Episode 11 - Vera

Saturday cont. 

Gary was looking forward to spending the rest of the weekend at home. Although he was curious about Cleo’s meeting with the three women from the OAP home, it was partly because it distracted from his own interviews, especially the confrontation with Miss Plimsoll, whom he declared to be a pain, and Brian Crab, who had no entertainment value and seemed to lack the common sense he was born with.

As for Peregrine Plimsoll: he had been drinking even before embarking on the bistro exploit and was so drunk after imbibing the alcohol in the bistro kitchen that he completely lost control and went on the rampage, which was definitely not to Crab’s liking. Plimsoll, a small-time crook  hired by Crab to get the job done, then had the misfortune to be killed, leaving Crab to carry the can.

When she had listened to the whole story, Cleo reacted by telling Gary to forget it all till Monday. They had Vera to keep up with, not to mention a round-robin hockey tournament next day. That would – Gary claimed – make crime a refuge in times of trouble, especially if Miss Plimsoll officiated.

“Why do hockey on a Sunday?” Gary wanted to know.

“So that the Daddies can all be there,” Charlie explained.

***

Charlie had brought a lot of biscuits from her baking session at Cecilia’s and was very pleased when Gary said he would try one and ate half a dozen.

“We’ll make another lot next Saturday,” Charlie promised.

“What about Lottie? Won’t she want some of these?”

“No, Daddy. Lottie has taken this many home. They’re nice, aren’t they?”

“Brilliant! What time does the hockey start tomorrow?”

“Ten o’clock, Daddy, but I’ll get the bus in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure!” said Charlie.

“And I’m sure I’ll be there to support you,” said Gary. “Let’s have an hug in aid of your team winning.”

“We’ll slice them up,” retorted Charlie.

“Were those Miss Plimsoll’s words?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“Don’t indulge in grievous bodily harm even if Miss Plimsoll says you should!”

“Is it that grievous thing if I just push and shove, Daddy? That’s what the other side does.”

“I’m really looking forward to the hockey,” said Gary.

Cleo and Grit laughed till tears came streaming down their cheeks. Gary was a push-over as far as his children were concerned.

***

Cleo gave Vera and Dorothy a lift to Pensioner’s Paradise soon after lunch on Saturday afternoon. Dorothy was glad she was not going to have to stay there, though the sleuthing would have been interesting. But Vera was more even-tempered and likely to attract confidences. Anyway, Dorothy was quite a public figure in Upper Grumpsfield and they had all known from the start of the case that she would be rumbled immediately if she started to ask questions.

Vera was armed with all the detecting appliances available, but not including Dorothy’s handgun. Vera declared that if her stay at the OAP home was going to end with a shoot-out, she would rather not embark on it.

“How will you protect yourself,” Dorothy had asked.

“By not going there if you think it’s going to be that dangerous, Dorothy.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“If knew everyone else was armed, I’d agree,” said Vera. “But we are not in the USA and I can’t imagine there being an arms race in Upper Grumpsfield.”

“Don’t you believe it,” said Dorothy. “The Common has seen its share of shootings.”

“Tell me some other time, Dorothy. You’ll make me nervous,” said Vera.

Vera was agreeable about carrying a small recorder and a button-hole camera, and she would record anything memorable in the text program on her tablet.

Dorothy was nevertheless worried.

“If you would just tell me what you think will happen, I could be more prepared,” said Vera. “Otherwise just let me do things my own way. I’m a big girl now.”

Dorothy’s bossiness towards her elder sister had not lessened with age. She always thought of herself as being older and more sensible. Vera had hitherto been patient, but was now bound to tell Dorothy to stop fussing.

The sisters did not part peacefully at the home. Vera was glad when Dorothy left. After settling into her room, she phoned Cleo to tell her that she was fine and could she persuade Dorothy not to fuss. Cleo did not tell Vera that Dorothy had already phoned to say that she had grave doubts about the wisdom of letting Vera stay at the home.

Gary remarked that if Cleo was going to be subjected to a stream of similar phone calls, they’d better call the whole thing off.

***

Sunday breakfast was an early feast. In view of it being St Nicolaus day, Gary produced a box of chocolate Nicolauses wrapped in silver and gold foil.

Cleo could not resist saying that eating the head first was like a ceremonial beheading.

“What’s a beheading?” Charlie was bound to ask.

“Haven’t you done that in history yet?” Gary asked.

“Mr Fox said that was the unpleasant part about history. He said that wicked people used beheading to get rid of their enemies, so I will not behead the Nicolaus,” said Charlie. “I’ll save the head for later, like Salome and John the Baptist. I’ll get a saucer for it, shall I, Mummy?”

A polite silence followed.

“Better run for the bus,” said Gary soon after. “Unless you’d prefer me to take you.”

“No Daddy. I’m on my way and I won’t behead a single enemy.”

***

Gary was crushed! Cleo took pity on him by massaging his cramped shoulders, which was a mixed blessing, in his view.

“Don’t behead me,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning to, but your daughter has got you firmly taped, Sweetheart. You should not start that kind of conversation with a teenage girl if you don’t know the outcome.”

“Meaning…?”

“A yes or a no.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

***

Vera was having a protracted breakfast at Pensioner’s Paradise. Some of the individuals, who had asked who she was the previous day, asked her again, having forgotten. Others had not queued up to make her acquaintance at teatime or supper, but were curious and did not hesitate to ask her all sorts of personal questions, the answers to which could not always be truthful.

One very spritely individual brought her tea over, complete with teapot – you’ll lend me some milk, won’t you? – and sat down opposite Vera with the intention of pointing out some of the attractions that awaited her.

Or so Vera thought. She was sure that this person had a mission. She did have; one that really shook Vera. Would anyone believe her? Did she believe it herself? She had already noticed that some of the residents quite liked to talk about themselves and saw Vera as a welcome listener.

“I’m the organizer of a small group of like-minded,” the woman said after a few minutes of small-talk about the weather nylon tights, the wide part of which  you could put over your head if you did not want to be recognized.

“Call me Vera. What else do you want to tell me?”

“First I have to ask for the utmost discretion,” whispered the woman. “I’m known as Margot Fonteyn here because I used to be a dancer.”

Vera hoped she was not going to be invited to dance.

“Really? Ballet?”

“Tap. My first name really is Margot and you can call me that, but my second name is only Roberts. I’m afraid.”

“That’s a very nice name,” said Vera, for want of something to say. “What do I have to be discrete about? It’s quite normal for parents to give their children famous names. My daughter’s name is Victoria after the old queen.”

Dorothy would have commented that that statement was a whopper, but chit-chat was definitely the way into talking with this woman and Victoria really was named Victoria.

“It gets boring here, Vera. That’s the main problem.”

“Who are the others in your club?” said Vera, and regretted being so direct. She had already realized that she was going to have to move slowly. Margot the retired tap-dancer was trying to tell her something, but not sure if she should.

“A few of the dear ladies who took part in our ventures have passed on and we desperately need new blood!”

Only then did she catch onto what Vera had just said.

“Other whats?”

“You said something about there being more than one problem,” said Vera. “So is it people or things?”

“I did, didn’t I?” said Margot. “Problems like people being dead or not able to keep their mouths shut and things.”

“I’m as silent as the grave,” said Vera. “Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me in confidence.”

Vera doubted whether this was going to be some sort of break-through within a day of moving in. Margot did not seem a likely candidate for crime, but Dorothy had told her more than once that people who look like you and me get away with murder, or are caught having committed it. Innocent looks are sometimes a free pass to ill-doings.

“I and a couple of friends go on little outings,” Margot said.

“That’s normal, isn’t it? This is not a care home. Where do you go?“

“Usually to Middlethumpton in a taxi. Sometimes on the train to Oxford.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Then we go into a shop.”

“Shopping is a good way of spending an afternoon,” said Vera, wishing that Margot would get on with her story a bit faster. As if she had read Vera’s mind, Margot leaned confidentially across the breakfast table.

“We specialize in jewellers,” she said.

“Do you spend a lot of money?” said Vera, remembering that the home was not a refuge for the poor, but a smart residence for more affluent pensioners.

“We don’t spend any,” said Margot.

“You’ve got me now,” said Vera. “Do you just look at things?”

“The jeweller gets a tray of rings or other jewels out of the display and shows them to one of us. The second friend talks to the third about the display but stays between the counter and the door. The first lady gets the jeweller or the assistant to get something from the safe, which is usually in a back room. If he does not go out of the salesroom, we do not proceed with our routine.”

It was not difficult to deduce what was coming next.

“If the jeweller is not looking, the lady in front of the display might slip something into a pocket. She then nods to the other two, who are nowhere near the tray of trinkets, and goes out and away.”

“But surely that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Oh yes it does. One of the other two feels dizzy, makes a tremendous fuss and needs a drink of water. That always flusters the salesperson or the jeweller. The third in the group looks after her friend and guides her to the door.”

“So now you are all outside,” said Vera.

“Yes. Isn’t it clever? The person serving can’t remember the one who asked to see the jewels because the other two have made a fuss. And they don’t go near the counter.”

“Do you mean that one person steals something and the others act as decoys?”

“Sort of, I suppose. Mr Formby gives us – or rather, gave us good money for our treasures.”

Vera was understandably shocked. Margot was telling her all about their raids as if it was just innocent fun.

“So Mr Formby was a fence, was he?”

“No. He was a perfect gentleman. He knew where to take the jewels to sell them. I think he kept some, Vera. He always wore nice cufflinks and a chain around his neck and until quite recently he wore an earring, but I think that’s a bit silly on an older man.”

Did Margot know she was a shop-lifter? Had Formby put her and the others up to it? It was all so absurd that you could not have invented it. Vera thought she should make a stand for honesty.

“But what you have told me is criminal, Margot,” she said.

“I don’t think the jewellers missed anything. They have so much. One piece less is not going to be noticed. And they are insured, after all.”

“But it’s dishonest.”

“Now you’re spoiling it for me, Vera. It’s just a game. Mr Formby never said he was going to give us money. We just wanted the objects appraised by an expert. He was also a collector so we were actually doing him a good turn.”

“So what are you going to do with next booty?” Vera said.

“We thought of Mr Barclay, but he’s dead too, so we need a different reception for our treasures, Vera.”

“I think you mean receiver,” said Vera.

“Do I?”

“You could solve the problem by not thieving, Margot.”

Margot looked disappointed.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I thought you looked as if you would like to come along on our next outing.”

“Are you inviting me?”

“Now I think about it, I am. But only if you keep all this to yourself.”

“I’ll have to think about that,” said Vera.

“You promised.”

“So I did, but I didn’t know what I was promising,” said Vera.

“You see, little old ladies do not arouse suspicion. We have one or two other schemes, but the jewellery one is the best.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Vera. “After consideration, you can count me in, Margot,” she said, remembering the reason she was on this respite. “It would be quite amusing.”

“We dress up,” said Margot. “Wigs, makeup and stuff. I hire things for us. I know the ropes, you see.”

“You obviously do. Who else takes part? Should I know them?”

“Sandra Bright used to, but her feet are very bad these days. She could not run fast enough if she had to. Bunions. Nasty.”

“Oh dear.”

“Then there is Griselda May. She’s good at fainting and loves to come along. And Daisy Cooper is good in the counter position if for some reason I decide to do the fainting or the resuscitation. She still goes to the gym. Betty Hogg died unfortunately, and so did Jemima Biggs. She was a very good actress because she’d been one in her youth, and Betty was good at sleight of hand, poor dear.”

“When is the next outing, Margot?

“On Tuesday. Can you come?”

“I’m not sure if I’ve got the nerve for it.”

“You can come as an extra and watch what we do. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

“What are you going to do with anything you take, Margot?”

“We’ll just go to Milton’s and get some scarves on Tuesday. We can take them to the charity shop later and donate them. They are always thankful. We’ve donated quite a lot already, such as handbags and socks, but we don’t donate any proper jewellery: only paste.”

***

Vera was preoccupied with what she had heard long after Margot had left the table. Had she dreamt it all? Should she tell someone? What would happen if she were to be arrested on Tuesday? How humiliating would that be? She would have to ask the Hartley Agency for advice. They had got her into this, after all. But before talking to them she would have to ask around about Mr Formby and Mr Barclay. She wondered if anyone knew anything. If the thieving was a secret, other things might also be done secretively, so she called after Margot and beckoned to her to come back with the excuse of asking what she should wear.

***

Later, Vera ordered them both a mug of cocoa and they sat in the entrance hall for a while. She had had an idea. She told Margot in confidence that her late husband’s school friend had suggested she spend time here. Margot wanted to know if she knew that person.

“It’s a Mr Barclay, Margot. I’ve never met him personally, but he must be a kind person to have invited me here.”

Margot stiffened.

“Don’t you believe that,” she said. “I could tell you a story or two about Mr Barclay.”

“I’m all ears,” said Vera. “I wondered why anyone would offer a stranger a free respite.”

“Nothing is free here, Vera.”

“You’ll have to explain. You don’t sound very happy about this lovely home.”

“He’s dead now, isn’t he? I should not talk ill of him.”

“If something he has done is troubling you, you’ll feel better after telling me, Margot. Did he…?”

“Goodness, no. He was not interested in old widows.”

“We are not old. We are late middle-aged, Margot.”

“Old in comparison with Mrs Peel, I mean.”

“What has she got to do with it?”

Margot bit her lip. She was trying to decide how much she should tell Vera.

“I know I should not tell anyone, but I went into the library one day – that’s a small room I think people used to smoke in before it was forbidden. When the place was a hotel, I mean. Smoking was not allowed in the restaurant even then.”

“So Mr Barclay was smoking in the library, was he?”

“Not smoking, Vera. He was …. You know…”

“Was somebody else in the room.”

“Mrs Peel, with most of her clothes off.”

“Oh dear.”

“Mr Barclay did not have many clothes on, either.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“They were lying on the sofa, Vera. Together, if you know what I mean.”

“I would have thought Mrs Peel was past that kind of behaviour,” said Vera.

“Mrs Peel knows too much,” said Margot.

“What does she know?”

“Things about Mr Barclay,” said Margot. “I don’t know the details.”

“Does she know about your outings?”

“I don’t think so. She was not friendly with Mr Formby and Mr Barclay would not tell her even if he did know because he profited from it.”

“How?”

“He got his share, Vera.”

Vera was becoming more and more horrified at what she was hearing. Did this kind of thing go on at all OAP homes? She knew about angels of mercy because now and again someone was caught and tried, and that always got a lot of publicity. But the kind of corruption she thought likely at Pensioner’s Paradise was beyond her imagination.

“Do you think Mrs Peel had a hold on Mr Barclay?” said Vera, a thousand thoughts going through her head.

“I’m sure of it. I can’t think of any other reason he would want to have sex with such an awful person.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very nice person himself,” said Vera.

“Some of us think Mrs Peel murdered him, Vera.”

“Then he must have had hold on her.”

“I don’t know about any hold.”

“I think you should talk to my sister,” said Vera. “I’ll phone her now and ask her to meet us at the cake shop.”

“Cake shop?”

“Crumb’s Bakery, Margot. Haven’t you been there?”

“Once or twice. Are they open on a Sunday?”

“I’m sure they are. Shall we say three o’clock? We can walk there together.”

“All right.”

“My sister is very good at motives, you see, Margot. She might have some ideas about Mrs Peel.”

“It is less of a burden now I can share it,” said Margot.

***

Vera phoned Dorothy and asked her to meet her at the bakery. Dorothy phoned Cleo to tell her of the proposed meeting.

“Something’s up, Cleo,” she said. “Vera is onto something.”

“Wow. She hasn’t wasted any time! I’d better come along. I’ll phone Gary and tell him I have to go out. He should be back from the hockey tournament before I leave. It would be too hard on Toni to have to look after two sets of twins and PeggySue.”

“I’ll meet you at the bakery, Cleo, then it doesn’t matter of you are a bit late.”

***

Gary did not ask where Cleo was going at ten to three on a Sunday afternoon, but it must have been important so he was prepared to wait for an explanation. At the bakery, Dorothy, Vera and Margot were already celebrating their cream cakes and proper English breakfast tea (grown in Yorkshire, I dare say). Cleo ordered herself a milk coffee, bypassed the cakes and sat down on the chair left vacant for her.

“I can’t say I didn’t know about the Hartley Agency,” said Margot. “I suppose I should have consulted you.”

“I don’t see why,” said Cleo, “unless it is a personal matter. Crime is not really our speciality.”

“Margot said something that I think could be important,” said Vera, avoidinhg any mention of shop-lifting expeditions..

“Would you like to tell me in your own words?” said Cleo, deciding that it would be quicker to hear from her rather than pick up the important bits from Vera, who was clearly quite shocked. She and Margot had indeed decided not to say anything about the shop-lifting games. That would come later, divined Vera.

So Margot repeated her story about Mrs Peel and Barclay, adding that she knew that Vera was acquainted with him in a roundabout way. Cleo was careful not to ask questions about what was obviously a ruse. Dorothy was curious, but held back by Cleo, who remarked that he was a friend of a friend, wasn’t he, Vera?

“He donated the respite,” said Vera.

“Did he?” said Dorothy.

“You remember, don’t you?” said Cleo, giving Dorothy, who was fortunately sitting across the corner from her, a little kick to warn her not to pursue that topic.

“Oh yes of course,” said Dorothy, with suitable emphasis.

“So they had been having a little hanky-panky, have they?” said Cleo, astonishing the company with a Chicago lilt.

“I think so,” said Margot. “They were that day.”

“They call it “at it” round here,“ said Dorothy.

“The question arises as to howthe ‘at it’ came about,” said Vera.

“Was it love?” said Dorothy.

“He reserved that for the part-time waitresses,” said Margot, and it was not just Cleo who decided that Margot did not approve. To provoke Margot into saying what she thought about him Cleo added “I expect he normally preferred young flesh to a middle-aged housekeeper.”

“Then he would avoid mine,” retorted Margot. “But he did it with her, dind’t he.”

How about that? Was Margot jealous?

Cleo decided to change the subject rapidly.

“Shall we stick to the facts, Ladies,” she said. “Did he have a hold on her, or did she on him?”

“If you want my opinion,” said Dorothy, “he must have had a hold on her. He is dead, after all.”

“Are you suggesting that she killed him?” gasped Margot.

“He would have probably got rid of her by sacking her if she had tried something on him,” said Vera.

“So you don’t think he would have killed her, do you?” said Dorothy.

“No reason. He would deny anything she tried to put around against him, but no doubt he would have made sure no one could get at him,” said Vera. “Anyway, would she risk her job?”

Margot listened attentively without making any further comments. It was all speculation, she mused.

“So we can conclude that he had something on her; something that must not be disclosed. He paid for threatening her with his own life,” said Dorothy.

“It has not been proved conclusively that he did not die of natural causes, Dorothy,” said Cleo.

“How can Chris prove that? If Barclay was pushed into the wine tank from someone climbing the ladder behind him and taking him off-guard, that would amount to homicide, wouldn’t it?” said Dorothy.

“If you could prove it,” said Cleo. “The person who pushed him would have to admit it, and that’s hardly likely.”

“So it will end up as an unsolved crime,” said Vera.

“Unless Mrs Peel was involved because Barclay was blackmailing her,” said Dorothy, “and we can get proof of money being paid over and above her salary.”

“We’ll have to investigate Mrs Peel’s past,” said Cleo. “That has to be our next mission. I’m glad you told us about that incident in the library, Margot. I’ll get my husband onto it, without mentioning where the information came from, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Margot, did Mrs Peel see you?” Dorothy asked.

“I don’t think so. I only looked round the door and had seen enough. I left immediately. Why?”

“If Mrs Peel killed once, she might decide to kill again, don’t you think, Cleo?” said Dorothy.

“It can’t be ruled out, Margot. Be on your guard!” said Cleo thinking that they must move fast.”

“Try not to be alone, Margot,” said Dorothy.

“That’s good advice,” said Cleo. “I’ll have to go now. I expect things are quite chaotic at home and the infants need their tea.”

The meeting broke up. Dorothy accompanied Vera and Margot to the OAP home. She would not stay for supper, but wanted to ask Vera a few other questions that had occurred to her. Margot went to her room to change her shoes and hang up her coat. Dorothy accompanied Vera to her room.

“Out with it, Vera,” she said. “You’re hiding something.”

“What makes you think that?

“You exchanged glances with Margot a few times as if you were concealing something.”

“I don’t think I should tell you, Dorothy. I deliberately did not tell Cleo because Cleo would be bound to tell Gary.”

“Tell him what?”

“That Margot and a few fellow residents go on shop-lifting outings now and again.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Dorothy.

Vera repeated what Margot had told her.

“She’s invited me to go with them on Tuesday. I was dying to say something at the bakery, but it would have been difficult for Cleo not to try to stop it happening.”

“But it should be stopped, Vera. It’s criminal.”

“I know, but only just, surely?”

“That’s not what Gary would say.”

“What shall I do? I’ve accepted the invitation. We dress up. No one will know us.”

“You came here to find out more about the workings of the home, not to join a gang of shop-lifters,” said Dorothy. “I’m really shocked.”

“So I should not go, should I?”

“Definitely not.”

“We were only going to Milton’s to choose scarves.”

“And steal some, I assume.”

“Only one or two and we won’t keep them. They’ll go to a charity shop.”

“That is totally irresponsible, Vera. I’m surprised at you.”

“But you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Dorothy was silent. There was always a risk of the little gang being caught in the act. If Vera was one of them, it would be very embarrassing. Bertie Browne would write about it in his Gazette. She could see the headline now: ‘Sleuth’s sister goes shop-lifting’. That would never do. She would have to prevent that scenario at all costs.

“I’ll phone you on Tuesday morning to say that I don’t feel well and could you come to the cottage. If you don’t come, Vera, I’ll warn Milton’s that a gang is about to steal scarves, and they will call the police.”

“You mean that you would sneak on me?”

“Yes,” said Dorothy. “For your own salvation!”

“I’ll think about it,” sniffed Vera. “You’d better go now.”

“No hard feelings, Vera. I’m only doing what any respectable sister would do.”