She gestured at the crowded shelves. “I wondered if you could use a volunteer.”

“Carwyn,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Come out here, please. You’ve got a helper this morning.”

As a short, smiling woman emerged from the back room, the woman behind the desk turned to Penny. “Are you sure you can spare the time? Don’t you have a fancy new massage parlour to be running?”

“It’s not a massage parlour, it’s a spa,” said Penny, “although we can certainly do a healing, deep-heat massage. Might be just the thing for you after a long day here.”

She groped around in her handbag.

“Here,” she said, holding out two envelopes. “A gift certificate for each of you.” The two women exchanged glances.

“Well, that’s very nice of you, I’m sure,” said the second woman, who seemed the friendlier of the two. “I’m Carwyn and it’s nice to meet you.”

“Penny Brannigan.”

“Well, then, Carwyn, fetch Penny a duster or something!” said the first woman. “Let’s get stuck in.” She turned to Penny. “I told that policewoman who rang me that I have no idea who stuck that brooch on our Christmas tree. We didn’t even realize it was there. I wrapped it up in a nice bit of silk and put it away for safekeeping. The policewoman said she would pick it up this morning and return it to the owner, so I’m afraid I’ve got to hold on to it, but I can show it to you if you’d like to see it.”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Penny. “I’ll wait until the police return it to me.” Sensing that she was starting to build a rapport with the woman, she gave her an easy smile. “Now, why don’t I make myself useful, and perhaps you could tell me who you think is behind those thefts you were experiencing. Do you have any regulars who’ve been acting suspiciously lately?”

As the overhead bell tinkled to announce someone entering the shop, three heads turned to see who it was.

“Here’s a regular now,” the woman said in a low voice. “She’s only started coming in over the past month or so but comes in a lot now. Doesn’t always buy something. Just browses.”

“Morning, Florence,” said Penny.

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Florence, looking at Carwyn, then back to Penny. “Helping out, are you?”

“Just for the morning,” said Penny.

“Well, I’ve come in to see if you’ve got such a thing as a letter opener,” said Florence. “I want to get Evelyn one for Christmas. Cheap, if I can.”

Carwyn motioned to a plastic box filled with odds and ends. “You might find something in there.” She turned to the woman who seemed to be in charge of the shop. “Have you seen any letter openers? You don’t see those around much anymore, do you, now that I come to think of it.” She thought for a moment. “It’ll be all that e-mail, I guess.”

“Well, there is this one,” said the woman, reaching behind the counter and pulling out one with a Plexiglas handle and silver-coloured blade. “We could let you have it for, oh, say, two pounds.”

“Two pounds! You must be joking!” said Florence, reaching out for it. She turned it over in her hand. “I’ll give you fifty pence for it and not a penny more.”

“Oh, very well.”

The transaction complete, Florence tucked the letter opener in her handbag, thanked the staff, and reached for the door handle. “Let me get that for you,” said Penny, adding, “I’ll show you out.

“I’m glad you came in this morning,” Penny said, pulling the door closed behind them. “I want to ask you to do something for me.” Florence waited. “I need you to give me the guest list of everyone who was at Mrs. Lloyd’s open house.”

“Well, let’s see. There was the Reverend Thomas Evans and his wife…”

“No,” said Penny. “Not now. I need you to write down the names of everyone who was at the party. Even better would be the original guest list or a copy of it. Make sure no one’s left out.”

She folded her arms and hugged herself. “It’s freezing out here. I’ve got to get back inside. But please put that list together for me. I’ll be in touch.”

She turned to go.

“Important, is it?” Florence asked.

“Could be very important, Florence.”

“Right, then. I’m on it. See you later.”

“Oh and, Florence, just one thing. Remember I asked you a little while ago to try to think of the last time you saw the letter opener? You didn’t get back to me, so please get this list for me.”

Florence looked surprised. “Did I not? I have to write everything down, me, or it just vanishes.” She made a brushing gesture past the top of her head. “I thought I did. Anyway, as near as we could remember, the last time we saw the opener was just before the open house.” She gave her cheek a little scratch with a gloved hand and nodded slowly. “Yes, because Evelyn remembered being somewhat annoyed that she didn’t have the opener on the Monday for her Christmas cards.” She shrugged. “Don’t know how much help that’ll be, though. Half the town was at the open house.”

“And, Florence, Mrs. Lloyd has told the police about the twenty thousand pounds, hasn’t she?”

Florence nodded. “She has, although she didn’t want to. But she said afterward that when they told her that her coming forward might prevent the same thing happening to some other poor woman, she felt better. She thought maybe some good might come of it.

“But can you imagine giving up a sum like that? Twenty thousand pounds!”

* * *

Penny spent the rest of the morning sorting through boxes, straightening shelves, and doing a little dusting. A few people came in. A woman she did not recognize bought a small blue-and-white milk jug. Some of the pieces in the store were clearly old tat, but others, she had to admit, were rather nice. She was just thinking about buying a small figurine of a black-and-grey dog when the door opened and a large cardboard box presented itself, held by Huw Bowen.

“Morning, ladies,” he said.

“Oh, it’s almost noon,” said Carwyn. “Morning, Mr. Bowen.”

Bowen set the box down on the counter. “Would you like it here, or shall I carry it through to the back for you?”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind just carrying it through, that would be most kind,” Carwyn said. “You can set it down anywhere.”

Penny instinctively turned her back, hoping he wouldn’t see her. For some reason that she didn’t understand, she didn’t want him to recognize her.

“Well, I’m meeting my good lady wife for lunch, so I must be off,” Bowen said after setting down the box. “I hope you’ll find a bit of profit in there.”

“He brings us in all the bits and pieces from the bank’s lost and found,” Carwyn explained when Bowen had left. “Astonishing, really, the things people leave behind in the bank. Pens, books, children’s toys, mobile phones, gloves. Gloves!”

Penny peered into the box.

“This lot will all be things left behind since the summer. The bank staff keep it around for about six months in case folks come looking for it, then donate it to us.”

Penny reached into the box and pulled out a small bag from the local chemist and peered inside. A brand-new lipstick with the receipt. She pulled the top off the lipstick and wound it up. It was a nice colour, but she doubted the shop could sell it.

“Still, it’s nice of Mr. Bowen to bring these things over to us,” Carwyn said as Penny closed the lid on the box. “I’m a bit surprised to hear he’s taking his wife for lunch, though. Rarely leaves the bank during the day.” She shrugged. “Oh well, maybe the Christmas spirit is getting to him.”

“Well,” Penny said to Carwyn as she put on her coat, “thanks very much for letting me work with you this morning. I’d best be getting off to my own work now.”

Вы читаете A Killer's Christmas in Wales
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату