Episode 27 - Starting the week

Monday 

Cleo spent most of the night thinking about what they knew about the murder of Mrs Grant and was anxious to discuss with Gary what she thought could have happened except that he was fast asleep.

“I’ll be all ears in a couple of hours,” said Gary, yawning widely and turning over.

“Since you’re awake, don’t go back to sleep, Gary. This is important!”

“I’m all ears even if my eyes are shut.”

“I think Mrs Grant was definitely mauled by one of the Woof dogs,” Cleo started.

Gary opened one eye. Cleo persevered.

“Supposing Grant had something to hide? Supposing his wife knew and was threatening to expose him?”

Gary was now wide awake.

“What do you have in mind, Cleo?”

“A previous murder.”

“Good God!”

“Now that Grant has all but admitted to one killing despite himself, he could have got away with others. He’s the kind of guy who would think it clever to trick the police. Mrs Grant gave him an alibi previously, but when he was accused of Ivy’s murder, she decided she had been supportive enough. Perhaps that was the first she knew about Grant’s exploits.”

“But why would a woman shield a man who had committed murder?” Gary asked.

“Why don’t women desert men who bully and abuse them?”

“OK. It’s the loyalty thing,” said Gary. “Can I have another few minutes sleep now,” he said. “I love you and your theories, but it’s still the middle of the night.”

“I haven’t finished yet, Gary.”

“OK. I’m listening.”

“Let’s take it a step further,” Cleo continued. “Supposing Grant committed murder together with someone else and Mrs Grant knew who? If she had been allowed to tell on her husband, that accomplice would be on the line.”

“That makes sense,” said Gary, sitting up suddenly. Now he really was attending.

“We need to know who visited Grant in prison, Gary. It’s a long shot, but we aren’t going to find Mrs Grant’s murderer by combing the beach or asking a dog. We need the accomplice, if my theory is sound.”

“OK. We’ve nothing to lose. What do you suggest?”

“For a start, find the motive. There’s no crime without a motive.”

“OK so far, Sherlock,” said Gary, swinging his legs out of bed. “We could ask Dorothy. She’s hot on motives.”

“Or do some reasoning ourselves, Gary. There has to be an urgent motive for Mrs Grant’s death. The dog attack could be an accident, but the stabbing wasn’t, especially if our killer was stalking Mrs Grant and merely ditched his own plan and stepped in to finish the woman off.”

“You are saying that if the killer was forewarned by Grant of his wife imminently caving in, he was desperate to get rid of the woman, assuming she was the only person who could give him away.”

“Exactly. After all, he would not know if Grant would talk in the hope of getting a lighter sentence. Supposing Grant told his accomplice to kill Mrs Grant in return for his silence? A guy like Grant would not go quietly and let his accomplice go free.”

“No, he wouldn’t, but an accomplice might think so. Let’s get moving, Cleo. We have work to do.”

“Now you’re talking,” said Cleo.

Have you organized the girls?”

“If you could get Charlie off to school, please remind her to go to the vicarage after school while I take PeggySue there, that would be great. I’lll phone her first, of course. If for some reason she can’t take the girls after all, I’ll stay here, Gary.“

“OK,” said Gary.  “But I’ll book our hotel room in case, shall I?”

“I think you’ve already done that.”

“I’ll check.”

***

Cleo would drive separeately to Frint-on-Sea if she could get away. Gary would go into Middlethumpton HQ first to clear his desk and give Nigel, who always got to the office early, instructions. Cleo would make sure that PeggySue was safely installed at the vicarage. Edith had a key of Cleo’s cottage, so if the girls needed something, they could go and get it.

Cleo also phoned Dorothy. There was no need to justify to Dorothy that she was going back to North Wales, although she did explain her theory about Mrs Grant’s death briefly and was glad Dorothy did not find any holes to pick.

Dorothy had already realized that the process of solving the Frint-on-Sea murders was a priority. She was also quite glad that Cleo was giving Robert a chance to visit the vicarage again, ostensibly to see his daughter, but mainly because his interest in Edith was growing.

***

But Dorothy was puzzled. She found it hard to understand how Robert could have switched his interest from Cleo to Edith in such a short time. Cleo pointed out that it could have been there beforehand and be the real reason for his moving out of her cottage, rather than any hopes he had been pinning on Rita’s return.

Cleo told Dorothy that Robert had almost insisted on accompanying her to the vicar’s committee meetings in the old days and had been extremely put out that the vicar no longer seemed interested in holding any. That’s why she had said that Robert would be keen on being in the impending Christmas entertainment and even more flattered to be at the centre of it. He would be looking forward to Edith’s ministrations, since she would be at every rehearsal to ply everyone with tea and sympathy.

Cleo’s marriage had been a mess for a long time, Dorothy decided. Was that the real reason for having PeggySue? It wouldn’t be the first time that marriages had been patched up by the arrival of a child. Dorothy had no experience to fall back on, unless you counted her parents, who started disliking one another on the day they got married and kept up the animosity until her father disappeared without trace while on the way to the paper shop. She supposed that she and her sister Vera had been attempts at respectability. Men leaving home wasn’t unusual. She had heard of quite a number of deserted mothers from her school mates. It was also quite usual for uncles to move in. They had had an uncle Uncle Albert had financed their education and slept in their father’s bed.

Cleo broke into Dorothy’s thoughts.

“Are you still there, Dorothy?”

“Of course. Most never do, Cleo.”

“Most what, Dorothy?

“Marriages.”

“What don’t they do?”

“Last a lifetime. Including Edith’s perseverance for the sake of the boys.”

Not knowing Dorothy’s current train of thought, Cleo pressed on with her own.

“I can’t think of a better solution for Robert, now it is clear that Rita wants nothing to do with him and the vicar’s mind is already on a different continent.”

“Or planet, Cleo. Robert seemed quite relieved when Rita said she was leaving this norning. He helped her with her packing and promised to see to the container at customs. The reunion clearly did not come up to scratch.”

“I’m surprised that Rita came back at all, and whether Robert was already thinking in Edith’s direction. But surely she isn’t going back to New Zealand.”

“She seems to want to, Cleo.”

“But Rita came back to be near her daughter,” said Cleo.

“Getting her parents back together is what Julie really wanted, and that did not happen, did it?”

“It would have been the best solution,” said Cleo, “but when I remember the disagreeable youth I called my boyfriend at the age of 16, I can see Rita’s point. And that’s not just because I was a head taller than the guy.”

“Girls grow faster than boys,” said Dorothy. “Vera and I were the tallest in the class until we were about sixteen.”

“I’ll ring off now, “ said Cleo. “Gary’s finished in the shower and I still haven’t had one. I’ll call you when I get back from North Wales.”

“OK. Happy hunting!”

***

Gary told Cleo that O’Reilly had phoned while she was in the shower. The police report on Dr Smith’s activities confirmed what Brass had told Gary, so it was time to delete Smith from the list of suspects of any crime committed while he was (supposedly?) at the North Wales conference. Gary felt uneasy about disqualifying anyone and hoped he was not jumping the guns to please Pat O’Reilly.

***

Breakfast was even more chaotic than usual. PeggySue did not like her baby gruel; Charlie did not want anything at all; Cleo ran back and forth with coffee and alternative food offers, and Gary nibbled at toast and marmite, which was in itself a mystery, since he had a sweet tooth, especially at breakfast. He was still wrapped in his bath towel five minutes before he was due to leave.

“Let’s just keep Dr Smith on the back burner, Gary. We must find out if Jake knew him!” Cleo advised, “ and get dressed, for heaven’s sake.”

“I’d rather go back to bed,” said Gary.

“So would I,” said Cleo, giving Gary one of her meaningful glances.

“Who is Dr Smith, Daddy?” Charlie wanted to know.

“I’ll tell you on the way to school,” Gary called from the bedroom. “Are we collecting the boys?”

“Yes,” said Charlie.

“No details about Dr Smith!” Cleo called back.

“Of course not,“ said Gary, appearing dressed and offering his ladies a big hug. He smelt of the scent that invariably knocked Cleo for six. You shouldn’t wear that perfume if you aren’t staying at home,” she said.

“I have some in my travel bag,” Gary replied, “for later. Charlie and I will collect the boys at the bus stop. The boys will be there by the time we leave here, won’t they, Charlie?”

“I’ll walk PeggySue in the pushchair to the vicarage, make sure she’s happy then come back for the car,” said Cleo.

“Who is Jake?” Charlie wanted to know.

“I’m not sure that you are old enough to hear about him.”

”She isn’t, Gary,” said Cleo.

“All the more reason …” said Charlie.

“That’s Red Riding Hood, isn’t it?” said Gary.

““The wolf ate grandmothers,” said Charlie. “I’m used to horror.”

“Jake is nasty man, Charlie.”

“That’s alI wanted to know.”

***

Having left his corner of HQ organized and geared up for his absence, Gary had plenty to think about during the solo drive to North Wales. He missed Cleo when he was not with her, but he needed to get his head around what he already knew about the North Wales crime cases. Above all, he wanted to chew over Cleo’s theory that Mrs Grant was the victim of a cover-up.

Colin Peck, now an item with Robert’s daughter Julie, had not been at work in the police archives for Gary to talk to him. Colin sometimes started work later to coincide with one of Julie’s assignments as a free-lance photographer. After a tedious A5 and slow-moving traffic everywhere, Gary arrived at Frint-on-Sea police station at about midday. Brass needed advice on the B & B murder on which O’Reilly was making little headway. It seemed as if all the known lover-boys had left the planet.

“Then look for an unknown one,” Gary advised. “There would be very little crime if we knew ahead when one was about to happen and committed by whom.”

***

Angie Ealing’s story and Cleo and Gary’s experience at that hostess agency had confirmed almost by default that Dr Smith was indeed a victim of circumstances.

The two policewomen keeping an eye on Angie Ealing reported that she had been out soliciting at a nearby holiday camp, so her story about not knowing about the agency’s dealings was probably a pack of lies. On the other hand, supposing the young woman really had not known that the meeting with Dr Smith was explicitly designed to supply him with a sex partner? Her appearance as described by Dr Smith and witnesses at the pub had certainly given that impression, so that you could assume that she was dressed for the job. One bar tender even said it was nice to see ‘fresh flesh’ around. Angie was sure to do a roaring trade when she ‘got going’.

After the policewomen patrolling a local caravan park had witnessed her talking to a guy and disappearing with him for a time into one of the caravans on the site, they challenged her. She confirmed their impression. She was actually clutching her ‘fee’ in her hand.

“Are you a prostitute?” said one of the policewomen, handing Angie her ID card for inspection.

“It’s none of your business,” Ange had said. “I’m not committing a crime, am I?”

“You are if you are not a registered prostitute, Miss Ealing,” the policewoman said, and Angie realized that they knew who she was.

“No, but I’m going to apply.”

Angie had presumably made up her mind to enter that trade as a result of just one dealing with a forward client.

“Then do so immediately, for health reasons, if for no other.”

Later, the policewomen said Miss Ealing had been at the ‘experimental stage’. They allowed her to go home. She would have to report to the police within a week, showing her registration. If she didn’t ,she would be arrested and charged.

Gary was able to get a first-hand description of the Angie situation because that same policewoman was assisting Brass at his new job of running the police station.

“That definitely lets Dr Smith off the agency hook,” said Gary. “ Call off the guys who are observing him, Brass, but ask O’Reilly to give you the all clear first. I’m sure you don’t want to install the do-it-yourself rule that Sergeant Llewellyn went by.”

“No, Mr Hurley.”

“It’s Gary, remember?”

“But I’m still here, and we arranged….”

“Never mind that now. All in good time. First names are normal in Middlethumpton and I’d like them here, too . I don’t go in for formality or Llewellyn’s delusions of grandeur. Introduce me to your colleague!”

“I’m Constable Joan Roberts, Sir. I dealt with Angie Ealing.”

Gary had read the memo that lay on Brass’s desk.

“Well, Joan, you and your colleague did a fine job on her.”

“Thank you.”

***

Cleo had a fast run to North Wales and was raring to go when she arrived at Frint-on-Sea police station. Gary went round the station counter to greet her with a kiss on the lips and a hug.

Joan Roberts looked on astonished. The Chief Inspector had come all the way from Middlethumpton to help with investigations and now this coloured woman had come in and enjoyed an passionate reception. OK, she looked quite European, but her skin was quite dark and she was a curvy 40 year old. Before Joan could say anything, Gary explained.

“This is my wife and assistant,” he said, looking sharply at Joan and dispelling any misunderstandings or even designs Joan might have had on him.

“I hurried,” Cleo said to Gary. “Hi, Brass. Introduce me to your colleague!”

“I hope you didn’t get a ticket,” said Gary.

“Not this time!”

Cleo could see from the way Brass introduced her that he was impressed with Joan Roberts. Joan was not wearing any rings. A romantic at heart, she wondered why the ring on Cleo’s left ring finger was set with garnets rather than diamonds. She had reached the age of 30 without finding a partner she could abide for more than a month. The problem with Brass, who might otherwise have been a candidate, was not his age since he was a good fifteen years older, but that he had 3 kids to rear. Would a young woman want that kind of responsibility? Brass was not demonstrative, either. Could Joan ever find a mate who was as blatantly passionate as that dishy chief inspector?

“Now I know that you have acumen and presence of mind, I have a new job for you, Joan,” said Gary.

“Yes, Sir?”

“It’s Gary, Joan. Can you go to Mrs Grant’s neighbours and find out who has a key to the dog compound at the Grants’ house?”

“Now, Gary?”

“Yes, now. We have no time to lose.”

“In uniform?”

“Yes. It will give you authority. Neighbours are not going to tell on themselves, but they might tell on someone else if they think there’s a reward or even just the right amount of appreciation. You are informed about the case, I hope.”

“Yes. Sergeant Brass has been telling me about it.”

“Where were you before you were sent here, Joan?”

“Motorway patrol mostly,” said Joan.

“Goodness,” said Cleo. “Is that your machine outside?”

“Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s my bike, but Headquarters pay for the upkeep.”

“Don’t they provide you with bikes?” Cleo asked.

“Yes. But not Harley-Davidsons.”

“I see.”

“Sergeant Llewellyn, has one,” volunteered Joan. “ But his is not as new as mine, or as fast.  Should I go on my bike, Sir?” she asked.

“Yes, do that. And Joan, do call me Gary. We’re all in this together.”

“OK, Gary. I just thought…”

“He’s just a cop like you, Joan,” said Cleo. “He doesn’t care much for being knighted before his time. Happy hunting!”

“Cleo’s right, Joan. We’re a team and thus equals in crime cracking.”

“Good luck!” Brass shouted and Joan blew a kiss at no one in particular. Both men thought it was for them. Cleo hoped it wasn not for her.

Constable Joan Roberts roared away on her H-D. She was sure to work fast.

“Nice lady,” said Gary quite pointedly to Brass.

“She’s not interested, Gary.”

Brass sounded discouraged.

“The right woman will come one day when you stop looking, Brass,” said Cleo. “I found Mr Right, after all, and I’d been looking the wrong way for years.”

Gary looked at Cleo and mouthed a ‘je t’aime’.

“Moi aussi,” said Cleo, quite forgetting not to mouth the words.

“Wait and see?” said Brass. “I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work.”

Brass was not familiar with French. He probably thought the Chicago twang was coming out in Cleo. Gary suppressed a laugh. He rang O’Reilly and told him where he had sent Roberts.

“I could have done that, Gary.”

“Join her if you have time.”

Coming from a senior officer, that was almost a command. Gary explained what he wanted Joan to do.

“She’s on her bike, Pat. Quite a lady!”

“A tough cookie, the Americans would say,” said O’Reilly. “Do you think someone will say something relevant, Gary?”

“It’s a shot in the dark I should think.”

“Won’t those neighbours smell a rat?”

“If there’s one to smell, they will. That’s a risk we have to take. We aren’t going underground. Joan is in uniform. She might be glad of your support, but phone her first.”

“I’ll do that. I’m glad you’re back, Gary. How long are you staying?”

“Until the job is done.”

“Which job?”

“For a start, we need to know if Mrs Grant went out with the dog after all. That will prepare us for the DNA result, which will tell us if it was the Grant dog that turned on her.”

“Don’t you think the dog was set on her, Gary?”

“It’s certainly possible,” said Gary. “Cleo has arrived. She’s good with awkward customers and can take over some of the questioning. She has some theories about who could have murdered Mrs Grant, and she’s hoping to get information from the girls at the brothel.”

“Your wife might be playing with danger on both counts,” said O’Reilly.

“That’s why it would be a good idea for her to have a colleague with her . Can you organize one?”

“Joan or Sheila? We only have two policewomen.”

“I don’t know Sheila,” said Gary.

“Nice woman and quick on the draw, Gary. I think her father ran the Chinese fish shop here, but she’s more British than the British.”

“Sounds about right. Joan is busy anyway.”

“I’d like to be a fly on the wall,” said O’Reilly. “I’ll send Sheila over right away.”

“Thanks. What’s on your menu today?”

“The lover-boys, mainly. We think we have a lead.”

“I’m also going to delve into Dr Smith’s past, Pat.”

“But he’s been released.”

“He’s probably innocent of any crime connected with Angie Ealing, but that doesn’t mean he has a clean slate.”

“Well, I hope you dig up something. We could do with some concrete results.”

O’Reilly rang off.

***

“I’ll go to that house of disrepute as soon as possible, Gary,” said Cleo. “I can’t wait to see which girls have stuck around.”

“Sheila should be here soon.”

“Sheila was with me when we caught Angie Ealing soliciting,” explained Joan. “She’s not very friendly, but she’s tough.”

“I’ll get Jake here so that he does not know about your visit to the brothel, Cleo.”

“Great and I’m glad about the escort.”

Gary phoned Jake, who was not at all pleased to hear from him.

“ I’d like to talk to you again, Jake.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“Can you think of a reason why I should?”

“No. I’ll be there in half an hour,” said Jake.

“Don’t come to the station. There’s a winkle bar down the road. Do you know it?”

“I think you mean Sam’s.”

“I do. Meet me there in half an hour. We can have a snack together. It’s on the house, Jake.”

“If Jake was uneasy, he did not show it,” Gary remarked as a red-haired little girl entered the police station.

“I’m Sheila,” she said in a spiky, high voice.

“I’m Cleo,” said Cleo, a bit startled at the coloured hair and the diminutive size of the Asian looking girl. She had probably only qualified to be a policewoman by the skin of her teeth.

“Let’s get moving, Sheila. I’ll tell you what we’re going to do on the way.”

The little policewoman drew herself up to her maximum height andaddressed Brass, ignoring Cleo and Gary.

“What’s the mission, Brass?” she asked.

“Talk to Chief Inspector Hurley,” Brass replied, pointing at Gary.

Sheila listened to Gary’s instructions reluctantly and was far from pleased that it was in fact Cleo’s assignment. She did not trust private sleuths, and was ready to take the initiative. Sheila led the way to the station police door.

Cleo held up her mobile in Gary’s direction. He should call her briefly when Jake turned up.

“Are we going on foot?” Sheila wanted to know. She preferred to draw up in an official police vehicle.

“Sure. Past that nice boutique I saw in a side street. I just want to see if they have any blazers in my size.”

“OK,” said the policewoman, wondering what sort of private sleuth Cleo was and what sort of futile mission she had been told to accompany.

“Go with the  flow, Sheila,” said Gary. “l’lI give you the all clear on my mobile that Jake has arrived.  We don’t want him interrupting your assignment, do we? Oh, and Cleo is my wife. She has a PhD in social sciences and is my shrewdest assistant, so please do what she says.”

That was not what Sheila had wanted to hear. Joan and Brass exchanged amused glances. They would be glad to see Sheila cut down to size.

Gary reported that Jake would be kept busy. Cleo and Sheila left for the brothel via the boutique. Sheila had no alternative but to tag along and hope this coloured woman would say what they were supposed to be doing apart from shopping.

At the winkle bar, Gary met up with Jake, phoned the all clear to Cleo and then described the murder on Mrs Grant to Jake. You never knew. The guy had his finger in several pies, why not in that one?

Jake was nervous.

“I hope you don’t suspect, me, Inspector,” he said. “I’ve done a few bad things in my life, but setting dogs on defenceless women is not one of them.”

“Don’t worry, Jake. As long as you only hire registered hookers you’re in the clear.”

“Ivy was very strict about that,” said Jake.

“So you didn’t come across Angie Ealing.”

“Is that the girl in the hostess agency case? If it is, no. I don’t think she’s been around long. The assignment from that agency was to be her debut, I understand.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it, Jake.”

“It’s a weird trade altogether, Mr Hurley. You’d be surprised how many housewives turn up asking for a job.”

“I used to have a partner who’d left the trade and become respectable,” said Gary.

“They never make it,” said Jake.

“Sylvia didn’t, I can confirm that,” said Gary. “She was found murdered in a cleaner’s cupboard at a hotel.”

“Went solo, I suppose,” said Jake.

“I didn’t know about her nightly sorties. I don’t think I was supposed to.”

“The girls have more protection in a brothel,” said Jake.

“But Ivy let them go out with clients, Jake. That doesn’t fit in.”

“There was never a problem…”

“…except with Susie Sweet.”

“Exactly. Who did it, Mr Hurley?”

“I don’t know, Jake. But we do know that the beachhut she used that night was one that Ivy’s clients all knew.”

“Ivy might have told her to go there.”

“So she didn’t tell you everything, Jake, did she?”

“No. I tried to look after her but she was hooked on hooking, if you get my meaning.”

“Anyone who knew about that beachhut could have murdered Miss Sweet.”

“You mean one of Ivy’s private clients was expecting to find Ivy? Was Susie’s death a question of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“We can’t rule that out. Ivy was killed by Grant, one of Ivy’s staunch regulars.”

“So who killed Mrs Grant?”

“You tell me, Jake.”

“I would if I knew. There are some nasty characters around here.”

Gary thought it was the pot calling the kettle black, but Jake was actually quite likeable when you got to know him.

“Just imagine setting a dog on someone and then sneaking up on them and stabbing them for good measure.”

“Who told you the details, Jake?”

“Word gets around, Mr Hurley.”

“OK. I’ve just had an idea,” Said Gary. “My laptop is at the police station. Would you come and look at some mugshots? Maybe you’ll recognize someone, possibly a client of Ivy’s. We’re looking for someone who went around with Grant and possibly had a hand in Mrs Grant’s death.”

“OK. But I’m not promising anything.”

“I’m not asking you to.”