praise for Harry. It wasn’t any time at all until everyone was waltzing away and having the time of their lives.”
She sat back against the plump cushions, waving away the biscuits Florence held out to her.
“No, Florence, and you must not tempt me again. I am determined to lose at least half a stone before the grand opening of the new spa. And that reminds me”-she leaned forward and set her teacup down-“I’ve decided that we’re going to give a little party of our own. We’ll talk about the date tomorrow, but I’d like to have a few friends and neighbours in for a Christmas drink one afternoon. Just a few mince pies and a glass of sherry. Nothing too complicated, but it is, after all, the season of goodwill, and we’re going to show some.”
She stood up.
“And now I must be off to my bed. Thank you for the tea. Don’t worry about the cups tonight. You can tidy up in the morning.”
Florence dropped a little curtsey to Mrs. Lloyd’s disappearing back.
“Yes ma’am,” she muttered. “Whatever you say.”
Seven
“You know, Penny, when he took me in his arms, I could have danced all night!”
“You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself, Mrs. Lloyd,” Penny said as she leaned forward to apply a base coat to her client’s nails.
“Well, it wasn’t just me enjoying myself, Penny, in case you didn’t notice. Everyone was.”
“Yes, they certainly seemed to.”
Penny had barely been able to contain her astonishment when Mrs. Lloyd entered the salon for her standing Thursday afternoon manicure. Penny had quickly caught Eirlys’s eye and given a quick shake of her head. Following her lead, Eirlys returned to her client after giving Mrs. Lloyd a quick smile and, beyond the expected polite, cheery hello, said nothing.
Gone was Mrs. Lloyd’s rigidly permed, iron-grey hair, replaced by loose chestnut curls. At first, Penny had thought she was wearing a wig, but when she caught a glimpse of pink scalp, she realized Mrs. Lloyd must have spent hours that morning at the hair salon. With the dieting, hair colour, and softer hairstyle, Mrs. Lloyd was in full makeover mode. Soon would come wardrobe changes. She’s got it bad, Penny thought. If she had been married, her husband would have huge cause for concern. She was displaying all the classic symptoms.
“I’m going into Llandudno tomorrow to get some new clothes,” Mrs. Lloyd was saying, as if she had just read Penny’s mind. “Normally, Angharad Roberts makes my dresses, and a very good job she does, too, but I think I’ll go for something off the rack. I’m so tired of just about everything in my wardrobe. It all seems so frumpy and dated, and we need something new every now and then to perk ourselves up, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lloyd, we certainly do,” Penny agreed. “What are you thinking you might get?’
“Something a bit more youthful. A flirty skirt! A stylish top! Both!”
Penny grinned. “Go for it, Mrs. Lloyd! Why not?”
“Why not indeed. And that reminds me. I’ve decided that Florence and I are going to hold a little holiday open house, so you might want to mark your calendar. It’ll be from two to four in the afternoon and you and Victoria should both come. Oh, and of course bring that policeman of yours, too, if he’s a mind to come. That’s if he’s not too busy with, what did you call it, major crime.” Mrs. Lloyd gave Penny the date. “We chose the day so it wouldn’t conflict with your grand opening. But between the two of us, we’re all going to have a very busy holiday season this year. I always say Christmas will be here before we know it, and every year it just creeps up on us and proves me right.”
Mrs. Lloyd selected a rich, deep burgundy polish that she said would go nicely with a smart jacket she had recently bought.
“It’s in the Chanel style, you might say. And with my pearls, it should be just right for the bridge game tonight.”
After a moment’s thought, she leaned closer and gave Penny an intent look.
“Would you mind terribly if I asked you a question? What are your thoughts on tights?”
“Tights?”
Victoria looked up from her computer where she had been entering numbers into a spreadsheet.
“Yes, tights. She read in a magazine that they’re considered outdated and aging. She wondered if that was just true for young women or for everyone. She wonders if she should stop wearing them but wonders if it would look strange for a woman her age to go about with bare legs.”
“Oh, Lord.” Victoria laughed. “It doesn’t bear thinking about. Not in this weather, anyway.” After a moment she added, “I still wear them. Do you?”
“I do. I can’t stand the way my feet feel in shoes without socks or stockings. But I know that young women don’t wear them. I really don’t know what the rule is for older women or where the cutoff point is.”
“Well, anyway,” said Victoria, pressing a button on the computer and then sitting back with her arms folded, “the good news is that we’re still within budget on the renovation-just-and they tell me the work will be done on time. How did you get on with Gwennie?”
“Oh really well,” Penny replied. “She’s happy to do the food for the opening and she’ll take care of the other things, too, like tablecloths and plates and cutlery. I’ve given her the guest list so she knows how many are coming and I ordered the flowers.”
“And the wine?”
“Right, that’s done, too. Oh, and Mrs. Lloyd is having a little get-together a couple of days before our event, so it’s shaping up to be a busy holiday season.”
“It’ll be fun, though. I love Christmas. Such a happy time of year. Peace on earth and all that.”
“And this year, it might be a white one. They’re predicting snow and lots of it this winter.”
In Llandudno, at the North Wales Police station, Sergeant Bethan Morgan looked up as her supervisor, Detective Chief Inspector Gareth Davies, carrying a small, sickly looking plant, passed by her desk on the way to his office.
“Afternoon, sir.”
“Afternoon, Sergeant. Thanks for holding the fort. The meeting with the district commissioner went on longer than I thought it would.” He gestured at the plant. “Rescued this poor thing from his office. So what’s been happening today?”
“It all seems pretty quiet. There’s just one thing. Been some thefts reported in Llanelen.”
Davies set the plant on her desk and waited.
“I’ve had a call from one of the charity shops. Apparently a few small items have gone missing and the woman who runs it thinks there’s a shoplifter on the loose.”
She glanced down at the notebook beside the telephone and pointed her pencil at it.
“Funny stuff. Odds and ends. Let’s see.” She picked up the notebook and, after a quick look at Davies to make sure he was listening, read from a short list. “A biography of John Lennon. A serving plate with a daffodil pattern in the centre. A couple of packets of blank note cards. A wooly sheep with horns. A figurine of a shepherdess, complete with crook and lamb.”
She set down the notebook.
“The woman said there may be more items, but they don’t have a bar code kind of inventory system, naturally, so it’s difficult for her to know.”
“Did you ask her if another shop assistant could have sold any of these items?”
Morgan gave him a withering look.
He held up a hand. “Yes, of course you did,” he said good-naturedly. “How did she come to notice the things
