Hours later, after their
tryst and dishes of Romano’s delicious pasta, Gary drove Cleo home.
“Let’s do this again soon,
Cleo.”
“That, too. I need you,
Cleo.”
“I had noticed.”
“Don’t you want to ditch
that butcher guy and do what you really want to do?”
“I can’t, Gary. It’s my
cottage and his old flat is not vacant.”
“I can wait however long it
takes.”
“Maybe you are just infatuated
with me, Gary.”
“Rubbish. Are you with me?”
“No. Je t’aime.”
“That’ll do for a start,”
said Gary. “Phone me if you think of something.”
“I can get tomorrow
lunchtime off.”
“I’ll keep you to that.”
***
Cleo was still deep in
thought hours later when Robert came in. He was anxious about her. Had Laura’s
murder been a mistake? Should Cleo have been knifed in the back instead?
Cleo tried to calm him down,
but she could still feel Gary’s body close to hers and her own longing for him
was intense. How could she sleep in the same bed as Robert when all she wanted
was the passion and intimacy she had shared with Gary? Robert was unaware of
Cleo’s affair, of course. He plodded on with his talk of the morning’s incident
at Cleo’s office.
“I went to your office, but
you had left,” he said.
“I told you I had to
identify Laura at HQ.”
Cleo wondered what Chris
could possibly have said to Robert.
“That’s what the forensic
team said. Then I started thinking. Do you think Jason could have killed his
mother, Cleo?"
"I'd like to think he
didn't."
“Well, keep away from your
office for a bit,” Robert advised. “Just in case someone is out to get you.”
“They’d get me somewhere
else if they wanted to, Robert but I intend to keep away from the office at
least until that carpet is cleaned.”
“I’ll make some coffee,
Robert offered, and Cleo asked herself what she would have done if Robert had
turned up at HQ, or worse still, at Romano’s.
***
The next compelling issue
was how to break the news of Laura’s murder to Dorothy. Dorothy and Laura had
never been close friends, but had known each other for decades. Lately, they
had both been members of Upper Grumpsfield parish council, though Cleo could
not say why Laura Finch was involved since she lived in Lower Grumpsfeild,
unless Dorothy had organized it. Laura had sometimes behaved quite badly at the
meetings, but ingratiated herself with the vicar, Frederick Parsnip, who in
return complimented her by kow-towing. Observing the tension between Dorothy
and Laura, Mr Parsnip had made it a mission in life to patch things up between
the two, though he did not know why they were not getting on like a house on
fire since they shared the same passion for music. He had not been put in the
picture about the true situation in Laura's chorus, though he had been informed
by Dorothy of some rather callous behaviour behind Laura's back, which she had
observed during rehearsals whenever she found herself accompanying one at the
piano.
Things had come to a head
the night of the Finch Nightingales’ debut concert in Upper Grumpsfield, which
was accompanied by the St Peter’s church organist, Mr Morgan. Quite unconnected
with the Chorus’s excruciating singing, part of St Peter's bell tower had come
crashing down during the interval (which proved it could not be singing!) and
the concert had ended prematurely in an outbreak of panic among the audience
and a hasty retreat by the chorus.
The calamity had proved a
bad omen for Laura Finch. She would have been appalled had she known that Mr
Morgan, who had of late been accompanying her chorus rehearsals when he wasn't
flirting with the ladies who were susceptible to his kind of cajoling flattery,
was headhunting the ladies and planning to restart the chorus under his
direction at the earliest opportunity.
Perhaps she had known, Cleo
speculated. That, rather than a row with Jason, might have been the cause of
her heavy drinking.
Dorothy had once hinted that
Laura might have an alcohol problem, but at the time, Cleo had thought it
unlikely. How shrewd Dorothy was. The question now was whether Laura's relapse
into alcohol abuse had ultimately led to her death. Had she discharged herself
from the hospital? Had someone been waiting for her? Was that someone Jason?
Cleo did not want to think
the thoughts that went in the direction of Jason taking revenge for past
humiliations. Her own investigations had up to now been of misdemeanours rather
than crimes, although she had to admit that she had stuck her neck out in the
business with the fraudulent bishop that had nearly cost Upper Grumpsfield its
parish church. The culprits in that incident were either dead or in prison and
the case was closed. A murder case was not what Cleo wanted now or ever.
There was something else
that she would have to consider carefully in the light of what else she knew
about Laura and she would like to talk about it with Dorothy. Could the
mysterious woman that Julie had observed three days previously have something
to do with Laura’s death?
"A penny for your
thoughts, Cleo."
"That woman in
London…."
“What woman?”
“Julie spotted Jason with a
woman who looked quite like him.”
“Do you mean that Julie is
in on this, too?”
“Only marginally. Stop fussing,
Robert.”
“I can’t. Now I have a
daughter, I don’t want to lose her again.”
“I’ll just phone Gary Hurley
and remind him to get moving on that.”
“Do that, Cleo. It’s his
case, not yours.”
“That remains to be seen,”
said Cleo.
The phone call to Gary was in
truth a tactical gesture.
Gary was reassuring having
guessed that it was part of the act Cleo was putting on for Robert’s benefit.
Gary would have preferred to kick him out of the cottage.
"We'll get onto it
right away and I'll let you know what we find out," he said with all the
formality of an officer on duty.
Cleo suspected that Gary had
used exactly those words hundreds of times to strangers and smiled to herself.
"I'll have to tell
Dorothy what has happened, Gary."
"Do that today, Cleo.
The press will not hold the news back…."
"Sure."
"And don't do any
investigating of your own. We're dealing with murder and murderers often have
nothing to lose."
"You're right, Gary.
This is too close for comfort."
“Just a mo....”
Gary had to answer his
office phone, leaving Cleo hanging on to her mobile and Robert, who had been
listening in, telling her Gary was giving her sound advice. "That was pathology," Gary
explained, resuming his phone call with Cleo. "Would you mind officially
identifying the body again? Just for the records. We already know it was her,
of course."
"OK, but. I thought
once was enough.”
“It usually is, but I should
have recorded it and there should have been an independent witness.”
“OK. What time? Do you want
me to bring Dorothy or Robert? He’s listening in. Do you want to talk to him?”
That was definitely a
warning not to say anything amorous!
“No need. Late morning,
please.”
“I’ll be there.”
"Another visit to pathology, Cleo?"
said Robert. "It's getting to be a habit."
"But there's only one
Laura Finch. You heard why I have to identify her again."
Robert seemed satisfied with
that reply. Cleo noted that he was
turning into a control freak.
"Did they ever find out
which of those two Rossi women was which?" said Robert referring to the
case involving Cleo’s mother.
At this point, Gary chipped
in.
“To answer your question:
No! The two women were identical twins, not just cousins. Bad luck for
forensics. And we could not pin their deaths on anyone with any degree of
certainty, either. Jabs with poisoned syringes are the work of syndicates we
can't get at and bombs can be planted by anyone under cover of darkness."
"So the offenders are
running around scot free?"
"We hope not. We got
the most likely suspects on other charges."
"It's just that…."
"If they wanted
revenge, it would be on Cleo’s mother, Robert. She was involved in the case,
not Cleo."
"Are you sure that lets
me out, Gary?" said Cleo.
"Nobody's sure of
anything in this job. All that counts are facts, and they are often hard to
come by."
Robert went into the kitchen
to get the dinner started. He was trying to remember why he had encouraged Cleo
to go ahead with opening an office and sleuthing professionally. He could kick
himself for having done so.
Cleo finished the phone call
with Gary, and phoned Dorothy.
"It's Cleo here. I need
to talk to you."
"I'm glad you caught
me. I was just about to visit Laura. I'm really worried about her."
"Wait for me, Dorothy.
I'll be right over."
"You don't sound good,
Cleo. Is something wrong?"
"Just wait for me. I'll
be with you in a couple of minutes."
“OK. You needn’t shout.”
***
Since the two cottages were
only about 100 yards apart, that was no exaggeration, but neither Cleo nor
Dorothy normally popped in and out of each other's homes.
Dorothy sensed the urgency
in Cleo's voice. Cleo did not normally shout or sound panicky.
Cleo told Robert that she
would have to support Dorothy when she told her about Laura.
Dorothy was standing in her
doorway looking anxious when Cleo arrived.
"There you are. You
look terrible, Cleo."
"Let's go in, shall
we?"
"I've put the
percolator on. You need some strong coffee."
Dorothy led the way into the
kitchen and Cleo squeezed herself behind the little table. She was twice
Dorothy's sinewy size. At 70-something, Dorothy still had the figure of a young
girl. Her wiry grey hair was done up in a sort of bun; her eyes were dark and
alert.
"Go on then, Cleo. Spit
it out!"
Dorothy was an ardent
watcher of late- night gangster movies, especially the black and white variety
populated by gangsters and other shady characters, when liquor had been fought
for and the only women shown were gangsters molls. She had picked up quite a
lot of jargon, which she thought more expressive than middle-class la-di-da.
No point in beating around
the bush with her. Better get straight to the point.
"Laura has been
murdered."
Dorothy, known to nearly
everyone as Miss Price, with the emphasis on the 'Miss', swung round and looked
at Cleo in horror.
"Murdered? When? Why?
How?"
"When I got to my new
office this morning…."
"Oh, I'm so sorry,
Cleo. I haven't asked you how it went."
"It didn't go anywhere,
Dorothy. When I opened up I almost fell over Laura Finch's corpse."
"Are you sure it was
Laura?"
"It was her all right.
She was lying face up on the ground. When the paramedics turned her over, they
saw that she'd been stabbed in the back three times."
Cleo thought Dorothy was
taking it in her stride. She filled the coffee cups and fetched a carton of
fresh cream to top them up. Then she flopped down and propped her elbows up on
the table.
"Poor Laura. I expect
Middlethumpton constabulary was there in a jiffy."
Cleo thought it better not
to say anything about Gary.
"Sure. Forensic experts
rushed from HQ and trampled all over my new velour carpet, dispersing the blood
that had soaked into it under Laura's body."
"How horrible!"
"The office is sealed
off pending further investigation, but it's already clear that she was killed
somewhere else. I identified her on the spot and will confirm that when I go to
HQ tomorrow morning. I don't think you would want to do that so I won’t ask you
to go with me."
"I didn't always get on
with Laura very well, but the last thing I wanted for her was such a brutal end
and I’ll come with you if you want me to."
“Do you want to see Laura in
that state, Dorothy?”
“Not really. It won’t of
much use. I was not very friendly with Laura recently. I wanted to make it up,
but didn’t.,” said Dorothy, sadly. “I’d rather remember her throwing her weight
about.”-
"But the police will
want to question you, Dorothy. Can you think of anything you'd rather I knew
first?"
Dorothy gave it careful thought.
There were so many contradictions in Laura's biography that it was impossible
to judge what was true and what was make-believe.
"When did you last see
her?" Cleo asked.
"She came for a cup of
tea a few days ago. She wasn't quite sober, Cleo. Some silly excuse about
meeting up with old friends. She said she was going home to sleep it off.
That's why I was going there now. I didn't believe the story about the friends
and she'd promised to phone me about helping her get a new choir going, but she
didn't."
“At least you parted on
friendly terms, Dorothy. Did Laura say who the old friends were?”
“That’s the point, Cleo. She
did not have any old friends, or new ones for that matter.”
“But she may have had an
assignation, Dorothy.”
“We can’t rule that out, but
she did not say anything about one.”
"Did you notice
anything different about her?"
"She came here, so I
can't say if the bungalow was in the same chaotic state as last time I went
there. Her clothes were not as clean as they could have been. I was a bit
surprised about that since she always dressed up when she went out. She didn't
say anything that really bothered me, but she seemed nervous and I think she
really wanted to tell me something, but didn't get around to it."
"Do you think she was
frightened of someone, Dorothy?"
"You know, or rather
knew Laura. She was never frightened. Always went on the offensive if anything
was amiss. Remember how she behaved at some of those parish meetings?"
"Only too well. She
could be really rude, couldn't she?"
"But sometimes quite
hilarious," said Dorothy, "especially when she'd had a drink or
two."
"You think Laura drank
habitually, don’t you?"
"Yes, I do. But that's
not a reason for killing someone."
"We'll know more about
her state of inebriation after the autopsy."
"What was she doing in
your office, Cleo?"
"She wasn't doing
anything. She was dead before she was deposited there."
"So it could be a case
of mistaken identity, couldn't it?"
"I don’t think so. I
was in the office earlier in the evening and no one accosted me then. And Laura
could not be mistaken for me!"
"Or was it somebody out
of her past, Cleo? I don't think any of us knew her properly, including me.
That business with Jason, for instance. That was a terrible thing to do."
"You don't
think…."
"I don't know what to
think."
"Do you have a key to
Laura's bungalow, Dorothy?"
"Yes. She had no one
else to leave it with. She was afraid she might lock herself out."
"Do you think we could
take a look inside before the police get there?"
"Wouldn’t that be
illegal now she’s dead?"
"We'd be trespassing, I
suppose."
"Not if I'm watering
the plants at a window and you just happened to be looking at the house from
the outside. You spotted me and came in to tell me what had happened. But we'd
better wear gloves and go there separately."
Cleo couldn't help smiling.
Those late-night movies had had a big influence on Dorothy's attitude to crime.
She was glad they had been working together on the little problem of the
mobbing in Laura's chorus, though they hadn’t managed to get to the bottom of
the intrigue. Dorothy was shrewd, but she had a vivid imagination – sometimes too
vivid. She was, however, was more familiar with the provincial mentality of a
lot of those women than a Chicago-born sociologist could ever be.
Although Cleo had been
accepted as a useful member of the Upper Grumpsfield community, she was still
American at heart. Her dark complexion was clear evidence of her mixed
parentage. Both she and Dorothy had recognized that there were things Dorothy
could do better and Dorothy's pensioner status was an additional bonus. Who
would suspect a retired pianist of gathering evidence? And Dorothy was glad of
the fees Cleo was paying her for assisting in investigations. Dorothy had
already narrowed down the number of suspects in the mobbing case. What a pity
Laura had not lived to see the fruits of her labours.
"I think I should ring
Frederick Parsnip," Dorothy decided, getting up. "He should know.
Laura had started to go to church here, so he'll be in charge of her funeral
service."
"Phone him, Dorothy,
but don't tell him what's happened. Just say you'd like to drop in later. You
know what he's like. He'd spill the beans immediately."
"Oh yes. Frederick
can't keep a secret to save his life."
"We'll go to Laura's
place quite casually, as if we did not know about her fate. Someone might be
peering through their net drapes. We don't want to arouse any suspicion,"
said Cleo.
"You think of
everything. I think I'm a little out of my depth."
"No you're not,
Dorothy. I'm amazed how composed you are."
"Not on the inside,
Cleo. I'm in pieces on the inside."
Cleo hugged Dorothy. It had
been more of a shock to her than it at first appeared.
"I'll go home quickly
and get my camera and some gloves. Let's meet in 20 minutes at the house."
Apart from wanting to be
properly equipped for their investigation, Cleo wanted to leave Dorothy alone
to dry the tears that were welling up as the true awfulness of the situation
sank in.
"Just keep calm on the
phone, Dorothy, or we'll have Mr Parsnip coming here to see what's wrong."
"You're right. I'll
make something up about the Christmas show. On the other hand, he can never
smell a rat, even if it's on a plate in front of him."
Pondering on that extraordinary
statement, Cleo rushed home. It was nearly supper time.
“It’ll have to wait,
Robert,” she explained.
“Where are you going?”
“To water Laura’s plants
with Dorothy.”
“Do you want me to tell that
cop if he rings?”
“Heavens no! Tell him I’m in the tub. I can phone him back
later.”
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