Sunday
Gary did not want the night to end, but eventually he forced
himself to get up. He showered to the sound of his own unmelodic caterwauling
accompanying the hymn-singing on the waterproof radio, swathed himself in his
bath-towel and attended to PeggySue. Then he made coffee for himself and cereal
with banana for his daughter and they sat down together to enjoy their
breakfast.
“Why the hurry, Gary? I suppose you have noticed that it is
too early for decent people to be up.”
“Tell your daughter that! Anyway, there’s work to do. I am
getting too used to just being a family man. I’m meeting Greg at HQ and I
should answer some mails before he arrives. What are your plans?”
“It’s Sunday, Gary, the day I usually have a lie-in.”
“Break the habit for today,” said Gary.
“Don’t start sounding like my ex, please.”
“Did he say that?”
“Every day.”
“Go back to bed, then. I’d join you if I had time.”
“I might as well have breakfast and make some phone-calls.”
“So I did wake you. I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”
“All of a sudden I was alone in my bed. Then I heard someone
singing along to the shower radio, very loudly in the wrong key. At first I
thought I was having a nightmare.”
“I’ll ignore that barely subliminal critique. What time are
the grannies coming?”
“Early, I expect. Your mother has seen very little of
PeggySue. I hope the two ladies got on OK.”
“Charlie will have kept the peace,” said Gary. “I’ll phone
you from the office. I don’t know how much I can get done this morning, but I’m
sure Chris will be at work in the lab, so I can listen to his theories on the
two corpses and ask Greg if the guy found dead in the pub has been identified.”
“Isn’t Chris celebrating Sunday?”
“I hope not with the corpses queuing up.”
“Don’t forget Edith, Gary. She must still be alive, or
surely you would have been informed.”
“I’ll let you know and I’ll forward you anything that’s sent
to me,” said Gary. “We might even get to see her tomorrow, as friends rather
than investigators, though I can think of things I’d rather do.”
“I hope Dorothy will talk to Molly today,” said Cleo. “Molly
knew about Ali’s affair with Polly, by the way.”
“That makes her motive even stronger,” said Gary, rather
regretfully, “She’s nice and I hate arresting nice women.”
“Then you should have no problems with the wicked Edith
because she has definitely stopped being nice,” said Cleo. “Anyway, you don’t
usually have pity on suspects.”
“I don’t usually have a pretty pub owner to deal with.”
“I expect Chris will make some useful comments. Maybe they
found the weapon nearby.”
“Except that finding the proverbial needle in a haystack is
even harder in the dark,” said Gary. “I expect Chris will send a team out as
soon as there’s any chance of finding anything, but it isn’t very light this
morning and it’s pouring with rain.”
“As usual,” said Cleo.
“You’d hate a hot country, Cleo.“
“I don’t care too much for all this rain either.”
Whatever Dorothy achieves, I or Greg will have to question
Molly soon and either pull her in or eliminate her as a suspect.”
”Rather you than me,” said Cleo. “Is there any more coffee?”
***
Gary eventually dressed and left for HQ in a flurry of hugs
and kisses. Cleo decided she and PeggySue should ignore the rain and at least
go round the block once. She had that house in Lilac Way on her mind. Gary had
not mentioned it again. Cleo assumed that a patrol team had controlled the
house and found nothing amiss, but there was no harm in looking, was there?
***
PeggySue was now walking, but too slowly for a rainy outing.
Having achieved walking status, the little girl was not keen on getting into
her pushchair, but Cleo put on their waterproofs, remained insistent and won
the argument. PeggySue was soon snoozing under the rainproof canopy Cleo had
mounted to keep her daughter dry and warm.
***.
27 Lilac Way was a two storey detached house in a row of
similar houses. It had been built before some planning committee or other could
insist that only bungalows were allowed in that part of Upper Grumpsfield and should
match the old cottages that had once been built there. But the ancient cottages
that had survived the centuries had all undergone extensive renovation and
modernization without municipal control and often without any kind of building
permission. Quite often, two small cottages had been joined together with a
connecting corridor between them, enlarged living-rooms and bedrooms, double-glazed
windows, fitted kitchens and central heating. There was not much left of the
old cottages since bits that had not been renovated the first time were
renovated later. Such privileges as avoidance of building permission could
still be had for a discreet but generous donation to the mayor’s parlour or
other institutions belonging to Middlethumpton Town Hall.
***
The shutters at 27 Lilac Way were closed. They were wooden,
painted dark green and on the outsides of the ground floor windows. You could shut
them from inside if the windows were open, or you could close them quite
effectively from the outside.
Cleo wheeled the pushchair up the drive to the house and
rang the doorbell. She had her story ready. She was looking for a baby-sitter
and this address had been given to her.
But there was no response to several rings and Cleo was
about to leave when she did what any self-respecting sleuth might do: she pushed
the door. It swung open. That was a bad sign. Cleo listened for noise, heard
nothing, decided to stay outside with PeggySue, and rang Gary on her cell phone.
“Cleo. Something wrong?”
“No. I’m out for a walk. Fresh air with PeggySue.”
“And rain.”
“Drizzle.”
“So don’t tell me where you are going. I’ll guess. Along
Lilac Way?”
“Awesome, Sweetheart. Is there something I should know about
house 27?”
“A patrol team went there and reported that everything was
normal.”
“From the safety of their car, no doubt. Did anyone try the
front door?”
“I shouldn’t think so.”
“They should have. It isn’t locked.”
“Don’t go in, Cleo,” Gary shouted. “That’s an order!”
“OK. Calm down. I wasn’t planning to. That’s why I’m
phoning.”
“I’m sending Greg now, Cleo,” said Gary enunciating very
clearly. “Please wait on the sidewalk until he arrives.”
Cleo could not help being amused that Gary wanted to be
quite sure she understood him. Even she knew that a sidewalk was a pavement in
the UK.
“I’ll be sure to wait on the pavement. I promise,” she
accentuated. “Je t’aime.”
“Moi aussi and don’t go into that house!”
“I did not take long for Greg Winter to arrive from home in
his private car. Being on the Sunday rota did not entail getting up at crack of
dawn. He told Cleo that a patrol car was also on its way. He had been driving to
HQ when Gary asked him to make a detour to be with Cleo.
“Thanks, Greg. Gary is making a fuss again.”
“He doesn’t want anything to happen to you or his daughter, Cleo.”
“Neither do I. Are you going in now?” Cleo asked.
“Definitely not. I think Gary would prefer me to wait until
I have support.”
***
To Greg’s and Cleo’s relief it did not take long for support
to arrive in the shape of Harry and Sam, an experienced patrol car team who
could be relied on to deal efficiently with any incident. Harry was a tall thin
guy who flexed his long, thin fingers every few minutes and could bend a poker
with one grunt. He often won marathons in his free time and went in for all sorts
of other extreme sports. Harry had a reputation for catching any miscreant who
decided to skedaddle. Sam was a shaven head shorter than Harry and a formidable
looking wrestler who liked to call himself “Sam the scalp” at
only-by-invitation venues where wrestling matches tended to be geared more to
the blood-thirstiness of the betting audience than to a realistic trial of
strength between the contenders. Sam was privately as gentle as a kitten, but
offenders did not have to know that when confronted by him.
The two guys shook hands with Cleo and marched purposefully
to the door, flung it open and went inside with Greg close on their heels.
When Greg came out again he was plainly shocked from what he
had seen.
“Go on, Gary,” said Cleo. “Tell me!”
“I’m glad you did not go in there, Cleo.”
“Just hang on to PeggySue and I’ll go and look for myself.”
Despite Greg’s protest, Cleo went into the house. Someone
had had it in for the woman and two children lying dead in the living room.
They had been shot at close range and face on. It was a multiple execution. The
faces on the three dead were full of horror and fear. It was all Cleo could do
not to burst into tears.
Harry had already rung forensics and the emergency services.
Sam, a veteran of the Red Cross ambulance service, was taking a closer look at
the bodies. They were stone cold and there was a smell of decay in the air.
Greg phoned Gary.
“Don’t say Cleo went in after all,” shouted Gary down the
phone.
“She didn’t go in until just now with the patrol guys. I’m
looking after PeggySue in her pushchair on the pavement.”
“So where is Cleo now?”
“Still inside, Gary,” said Greg. “Calm down, will you?
There’s no stopping her when she has made a decision.”
“I’ll phone her,” said Gary.
“Do that and then she can describe what’s in that living-room.”
Gary wasted no time.
“What the hell…?” he started.
“This is a domestic tragedy, Gary.” Cleo described the
scene. “I’ll send you a photo.”
“If decay has set in they must have been there for a couple
of days, Cleo. So they were probably dead when I went past.”
“Who were those patrol cops?”
“I’ll find out and then they are in trouble,” said Gary. “Those
killings are too close for comfort.”
“If you want my opinion, I think the man of the house must
have done it. Anyone else would have shot them in the back and probably not all
together in one room.”
“I’ll work on that assumption. What is their surname?”
Cleo went to the door and was presently able to tell Gary
that name on the bell was J. Mortimer. There was no car in the garage, so Mortimer
had probably in it somewhere if it had not been abandoned. Gary would get all
the information available on the car and then come out to Lilac Way. The other
HQ business would have to wait. Greg was to wait for him.
“I would have, anyway,” said Greg, when Cleo reported Gary’s
request.
“That’s five or six corpses in two days,” said Greg. “That
must be a record even for Upper Grumpsfield.”
“It’s easy to see why we need a police station here,” said
Cleo. “Someone might have reported strange goings-on at that house if they’d
had someone official to confide in.”
Tragically, the peremptory way in which the patrol cops had
treated their instructions could have been decisive for those three dead
people, but there was no point in aggravating an already critical situation.
“When is Brass opening up?” Greg asked.
“Soon, I hope,” said Gary.
“I’ll get on his rota. That way I’ll get to know more about
this particular village of the damned.”
“Frank Wetherby will be running my office while I’m taking
time off to deliver my babies into this troubled world of ours,” said Cleo.
“Isn’t that the helpful private eye from Frint-on-Sea?” said
Greg.
“It sure is. He’s arriving tomorrow and I hope he’ll be an
asset.”
“I’ve come to learn that private eyes are an usually an asset,
Cleo,”
***
Along with Greg’s promotion to the homicide squad, a
friendship between him and Gary had developed. Cleo was glad. Roger, who had up
to recently been almost Gary’s only confidante at HQ, had his own problems.
“It was not easy to convince Gary that private sleuths have
their uses,” said Cleo, as Gary drew up in his sleek red car.
He embraced Cleo as if she had just been rescued, causing
her to tell him not to exaggerate, on which he exchanged a bear hug with Greg
and hurried into the house.
“Those poor kids,” he said when he emerged. “Defenceless.
I’ll get the guy who did that.”
“Don’t forget our wedding, Gary.”
“I won’t, my love. What are you doing on Saturday, Greg?”
“At a guess, working.”
“Wrong. You’re attending our wedding,” said Gary.
Greg feigned surprise.
“Didn’t Gary tell you already?” said Cleo, seeing that Greg
was reacting artificially.
“You are coming to our wedding, aren’t you?” Gary repeated.
“What a surprise,” said Greg.
“I’m inviting you now in case Gary didn’t. Bring someone,”
said Cleo.
“Single at the moment,” said Greg. “My working hours don’t
make allowances for private pleasures.”
“Mine didn’t use to, Greg, but they do now,” said Gary. “And
strangely enough, I get more done in less time.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Greg. “I’m glad you are happy and I’m
privileged to take some of the work load off your shoulders.”
“Don’t be so humble! You are a godsend…”
Cleo announced that it was time for a hug and hugged Greg,
thinking she should hug him not least for making it possible for Gary to get
away from his job now and again.
***
An ambulance drew up followed closely by Chris and a
forensic team in their white van.
“Why am I always on duty when the bell tolls in Upper
Grumpsfield?” said Chris.
“Search me,” said Gary. “There’s a pretty awful scenario in
that house.”
An A & E doctor officially confirmed the death of the
three victims and a second ambulance was called so that all three corpses could
be taken with appropriate dignity to the pathology lab at HQ. There was nothing
else that Gary and Greg could do. They would move their cars to park in front
of Cleo’s cottage.
“I’ll walk home and make coffee,” Cleo said. “Come as soon
as you can, guys.”
***
PeggySue was fast asleep, but perked up when she realized
that a fruity snack was in the offing. The three sleuths would sit around the
dining-room table and discuss the triple homicide and the deaths of Ali and the
unidentified man at the pub. Over elevenses, Cleo told Gary and Greg that she was
anxious about Polly.
“If the killer thinks she saw something, he or she will be
out to get her,” she explained.
“Good God, Cleo,” said Gary. “That’s all we need.”
“Cleo’s right,” said Greg.
“Do you think Chris already has some results of the
autopsies on Ali and the guy?” Cleo asked.
“I’ll phone him now,” said Gary.
“Plain sailing on Ali,” he reported after talking to Chris.
“Not such plain sailing on the unnamed man. Chris says he was probably a victim
of arsenic poisoning, but further tests are needed.”
“We don’t know who he is,” said Greg. “Even the old rogues’
gallery did not include a photo of him.”
“You’ll have to contact the press. Bertie Browne is thankful
for anything he can publish in his freebie Gazette. We need to know who he is,”
said Gary urgently. “Tell him today, Greg, and we might even catch the Monday
edition.”
“I know that, Gary!”
“Sorry Greg. I did not mean to interfere.”
“You aren’t interfering, Gary,” said Greg. “We’re in this
together, remember?”
“Come on, you two,” said Cleo. “It’s Sunday. I have two
grannies coming to lunch and the Sunday joint is not even in the oven yet. Will
you stay for a meal, Greg? I’d love you to be here.”
“Thanks, Cleo, but my mother is cooking lunch and I promised
to be there for it.”
Greg got up purposefully and hugged Cleo and Gary, who was
astonished. Hugging was presumably catching.
“See you at HQ tomorrow morning then, Greg, and thanks for
rescuing my family!”
“I did not need to be rescued, Gary, but you will if you go
on getting worked up like you did.”
Greg laughed to himself. He was grateful to Gary for getting
him into the homicide squad and grateful to Cleo for turning Gary from a bad
tempered detective into a great colleague and friend.
***
“There’s work to do,” said Cleo, putting PeggySue in her
playpen to play with her Russian dolls. After a minute or two Cleo flopped down
on the sofa. Gary covered her with the sofa plaid.
“I wish I could flop down like that,” he said. “But I should
work on my laptop.”
“Not that kind of work. How about helping to prepare lunch
in the kitchen.”
“Only if you…”
“You really are the limit. Our mothers and Charlie will be
here within an hour.”
“I know, but I’d like a cuddle. We can cook later.”
“I’ll put the roast
in the oven and think about your proposition,” said Cleo, giving up her
relaxation on the sofa.
Half an hour later, the lovers had to scramble because
Gloria was already ringing the front doorbell.
“I hope she does not comment,” said Cleo. “It would be quite
embarrassing for your mother.”
“Don’t you believe it, Cleo. My mother was married at least
twice and divorced at least once. My second step-father died a natural if
premature death, but my mother is a true modernist and professional
story-teller, so I’m never quite sure about her various stories.”
“As long as she didn’t kill off any husbands, Gary.”
“If she had, she would not tell me, would she?”
***
Charlie climbed into PeggySue’s playpen and started putting
the Russian dolls together.
“Well, well,” said Gloria, looking askance at the
half-dressed lovers. “I do believe you’ve been at you-know-what again.”
“We just had a quick cuddle,” said Gary.
“Is that what you call it?” said Gloria.
“Does sex bother you, Gloria?” said Grit.
Gary and Cleo exchanged amused looks. Gary was waiting for
Charlie to ask what sex is, but she didn’t. Either she knew or she hadn’t
heard. They would leave Gloria to Grit
in future. Grit had all her wits about her and did not believe Gloria’s
prudishness.
“I think Gloria is about to volunteer her services in the
kitchen, Cleo,” said Gary. “I didn’t get round to all the vegetables, Gloria. I
was ….”
“Don’t say what!” said Gloria.
“….otherwise occupied,” Gary finished.
“How did you guess I wanted to help with the lunch?” said
Gloria, preferring not to ask what the ‘otherwise’ was and relieved to change a
subject that she found increasingly stressful in front of Grit, whose
broadmindedness was an anathema to her.
Gloria was relieved that her help was needed and glad to be
out of reach for a while. She took Charlie with her. It was time the child
learnt to help around the house.
“I hope PeggySue didn’t see you,” said Gloria when Gary took
the coffee cups into the kitchen. “It’s not good for a child…”
“See what?” asked Charlie.
“Nothing, Charlie. There was nothing to see, was there,
Gloria?” said Gary.
“Just pass me the frying pan, will you?” said Gloria.
“We found the bodies of a woman and two kids shot in a house
round the corner this morning, Grit,” said Cleo. “I’ m really quite glad we got
a bit of normality back before you arrived. And I do love your son an awful lot.”
“I can see that and I can see he loves you. In fact, this is
a house full of love and I’m happy for you, for the children, and not least for
me.”
“Cleo’s my new Mummy,” said Charlie, coming into the
living-room. “I love her an awful lot.”
“And I love my new daughter an awful lot,” said Cleo,
putting her arms round the child. “You know, Grit, Charlie would be about the
age of the child I lost. It’s like having her back.”
Bustling around getting the dining table laid, Gloria heard
Cleo’s words and felt tears welling up. She had been responsible for Cleo
staying with a man who abused her and killed her unborn child. Cleo did not
look at Gloria. It had been hard to forgive her.
“Do you want wine in the gravy, Cleo?” Gary called. He had
been controlling the meat. Gloria did not always get it right if she wasn’t
concentrating, and Gary also had the feeling that Gloria was trying to reach a
major decision of some kind. Was she as smitten with Romano as he plainly was
with her?
“Yes please, Gary,” Cleo called back.
Gary announced that the roast was taken care of so he could
now look at some files for a moment. PeggySue had finished her forty winks. She
sat on his knee and looked at the files with him.
“I love all my women, you see,” Gary said to his mother.
“Even Gloria, though she thinks I’m a philanderer.”
“She doesn’t, Gary,” said Cleo. “She loves you. It’s her way
of showing it. She just has no experience of a man like you. My father was a
stiff-upper-lipped Englishman who was ashamed of his love for a showgirl.”
“And I believe in garden gnomes,” said Gary.
“It’s true, though. When Gloria left him and went back to
Chicago, he made no attempt to get her back and paid for my education on
condition he didn’t have anything to do with me. Being disowned still hurts.”
***
Cleo invited Grit to inspect the building-works from the outside.
Then she told her what she had not told anyone else: that she was expecting
twin boys. She wanted Gary to be amazed and glad not to be in the minority among
his women for a change. Grit promised not to say anything. It was their secret.
She would help with the babies. Did that mean that Grit would move nearer? Yes,
she would, and soon. She was giving up her job and would work freelance if she
had time.
When Gary asked Cleo later what she and his mother had
discussed outside, Cleo told him that Grit was thinking of moving nearer to
help with the children.
“She’s going to do that?” said Gary, surprised. “She really
has taken to you, Cleo. My mother has never expressed such an intention before.”
“She loves our children, too, Gary.”
“Of course, and it won’t be long now before there are six of
us,” said Gary. ”Let’s hope that the workmen turn up tomorrow and get the kids’
side of the cottage finished. Otherwise the girls will sleep in our bed and
we’ll take the sofa.”
“Isn’t the sofa a bit narrow for both of us?”
The sofa-bed was among the few items of furniture Gary had
bought for the cottage to replace an extremely worn one that had been there
before.
“I would not find it too narrow if you had a normal figure,
but since there’ll be four of us in it we can turn it into a bed.”
“My figure is normal for a woman carrying twins.”
“Of course, my love, and I wouldn’t want to miss an inch of
it,” said Gary, embracing Cleo emotionally. “Je t’aime,” he whispered.
“Moi aussi,” responded Cleo, “and we know they are
definitely your babies this time. You can’t imagine what anguish I went through
with PeggySue.”
“I hate to repeat myself, but if you had decided on me
sooner, you would have been spared that anguish, my love.”
“You are right, but it all came out in the wash, didn’t it?”
“You could put it that way. Robert is a liar, Cleo. That’s
one of the problems I have with Edith’s aggressiveness. Was he exaggerating when
he told me what had happened between them?”
“Dr Mitchell confirmed Edith’s conduct. The vicar went
through the same hell.”
“Is Edith mad or just a latter-day nymphomaniac?“
“I’d say both.”
***
“Before we get stuck into grannie-time, what’s happening
tomorrow?
“Frank should arrive. When he knows the ropes I plan to put
my feet up until D Day.”
“D-Day?”
“Delivery day, Sweetheart.”
“You make it sound as if the postman is going to bring
them.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m not sure about Mr
Smith’s competence in that field.”
“There’s always Wilkins. Isn’t that the guy who helped out
when Smith broke his arm?”
“Heaven help me! Does delivering babies belong in a cop’s
training schedule? I should not think any postman would be suitably qualified.”
“I’d have a go if necessary,” said Gary, alarmed at the
prospect.
***
Chris phoned to say they had finished collecting clues at
the house in Lilac Way and were leaving. “Let’s talk tomorrow, Gary. I’ll start
the autopsies at seven. There were no stray bullets in the walls, so I’ll have
to dig at least one out to identify the calibre. Call me when you get to HQ.”
Gary looked up the registration of the car belonging to
Mortimer, who was at the moment the only suspect in the gun killing case. The
surrounding neighbours would have to be interviewed. Cleo proposed getting
Frank Wetherby in on the case immediately. Cleo phoned to check when he was
coming. He could be in Upper Grumpsfield by 9 a.m. the following morning and
meet Cleo at her office.
“Brilliant,” said Gary. Then he played snap with the
grannies, Charlie and Cleo, which caused great mirth since Gary cheated,
according to Charlie.
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