Episode 8 - Confessions?

Friday December 4

Gary’s speciality was wishful thinking, but it did not stop Sandra Bright alias Sandy phoning the Hurley cottage in the early hours of Friday morning.

"I’m unplugging the phone from now on,” Gary said through his veil of sleep.

“It won’t help,” said Cleo, perky as ever since she did not have that paradise zone between being asleep and being awake. “I’ll get it.”

“You’re welcome,” said Gary, burying himself in (his half of) the duvet. “No one in their right mind would ring me at this time of the night!”

“Hartley Agency speaking,” Cleo said into the phone. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s Sandy,” said the voice, sounding more like one of Charlie’s friends since her voice was high- pitched. She sounded frantic. Cleo was tempted to ask her if she’d mislaid her Barbie horse.

“Well, that sure is a surprise! Are you Mrs Bright from Pensioner’s Paradise?” said Cleo, and Gary moved strategically to the edge of (his side of) the bed. “That is amazing at this hour of the night.”

“I’ve got to tell you, Miss Hartley. I think Silvie murdered Mr Formby.”

Cleo switched on the speaker so that Gary could hear whether he wanted to or not.

“What makes you think that Silvie murdered Mr Formby?” she repeated for Gary's benefit and he mimed a "What?"

“She put the pill in the drink, Miss Hartley.”

“What pill?” Cleo asked, though she knew.

“A special one.”

“Special? Do you have evidence?” said Cleo.

“She drew the lot. What shall I do?”

“Which lot, Mrs Bright?” Cleo asked, and listened to Silvie’s story again. At least it confirmed that Silvie had been telling the truth up to then.

Gary wrapped himself tightly in most of the duvet.

“Why don’t you go back to bed?” said Cleo, giving the duvet a tug. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow, I mean later today.”

“But there’s more, Miss Hartley,” said Mrs Bright.

“How much more?”

“Suzy could have done it, couldn’t she?”

“Done what?”

“Put a pill in Mr Formby’s drink.”

“I suppose she could. Now go back to bed, Mrs Bright.”

“Aren’t you worried, too?”

“Not at this time of night,” said Cleo.

The woman was clearly anxious to keep Cleo’s attention.

“Mr Barclay is dead, isn’t he?” she said.

“Yes,” said Cleo curtly.

“Was he murdered, too?”

“What do you mean by murdered?”

“Like Mr Formby. Am I the next to go?”

“Just stay away from the cellar and you’ll be fine,” said Cleo.

“I don’t want to land in a wine tank, Miss Hartley.”

“Neither do I. How do you know about the cellar?”

“Walls have ears,” said Mrs Bright.

“More like postman’s knock,” hissed Gary.

Cleo was getting rather used to people saying that the OAP home walls were porous. She thought that Vera would have a field day listening in.

“Come back to bed,” said Gary in a loud voice, rescuing most of the duvet.

Mrs Bright was meant to hear that, of course, and she did.

“Am I disturbing you?” she said, sounding surprised.

“I’m disturbing my husband, Mrs Bright.”

“Oh! We had separate rooms, you see, so I didn’t think …”

“Did you?

“Did I what?”

“Have separate rooms, Mrs Bright?”

“It was his snoring, you see. And we’d finished with the enjoyment part of marriage.”

That information delighted Gary. Cleo gesticulated to him to shut up.

“Doesn’t your husband snore?” Sandra asked

“Only when he’s asleep. Please go back to bed now. I’ll think about what you have told me.”

“Promise?” said the woman in the high voice she seemed to use all the time.

Gary, now wide awake with tears of laughter running down his cheeks, reached for the handset. Cleo defended it.

“We’ll be in touch, Mrs Bright,” he shouted.

“Promise?” said the high voice.

“Sure,” said Cleo and just about heard Sandy’s “Thank you” before the phone crashed down.

***

“What do you mean, snore? I’m never asleep long enough to snore!”

“I did not have time to tell Sandy that I quite like rhythmic snoring because then I know you are in bed with me.”

“When have I not been in bed with you?”

“Do I have to answer that? More to the point, what do you make of that phone-call?”

“Nothing,” said Gary. “The woman’s potty. Come under the duvet and enjoy yourself. It’s beautifully warm where I am.”

“I am warm,” said Cleo, “even though you are now hogging the whole duvet.”

“Well, come anyway. I can share. It’s only three o’clock … or are you expecting another client?”

“I wasn’t planning on any. Move over!”

***

Two hours later, Suzy rang.

“Is that …?” the woman called.

“It must be the other one,” said Cleo, looking at the little LED screen and speaking aside to Gary.

Gary pressed the answering machine button and his voice was heard saying that they were out and would call back.

***

Despite the unwanted interruptions, Gary was up by seven getting the two high-chair occupants their breakfast. PeggySue had only recently graduated to a normal chair at the dining table. She helped Daddy by feeding Tommy and Teddy with gruel, whether they wanted it or not. For safety, they all had cups with spouts, but Gary admitted that feeding the five thousand can’t have been more strenuous. He had managed to serve Cleo a coffee and she was now thinking about getting up, having already been up an hour earlier to get the even smaller twins Max and Mathilda their bottles. It was easier before they were weaned, Gary said. Cleo pointed out that giving a baby its bottle was the next best thing for a man. Gary explained at length that he wasn’t complaining.

Toni and Grit were not due to arrive for duty until just before nine so that the family would have a little time to themselves. Charlie arrived with Lottie in tow for breakfast before school. Gary could take them there since he had to go to HQ early.

The big girls were a blessing. They immediately saw to Tommy and Teddy, who at ten months needed loving spoonsful of gruel in their tummies rather than everywhere else. PeggySue looked very demure sitting at the table being grown up. Gary was besotted with his family. He would gladly have given up HQ altogether and let Cleo go to work all day instead. He thought he was destined to be a houseman.

“You’d hate it,” said Cleo. Appearing in her genuine kimono and planting kisses on all the kiddies’ foreheads. “And we can’t afford it! What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

“Of course you do, Daddy,” said Charlie, and corrected the remiss.

“So what are you going to do today apart from dealing with those nocturnal phone callers?” Gary asked.  

“I’ll phone those ladies and arrange to meet them at Crumb’s tomorrow. Then I’ll phone Mrs Peel and ask her if Vera can go there tomorrow. We need more information fast and Vera might be able to get it.”

“For instance …”

“How did Sandra Clark know about Mr Barclay?”

“Walls have ears,” said Charlie who had, as usual, been listening to her parents’ dialogue.

“Another white witch in our presence,” said Gary aside to Cleo.

“Like in Hansel and Gretel?” said Charlie, who never missed a trick.

“Almost!” said Gary. “Finish your breakfast, Ladies. It’s nearly time to go!

“First he calls us witches and then he calls us ladies, Mummy. Daddy is a very mixed-up guy.”

Gary laughed heartily. Charlie really was the limit!

“I think it’s from being a father, Charlie,” said Lottie. “My daddy’s getting like that and the baby hasn’t even arrived yet!”

Cleo wondered what sort of conversation would be had in the car. Lottie was less informed about the birds and the bees than Charlie, although she was getting there fast. She had recently asked her daddy if he had put the baby into Barbara. Joe had remarked that the boarding school had not been very good at sex education, but it explained Sonia’s inhibitions to a certain extent, Sonia being Joe’s ex-girlfriend – the one he originally left behind, who tried and failed to wheedle her way back into his life. Sonia was Lottie’s class teacher at her boarding school at the time. When Lottie was due to meet her new family, Sonia accompanied her from South Africa. The Hurleys took an instant dislike to Sonia and were relieved when the school marm left of her own accord, thinking she would be invited again.  

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Lottie had told Joe. “Charlie knows all about it. She’ll tell me.”

***

The two girls got out of the car and rushed to walk into the school building with boys from their class. Gary was a bit alarmed about that. In his eyes they were still little girls. In their eyes, the girls were almost grown up and had started to talk secretly about the various attractions of boys a class or two above theirs. The boys from their class were OK for walking into class with, but you could not dream about them. They were too immature.

***

After half an hour drinking coffee while the small twins digested their second breakfast, Cleo dressed Max and Mathilda in layers like onions against the December wind and took them out in the big duo pram for an airing, which included a short stop at Pensioner’s Paradise. She would not need an excuse to make it a passing visit because she had to take care of her illustrious passengers. That was probably an ulterior motive, but one that would make sure she did not spend much time listening to tales of woe, real or imagined.

Checking on Vera’s arrival at the home was the real reason for going there. Talking face to face with Mrs Peel proved quick and easy. The housekeeper was taking everything in her stride and sure everything would be fine for Mrs Alton. Cleo could not detect any sadness in Mrs Peel’s demeanour. Did that rule out an emotional entanglement with Mr Barclay? Or was she really just putting a brave face on the situation? After all, the demise of Mr Barclay had left the housekeeper in charge, at least until the OAP home holding, which had converted quite a number of unprofitable hotels into residential homes for older people with good cash flow, found someone else to take over management.

If asked, Mrs Peel would have had to admit trying to do an impressive management job during Mr Barclay voluntary or compulsory absence (depending on whether Mrs Peel was involved therein). Her aim was undoubtedly to take over the management altogether, but Cleo did not ask about that. However, she speculated on whether Vera’s presence would be useful or even wise? How much of a veil of secrecy enshrouded the OAP home? She would keep an eye on things and prepare Vera for possible outcomes..

***

Suzy Smith-Copeland came gushing to Cleo in the reception hall and nearly fell over backwards exclaiming how gorgeous the twins were (though they were regretfully not quite white), following that by asking Cleo if she had time for a cup of tea, Cleo ignored the dig about the skin colour, refused the tea and asked her to phone later. She was glad Dorothy had not been around to accuse the woman of racism. Most people did not realize how xenophobic they were until confronted by someone who was not ‘one of us’.

A brisk visit to Verdi’s emporium for groceries was followed by judicious avoidance of Robert Jones’s butcher’s shop, since Cleo did not want another lengthy discussion of any aspect of her life together with her ex or her much improved life after he had deserted her. She would phone and order something. By the time Cleo arrived back home, the twins had finished sleeping and were restless and hungry.

Nevertheless, Cleo was delighted that Chris had finally mailed her a report of his forensic resultes so far. The babies having been tended to and put in the playpen to kick around, Cleo was able to study Chris’s findings. It declared that Mr Formby had been dosed with three times the amount needed for ‘prolonged sexual intermingling’ (Chris’s words), which could have caused the lethal heart-attack – the drug, not erotic intermingling, Chris emphasized. He had not found anything to confirm that the ladies’ ‘treatment’ had been harmful other than in the potence of the drug that was not good for weak hearts even at the card table. And after all, the gentleman had not got round to putting the drug through its ultimate test, had he?

Mr Barclay had been under the influence of the folk-drug alcohol and a fair dose of diazepam but no aphrodisiac. Chris thought a third person could have dealt him the substance that finally ‘did him in’. Did someone accompany him to the top of the wine tank? If so, who? Who else would be interested in the contents of the wine tank? The metal rungs attached to the side of the tank were only there for inspection-purposes and had been discounted as not allowing hands to be free for other activities, such as pushing someone into the tank, though on reflection, he could not rule that out especially if that person had previously tested the rungs and found them stable enough, in which case it might have been a woman. In that case, the housekeeper might know something. She was a thin, lightweight person. There was, however, always the chance that Mr Barclay had not known what he was doing, gone up the rings or ladder in a drugged state to inspect the level of wine, which was something he often did, presumably not trusting the measuring device on the outside of the tank. If that was the case, he might have lost his balance and toppled into the wine. There was no bruising on his body, but that could be explained by the wine having broken his fall. He would have been too drugged to know any more. That would make the Barclay case into accidental death and was the likeliest way Barclay had met his end.

Cleo could not go along with that last comment. She had a niggling feeling that someone else was involved in some way, but she would discuss the case in Dorothy’s presence. To that end she phoned Dorothy to invite her and Vera to dinner.

“Do you want me to collect Vera at the railway station?”

“No Cleo.” I need the fresh air and we’ll take a taxi to the cottage. You have enough to do.”

“OK. Wrap up warmly!”

“I already have my winter boots on and two pairs of socks inside.”

“I talked to Mrs Peel, Dorothy. Vera can start her respite tomorrow if she agrees.”

“She’ll agree, Cleo. I know she can’t wait!”

***

Cleo’s phone-calls to Sandy and Silvie were short and to the point. She wanted to see all three of them at Crumb’s café for elevenses next morning. When asked to explain why, Cleo was diplomatic.

“Just for fun,“ she told them. “You’ve had a bad few days, haven’t you?”

Sandy and Silvie agreed. Should they tell Suzy about Crumb’s?

“No. I’ll phone her, then it’s official.”

“Official?”

“Wrong word,” said Cleo, musing that the women were nervous. But they would be, of course. They had told her about the magic pills. It would be an interesting rendezvous.

***

When invited, Gary refused. His desk was piled with ring binders and the corpse at the chemist’s had to be dealt with by someone.

“I don’t think I can endure a whole hour with those women and you could record the chat,” he said-

“I’m not sure about recording, Gary. If they are guilty they will have to get at each other’s throats, accuse one another, and get me to referee them. Too much drama! They each maintain that one of the others laced that drink. I’m just planning on listening once they get going. They deceived one another at Mr Formby’s expense. When their secret is revealed, they will play innocent despite their duplicity and in the end own up, plead innocence of the effects of a triple dosage and gang together.”

“In other words, women!”

“Maybe, but women are no worse than men for giving one another alibis.”

“Touché!”

“Of course, Formby’s normal heart medication plus vodka is a lethal cocktail. Maybe the potency-enhancing pills were not the sole cause of death,” said Cleo.

“Speculation! What’s for dinner?”

“A mixed grill. Robert will deliver it later? Will you be home soon?”

“You don’t want me to talk to Robert, do you?”

“If you’re home by six, he’ll have been and gone. OK?”

“I’ll try not to be too early. I think I’ll go to the school and watch the girls practice their Friday hockey. I need to talk to Miss Plimsoll.”

“You do? Isn’t all that stuff completed?””

“It’s serious, Cleo. I understand that the guy who died pinching the stuff from Delilah’s kitchen was a relation of Miss Plimsoll’s.”

“Wow. She won’t be pleased. When did you find that out?”

“This morning. I put Nigel onto it. I didn’t know there were so many Plimsolls in the world.”

“Are we talking about sneakers or people, Gary?”

“Take your pick. No one has told Miss Plimsoll about the relative yet. That’s my job!”

“Have fun!” said Cleo, ringing off before Gary could think of a suitable reply.

***

Cleo mused that Miss Plimsoll might have had recent contact with her relation. He might even have borrowed the car rather than just taken it, so Miss Plimsoll might know a lot more than she had said.

“Are you going to ask Miss Plimsoll when she last saw that relative?” she texted to Gary.

Gary rang.

“I’ll have to see how she reacts, Cleo.”

“But the guy begged, borrowed or stole her car. Maybe he visited her and got the burglary idea then?”

“But why smash the kitchen just to get away with a few bits of electronic? And why Mitch’s kitchen? Maybe he’s a gangster, Cleo. We are almost sure that the brains of that incident belong to the former landlord of the Dog and Whistle.”

“So you’ll need to establish a connection between him and the Plimsoll guy, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you send me a photo of him? Maybe Delilah or Mitch will recognize him.”

“You are several steps ahead again, Cleo. I’ll send one now with a warning. It’s gruesome.”

“I’ll cope.”

“You always do, my Love.”

I’ll go to the Bistro for three. Those women are nervous, Gary,  I wonder why?”

“That triple dose, no doubt. Let me know how you get on.”

***

Grit and Toni arrived with PeggySue and the older twins soon after. Cleo had given Max and Mathilda their lunch, changed them and put them to bed for their siesta. The gruesome photo was printed out. Cleo left the family to eat lunch and hurried to the bistro. To her immense satisfaction, the photo was recognized.

 “Who is it and why are you interested, Cleo? Explain, please,” said Mitch.

“This dead guy is one of your burglars and was probably related to the woman whose car was used and crashed on Thumpton Hill. The other guy is alive but missing. He may have come into the bistro, too. They may have been spying out the land. That’s where the guys may have even got the idea of burglary. On the other hand, maybe they had just been told to smash the place up and decided to steal wtuff instead – a like sort of bonus.”

Delilah was horrified. Cleo continued.

“The dead guy can’t admit it, but the second guy involved in the demolition and theft may be able to. Did your landlord come here any time recently? What’s his name, by the way?”

“Josh, but I’ve no idea what his surname was,” said Delilah. “Or I’ve just forgotten.”

“I’ll look in the leasing contract,” said Mitch.

“Maybe the pub changed hands,” said Cleo. “Would you know about it?”

“We pay the lease on time by standing order and have nothing to do with the person on Mallorca who threatens to open a chip shop next door,” said Mitch.

“He threatened you with a rival business venture, did he?” said Cleo. “That’s useful to know.”

“And such a scheme sounds like him, doesn’t it?” said Mitch. “Del told me that Josh was hopping mad on the phone that the bistro was going so well. He wanted it back!”

“That’s enough of a motive to go to pains to get you out, folks,” said Cleo. “You aren’t out of the woods yet if that’s the case.”

Delilah and Mitch were worried. Knowing they could be in for more trouble was not a cheerful prospect.

***

Home again, Cleo phoned Gary to tell him that Plimsoll had been to the bistro.

“That’s a start, Cleo. Other people will have seen him there. We may be in luck and find out fast who the second guy is.”

“Mitch wanted to check the lease for the full name of the current landlord who may not be the one Delilah knew.”

“Plimsoll’s photo is going into a special edition of Cop’s Corner. I’ve just talked to Joe about it. He’ll print extra copies and they will be available to the public. I’ll also get on to Bertie Browne for Monday’s edition of the Gazette.”

“Of course, we have to take into account that Plimsoll and the other guy might just have gone on a spree,” said Cleo.

“I’ll ask Miss Plimsoll a few searching questions, Cleo. If she had contact with the guy, she might know who his big buddy was who ran off and left his friend’s corpse wrapped round a tree.”

“He must have put him there, alive and two injured to help himself, or dead.”

“OK. If Miss Plimsoll knows that relative, she might pass judgment on his character. Chris said that the dead guy was not safety-belted and was thrown free from the front passenger seat. He died of head injuries.”

“You’d better be gentle with Miss Plimsoll!” said Cleo.

“I can’t see why. She’s dreadful to those poor girls playing hockey.”

***

Cleo could have used a siesta, but Robert arrived with a tray of mixed grill items. Grit wanted to deal with him, but Robert wanted a minute with Cleo, so she made coffee instead.

“What’s bothering you, Robert?”

“I don’t think I’m leaving after all,” Robert announced.

“I thought your plans were well advanced,” said Cleo. “You were looking forward to going!”

“I’ll have to talk to Gary about it,” said Robert.

“Why Gary? He’s only going to say what I would,” said Cleo. “No one’s pushing you out of Upper Grumpsfield. It was your decision. If you want to change your mind, change it.”

“Won’t it bother you, Cleo?”

“No, Robert. It bothers me that you can’t forget we were once married and go back to just being a good friend, leaving me to get on with my life.”

“Edith’s making a go of her marriage. What’s wrong with me, Cleo?”

“You don’t seriously expect me to answer that, do you?”

“Not really.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“I can’t accept donations, Robert. Will 30 cover everything?”

“25, if you insist.”

“I feel better when I’ve settled my debts, you see, Robert. Gloria taught me to do that. She’s a crazy mother in many ways, but some of her advice has stood me in good stead.”

“She’s back with Romano, isn’t she?”

“Why ask me?” said Cleo. “You still deliver there, don’t you?”

Robert nodded.

“I expect Molly Moss will be delighted to have you stay here,” said Cleo.

Robert blushed.

“Are you…?”

Robert nodded again.

“…sleeping with her?”

Robert blushed again.

“Wow!” said Cleo. “Now that is a reason to stick around, Robert! I’m happy for you.”

“Don’t you mind?”

“I’m married to Gary, remember?” said Cleo as she showed Robert out. “He gave me 5 kids and two more on the way.”

“Edith is expecting,” said Robert.

“Then she has found the right guy,” said Cleo. “Count yourself lucky that you couldn’t get her pregnant.”

“Or you,” said Robert.

“I’ve forgiven your lies, Robert. Just let bygones be bygones. Make peace with yourself.”

“I’m trying,” said Robert.

“Molly Moss will help you. She’s not only a pub owner, she’s a born phychologist.”

“I don’t like her because she gives me therapy, Cleo.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Cleo.

***

“Being with Robert for five minutes has the knock-out effect of a supermarket paperback,” said Cleo as she stirred her coffee viciously.

“I eavesdropped,” Grit confessed. “I don’t know how you put up with him for as long as you did.”

“I had Gary for the romance and Robert for the tragedy, Grit. But he wasn’t always like he is now. He seems to have lost all his sense of humour and he’s fighting against his attraction to Molly for reasons I find extraordinary. She’s good for him, I’m sure.”

“Who is Molly? She must have the patience of an angel to encourage that guy,” said Grit.

“She runs the pub in Huddlecourt Minor and Robert delivers to her restaurant. He even helped her out for a time.”

“And then she took him in,” I take it.

“I’d like to think so.”

“What about Edith?”

She’s the late vicar’s widow turned vamp. Robert had a hard time with her, but ask Gary about that.”

“Is that the kind of talk mother and son indulge in?”

“Maybe not, but Robert is really a case study.”

“I probably know all I need to know about him,” said Grit.

“I do, too,” said Cleo.