Old Moorhen's Shredded Sporran: The Belchester Chronicles Book 4 Page 9

  ‘Thank you very much, er, Edds. You’ve been very frank with us,’ shouted Lady A.

  ‘Frank? No, don’t know of no Frank workin’ on the estate. Per’aps ’e’s new and I ’aven’t met ’im, yet.’

  ‘No, there is no Frank.’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know no Frank, ma’am. You must’ve mis’eard me.’

  ‘Did you know the two maids who died, Florrie Searle and Edie Haire?’

  ‘No, not at all. I kep’ meself to the outdoors.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Edds. You’ve been very ’elp … er, helpful. Good day to you’. Lady Amanda didn’t want to try to explain any further, as she could see a real conversational tangle looming on the horizon. ‘Come along Hugo. We must get on.’ Taking their leave politely was the easiest and most honourable way out.

  Once outside, she sighed with relief. ‘What a trial he must be to supervise on the job. I really don’t understand what Evergreen thinks he’s up to with the casual staff. One can hardly see his hand in front of his face, and the other couldn’t hear a bomb go off, if it exploded just behind him. I wonder what our last candidate will be like.’

  ‘Breathing would be good,’ opined Hugo, waspishly.

  ‘That’s more than poor old Mangel is,’ agreed Lady A, in an acid tone, pulling out her map once more, for a further consultation for directions.

  ‘Right, if we go on down to the other end of this street and turn right at the T-junction, we’ll be almost at one end of Scribes Street, although I don’t know what end the numbers start. Then, afterwards, if we just go to the other end of it, it should take us to North Street, and we just need to call Beauchamp. We’ll need to do that from the main road because he’d never get the Land Rover and trailer down these narrow thoroughfares.’

  At the T-junction, they turned right and Lady A dismounted to see what number they were at. ‘Just our luck – number a hundred and twenty-seven.’

  ‘We’d have had to ride the whole length of the road anyway to get to North Street,’ Hugo reminded her, ‘so it doesn’t’ really make any odds which end we’re at. It’s the same amount of pedalling, when you look at it.’

  A short way up the road they stopped, when Hugo called out in apparent pain.

  ‘Whatever’s wrong, old stick?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s something round the back in a rather embarrassing place, and it hurts. Can you take a look? It feels like there’s something sticking into me.’

  Lady A marched round to the rear of Hugo’s tricycle and doubled over with laughter. ‘I say, old girl,’ Hugo moaned, ‘I don’t see that my pain is any reason for mirth. What is it?’

  ‘Hang on a mo’,’ she advised him, made a swift double-handed movement, then said, ‘How does that feel?’

  ‘Why, it’s gone completely. Whatever did you do? Are you turning into some sort of psychic healer?’

  ‘No, I just put your sticks back in their strap properly. They’d turned a bit, and were caught in the middle seam of your trousers. What you might call a bit of a “bummer”.’

  ‘Manda! Don’t be so coarse! You’ve not been the same since Tabitha visited us,’ he said for the second time, scandalised all over again.

  ‘I know. She has that effect on me – always has – and it takes a while for it to wear off. I’ll be all right in a couple of days, as long as she doesn’t come back again.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that,’ Hugo assured her, as they set off on their last visit of the day.

  12A Scribes Street was a Victorian terraced property with an overgrown garden and peeling paintwork, and didn’t strike either of them as a likely home for an estate worker.

  It took several knocks to bring anyone to the door, and, when the occupant opened it, they realised he was so slow because he was on crutches, having only one leg, the right limb ending just below the knee. Well, this really took the biscuit! Lady A would be having a very severe word with her head groundsman about the staff he had chosen to employ. How and why on earth had he given a job to a one-legged gardener?

  ‘Mr Darle?’ she enquired, hoping for a negative answer, and the information that Mr Darle was another occupant of the house altogether.

  ‘Ah, your l-l-ladyship and M-m-mr Hugo. What an honour it is t-t-to find you on my d-d-d-doors-s-tep. Edward D-darle at your s-s-service, but please c-c-call m-me Eddie.’

  Oh great. And he was a stutterer. It was like the three wise monkeys, only with old men: one couldn’t see, one couldn’t hear, and the third could barely speak. She’d have to get rid of them all, thought Lady Amanda, and do some interviewing herself, to make sure she got some fit men to undertake the work in the grounds. She’d give Evergreen a right flea in the ear when she caught up with him.

  ‘Good afternoon, Eddie,’ Hugo greeted him politely in the silence caused by his companion’s furious thinking. ‘We’d like to talk to you about the recent deaths at work. Can you tell us what you knew of Victor Mangel?’

  ‘Sociable b-b-body, he was, always chatting and affable. I l-l-liked him. Real p-p-p-ppity about what happened, although I d-d-don’t understand exactly what that w-was.’

  ‘The police are investigating, Eddie, as are we. We wondered if you’d heard or seen anything suspicious just before he disappeared?’ This was easier going. The man might only have one leg and suffer from a stutter, but he seemed quite civilised,

  ‘He w-w-was chattering on about something that he’d s-s-seen and was excited about, but I w-w-wasn’t really listening. I was having trouble with my s-s-stump, if you’ll p-pardon the expression, and the p-p-pain was d-distracting,’ he replied, making them both start with excitement. Maybe they were on to something here.

  ‘Could you just have a think and see if you can remember anything he said,’ asked Lady A breathlessly.

  There was silence for almost a minute, as Eddie scratched at his sparse hair, lost in recollection, then his face lit up. ‘It was s-s-something to do with s-s-s … s-s-s …’ he ground to a halt with an expression of angry bewilderment on his face. He’d ground to a full stop, and would have to try a bump-start.

  ‘S-s-s …’ he tried again, but still couldn’t get any further.

  ‘Try a different letter,’ advised Lady Amanda, who’d had a friend at school who’d stuttered and, sometimes, if she tried a word that began with a different letter of the alphabet, she could get underway again.

  ‘It concerned a p-p-person,’ – it had worked – ʻhe’d m-m-met and s-s-s … s-s-s …’ – but not for long. He’d come unstuck on the letter ‘s’ again. With a frown of effort, his eyes nearly crossed, he tried again. ‘A k-k-kind of c-c-caper.’

  ‘What do you mean by ‘caper’?’ asked Lady Amanda, now holding her breath with the tension of the situation.

  ‘S-s-s … s-s-s … s-s-s …’ Eddie turned dark red with his effort, then held up his hand. He’d done as much as he could. Grabbing a calendar from a small table in the hall, he pointed to the next day, and looked at them imploringly.

  ‘We’ll come back another day, but I can’t guarantee tomorrow,’ agreed Lady Amanda, understanding, but feeling utterly defeated. The door swung closed slowly, as Edward Darle retreated from the conversational battlefield, bloodied but unbowed.

  As they tricycled away, Lady Amanda said, ‘It sounds to me as if that Mangel fellow was involved in whatever happened while we were away. What do you think, Hugo?’

  ‘I rather think you’re right. Maybe this last one will remember something else overnight, if we’re really lucky.’

  ‘I just hope he doesn’t try to phone us with what he’s remembered,’ declared her ladyship, her face all screwed up in a grimace of apprehension at the thought. ‘We’ll have to give Sergeant Glenister a ring straight away when we get in, to get him to come over with a picture of this Jemmy fellow, then we can get on with searching the watering holes of Belchester,’ gabbled Lady A, swept away with excitement at the thought.

  ‘Indeed,’ agreed Hugo dourly, re
membering the place where they’d taken lunch, and how intimidated he’d felt. ‘I can’t wait.’ Again, he crossed his fingers at the untruth.

  ‘Neither can I. And here we are, at the junction with North Street. What a silly I am. I could have phoned Beauchamp as soon as Eddie shut his door. He’d have been here by now. My brains must have been dulled by all that st-st-stuttering.’

  ‘You bitch!’ whispered Hugo under his breath, but very quietly, so there was no chance of his old friend hearing and verbally ripping his face off.

  Chapter Ten

  Once back in the house, Lady Amanda demanded a more substantial afternoon tea than normal, because of the amount of exercise she and Hugo had been forced to take, then got straight on the blower to Glenister, whose mobile phone number, fortunately, she possessed.

  She was most surprised to hear a strident ringtone sounding from the next room, and when Glenister answered, he spoke before she had a chance to. ‘If you’re in the drawing room, I’ll join you; I’m only in the next room.’

  Beauchamp, who had not yet left the room, raised an eyebrow at her, and said, ‘You never gave me a chance to tell you when you got back. You just went straight into your spiel about afternoon tea. If you’d just given me the opportunity, I’d have informed you he was already here.’

  ‘How uppity you are this afternoon, Beauchamp,’ she replied, blustering in her embarrassment. ‘Well, be off with you and get on with the tea. The sooner you start it, the sooner I can satisfy my hunger, and you’d better make it for three, if Sergeant Glenister’s here. I say, that blundering fool Moody isn’t here as well, is he?’

  ‘He has just left, your ladyship. Unfortunately for you, you have just missed him.’ Beauchamp infused this statement with as much sarcasm as he could muster. ‘Uppity’ indeed! And who did she think she was, even if she was his employer? Oh, he genuinely loved working here. Just for that, he’d do her favourite anchovy toast. He almost whistled as he returned to the kitchen.

  Sergeant Glenister entered the drawing room with a wide grin. ‘Do you know, I still can’t believe you ran into my uncle when you were in Scotland,’ he opened. ‘I hope he proved to be efficient.’

  ‘He was a real pleasure to work with,’ replied Lady A, ‘but he had an absolute dope of a DC; not like here, where it was the other way round when we left. Congratulations, by the way, on your promotion, and your transfer to plain clothes.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ the detective replied, as Hugo echoed these sentiments. ‘If only Old Misery Guts could get another rank under his belt, they might move him to another division, but I’d probably have to make inspector first, so that’s a long way off yet.’

  ‘We’ll do our best to help you on your way,’ promised his hostess. ‘In the meantime, we need to see a picture of this recently released Jemmy fellow, and I’ve ordered afternoon tea for three, if that suits you.’

  ‘How very civilised of you,’ replied Glenister, fumbling about in his inside jacket pocket.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your clothes the other day. I’ll reimburse you for any expense you’ve been put to,’ offered Lady A with a smile, as she remembered what had happened to the inspector’s face.

  ‘And I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that Inspector Moody is healing nicely,’ he responded, handing her an A4 photocopy of a mug shot. ‘You can keep that if you like. The original’s in the office, so I can easily get another one.’

  A slightly squeaky wheel announced the imminent arrival of the tea trolley, and Lady A’s mouth began, very commonly, to water. She was absolutely starving, and couldn’t believe her luck when the conveyance entered the room and she espied anchovy toast. And smoked salmon sandwiches. And a covered silver dish that proved to hold toasted teacakes, just dripping with melted butter. And, and, and, a plate of iced fondant fancies!

  ‘Oh, Beauchamp!’ she exclaimed, fighting the urge to dribble, ‘You have really excelled yourself today.’

  ‘I have anointed the smoked salmon sandwiches with horseradish mayonnaise, just as you like them, your ladyship,’ he informed her, the tiniest hint of a smile at the sides of his mouth.

  He knew she’d thought that, after she had spoken to him harshly and called him ‘uppity’, he would have produced an inferior repast, but that simply wasn’t his way. She kept him on his toes, even if some of her criticism was unjustified.

  He was a big boy now, and he could take it. Sticks and stones may break his bones, but words would never hurt him. And as long as he knew how to bite his tongue, things would never actually get to sticks and stones, and he’d be more than happy to see his days out here.

  After they had partaken of tea and Detective Sergeant Glenister had taken his leave of them, she announced her intention of bearding Evergreen in his den, and asking him what the hell he was playing at, getting her to pay a decent wage to a bunch of unfit old men.

  Hugo followed along behind her slowly, having reverted now to his trusty Zimmer frame. Lady A was still using a cane, so it wasn’t as hard as it could have been to keep up, her still not being up to full speed. He was quite worried about the encounter that was about to happen, because Manda’s temper had really risen, about the condition of the three people she paid to work in her grounds.

  They found the head groundsman in the potting shed, planting seed trays for the annuals in late spring and summer. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Amanda. How very civil of you to visit me at work,’ he greeted her, with a smarmy smile.

  ‘Evergreen,’ she began, without preamble, ‘I have visited, this afternoon, the three men you employ to help with the occasional garden clear-up – Ed, Edds, and Eddie, as I believe they are known to you.’

  Evergreen’s face slowly drained of colour and his grin turned into a grimace. ‘I have observed,’ his employer continued, ‘that Mr Darke is virtually deaf, that Mr Drake certainly ought to be registered blind, and that Mr Darle has only one leg and suffers from a ferocious stutter that sometimes renders him, literally, speechless. What have you got to say for yourself?’

  There was total silence in the potting shed.

  Hugo cleared his throat in embarrassment, as she continued with, ‘Well? How do you deem that they can be of any practical purpose in clearing the grounds?’

  Evergreen was now a colour somewhere between crimson and purple, and began to bluster. ‘I suppose I didn’t really notice the deterioration in them over the years,’ he tried first.

  ‘Surely you noticed when Mr Darle came in one day with a leg missing?’

  ‘He wore a prosthetic,’ Evergreen defended himself.

  ‘Did you not become aware of the fact that Mr Drake kept bumping into some things, and falling over others?’

  ‘He works round behind the stables. I don’t often have reason to go to where things are being burnt.’

  ‘And that Mr Darke is unable to hear any of your orders. The man’s practically stone deaf. What do you think you’re playing at? You have taken advantage of my good nature for some perverse reason of your own.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, your ladyship. Please don’t give me the elbow,’ he pleaded.

  ‘I can assure you that I shall not be offering you any part of my body. I shall, however, expect you to visit each of them tomorrow, in your own time, and tell them that I shall be paying them a small pension, and that their services are no longer required.

  ‘I shall then expect you to put a note through the door of the local paper with an advertisement for casual gardeners, and a postcard to the same effect, in the windows of all the newsagents that still put such notices in their windows. And when we get applications for employment, I shall graciously allow you to sit in on my interviews with the candidates. Have you got that?’

  ‘Yes, your ladyship. Thank you very much, your ladyship. You’re too kind, your ladyship,’ he burbled.

  ‘Oh, don’t gush, man. You’ll make me sick. Just do your job as you’re supposed to, and no more of this ‘hospital ward’ stuff. I’m not a doctor, nor am I a c
harity, and, at the moment, you simply wouldn’t believe how angry I am with you. Now buck up, man, and see if you can’t give me a little value for money for a change.’

  Lady A stumped out of the potting shed without the slightest need for her walking cane. It must have been the adrenaline coursing round her body that acted as a fully effective painkiller, and Hugo simply couldn’t keep pace with her on the way back to the house.

  ‘Come along, slowcoach,’ she called over her shoulder, with no idea of the pace at which she was moving. ‘For goodness sake get a move on, Hugo, or you’ll get moss and lichen growing on your north side.

  ‘Now we’ve got that out of the way, I think we should hide ourselves away in the library and take a look at all the brochures we collected. I must say, I picked up some very esoteric ones that should provide very amusing reading.’

  ‘You know they won’t change their mind about their plans, don’t you, Manda?’

  ‘Of course I do, but it’ll be fun to imagine the two of them in some of the more out of the way places in the literature I collected,’ she replied, entering the library.

  Hugo followed and sank gratefully into an armchair while Lady Amanda shared out the brochures, eventually spreading her selection out on a chesterfield before sinking down beside it.

  After a few minutes of browsing, she called out, ‘I’ve found some naturist holidays in this one. How do you think they’d take to that, Hugo?’

  ‘Not their thing at all, I shouldn’t say,’ he replied.

  ‘Enid’s such a prude, I should think it would embarrass her just to see herself in a state of undress,’ commented Lady Amanda.

  ‘Hey, there are some holidays here where you can jump out of a helicopter on to the top of a mountain and ski down to the base,’ Hugo chortled. ‘That’d be a sight for sore eyes.’

  ‘What about trekking in the jungle or canoeing down the Amazon? I say, can you imagine Enid’s disgust if she found her legs covered in leeches?’

  ‘She’d throw up on the spot.’

  ‘And what about Beauchamp burned as red as a beetroot?’