’t smiling that afternoon. He looked tense and was sucking on a cigarette as though his life depended on it.
Piers Duncton refused Jude’s offer of an alcoholic drink, opting for a black coffee instead. But she had some Chilean Chardonnay left from her party (the booze never did run out), and she poured glasses for herself and Carole.
“We were desperately sorry,” Jude said, “to hear about what happened to Polly.”
