Episode 24 - Dinner is served

Tuesday cont, then Wednesday

Nigel was late for the impromptu dinner party. The Hurleys, Dorothy and Vera had started without him after putting the little ones to bed.

“I expect he’s gone to his rehearsal after all.”said Gary.

Episode 23 - Peel's Plot

Tuesday cont.

But she hadn’t.

Episode 22 - Conclusions

Monday December 14 then Tuesday morning

Cleo had had the foresight to organize child care, so it was quite early when she and Gary left for HQ on Monday morning. Cleo had prepared a six-pack of commercial smoothies with poppy seeds bought recently to put in a cake. If you didn’t know it was not ground fruit stones, you might be convinced that it was. The plan was for them all to drink some, in the hope that Mrs Barclay would react. It was a long shot and only taking the woman they still thought of as Peel by surprise would work, if at all.

***

Episode 21 - Puzzles and skeletons

Saturday afternoon

Gary got to HQ before Nigel had braced himself to talk to Crab. He was playing host to Agnes Plimsoll and not liking it.

Episode 20 - Agnus dei?

Saturday December 12

Breakfast at the cottage was proceeding as boisterously as usual. Gary had given the Peel interview a lot of though. He was impressed with Cleo’s approach and wondered how she arrived at her questions. She had startled Peel several times into revealing herself as a scrupulously ambitious woman, and that made it easier to see her as a murderess, which she was, Gary was sure.

Episode 19 - Plans and Peel

Friday cont.

Gary had not handled his chat with Greg well at all. He could sense the old burnout problem coming over him again. He had seen Greg’s attitude to him change and wished he could put things right. He was also out of his depth for reasons he could not even explain to himself.

Episode 18 - Records

Friday cont.

Combing through Registry Office records was a tall order even for Colin Peck, who was in charge of records at HQ and lately helping sort records at the Town Hall. The marriage between Peel and Barclay could have taken place anywhere or not at all. 

Episode 17 - Mrs Peel

Still Thursday

“If Peel was married to Barclay, surely there’s an official record of it somewhere.”

Cleo was speculating on the significance of Mia’s discovery. Not that it’s easy to speculate when a queue of hungry infants looks like turning night into day and finishes off with a second supper and an extra portion of family life. Fed and cleaned up, all the juniors finally found sleep and their happy if exhausted parents could get fresh coffee going and talk seriously about the implications of Mrs Peel’s passport.

Episode 16 - Perceptions

Chris had rung Gary  from the forensic lab to say that the heroin was only baking powder, but Gary decided that it would make things even more difficult for Nigel if he knew that, since his otherwise praiseworthy morals would force him to be honest, and this was not the time for honesty. It was important to know how far into the drugs scene the recipients of these courier trips were.

Episode 15 - Nigel's jaunt

Tuesday cont.

Nigel arrived at Cap Pastilla early on Tuesday evening, unpacked his belongings in the modest single room he had booked, changed into casuals and went out to find the pub where Crab had worked and met Delilah’s former landlord.

Episode 14 - The Mallorca Project

Wednesday December 9

Nigel decided to leave Gary to his bairns for the rest of Monday. After talking to Crab and getting nowhere, he was sure that action should be taken and that he was the one to take it.

Episode 13 - Nigel

Tuesday, December 8

Nigel was flattered that Cleo wanted him to be given the task of tracing Mrs Peel’s past. The internet cooperated. It did not take him long o come across a disreputable party girl named Agnes who had haunted the Houses of Parliament as a provocative young woman and angled herself a few profligate parliamentarians, none of whom she had been able to steer into marrying her, however.

Episode 12 - Agnes Peel

Sunday cont.

Grit and Gary were well on the way to organizing supper and bedtime for the five infants they had spent a couple of hours babysitting, though sitting was not the operative word. Gary was rather sorry they had given Toni the afternoon off, and glad when Charlie arrived with Lottie in tow to take over some of the running around.

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.

Episode 10 - Start the weekend

Saturday, December 5

Cleo and Gary left the cottage together once Grit and Toni had appeared to take charge of the infants. The big girls were going to meet for a biscuit-making session at Cecilia William’s house down the road. Their school-friend’s mother was German and observed all the best German traditions all the year round, and that included making mountains of biscuits for Advent. A nice custom, Gary thought as he handed Charlie a twenty pound note to pay for some of the ingredients. After all, he would probably eat most of the biscuits. 

Episode 9 - Peregrine

Friday cont. 

Dorothy phoned to say that Vera had arrived on time and they were at the cottage. What time should they come to dinner?

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.

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.”

Episode 6 - Be prepared (for anything)

Thursday cont.

It would have been unfair of Gary not to want Dorothy to have any part in what was about to happen at Pensioner’s Purgatory, which was Gary’s new name for the OAP home. So Cleo phoned her colleague and asked if she would like to see the fire brigade at work. She would, as long as it was not her cottage that was on fire. Dorothy was a fast walker, so she manged to get to the home just before the fire brigade.

Episode 5 - Pickled

Wednesday cont. then Thursday  December 3

Cleo had taken the precaution of ordering steaks for the evening meal, expecting Dorothy and a few other family members to pop in and stay to eat.

Episode 4 - Smashed and Grabbed

Wednesday cont.

Gary got to the bistro expecting the worst. Chris was already there with Ned, his forensic assistant. They had taken official photos and were taping everything for prints. An insurance expert was also there, tutting furiously and begrudging the compensation as if he were going to have to pay it out of his own pocket.

Episode 3 - Strangers in the night

Tuesday cont. then Wednesday December 2

Later that day, the death at Pensioner’s Paradise was chewed over at length over a nightcap coffee, but Toni’s new conquest had to be welcomed first.

As promised, Toni had turned up with her boyfriend, a young man from Thailand who had come to perfect his English before going back to his home country to become a General like his father, he said. The young man introduced himself in perfect English as Mongkut, which he explained meant man with a crown.

Mongkut was going back to Bangkok in a day or two. Toni did not seem unduly regretful aobut that. The Hurleys had not been expecting quite such an exotic guest, but he was charming and they liked him. He insisted that he enjoyed British cooking, which astonished everyone since Thailand had very spicy food and British food was often crying out for seasoning.

“We’ll actually be eating American,” Cleo informed him. “I hope you like big portions.”

There was a tiny snort as Gary dropped into a nap. Cleo nudged him and begged him to get some more wine.

“Was I asleep?” said Gary, quite embarrassed. “Sorry, Mongkut. I’ve had a long day with a corpse thrown in.”

“What is a corpse?” Mongkut asked.

“That’s a dead body,” said Toni, looking daggers at Gary.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t kill it,” said Gary. “Do you drink red wine, Mongkut?”

“I’m very glad we are having steaks tonight,” said Cleo, hastily changing the subject. ”Scottish beef is hard to beat, but I can’t answer for most of the cooking here except for Italian, Chinese and Indian and occasionally continental cuisine. We don’t have a Thai restaurant nearer than London.”

“Many Hindus don’t eat red meat, Mrs Hurley.”

“Oh dear,” said Cleo. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Don’t worry! I have to admit that we have moved on in that respect. We even have fast food places and American steak houses, especially in Bangkok, and it isn’t just the tourists who eat there. Thai culture now allows us to eat beef so I don’t feel bad about eating your wonderful steaks.”

The small talk, of which only the bare bones are reported here, was admittedly rather boring. It did not take long after enjoyment of the much appreciated red meat for Toni to want to leave, taking her Hindu believer with her. Their day would end with a disco and she would be quite glad when Mongkut went back to Thailand, at least, that is what Cleo read into Toni’s frequent exchange of glances with her. Even the most exotic boyfriend is only human, after all.

***

Later, Gary rescued his reputation as houseman by stacking the dishwasher. He put another log on the fire while Cleo made them their traditional nightcap. Then they sat side by side on the sofa, a plaid over their knees to protect them from the astonishing heat a log fire in a small grate can generate and watched the flames rising and the wood spitting.

“Funny, that Thai guy,” said Gary. “I was taking microsleeps all through that chit-chat. I feel quite refreshed now.”

“I noticed.”

“It was all so tedious, Cleo. Entertaining ongoing Thai general are a social challenge I am not up to-“

“I quite liked him,” said Cleo. “It’s our fault if the conversation was not scintillating. I thought Toni was very bored, too. She soon made off with him. I wonder where she found him?”

”At her language school, I should think, though they both speak better English than some Brits,” said Gary.

“If you were a Hindu, you’d call on the appropriate God and say a prayer, I suppose,” said Cleo. “They have all sorts of gods.”

“I would stick to ones that keep me awake,” said Gary.

“Did you know that Indians prefer light coloured skins, even for their gods, and spend a fortune on skin whiteners, like Michael Jackson must have done?”

“I’m quite glad I’m not a Hindu. I don’t think I could cope with all those gods and goddesses quite apart from the Thai language having 42 letters.”

“G.B. Shaw tried to improve English spelling and gave up,” said Cleo. “How on earth do you know how many letters there are in Thai?”

“Trivial pursuit games,” said Gary. “Useless knowledge like on quiz shows. You never get to the end of what they call general knowledge.”

“You never watch them.”

“Not any more. Thai people say that Hinduism is an offshoot of Buddhism. They are very enthusiastic about their gods.”

“Can we talk about something more relevant?” Cleo said.

“Some people think the gods and goddesses were aliens who came to Earth. I expect they believe they have special powers,” said Gary.

“Those crop circles are supposed to be signs for aliens,” said Cleo. “In 1990 over 700 of them appeared in Britain alone. Cereologists fight over the origins.”

“What a waste of time,” said Gary. “I think I’d like a blue bedroom.”

“That’s a cold colour, Gary. Pink is better, but we could settle for yellow. That’s what the experts recommend for children’s rooms.”

“I thought we were moving so that we could have our bedroom to ourselves,” said Gary.

“Sure, but I’m having second thoughts about using a room as my office where someone has been murdered.”

“Quite apart from that idea not being worthy of you, it’s rxactly why a room should be reinstated. For instance, you have no idea if anyone was murdered in the cottage, especially in out beroom. ”

“Of course. Silly of me to be superstitious. Rooms are often places where guys are killed.”

“Exactly, though it was a horror story at the villa. But we can’t go around suspecting every room everywhere. That would be like ghost-hunting on a major scale, and rooms don’t actually keep secrets or harbour something evil after evil has been done in them,” said Gary.

“I’m not so sure about that,” said Cleo.

“I am, and after being at that pensioner establishment, I’m starting to wonder what it’s like to be 90 and almost certainly to be in a room where more than one person has died somehow or other.”

“I keep thinking about those old people in that home, too,” said Cleo. “But we are all at the mercy of something, aren’t we?”

“I expect we are, though the idea is horrific, given the houseful of progeny we treasure. So now let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

“Who started this discussion?”

“You, my love.”

“Talking of Pensioner’s Paradise, they really need more homeliness than what starchy Mrs Peel has to offer,” said Cleo.

“I think part of the problem is that is stilly more like a hotel. It has no homely feeling whatsoever and you can’t expect the residents to provide any. No wonder Mr Formby drank. I think I would.”

“Let’s go to bed when this log has died down. I think I need an early night,” said Cleo.

“Tomorrow I’m meeting the Polish decorators at the villa to discuss when they can start and how long it’s going to take.”

“We could nearly all go there after Charlie gets home from school. Then she could choose some of the colours,” said Cleo.

“She’s bound to choose yellow,” said Gary. “You’ll tell her to.”

“I won’t have to. Yellow is for happiness and sunshine.”

“Blue is for skies and green for trees. You can’t choose room colours on that sort of basis,” said Gary. “I’ll get some more coffee.”

“Have I told you how brilliant your idea of the villa is?”

“I knew you’d approve,” said Gary.

“I wonder what Robert will say.”

“Are you still thinking about that ex of yours?”

“I want him to know that we are a permanent fixture, especially now Brass has married Edith. I still think Robert hopes it’s all been a bad dream,” said Cleo.

“We are married, after all and I could not care a damn what Robert thinks.”

“Does marriage make it permanent?”

“I hope so, Cleo. You’ve got to stop worrying about Robert. He could not cope with Edith and now I’m sure he’s relieved that she found someone else. Do you think he still thinks about you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you can’t think about all your ex-husbands when there’s one sitting next to you who is waiting for a little TLC.”

“I never think about Jay except when I think of my lost baby.”

“I do understand, my Love. I can’t forgive Charlie’s mother for taking her off to Spain to live with that awful guy she took up with.”

“Robert is a mixed-up guy. Someone has to be concerned about him.”

“It does not have to be you. He left you, after all. So he got mixed up with Edith and she was far too over-sexed for him.”

“Brass seems to cope,” said Cleo. “He’s a dry old stick when he’s at work, but Edith would not put up with him if he could not keep up with her.”

“A wise word,” said Gary. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“I’d like a walk-in shower. Is that possible?”

“I’ll find out.”

Gary propped the fire guard firmly against the grate tiles. The glow of the embers lit up the room enough for him to see that Cleo was smiling.

“What’s so funny,” he said.

“Our small talk, Mr Hurley.”

“Drivel. Bunkum. Call it what you will. I feel unable to comment. My duvet is calling.”

“Our duvet.”

“Is that what we are talking about now?” said Gary.

“You did not ask me why I want a walk-in shower.”

“To re-open the small talk, there’s more room for two, that’s why,” he said.

“Let’s hope no one wants us during the night,” said Cleo.

“Don’t tempt fate!”

***

The phone on Cleo’s side of the bed rang at about two.

“Don’t answer it,” muttered Gary.

“I have to,” said Cleo, who was one of those people who slipped from deep sleep to wide awake within seconds. “Just carry on sleeping, Sweetheart.”

“How can I sleep when you are on the phone wrapped in my duvet?” said Gary.

“It’s king-size, Gary. There’s room for both of us.”

***

“Hartley Agency speaking,” said Cleo into the phone. “Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s me,” said the caller. “Mitch.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Has Delilah left home?”

“No, but the kitchen has.”

“The kitchen?”

Cleo’s sudden shout put an end to Gary’s attempt at sleep.

“Someone’s taken it.”

“Calm down, Mitch. You can’t just take a kitchen.”

“Some of it is still here, but bashed to bits. Is your husband anywhere near?”

“He usually is at this time of night, but he’s asleep,” said Cleo.

Gary leaned over and grabbed the handset.

“No he isn’t. What’s up, Mitch?”

“We were upstairs in our room at the back ummm listening to loud rock. We did not hear any hammering.”

“But Mr Morgan should have. Doesn’t he sleep at the front?”

“I don’t know where he he is. That organist has not paid for his room for two months. Four more weeks and I’m chucking him out,” said Mitch.

“I’ll talk to him,” said Gary. “What was that about the kitchen?”

“Someone smashed the window and stole the portable electrics, then took a sledge hammer to the rest.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“It must have been two. The dishwasher has gone.”

“How do you get a dishwasher through a window?” said Gary, yawning widely and thinking of his microsleeps.

“They opened the kitchen door, Gary, and this is an official complaint. We can’t feed the guests without the kitchen.”

“You don’t need to feed guests at this time of night, Mitch,” said Gary, who could sense that the night was slipping away alarmingly fast and was consequently not in the mood to talk to Mitch.

Cleo snatched the handset and elbowed Gary back into his side of the bed.

“Sorry about that, Mitch. Gary is not too happy about being woken out of a deep sleep.”

“I’m not too happy about our kitchen, Cleo. What are we going to do with the eaters?”

“I’ll be over after breakfast,” called Gary.

“Did you hear that, Mitch?”

“Yes. Sorry to wake him,” said Mitch. “Can Delilah speak to you now, or will that disturb the sleeping beauty?”

“I think she’d better wait till the morning, Mitch. Gary is not at his best at this hour.”

“That only applies when I’m not asleep,” Gary shouted.

“You don’t bloody care, do you, Gary?” said Mitch.

“He does care, Mitch. Get somesleep. We’ll sort something out in the morning.”

***

“Since you are awake, why don’t you get up and make us a coffee, Gary?”

“This is why,” he replied and covered his head with his pillow.

***

Cleo called Delilah on her mobile, mainly to commiserate.

“The hard rock drowned everything out,” Delilah sniffed. “It’s al lthat bass hammering.”

“But surely you must have heard something,” said Cleo.

“Not a dickie-bird,” said Delilah, who was prone to elapse into rhyming slang when taxed.

“A dickie-bird would not have created chaos.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Dickie-birds are in kiddies’ books,” said Cleo. “Can we talk sensibly in the morning?”

“What shall we do now, Cleo?”

“Gary can’t deal with it unless there is a corpse.”

“No corpse,” said Delilah.

“Call HQ and see if they’ll come out and look. Alternatively, be thankful no one’s dead and get some bo-peep. I’m going to,” said Cleo.

“I want to tell you something else,” said Delilah.

“Will it keep for a few hours?”

“I suppose so. Good night.”

***

Cleo snuggled back under the communal duvet.

“Delilah sounded distraught,” she said.

“I’m asleep under my half of the duvet,” Gary replied.

“I thought you’d say that. Can you lend me some? Yours is all warmed up.”

“You’ve already got half, but if you insist, help yourself. Where did you learn cockney slang?”

“I didn’t know I had.”

“Bo-peep rhymes with sleep. I could sing you the whole nursery-song.”

“Please don’t sing. You’ll wake the children.”

“That’s an improvement on waking the dead,” said Gary. “That’s what you usually say.”

“Fortunately you only do that when the shower radio is on full blast,” said Cleo. “My feet are cold.”

“Wrap your bit of duvet twice round and they’ll be warm in no time.”

“Our small talk is worse than Mongkut’s,” said Cleo.

“It woke me up again,” said Gary. “On consideration, your feet could join mine in my half of the duvet.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Try me.”

***

“If you flutter your eyelids for one minute you will get to sleep fast,” said Cleo.

“Is that an old wives’ tale or old Chicago custom?”

Silence soon fell on the cottage, but soon after six the Hurley house-phone rang again.

It was Greg.

Cleo had given up sleeping for a bad job and was in the kitchen making breakfast for the early birds, so she grabbed a handset before Gary could growl into one.

“Good morning!” she called.

“Hi Cleo. Is Gary up?”

“Hi Greg! No.”

“There’s been an incident on Thumpton Hill.”

“Why do people have to drive so fast?”

“And why do they have to transport a dishwasher in the boot?” said Greg.

“Wow!” said Cleo. “Delilah’s kichen was raided last night.”

“It can’t be a coincidence, can it?” said Greg.

“Did you catch the thieves?”

“Not quite.”

“How quite?”

“There must have been two of them to lift that dishwasher. The back seat was piled with kitchen stuff. One of the kitchen equipment transporters was killed. The other person must have dragged his mate to behind the tree they had hit, and run for it. That corpse could not have got there under its own steam.”

“Unless it was still alive and lay down to die there,” said Cleo.

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Chris will know, Greg. Is it possible to reconstruct the accident?”

“The traffic cops think the dishwasher, which was not tied on, lurched forwards, hitting the open boot lid and startling the driver. He reacted by driving the car into the oak tree at the bottom of the hill. The car is a write-off.”

“What about the tree everyone was desperate to conserve?”

“Hardly a mark.”

“Mitch told us at about two this morning that there’d been a break-in and all the portable stuff was stolen. The thieves must have been very aggrieved about something. They smashed up the rest of the kitchen and left it in bits, Greg. What time was the car accident reported?”

“At a bit before two, Cleo, but not to me. I’ve just started work. The traffic cops called an ambulance and cordoned off the area with tape and red beacons. They called in a second team and a search was started for anyone else involved who was possibly injured, but they did not find anyone.”

“What about the car registration?”

“The car was stolen. The owner was in bed asleep and had not missed it.”

“Are you sure that’s the truth?”

“The owner of the car is a Miss Plimsoll and she’s nearly sixty, according to the report. The patrol cops could not imagine her carrying a dishwasher around.”

“Charlie will be glad to hear that description. Miss Plimsoll is an unpopular teacher who takes hockey practice at the Comprehensive. I’m sure she was telling the truth.”

“Miss Plimsoll was apparently furious that someone had had the cheek to pinch her car, but when asked, she could not say where the car key was, so perhaps it was in the ignition. That would mean that the car was not locked and easy prey. It also explains why Miss Plimsoll made threatening gestures with a hockey stick.”

Gary had been listening in on the bedroom handset. He now chipped in.

“Morning, Greg.”

“Hi Gary. Did you hear what I told Cleo?”

“The last bits. I’m going to the bistro after breakfast to look at the damage and commiserate, but Chris should take a forensic team there a.s.a.p., Greg. I hope Mitch will have made a list of stolen items. That will make a comparison with the car load simple. I’ll take a shower now, Greg.”

“Why didn’t Gary deal with it when it happened, Cleo?”

“Hold your horses, Greg. Even Gary can’t do much about a burglary during the night,” said Cleo. ”Mitch will have made sure no one got near the wreckage and Gary took the complaint as official, so Nigel can document that for the insurance. Mitch was going to call and get the damage assessed sometime today.”

“OK. Cleo. You’d better tell that husband of yours that we have another drug-linked incident to deal with. Someone shot by the chemist this time. A grizzly business.”

“I’m on my way,” called Gary. “I’ll snatch a croissant, drive to the bistro first and phone you from there.”

***

“Greg made me feel like a naughty schoolboy,” said Gary a few minutes later. “All I wanted was a good night’s sleep.”

“You should not get irate when you don’t get one, Gary. People don’t know why you are grumpy.”

“Why is Daddy grumpy,” said Charlie, who had been woken by all the dialogue.

“He’s just tired, Charlie, and a bit worried.”

Charlie flung her arms round Gary to comfort him. He felt like an imposter.

“I’ll have to go, now,” he said.

“I’ll get the bus to school, Daddy.”

“Yes, do that Sweetheart.”

“I’ll take the red car, Cleo. See you at HQ.”

“No. Take the van. The red car is taken.”

“Where are you going?”

“Here and there. Do I always ask you?

“Will you go to the bistro as well?”

“I’ll have to. Delilah wants to tell me something.”

“No idea what?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Women…”

Episode 2 - Bridge

Tuesday cont.

One of the major problems of running a home for pensioners and people who prefer to describe themselves in euphemisms such as older-middle-aged or younger seventy- plus is that some of them are usually in such good shape that they outlast what you could refer to as merely pensioners passing through. They arrive looking forward to a new lease of life and their the optimism fades quite soon in face of the ennui encountered on a day to day basis confrontation with other seniors. Life at a home for seniors can be quite humdrum, but it is not per se lethal, and relatives only too often treat their elders as if they had parked them somewhere out of the way, safe and sound, but isolated.

Episode 1 - Surprises

Tuesday December 1

“Where are we going, for heaven’s sake?” Cleo asked.

Gary did not usually go for walks when he should be at the office, so Cleo was perplexed.

“Down here,” said Gary as they turned into one of the crescents. They were now the other side of the centre of Upper Grumpsfield. It was cold and mystery tours on foot were not Cleo’s choice of entertainment.