were missing?’
“She said that someone wanted the John Lennon book for her grandson but didn’t have much cash on her. The shop doesn’t do debit or take credit cards, so the woman said she’d go to the bank and do a bit more shopping and then stop back later. The charity shop woman said when the customer returned in the afternoon the book was gone, but she hadn’t sold it to anyone. They looked all through the books in case someone had moved it, but it wasn’t there.” Bethan took a sip of her coffee. “She felt bad that she hadn’t put the book aside for the customer.”
“Anybody unusual or suspicious in the store that day?”
“No, just the usual townsfolk. Some dropping off donations, others browsing. A few sales. But nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Well, I don’t know there’s much we can do at this point, but we’ll keep an eye on the situation and see if any more reports come in.” He picked up the plant and seemed about to move on.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am it wasn’t ladies’ knickers disappearing from clotheslines.” He gave a little shudder. “For a moment there when you said things have been disappearing… Haven’t had one of those cases in years and don’t want one, either.”
“Well, not too likely, sir. People don’t dry clothes outside much anymore and anyway, it’s winter.”
“People used to hang their laundry out to dry all year round,” Davies said. “When I was a lad, my mother used to hang out the wash in the winter and it would freeze on the line. Then she’d bring it all back in the house, frozen stiff, and hang it all up again inside. I could never understand the point of hanging it out.”
He smiled at her. “The good old days. You won’t remember them. You weren’t born yet.”
The dancing class was proving more popular than Harry Saunders had hoped. Instead of the numbers dropping off, they increased and the next week, as word got round, a few more couples showed up. Mrs. Lloyd, who was starting to fantasize about being Harry’s partner in bridge, in dancing, and hopefully, in the not too distant future, in life, was over the moon.
“I told you the dancing lessons would be a great success,” she remarked to Florence on the morning of their open house.
“Yes, Evelyn, you did and you were right, as usual,” Florence replied as she polished a glass.
“Now, have we got everything we need for this afternoon?”
“Yes, it’s all set. I’ve just a few more things to put out. Leave it to me and you get along to church. You don’t want to be late.”
Mrs. Lloyd, now looking a few pounds slimmer, gave an airy wave and disappeared into the hall. Florence heard her rustling about in the cupboard, and a few minutes later, the front door was pulled shut behind her.
Florence plumped a few pillows and then, noticing a few envelopes on Mrs. Lloyd’s desk, opened the top drawer and slid them inside. She then turned her attention to the dining room and, after straightening a row of forks, gave the table one last approving nod. Mrs. Lloyd’s benefactor, the aunt of her late husband, would have thought the table magnificent. Her fine old china, a pattern featuring fruit on a cobalt blue background, had been washed and neatly arranged on a crisply ironed linen cloth. Gleaming silverware flanked a centrepiece of silver candelabra with space in the middle for a floral arrangement of festive red carnations. A plaid table runner gave everything a seasonal look.
Florence had set out small glasses for sherry and larger ones for wine. She was determined that her spread would be at least as good as the one at the spa opening and knew that because many of their guests would be going to both events, comparisons would be inevitable. In the kitchen, she opened the fridge door and peered inside. The large cheese tray she had prepared last night, tightly covered in cling film, a fruit tray, small quiches, packets of smoked salmon waiting to be opened, sliced lemons for garnish, and more awaited their guests.
At precisely five minutes to two, Florence would place all the trays on the table and the party would begin. She was happy to look after the food and drink, leaving Mrs. Lloyd to circulate and socialize. Florence not only knew her place but liked it very much. It was definitely starting to feel like home.
And now, there was nothing to do but wait for the guests to arrive and the party to start.
As Florence set the last platter on the dining room table the sound of ambient chatter began to fill the adjacent living room.
“Oh, Penny, of course you already know my friend Harry, but, Harry, I don’t think you’ve met Penny’s friend Inspector Gareth Davies.” Saunders seemed momentarily taken aback but recovered his composure quickly and held out his hand. Davies shook it and casually asked Saunders where he was staying.
“Oh, an old friend of mine has a place not too far from here, farther up the valley,” Saunders replied. “He’s in the States for a few months and said I could use it while he’s away.”
“And how long will you be staying with us, do you think?” Davies asked.
Saunders let out something that might have been a wheezy chuckle and turned to Mrs. Lloyd.
“Does he give all your guests the third degree or is it just me?”
Davies’ eyes narrowed slightly and he smiled at Penny who gave an eloquent, apologetic shrug.
“Now, Inspector,” said Mrs. Lloyd, “I was telling Penny just the other day that you should get out and about and have more fun. Come to the dancing classes with us, why don’t you! But for today, you’re off duty and among friends so we’ll have no more of your questions. Just enjoy yourself. And now,” she said, turning to him and touching Saunders gently on the arm, “you and I need to circulate amongst our guests. There are others who would like to meet you. Oh, look, there’s Huw and Glynnis Bowen. And Bronwyn and Thomas Evans. Such a good turnout.”
The room had filled up as they’d been speaking. Penny waved to the rector and his wife who had just arrived. Davies’ eyes followed Saunders and Mrs. Lloyd into the living room. Keeping his eyes on them, he inclined his head toward Penny.
“Later, I want you to tell me everything you know about him.”
“Do you know this inspector well, Evelyn?” Saunders was saying.
“No, not really,” Evelyn replied as she led him to the food table, where they admired Florence’s spread. “I hear he’s very taken with Penny Brannigan. Now, I’d like you to come over here, Harry, and meet Bunny, an old friend of mine. We go way back.” Catching herself, she added, “Well, not that far back, of course.”
Saunders examined the table and seemed to focus on a tray of hot nibbles that Florence had just brought out of the kitchen.
“And this Penny, now, is she…?”
“Penny?” Mrs. Lloyd gave him a quizzical look. “Oh, Penny, she’s just the person who does my nails.”
Saunders helped himself to a stuffed mushroom, which he balanced on a red paper napkin, and then gave Mrs. Lloyd his best smile.
“Introduce me to Bunny, why don’t you. I’m dying to meet her.”
As the last of the guests departed, Mrs. Lloyd sank gratefully into a comfortable chair and, with a sigh, slipped off her shoes and rubbed the toes of one foot against the toes of the other.
“Oh, that was wonderful,” she said. “I enjoyed myself enormously and I think all our guests did, too.” Saunders lowered his eyes and watched Florence as she picked up several used paper napkins and stuffed them into an empty glass. She loaded several glasses onto a large tray, added the plates of leftover food, and then disappeared into the kitchen. They soon heard the sound of running water followed by the closing of the kitchen door. A few seconds later, the doorknob turned silently and the door opened an imperceptible crack.
Saunders sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him. “Come on over here, Evelyn,” he said. “I’ve got something to ask you.”
With a surprisingly shy smile, Mrs. Lloyd did as he asked. “Yes, Harry? What is it?” After a quick glance at the
