Episode 6 - Shirley

D.I. Hurley moved fast. A young policewoman with the unlikely name of Shirley Temple was chosen to look after Miss Price. Hurley thought that was a rather good idea. Shirley wasn't so sure.

"I hope she won't be expecting a reincarnation," she commented.

"She won’t. Dorothy Price is not a decrepit old lady. She's fiercely independent and likely to protest at your being there.”

“At least she isn’t boring,” said Shirley.

“We need someone who can get her to talk more about the dead woman and keep an eye open in case anything threatens her safety. A bit mundane, but Dorothy Price was almost the only close contact Laura Finch seems to have had in the village, so we can't risk leaving her to her own devices."

Shirley hoped this assignment would be finished fast. She had better things to do than play nursemaid to an old woman.

***

Dorothy and Edith were still rooted to the spot when Gary Hurley pulled up at the kerbside opposite the cottage.

"What a relief," they both said at once.

"This is my assistant, Shirley Temple, Miss Price."

"I've always wanted to meet her," retorted Dorothy, remembering the excruciating dance routines and the child star in old American movies, "but you'll do."

Shirley swallowed twice. No trace of a sweet old lady in her.

"I'll do my best despite my name. My parents didn't ask me about the name first."

***

Gary Hurley had good reasons for choosing Shirley. He admired her, in fact he was attracted to her despite his intense love for Cleo. Shirley Temple was ambitious and well on the way to achieving detective status. She would pass as a niece if questioned and she knew how to handle older people. She had a diploma in social work and had spent a few years working with jobless and sometimes homeless people who often did not realize that they could be helped if only they told someone about their plight. Of course, Dorothy was neither frail nor helpless, and certainly not senile or homeless, but Shirley was tough enough and kind enough to deal with her funny ways, too, without being patronising.

"Well, Miss Temple, I hope this is a false alarm."

Dorothy's voice was sharp and disapproving. The idea of having a guardian was one she had not had to contemplate before. Gary intervened complaining that they were standing around indulging in small talk when there was urgent business to see to.

“So do I, Miss Price.”

"I'll go in with Miss Temple now and check before you go in, Ladies."

Edith said she had to go home to make lunch. Dorothy was quite glad to see her go. After her first hysterical outburst of fear, Edith was curiously indifferent to what had actually happened despite having worked herself into a state. She was no good in an emergency. Dorothy got on with the Edith only in a superficial sort of way and she knew that Edith was resentful that Frederick valued her advice more than his wife’s. In fact, Edith often had to eavesdrop to find out anything at all.

"I'll phone you later," Edith said. "I hope you won’t have bad news." Then she ran all the way home. The vicarage wasn't heaven, but it was a safer refuge for Edith's tormented soul.

***

Shirley and Gary went into the house the way they had been trained. Covering one another, they went through the rooms one by one. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed and they were on the point of deciding it had been a false alarm when writing in toothpaste on the bathroom mirror made them realize that this was more than a case of an old lady forgetting to close her door. Written, or rather, squeezed out on the mirror in toothpaste was the message WE’LL GET YOU TOO.

They returned to where Dorothy was standing.

"It's a good thing you didn't sleep here last night, Miss Price, and you won't be able to stay here tonight, either," said Shirley.

"Why ever not?"

"We'll show you," said Gary.

He led the way into the bathroom and showed Miss Price the threat on the mirror.

"But why me?"

"Possibly because you were friendly with Laura Finch, unless you have enemies of your own.”

“I can’t think of any!”

“It could have been a schoolboy prank," Shirley conjectured.

"I wasn't very friendly with Laura Finch and I don't know who she consorted with apart from her dreadful ladies' chorus. I can’t imagine why one of my piano pupils would do such a naughty thing."

“You’d be surprised at the pranks kids get up to, Miss Price,” said Shirley.

"That kind of threat is often written in blood…" Gary said.

"…or lipstick if blood isn’t available," Shirley added.

"But I don't wear lipstick," Miss Price said.

"Whatever it's written in, we have to take it seriously."

“If I’d been here it would not have happened,” said Dorothy.

“If whoever it was had been looking for you and written this threat when they didn’t find you, you may have had a lucky escape,” said Gary.

"Well, if you ask me, it was that funny guy, Betjeman, from Lavender Drive. He is capable of playing that sort of joke. You should ask him. He's as nutty as one of my fruit cakes and I told him off the other day for leaning his bicycle against my garden gate. He pulled his tongue out at me and that’s hardly appropriate in a man who’s touching 40."

Gary and Shirley looked at Dorothy Price in astonishment.

“The only problem is that he cannot write. I believe he’s more or less illiterate.”

“Who else have you told off recently, Miss Price?” said Shirley, thinking Dorothy might have some enemies after all.

“A few days ago I told Mr Bontemps to stop slicing the cheese beforehand. His counter display was full of cheeses with the edges curled up.  And he is not illiterate.”

Who is Mr Bontemps, Miss Price?”

“That’s the assistant at our supermarket. A nasty little man. He always sold freshly cut cheese to Laura Finch.”

“That must be an exaggeration, “said Gary, amused.

“Well, he did once,” conceded Dorothy.

Shirley also thought that was quite funny.

"Whoever smeared this mirror, the matter is serious,” said Gary, giving Shirley a disapproving look. “Breaking and entering is a crime, so you’d better leave it to the police to find out who made the mess on your mirror."

Gary phoned HQ and again ordered the forensic team.

“We’re still at Finch’s bungalow,” said Chris.

“There’s been a break-in at 44 Monkton Way, Chris.”

“OK. We’ve nearly finished her.”

***

“Do you leave a spare door-key anywhere, Miss Price?” Shirley wanted to know.

“Sometimes I do if I’m going to be out and the milkman is bringing me some cream, Miss Temple. Then he can go in and put it in my fridge.”

“That’s very trusting,” said Shirley.

“Now I think about it, I suppose it is a bit silly. But the milkman often does two rounds and I can’t always be here.”

“It’s reckless to leave a key anywhere. Anyone could have made copies of it,” said Gary.

“I’ve nothing much to steal,” said Dorothy.

Where do you put the key, Miss Price?” Shirley asked.

Dorothy pointed at the little milk crate on her doorstep.

Shirley went to take a look at it. The house-key was on a cord wrapped round it and lay underneath. If you knew it was there, you could help yourself.

“Do you leave it there all the time?” Shirley asked.

“Well yes,” said Dorothy. “It saves looking for it each time, you see.”

“Strangers should not be prowling round your cottage. But if they do, they should at least be barred from getting in. I want you to go back to the vicarage until further notice," said Gary.

“Must I?”

"On second thoughts, I'll take you there. Then I can explain why."

"I can do that myself," said Dorothy, indignant that Hurley thought she wasn't capable of speaking for herself.

Gary sighed.

"It's about your safety, Miss Price. I don't want them to think it's just a whim."

"A whim? The vicar is my closest friend and his wife is kindness itself. They also know I don't make things up. It was Laura Finch who over-dramatized and look where that got her."

***

Shirley made a quick round of the cottage. It was rather cosy. If nothing untoward happened she would try the piano for a bit then watch TV. This kind of mission had its good points.

"Miss Price, could you do something for me before you go?"

"I can't think what I can do for you," retorted Dorothy. "You are doing something for me!"

It hadn't taken long for Shirley to get used to Dorothy Price's brusqueness. It was a strange situation. Dorothy was having to cope with the death of a friend and an anonymous threat. Although she did not think anyone had it in for her, Dorothy couldn't help thinking that whatever Laura Finch had done to deserve her fate could involve her in some way.

Dorothy also wondered if she should have told Mr Hurley more forcibly that Betjeman had often stalked Laura. People said he was harmless. Laura had only laughed and shocked Dorothy by telling her that he wanted to jump into bed with her. Dorothy remembered Laura being flattered rather than alarmed by Betjeman’s badgering, and had advised her not to encourage him. Laura had laughed at that idea.

***

Shirley Temple broke into her thoughts.

"Can you sort out something of yours that I could wear? Whoever wrote that message may come back again if he or she sees a light in the cottage."

"Assuming it was that funny fellow, Betjeman from next door, I don't think you'd want him in here, Miss Temple."

"I can handle him, Miss Price. I'll be armed."

Shirley Temple thought Dorothy Price was rather sweet, fussing like that. Dorothy was nervous despite herself. It was a good job that t police were taking the threat seriously.

"I've got a long floral dressing gown I often wear in the evenings," she offered. "I've been out in the garden and opened the door in it. You could put it on over your underwear. That would probably be more convenient. I'll just get it."

Dorothy returned bearing the dressing gown. It was padded and had a floral pattern. Shirley tried it on. It was awful, but it fitted Shirley perfectly.

"Very comfy," she said, "and it has a pocket for my revolver, too."

“That’s where I put mine, too,” said Dorothy.

Miss Temple took her pistol out of its holster and tried the pocket for size.

"Perfect."

Dorothy reached for her handbag and showed off her father’s old army pistol.

“It would be,” said Dorothy. “I’ve had my pistol in that pocket many a time.”

Gary and Shirley exchanged glances

“It’s licenced, of course,” said Dorothy.

“Of course,” said Gary.

"Do you really think you'll need a gun, Miss Temple?" said Dorothy.

"I hope not, but  better safe than sorry. We have to sign for them, you know, Miss Price. We don’t normally shoot, but a weapon scares people with evil intentions."

“If they aren’t into knives,” said Dorothy.

Gary and Shirley exchanged glances again, but they were more personal this time.

“I signed for mine, you know,” said Dorothy. “In London. My father’s old weapon. I felt safer with it loaded in Camden Town.”

“So where is your pistol normally, Miss Price,” said Shirley.

“I keep it in my handbag, Miss Temple,” said Dorothy, patting the bag. “It always lives here.”

Gary checked the back garden.

“I like the outfit,” he said to Shirley and some sort of agreement seemed to have been reached between them. Dorothy saw it and wondered.

“I’d better remove the key and leave a note for the milkman. He’ll send for the police if I don’t,” said Dorothy. “That’s one of our customs here. Since there’s no police presence in Upper Grumpsfield, the milkman and the postman keep an eye on us oldies. I'll just pack a few things to take to the vicarage. I won't be long."

"She's quite a character, isn't she?" remarked Shirley when Dorothy was out of earshot. "This dressing gown is a bit too much of a good thing, though."

"You look rather quaint, Shirley. Put your hair up and you'll pass for her if the light is poor."

"Thanks a lot!" Shirley said.

"I mean, you are both slender and quite tall."

"I'd better not go out of the house again. Someone may be watching."

"I'll take Miss Price to the vicarage now.”

“She’ll look after you. She has a loaded pistol in her handbag. Licenced.”

“The forensic team should be here any minute. You can deal with them, can't you?"

"No problem," said Shirley, “but I won’t let them see me in this bath robe.”

"Of course not. Even if someone is observing what's going on here, it's going to be hours before you get anything to do, so you can take it off, if you have something on underneath, that is."

“Would you like to see?” said Shirley.

“Later, Miss Temple.”

"I hope nothing happens,” said Shirley. “Though I almost wish it would, if only to prove that Miss Price would have been in danger and my mission had not been a wild goose chase."

***

Dorothy came back with her overnight bag.

"Just one more thing," she said, took Volume 1 of her Beethoven sonatas off the piano stand and added it to her luggage.

Shirley and Gary exchanged amused glances. No doubt about it. Miss Price was over her shock and thinking ahead.

"I like to start the day with a sonata," she explained, “But there’s plenty of music in that bookcase over there,” she added, pointing.

***

By the time Dorothy arrived at the vicarage with her police escort, Edith had recovered her composure.

"I would not have got a minute's sleep if you had stayed in your cottage," she said.

"Neither would I under the circumstances," said Dorothy. "I'll be fine here, Inspector. Get on with your job now. Looking after mature ladies is not a good way to spend your time when there are nice ones waiting alone in cottages."

“If you mean Shirley Temple, no go, Miss Price,” said Gary. “I can only deal with one woman at a time and I already have one.”

“Of course. You are married, aren’t you, Mr Hurley.”

Gary wondered if Dorothy was sending him a subversive warning to stay away from Cleo. Dorothy had a hunch that Hurley had an interest in Shirley Temple. That might solve the problem of him and Cleo.

"I am, Miss Price, but separated," he said solemnly. "You're not exactly in hiding here, but it would be better if your presence went unnoticed."

"How long will it all go on?" Edith wanted to know.

"I can't say, Mrs Parsnip. The forensic team might come up with something. On the other hand, they might not. Whatever happens, we'll have to establish if there's any connection between what was on Miss Price’s mirror and what happened to Laura Finch, and go on from there."

“What was on the mirror, Mr Hurley,” asked Edith.

“We’ll get you too!”

“Why, that’s terrible,” gasped Edith.

"I don't think your forensic team will find anything, Mr Hurley,” said Dorothy. “I’m sure it was that Betjeman person. I told him to clear off last time he hovered round my cottage. I expect he wanted to pay me back. He always wore leather gloves, though he was only allowed to ride a bicycle, so he would not have left any prints."

“Really? That’s an interesting observation.”

“I think he strangled the hens wearing them. In fact, he reminds me of the Boston strangler, but that person specialized in young women. I don’t think Betjeman would try to get off with Laura Finch… or me, for that matter.”

Despite himself, Gary Hurley shuddered. This case was no longer just a diversion. He would question this grotesque character. Maybe there was something in Miss Price’s theory.

***

Dorothy was quite glad she had at last talked about the awful Betjeman Crighton. Would it have been hiding evidence if she hadn't? She really should have told Cleo first. On the other hand, private investigators had to protect their own interests, and one of them was certainly their contribution to solving crimes and getting the credit for doing so. Dorothy hoped that her hunch about Betjeman would get the police to look closer at him. Why was it that imbeciles were usually thought to be harmless?