Episode 10 - Molly Moss

Monday cont.

The workmen at Cleo’s cottage were taking their lunch break. Their radio had blared away all morning and did not stop blaring when the hammering took a break.

“Funny guys, those builders,” said Gloria.

“If they are doing the work, I don’t mind how funny they are,” said Cleo.

“I think they must be East European wMith all those ‘k’s. I don’t understand a word they say.”

“Did you talk to them?

“I offered them lunch but they had brought beer and cigarettes and did not need any. Are they allowed to drink on the job?”

“Gary organized them, so I suppose they are working legally, but I’m not going to ask them,” said Cleo. “Just leave them to it, Mother. They won’t get drunk on a bottle of beer. Are you going to Romano’s after work?”

“I might,” said Gloria in a voice that did not invite further questions.

 “Is there something else you want to tell me, Mother?”

“No. Should there be?”

Gloria’s wide-open eyes said the rest.

Cleo phoned Dorothy and asked her not to come until 4 o’clock to drive to the pub. Gary would be at home to baby-sit, but she needed time to talk to him and discuss cases.

By the time Gary got home, shoptalk was high on the menu, but Gloria had cooked a kedgeree before hurrying back to the shop.

“This jumble is delicious. You’ll have to ask Gloria for the recipe,” he said, tucking into his lunch with great enthusiasm.

“It’s one of her specialities, Gary. I can’t steal her thunder.”

“I thought she only cooked stews and steaks,” said Gary.

“She can cook anything that’s plucked, skinned, peeled or grown. If I know my mother, Romano will have her concoctions on his menu before you can turn round.”

“So what has befallen this concoction?” Gary asked.

“I’m never sure, but I suspect that the can opener played a major role.”

“It tastes good even if it looks a bit strange. I’m not complaining.”

“The alternative is that you cook yourself.”

“That’s why it’s nice to have an almost mother-in-law who can cook. My mother would have phoned for a takeaway.”

“So would I if I was too busy doing other things.”

“So when is Gloria going to Romano’s?”

“Tonight, she says, but I think she was there last night. She turned coy when I asked her.”

“Where is she now?”

“At the shop so that Robert can take time off,” said Cleo. “You are in charge here, my love.”

“I hope Robert stays away from Edith.”

“You can’t stop him seeing her,” said Cleo.

“I can and will and must,” retorted Gary, who then phoned HQ and ordained that Edith Parsnip was not to receive any visitors at the hospital.

“Can you do that?”

“I have to if there’s a chance that Robert will go to visit her,” said Gary. “I don’t suppose he knows what really happened.”

“Don’t take bets on it.”

“Well, I’m going to have her moved to that psychiatric clinic attached to the women’s prison on the Oxford Road as soon as she is well enough. She needs treatment and we haven’t got enough manpower to keep an officer posted 24/7 in front of Edith’s sickroom.”

“That sounds OK and you are right. Robert should keep away from her however grimly fascinating he finds her.”

“Have you thought about his role in her attempted suicide?” Gary asked.

“I’m trying not to, Gary. I’d hate to think that Robert is capable of butchery outside the slaughterhouse.”

“Macabre. I’ve seen some suicides, but never one as convoluted as Edith’s,” said Gary.

“It didn’t do the trick either. You ‘ll have to find out if Robert had anything to do with it,” said Cleo.

“Let’s stop speculating about it now though. I’ll put PeggySue in her cot for her siesta and then we’ll take ours.”

“Dorothy is coming.”

“Not now, I hope!”

“At four.”

“Good. I hope Molly has turned up by the time you get there. What about Polly?”

“Has anyone looked for her?” asked Cleo.

“Not as far as I know. I expect she’s at home.”

“But you haven’t checked, Gary. A bit lackadaisical, Sweetheart.”

“Too busy. Can you go to her address after seeing Molly?”

“We’ll have to,” said Cleo.

“I’ll phone our pet registrar and put the appointment off,” said Gary. “Tomorrow is really not convenient since we don’t know what else is happening,” said Gary.

“Oh my! I’d forgotten all about the appointment.”

“Go and start your siesta. I’ll be right there,” said Gary.

Cleo mused that there was no sign of the workaholic that Gary had once been. The hammering started up again on the kids’ side. PeggySue was awake and did not like the noise, so Gary fetched her to nestle between them in the big bed. It wasn’t the usual programming for a siesta, he mused. Cleo wondered what it would be like when the twins were added to the family.

***

After watching his ‘women’ drift off to sleep, Gary got up to check on the workmen.

“Some of us are having a sleep in the big bedroom,” he told them. “If you need me, please knock three times on the door.”

Wondering what a grown man was doing having a siesta instead of being at work, the builder smiled knowingly and nodded. He informed Gary that he and his mate could now remove the old window and knock down the old wall that they had replace from the outside. The rubble could be thrown out of the new window.  Gary was more than a bit astonished at the way the workmen were doing things.

“I hope they are getting it right,” he said to Cleo as he explained what the guys said they were going to do.

“I hope they don’t renovate the Eiffel Tower like that. Imagine throwing away the old stuff by dropping it down the outside.”

“I doubt whether those workmen will get much further than Lower Grumpsfield,” said Gary.

“We’ll need an even bigger bed,” said Cleo almost in her sleep as Gary joined mother and daughter.

“I should have ordered a skip for the rubble,” said Gary. 2I’d better do that now.”

***

Despite the noise of hammering and the crashing of brickwork that made Gary wonder how much of the cottage would be left by the time the renovations were finished, he, Cleo and PeggySue slept soundly, hands interlocked and gone to the world.

Gary ordered a skip and got back into bed hoping for a few minutes sleep, but soon got up again. The noise had stopped. He decided the workmen must have finished for the day. He would check on what they had done. The builders were getting ready to leave.

“Not much more to do this side, Mr Hurley,” said the builder in an accent totally devoid of any foreign lilt as he hung up his working overall. “Have you got a cleaner handy and can you order a skip?”

“I’ll get someone to come and I’ve just ordered a skip for Friday. When do you want to start on the other side?”

“Tomorrow,” said the builder. “I’ll get an extra workman in and we’ll have finished all the building work by Friday lunchtime.”

“Thanks,” said Gary, slipping a twenty pound note into the builder’s hand. “That’s for drinks all round and the rhythmic pounding,” he said.

“Sorry about the noise, especially the rhythmic pounding,” the workman said, winking broadly at Gary.

“None of that with a drowsy little daughter between us,” said Gary. “I’m on baby-sitting duty this afternoon. I need a lot of strength for that. No need to imagine things.”

“If the cap fits,” said the workman. “I was wondering how you found time to sneak from work and take a nap.”

“I didn’t sneak,” said Gary. “I often work weekends and nights. A cop does not get much free time, so I make the most of it.”

There was perfect understanding between the men.

“Do you think you could dismantle the old window and wall from the outside next time,” Gary suggested.

“No prob, Sir,” said the chief workman. “We could have done that this time.”

Gary did not ask why they hadn’t.

When the workmen had left Gary made coffee and turfed Cleo out of bed.

“Can you ring Mrs Cagney and get her to clean up on Friday afternoon, Cleo?”

“You do it. She likes you. Does that mean we have our bed to ourselves on our wedding night?”

“Am I a fortune-teller? At least they will finish all the dusty building work on the outside next time.”

***

Soon after four thirty and armed with photos of the man who had been found dead at the pub, Cleo and Dorothy arrived there and were relieved that Molly had opened. She seemed subdued, but not unduly sad.

The two sleuths had already agreed to concentrate on the circumstances surrounding the mysterious dead man. They explained to Molly that they would show the man’s photo around and hope someone knew him.

“He was not a regular,” Molly said.

“But he might be someone’s brother-in-law, or have worked together with someone. We have to give it a try, Molly. Upper Grumpsfield has seen several tragedies in the past few days. Gary approves heartily of us doing a job that would be scary for the locals if confronted by police officers.”

“And for me, Cleo. It’s a weird business. I’d like it cleared up quickly. I don’t want the police paying me regular visits here.”

“It’s just as well that Ali met his death elsewhere then,” said Dorothy.

Molly had recovered enough to be angry rather than tearful.

“If he had stayed here instead of messing around with that little bitch he’d be alive now,” retorted Molly, and Cleo gave Dorothy a severe look that told her to shut up about Ali. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she had killed him herself.”

***

“Let’s get back to why we’re here, Molly,” said Cleo. “Are you sure that the man on the photo had not been here before?”

“Almost sure. So many people come in for a drink. It’s the only watering hole in this place, unless you go to Delilah’s, and most people hate to walk home up that steep hill after they’ve had a few.”

***

The regulars table was occupied by several customers, all male, and all except one of them in the pensioner category. They saw Cleo coming and talked to her in a way Dorothy found scandalous.

“Ooh, that coloured woman is paying us a visit,” said one of the regulars in a stage whisper as Cleo approached. They all had shorts and beers in front of them and one or two were smacking their lips at the sight of this exotic woman. Even pregnant, Cleo was an intriguing challenge to those guys’ imaginations.

“Hi guys. Nice to see you again,” Cleo said tongue in cheek, remembering their suggestive banter on previous visits.

“You’ve swapped men, haven’t you?” one said.

“Poor Robert Jones,” said another.

“He’s taken care of,” said a third. “That vicar woman fell for him.”

“Funny business going on between her and Mr Jones,” said the youngest of the group. “She’s a bit of a vampire, I hear.”

“Shut up, Skip,” said one of them. “You’d have gone for her if she’d invited you.”

“No I wouldn’t. It would be like screwing my mother.”

That statement seemed to shock all of them. The banter grew quieter.

“Isn’t that bump the butcher’s?” one asked.

“Don’t you think you are being a little too inquisitive, Gentlemen?” said Cleo. “I live with a different guy now.”

Dorothy admired the way that Cleo dealt with the personal and extremely primitive onslaught.

“With that good-looking cop, is it? I expect he got you in that state,” the first one said.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” said Cleo.

“Shut up, Alf,” said the second one.

“You shut up yourself, Joe,” came the reply.

“So now we have an Alf, a Joe and a Skip,” said Cleo. “Who are the others?

“The bald one’s Tommy, the smelly one’s Tim, and I’m Ron,” said the one Cleo judged to be the oldest.

“Now I know your names, would you like to tell me all about your sex lives, guys?” Cleo said “Oh sorry. Maybe you don’t remember!”

“One or two of them laughed. The others coughed and spluttered.

Cleo was turning the tables on them and they felt uncomfortable.

“After all, you are curious about my private life, so I’ll let you into a secret. That cop has been my lover for close on three years and he fathered the last bump and this one. And guys, it was a lot of fun!”

After that statement, there was even more embarrassment all around the regulars table.

Molly had been listening in and was quite amazed at how Cleo dealt with the situation. She came over to tell the men off, though she realized that Cleo was well able to take care of herself.

“Your mates have stepped over the line of common decency,” Molly told Ron. “If you want to continue using this pub, you’ll apologize to Miss Hartley for your rudeness and cooperate with her questioning.”

“Sorry Miss Hartley,” they said in a chorus. “No offence intended.”

“None taken, guys,” Cleo said smiling. She realised that she had actually made friends there, not enemies. “Just look at this photo and tell me if you know who it is.”

There was general agreement that the coloured woman was not only a sexy lady, but a decent one. That cop was no fool. He was wise to literally pin her down with kids, some of them thought, since they came from a milieu where that was usual. In their minds, women were the losers in the end. It was quite impressive to meet one who was their equal and probably a winner.

The regulars looked at the photo closely.

“That’s the man Molly found dead over there, isn’t it?” said Alf, pointing.

“Yes, guys. She came home from Middlethumpton after the pub closed, but I don’t know the exact time frame yet. We’re here to talk to Molly about that.”

“Ask her now,” suggested Skip, who was about Molly’s age and sure she would be interested in him now Ali was out of the way. Molly was a much more attractive proposition than Polly. He preferred flesh on bones if he could get it.

Dorothy asked if she could have tea with lemon, so Molly went into the kitchen to get more lemon slices.

“That Egyptian guy went off with the barmaid,” said Skip almost in a whisper when Molly was out of earshot.

“Skip is jealous. He can’t compete,” said Alf.

“Skip isn’t jealous,” said Ron. “He’s bloody furious. He tried to get off with Polly once and didn’t get very far, did you, Skip?”

“Well, Skip,” said Cleo, “you’d better keep looking elsewhere. It will be a while before Polly has recovered from the shock of having her lover stabbed while they were...”

“Havin’ if off? Polly’s got a regular boyfriend, or did have until Ali turned up,” said Joe.

“I couldn’t stop her seeing him, could I?” said Skip miserably, and Cleo decided that he was really upset.

“I don’t suppose you could,” said Cleo. “But Ali’s dead now and the knife was not plunged into your back.”

“Foster could have done it,” said Skip. “He’s quite a rough type even if he is getting education, and he was dead keen on Polly.”

 “So Polly’s old boyfriend is named Foster, is he?” Dorothy asked.

“One of them is Miss, but don’t tell anyone I told you,” said Skip. “I don’t fancy a punch-up.”

For future reference, Dorothy wrote down the name in the little notebook she always carried around.

“We know what usually happened in that crypt,” they all chorused.

“Some went to have a look at what was going on,” Skip said. “The two of them had been there a few times before.”

“Did you just go to watch them?” Cleo asked.

“Well…” said Skip. “I just wanted to know what she liked.”

“Anyway, this time there were frenzies all over the place and you weren’t there, were you Skip?” Alf taunted.

Skip said he was going for a smoke and stood at the door with his cigarette outside and him inside.

“You must mean Forensics,” said Dorothy. “So you know all about how Ali met his death, don’t you?”

“Stabbed in the back while he was diggin’ at Polly,” sniggered Joe.

The sheer crudeness of that comment even shocked Dorothy. Cleo ignored the gutter slang.

“Did you see it happen?” Cleo asked.

“Not fuckin’ likely,” Joe admitted.

“So it could have been Skip,” said Cleo.

“Skip couldn’t get near Polly,” Ron sneered. “We all know that!”

Skip turned round when he heard his name.

“So you couldn’t get near her, Skip,” Cleo imitated, much to the amusement of all present.

“I wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole now I know she’s a tramp. I shouldn’t think Ali was the only one she played around with.”

“Do you mean me?” Alf shouted and everyone laughed again. “Not one of us oldies,” he added in a low voice. “She only liked them young and hungry, Miss, and she didn’t always do it for money.”

“Isn’t Skip young and hungry?” Cleo asked.

“Not young and hungry enough, Miss.”

Since Skip had just gone to the loo, he did not hear that revelation and Dorothy thought it was just as well since the men were the worse for drink and the scene was turning nasty.

“That cuts you all out then, even if you are hungry,” Cleo said.

***

Silence ensued. The joking was over and Cleo perceived that she could now ask at least one  salient question.

“Do you know where Polly is now, guys?”

“At home, I should think,” said one of them. “Have you been there?”

“Not yet, but that’s our next port of call. Just give me the name of that guy on the photo and we’ll be on our way.”

“That’s Harry Palmer, Miss,” said Ron. “Came here once or twice in the old days between being a guest of Her Majesty.”

“Do you know where he lived?”

“Somewhere in Middlethumpton,” said Ron. “Stole cars and anything else he could pick up. Mixed in with local gangsters. Acted as a fence for them. Found a wife. I’ve no idea what he was doing here.”

“He’ll be on police records somewhere. Now I know his name, we can easily find his relatives.”

“He didn’t go in for relatives, Miss,” Ron said. “He might even have done away with them and he used more than one name.”

“But he only had one face, guys,” said Cloe.

“He wouldn’t have killed his wife, would he?” said Dorothy, shocked at the depraved talk.

That would be killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, Miss.”

“He looks quite harmless,” said Dorothy.

“Don’t we all, Mrs,” retorted Alf.

“Are you all harmless, then?” Dorothy persisted.

“It’s none of your bloody business.” he said.

“Stop the foul language or you’re out, boys,” Molly shouted from behind the bar counter. Cleo went to talk to her. Dorothy stayed at the regulars’ table.

“You’d better clean up your act,” she told them. “You could be called as witnesses if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’d better be mistaken, Miss, or else....”

“And you would be wise not to threaten me,” said Dorothy, drawing her pistol out of her handbag. “It’s loaded and I never miss,” she added, winding the gun round her finger like she’d seen in US gangster movies. Then she joined Cleo at the bar, leaving the regulars gobsmacked.

“Better put that thing away,” said Molly.

The regulars trouped one by one out of the pub, each one planting a ten pound note on the bar. Cleo knew that Dorothy was really play-acting, but it was a brilliant move. There would be no more trouble with those guys.

***

“Let’s recap, Molly,” said Cleo, not commenting on Dorothy’s dramatic move. “You got home at some time after ten on the night you found that dead guy, didn’t you?” said Cleo. “Did you go out again, Molly?”

“For a fag. I don’t like to smoke in here and I don’t allow it. The stink hangs around for days and this is supposed to be a gourmet restaurant…. It was, I mean.”

Cleo wondered about Molly’s reasoning. Had she known that her gourmet chef and bedfellow was having a sex adventure with the barmaid and she may not have been his only side-line?

“Is that the only reason you went out?”

Molly looked uncomfortable and averted her eyes.

“I can’t think of another.”

“For instance, did you go out looking for Ali, Molly?” Dorothy asked.

“Why would I do that?” she said.

“Indeed, why would you do that, Molly?” said Dorothy.

Cleo answered for Molly.

“Because,” said Cleo, “you expected to find him here and the restaurant full of guests, but the place was deserted.”

“The kitchen was full of unwashed crocks so there had been customers, and there was cash in the till, so no one had robbed me.”

“What time did the kitchen normally close?” Dorothy asked.

“By about 9. People eat earlier up here.”

“I’m surprised you left Polly in charge, especially if you suspected her of having an affair with Ali,” Dorothy commented.

Cleo walked to the door and left Dorothy to continue the questioning, but listened for innuendoes.

“I thought she could behave responsibly,” said Molly.

“Wasn’t that a bit too trusting?”

“I’d been cooling off Ali,” said Molly. “I did not want to admit that even to myself, but it looks as if I’ll have to.”

“You mean….”

“We were still sharing a bed and he was a great asset to the pub,” said Molly. “Sometimes you have to do things against your better judgement in this life, Dorothy.”

“So you suspected him of having an affair with Polly, but you wanted to hang on to him for the sake of his usefulness,” said Dorothy. “That was not very wise, Molly.”

“I’ve got a pub to run. That’s my first priority.”

“Your employees were not here, so you concluded that they had left together and decided to check.”

“Listen, Dorothy. I’ve already said too much. Can you please go now?”

“Look, Molly. We want to help you. If you were determined to hang on to Ali, it’s Polly who should have been a victim, isn’t it?“

“I do not kill people who bother me, Dorothy, and I’m not answering any more questions.”

“You’ll have to answer even more uncomfortable ones before long,” said Cleo, turning back to Molly. “But it’s high time we were moving on, Dorothy.”

“Believe me, Molly, no offence was intended,” said Dorothy. “In fact, we really came to find out who the guy you found dead here was.”

“You’ve just been questioning me about Ali.”

“But, we can’t deal with that investigation,” said Cleo, improvising. “Our priority is now to find out if there was a connection between the two deaths. That kind of questioning is something a private investigator does better than the police. They step in later when we ask them to.”

“OK. I was hasty,” said Molly. “I know you are doing a job and I’m sure you have Gary Hurley’s blessing, so get me off the list of suspects, please. I have a business to run and the customers will go elsewhere if they think I’ve killed someone.”

***

Was Molly cunning or just naïve? Molly’s motive for killing Ali was strong enough, especially if her anger and jealousy were stronger than any feelings she had once had for him. On her own admission, she had cooled off. It would be a typical reaction, on the lines of ‘if I can’t have him – in this case don’t want him - no one else is going to’.

Cleo could not visualize Molly actually stabbing the guy she needed for the success of her business. Dorothy was later to come up with an argument that exonerated Molly further.

***

On impulse, Cleo decided to say something more drastic to Molly about the man they now knew was Harry Palmer before leaving the pub, not least to see if she could shock Molly. So she turned back to the counter.

“By the way,” she said, “the guy we now know was Harry Palmer had symptoms of arsenic poison.”

“He won’t have got it here,” retorted Molly, quick as a flash. “But on the other hand, he was not here when I left and he was here and dead when I got back, so I have no idea if he was with someone, or in what condition he was when he came in.”

“Did the forensic team take glasses and cups with them?” Cleo asked.

“Polly had cleared the tables and left everything piled up in the kitchen. I filled the dishwasher with dishes when I got in from line-dancing and switched it on. I did not know there was going to be a corpse here an hour later.”

“Did you notice what time it was when you came back a second time?”

“It must have been after eleven.”

“You went to the crypt, didn’t you?”

“Why would I do that?” said Molly.

“Why not, Molly? It’s what I would have done.”

Molly realised that there was no point in denying her action.

“OK, so I did. I wanted to see what he would say when I challenged him. I did not go far into the crypt. I could hear noises from the steps and put two and two together. I only had to wait till he came home.”

Cleo was sure that Molly was keeping something back.

Back in the car, Cleo reported back to Dorothy and told her she had probably made an enemy of Molly.

“Supposing she did kill Ali or saw who did it,” said Cleo. “She’s playing it fairly cool, but I think she’s in a panic and scared.”

“I don’t believe that she was involved in Ali’s or Mr Palmer’s death,” said Dorothy.

“She had a motive in Ali’s case, Dorothy. And anyway, nothing is ever certain unless the proof is indisputable,” said Cleo. “What if she lied about knowing the Palmer guy? What if she witnessed whoever went into the crypt? What if someone saw her? She could be in mortal danger, Dorothy.”

“But surely if someone had seen her he or she would have followed her and dealt with her,” said Dorothy. “I think we should concentrate on finding Polly and leave Molly to Gary. Questioning at HQ will make her nervous and likely to contradict herself if she was not telling us the truth, or at least make her reveal who she saw at the crypt and why she was away from the pub for at least an hour on that mission. Had she hidden from the killer and waited until she thought it was safe to return to the pub?”

“I’m going to phone Gary and put him on the alert.”

A few minutes later, Gary had listened to the new theory and told Greg that Molly could be in danger. He would ask Greg to drive over to Huddlecourt Minor and spend the evening at the pub, talking to the locals and generally keeping an eye on things.