Episode 7 - Silvie's Dilemma

Thursday cont.

Before Cleo and Gary could reach the wrought iron gate, a voice stage whispered a “Pssst” from behind one of the pillars holding up the bel étage.

 “Miss Hartley!”

“I’ll go on ahead,” said Gary.

“I’ll see what she wants. It sounds urgent.”

The woman looked agitated. Her eyes were darting about as if she afraid of something.

“Why, it’s Mrs Clark, isn’t it?” Cleo said, responding to a hand sign beckoning her to come into the shadows. “What can I do for you?”

“It wasn’t me,” said the woman.

“What wasn’t you, Silvie – it is Silvie, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I didn’t push Mr Barclay into the wine.”

"Who told you and Mr Barclay and the wine, Silvie?"

"Walls have ears, Miss Hartley."

“Or did you talk to the firemen?”

“Well…”

“Never mind how you found out,” said Cleo. “Do you know who could do such a terrible thing, Silvie?”

“I think it was Mr Formby and I didn’t kill him either,” said Silvie.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” said Cleo.

“I didn’t put anything into his glass, Miss Hartley.”

"Was there something in his glass?" Cleo asked as naively as possible.

“Yes,” said Silvie. "But it wasn't me."

“I didn’t say it was. But what are you talking about? Why don’t you tell me all about it?” said Cleo." You'll feel better then."

“Not here. Walls have ears here, Miss Hartley.”

“I expect they do," said Cleo. "Suggest somewhere else then.”

“We could meet at Crumb’s,” said Silvie

Cleo looked at the washed-out garments that had once been very elegant and ended up in a local charity shop, and wondered at the posh high heeled shoes that must cripple anyone brave enough to wear them. Cleo decided that Silvie must be desperate. Crumb’s charged the earth for their afternoon teas.

“I’ll tell everyone that I’m going to post a letter,” said Silvie, and Cleo thought everyone must know that Silvie had no one to write letters to.

“I’ll pay,” said Cleo. “We’ll put it on my agency expenses bill.”

Silvie looked relieved.

“Four o’clock this afternoon?” Cleo proposed thinking that there was no time to waste even if the woman talked nonsense. “And stop worrying, Silvie. If there’s a problem, we’ll sort it out.”

***

Gary was sitting on the wall in front of Delilah’s Bistro, which was diagonally across the road to the home and separated only by a monstrous roundabout that was modelled on Piccadilly Circus, the locals scoffed.

Mitch had spotted him and came out with a bottle of ale each. He was disappointed that there was as yet no further news about the damage to the kitchen, but the mobile kitchen would arrive the following day and he was over the moon about that. The wonderful Polish team were going to redo the kitchen as soon as the insurance coughed up. Gary would tell them to move their arse, he promised.

When Mitch asked why Gary was sitting on the wall, he explained explained that they were  investigating at the OAP home and had found the manager’s corpse in the white wine tank.

"That'll get around fast," said Mitch. "He's a real Dorothy. Made a pass at me once and avoided Mrs Peel's attentions like the plague."

Gary told Mitch that there was no point in trying to keep the incident a secret then. He would phone Bertie Browne at the Gazette. That would take care of the blabbermouths in Upper Grumpsfield.

***

“Talking of innocuous,” Cleo began as she approached Gary and Mitch enjoying their beer in the bitter cold sunshine. “It is December, you guys. You’ll catch your death!”

“The beer’s warming us up, Cleo,” said Mitch. “What’s innocuous?”

“Interviewing Mrs Peel and asking her about her bedfellows!”

Gary wondered how far Cleo was going down that lane. Her directness was sometimes a bit of a pain.

A window flew open and Delilah called “Come in, for heaven’s sake, or do I have to come out and get you kids? Coffee, Cleo?”

***

Over coffee and beer Cleo related the dialogue with Silvie Clark.”

“Mitch told me a bit about Mr Barclay, but less about Mrs Peel,” said Gary.

“Miss Peel,” said Mitch. “Anything to eat, Del?”

“Not much,” said Delilah.

“We have to get home anyway,” said Cleo. “We have babies waiting!”

“I can’t wait till I can say that,” said Delilah.

“I agree. Hatching them out seems to be taking a lifetime,” said Mitch.

“You’ll survive,” said Gary. “I did.”

“Just about,” said Cleo. “He still goes to count them before we go to bed and when we get up. The he asks me if they are ALL his and I tell him he did not give me enough time go elsewhere.

***

“Did you want to go elsewhere, Cleo?” Gary was bound to ask as they were walking home.

“Only with you, Sweetheart.”

“That’s a relief,” said Gary. “What’s Mrs Clark going to tell you, Cleo?”

“As far as I can judge, someone really did put something in Mr Formby’s glass, and Silvie says it wasn’t her, so I need to ask her who she suspects.”

“What about our Polish decorators?”

“Not them,” said Cleo.

“I mean, when?”

“Joke. I’ll meet you at the villa sometime after five. I’m not planning to hang around Crumb’s cake shop. I’ll get Silvie talking right away, pay for her cakes and make sure I can leave by five.”

“I’ll pack the van and get to the villa then, but not till after my siesta.”

“Our siesta, Gary. Ours!”

“Not yours, Cleo. You are going to do cakes and confessions with Silvie, remember?

“But not till four.”

“And you have a houseful of kids to keep at bay while I get forty winks.”

“We’ll all have acsiesta,” said Gary, and they did. Gary counted 5 little ones on the king-size bed.

***

Gary had worked all day every day before his siesta era broke in. Now he could not imagine life without it. At the office, if attendance was unavoidable, he closed his eyes, rested his head in his hands and dozed for a while. Nigel was encouraged to take a decent break at lunchtime. In Japan, taking time to close one’s eyes and relax is normal. Workplaces should all be organized so that it is possible. Gary was going to do just that when he was in charge, one day.

For Cleo and Gary it was a time of renewal. They felt better for it, Cleo because she had never before known the kind of love Gary had brought into her life and Gary because he felt he had finally come home. On that particular afternoon, they had all come to roost in the big bed, with the exception of Charlie, of course. Charlie was still at school all afternoon.

The only hazard  about siestas was getting the day going afterwards. Gary was now certain that the world would be a better place and there would be less unemployment if everyone just worked for six hours a day, with staggered working hours, of course. He thought the problem was that people did not know what to do with their free time and he would have preferred it if some individuals did not fill it with criminal activities.

Cleo commented that his job depended on the criminals just like a school depended on children. She argued that there were two kinds of criminals: those who were below the breadline and those above it. So anyone could be a criminal, though fortunately the average person did not resort to crime.

Gary begged to differ.

"What about all those housewives who turn to prostitution?"

"They are basically unhappy; starved of affection and respect."

"I don't think it works like that," Gary had said. "Maybe they are kept short."

"For some reason we have to thank male domination for women staying with men even if they are beaten, insulted and abused. Nothing will change until women break with that tradition."

"I'm getting scared!" said Gary. "Are you an Amazon in disguise? They inspired their menfolk to fight."

"They went to fight and left their husbands to keep the home-fires burning," said Cleo. “Those women were the first true feminists.”

"I hope you aren’t one," said Gary.

“Sometimes I think I could become one.”

“Let me know beforehand so that I can order a replacement.”

The smalltalk was ongoing...

***

By three forty-five, Cleo had left the cottage and driven to Crumb’s bakery and cake-shop cum café in the little red cabriole she would like to call her own except that Gary had not really parted with it after giving it to her.

At home, Gary was in charge of logistics. Toni volunteered to look after all the twins after having told Charlie the previous day that she would like a blue room or wallpaper with blue on it. Grit would go along to the villa and keep an eye on PeggySue who would be part of what Gary termed “the wallpaper girls” since Charlie, who had made a list of colours and requests, and Lottie who carried a chart of colours that could be moced in a cirle to tell you which ones matched, were influencial decision-makers. Barbara and Joe, Lottie’s own real family now that Barbara was going to marry Joe and have his baby, were still at work. Gary thought of Lottie as one of his own. One more or less is only mathematical, he had said. Out of a stern, sarcastic cop a kind, whimsical guy had emerged, and that, everyone said, was thanks to his new family situation.

***

As Cleo surmised, Silvie Clark was already at Crumb’s and relieved when Cleo turned up and sat down at her table in the café. They ordered what Silvie wanted, which was sinfully creamy cakes. “Just one” Silvie had said, but Cleo ordered two for each of them and a pot of tea for two, which represented a sacrifice for Cleo, who did not like tea.

Having devoured all the first cream cake greedily and made inroads ino the second, Silvie started talking without having to be asked a question.

“We had a pact, you see,” she said.

“A pact?”

“Suzy gave us all some pills she said they were afro….afro….”

“Aphrodisiacs?” Cleo finished and Silvie nodded.

“We three Esses drew lots and the one who drew the one with “your turn” on it was to put the ‘afro-distic’ in Mr Formby’s glass. Suzy said that would make him more romantic and want to be with the person who had given him a pill.”

“So the other two of you three Esses drew blanks, did you?

“Yes, and I drew a blank,” Silvie insisted.

“Do you know who drew the ‘your turn’ lot, Silvie?”

Silvie shook her head.

“Who do you think it was?”

“I think it was Sandy. She was a bit negative about the whole idea, so it served her right if she had the first go, didn’t it?”

“But as far as I can make out, it was Suzy’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember,” Silvie fabricated.

“Did you know what might happen if you all put a pill in his glass, Silvie?”

“No,” said Silvie, looking perturbed.

“You are telling me the truth, aren’t you?” said Cleo.

“Yes,” said Silvie quickly, and Cleo did not believe her.

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” she said, thinking that Chris would find out just how much aphrodisiac was in Formby’s blood.

“No, I haven’t,” said Silvie.

“Did you bring me a pill to take with me, Silvie?”

“I have them with me all the time,” said Silvie. “I don’t want Mrs Peel to find them.”

“Does she search through your things?”

“I think so.”

“That’s not only naughty. It’s illegal. Do you want me to tell the Inspector about that?

“Better not, Miss Hartley. I don’t want any trouble and I’ve nowhere to go if I’m thrown out.”

“Who pays for your room, Silvie?”

“My nephew. He’s my only relative and he has my house in exchange for the room.”

Cleo thought that was a real con. She would get Gary to look into it, but did not tell Silvie that.

“What’s your nephew’s name, Silvie?”

“Clark, like mine. He’s my brother’s son. Cain Clark. He had another brother, Abel, but he died.”

Cleo felt the need to change the subject from the biblical to the practical, but had to ask one more burning question about names.

“Was your husband’s name also Clark, Silvie?”

“It’s my maiden name, Miss Hartley.”

“So you were not actually married, were you?”

“Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Silvie,” said Cleo.

***

Silvie cleared her plate of cake down to the last crumb while Cleo wondered about the Old Testament figures of Cain and Abel. Cain had been jealous of Abel and now Abel was dead. What would Dorothy say about that? What did that say about Cain Clark?

***

“I suppose you realize that no aphrodisiac would work on Mr Formby, didn’t you?”

“Suzy said it always worked for her friends.”

“But Mr Formby was not interested in women,” said Cleo.

“Yes he was. He always played cards with us.”

“That doesn’t mean he was romantically interested.”

“It had got to the point where we wanted to know which one of us he liked best, Miss Hartley.”

“So you had discussed it, had you?”

“Sort of. Sandy wasn’t so keen with her bunions, and I haven’t got any money to support such a smart man as Mr Formby, but I didn’t want Suzy to get in first.”

Cleo wondered at the women’s desperation – or was it just blind optimism - and admired Dorothy even more fornot indulging in over the illusion of older women who want a man at any price.

“You won’t tell anyone our secret, will you, Miss Hartley?” said Silvie, looking longingly at her empty plate.

That regretful look did not escape Cleo.

“Can you eat another?” she asked. She was herself stuffed, as she would say.

“Well….”

“Chocolate or nuts?”

“Chocolate, please,” said Silvie.

“Or both?”

“Yes please.”

Shortly before five, with Silvie replete from four cream cakes and Cleo wondering where the emaciated and probably undernourished woman had put them, they rose and Cleo paid for the cakes and teas and for a bagful of donuts that had been looking it her kindly. She had two put in a separate bag and presented them to Silvie as they parted at the bakery door.

“We’ll do this again,” said Cleo.

“Thank you,” said Silvie, and wobbled off on her high pins.

***

Cleo sighed as she got into the car to drive to the villa. She was now sure that each of the three Esses had simultaneouls sought to attract Mr Formby’s romantic attention. Chris’s blood test would confirm that, and a double check with the pill Silvie had entrusted to her would also help to assess the quantity the poor guy had swallowed. But what do you do with three old women who want a man and chose one who was unlikely to give them any special attention, however many pills they put in his drink?

***

“Are you OK, Cleo? Gary asked when Cleo finally appeared at the villa. “You’ve been crying, my love.”

“One tear maybe,” said Cleo. “Shed for a poor soul.”

“It’s time you concentrated on your new babies,” said Gary. “Sentimentality will get us nowhere. Did the woman say something to upset you? I thought you separated the sleuthing from real life happiness.”

“I do, but I’m faced with a dilemma.”

Cleo told Gary what Silvie had told her.

“It sounds more like Mrs Clark’s dilemma, especially if she’s been telling you fairy tales. A confessional is useless if it’s packed with lies.”

“I know, and I’m already feeling guilty because she made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“That, my love, is part of the job. People like to have secrets, but they also like to share them. Investigators can only afford secrets as long as they are useful.”

“Part of my dilemma is that I don’t know if Silvie was telling me the whole truth.”

“I don’t suppose she was. You think she herself also split a pill and poured the contents into his vodka, do you?”

“She need not have told me anything, Gary. She wanted to ease her conscience and lost her spunk at the last minute so she didn’t own up, but put the blame on the other two.”

“Did you give any indication of your disbelief?”

“No. I took care not to. I’m meeting her again. I’ll make it soon. The woman is half starved. She ate four cream cakes!”

“I never get that many,” said Gary.

“You don’t need that many, Sweetheart.”

“I’m not getting fat, am I?”

“I don’t want you to get as round as a barrel, but it would not stop me loving you,” said Cleo.

“That’s not an answer,” said Gary.

“You are over forty, Gary.”

“That’s not a comfort, either. It might be if I didn’t think that you think I might get rounder.”

“Gloria would have said: if the cap fits, wear it.”

“Your mother’s hardly sylph-like, Cleo.”

“To show you how indifferent I am to weight problems, except maybe my own, I’ve brought all the donuts they had a Crumb’s. Would you like one now?”

“Soul food. No calories in the holes. Yes please.”

“Sugar or icing?”

“Both.”

“You can’t have both at once.”

“One of each than.”

Sixth sense brought Charlie and Lottie rushing down the stairs.

“They can smell a donut at a hundred meters,” said Gary.

“Icing please, Mummy. I like licking it off!”

“Me too,” said Lottie.

“And don’t cry, Mummy,” said Charlie. “You’ve got us if things go wrong.”

“You heard, my love,” said Gary. “We need a hug!”

***

Pawel, the chief action-man of the Polish family decorating team, was getting used to the new Gary. He could remember a bad-tempered cop getting his wife’s house made over in Middlethumpton. In those days, Pawel’s English had been very basic, but he had been susceptible to atmosphere, and found the first Mrs Hurley obnoxious. She had treated them all with distain and been reluctant to pay them for their work. Polish workmen were supposed to be cheap, she had said, but Pawel was experienced and good at his job and expected her to keep to their deal. He had been an architect in Poland, but had no chance of working in that profession as long as his English was so bad. In the meanwhile he was not only reconciled to the work for which he was over-qualified; he preferred it.

Pawel found the sight of Gary, Cleo and the girls in a clinch on the stairs touching, but he had to get past them, and couldn’t.

Sensing Pawel’s presence, the participants broke up the hug.

“Pavel’s going to paint my ceiling pink, Mummy.”

“Wow.”

“And my wallpaper has Barbies on it.”

“My daughter has it too, Mrs Hurley. The girls all love it.”

“As long as you d+on’t put it in our room, Pawel. And I’m Cleo, remember?”

“Charlie showed me her list of instructions and I will follow them slavishly,” said Pawel.

“Great! How did you get such good English?”

“Mainly teach tapes. I’m hoping to find somewhere to start a business, Cleo. I’m British now!”

“Congratulations. I have an idea!”

“You do?” said Gary.

“Spontaneous,” said Cleo. “If I’m going to have my office here, the office I have now will be vacant. Maybe you’d like to look at it, Pawel. It’s in a good position for a business.”

“Are you serious, Cleo?” said Pawel.

“Sure!”

“That’s awesome, Mummy,” said Charlie.

“Yes, awesome,” Gary echoed. Up to now Cleo had not actually said that she would like the office to be at home.

“Are you planning to live in Upper Grumpsfield, Pawel?”

“Teresa’s in my class, Daddy. If she lives here we can do things together.

 “I’m not sure, yet I’ll have to ask my wife and Teresa if they want to move.”

“That’s a good idea, Pawel. I always ask Cleo and Charlie about everything.”

***

The chat continued throughout the tour of the villa. Colours were settled and some of the wallpapers chosen. The Hurleys would take the books home to choose the rest and Pawel would come to Cleo’s office next morning, decide if it was right for what he had in mind, and take the books with him. He could then order the materials on-line for fast delivery and start work the following week by painting all the ceilings. The work would be finished by the 18^th, he promised.

***

Evenings at the cottage were as hectic as mornings, but eventually all the little ones were in bed asleep and Charlie had gone with Lottie to have supper and sleep at Joe’s, next door.

Grit left when Roger phoned to say he was home and about to take a shower. They usually spent the evenings either together at home or going to one of the jazz-clubs they frequented. They were both night birds.  Toni was usually out somewhere with a boyfriend if she did not have to baby-sit.

Gary threw a log onto the open fire and watched it starting to glow. Cleo took a quick shower and slipped into something comfortable, by which she meant nothing at all except for her beloved genuine Japanese kimono.

“I feel overdressed,” said Gary.

“Strip off then, Sweetheart. I don’t mind.”

“I could take a one minute shower and reappear in my bath towel,” he said.

“Do that. I’ll make the coffee and time you,” said Cleo. “Don’t sing!”

“Not even Walter?”

“Definitely not Walter.”

***

Five minutes later saw the “old married couple” as Gary liked to call them, watching an old Agatha Christie movie on the TV. They had the plaid over their knees to keep them from scorching.

“British heating,” said Gary. “Hot at the front and cold at the back.”

“Not these days, surely.”

“We are not the only ones living in a house without proper central heating, Cleo.”

“The villa is centrally heated, I hope.”

“I checked … Dorothy would be ideal for the part of Miss Marple,” said Gary. “I wonder why they usually cast her as squat and fat?”

“Cliché,” said Cleo. “But not always. Agatha Christie didn’t like the arguably most famous bit of casting in British movie history. Did you know that?”

“It’s a bit like James Bond. Everyone knows what he looked like and he’s pure fiction. And Sherlock Holmes is also stereotyped.”

“I think the Bonds have all been rather gorgeous,” said Cleo.

“Do you?”

“Well, you like watching films like Pretty Woman, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do. But we have to talk business, Cleo. Film is fantasy.”

“OK. Can you do something for me tomorrow?”

“Not tonight?”

“I mean business.”

“OK. What?”

Poor Mrs Clark is literally almost penniless …”

“Didn’t Mrs Peel say that her pensioners they were a cut above ordinary ones?”

“Sure. Silvie has a room there because her nephew has her house.”

“He got a bargain.”

“Yes, but I should think it’s an illegal one.”

“OK. So what do you want me to do? Kill him off?”

“You could get Nigel onto it until we start smelling serious rats,” said Cleo. “I want to know more about that nephew. He’s apparently Silvie’s brother’s son.”

“I thought Silvie was married. Surely the nephew would have a different name.”

“I got the impression that she was a spinster, Gary. Older women tend to call themselves ‘Mrs’. Cain is her only relative and he had a brother named Abel.”

“Very biblical!”

“Abel is dead.”

“Un -able to go on living,” said Gary.

“That was in totally bad taste, Gary.”

“But witty. What do you think happened to Abel?”

“Maybe Cain killed him. Isn’t that what happened in the Bble?”

“This happned in the old testament, too,” said Gary pulling Cleo into an embrace that took her breath away.

“No more corpses, Cleo. Promise?”

“It just occurred to me, that’s all.”

“I think we need an early night. Sleep might evaporate that daft idea.”

“What’s daft?”

“Hanging around here when we could be under our welcoming family duvet making whoopy is daft – and don’t ask me what whoopy is.”

“I do know that it takes two to tango …”

“And I just hope we don’t get a phone-call.”

“It took me a while to realize that thoughts are things and you’ve thought it, Sweetheart.”

“But not wished for it.”