Scandal at Six(13)

The publican saw him, and smiled. It was the chap from the theatre lot. It’d be their play coming round again. “Mildred! It’s Justin Brookes! You know, the actor from the rep troupe. He’s always good for a free ticket. Come on through.”

Mildred came into the bar, wiping her wet hands. “Oh Justin,” she said. “Your usual?” She put a half of bitter in front of him, and smiled. “What’s this one about, then? Ooh, The Black Hand Mystery! Sounds good. We’ll go, shall we, me duck?”

Justin slid his beer money across the counter, together with a flier and a couple of tickets. “Next Monday,” he said. “Best day for you? Two for the price of one, as it’s my favourite pub. Like the car? Present from my uncle. Mind you, it means I don’t do much walking!”

“You’d do well to sell that snazzy little vehicle, and get yourself a bicycle,” said the publican. “Rushing round the countryside like a bat out of hell! We can hear you coming a mile off. No, only laughing. I reckon acting is quite a physical job? We shall look forward to the play.”

“You could be right about the cycling. But how could I part with the Fiat? She would be heartbroken, and give up the ghost. Her wheels would never move again!”

“Bollocks,” said publican Paul, and pushed a packet of crisps across the bar counter to Justin’s waiting hand.



*



“Did you notice his watch?” said Mildred, after they had seen Justin drive away with a roar.

Paul shook his head. “No, I was busy. Why?”

“Very expensive. A Rolex, I reckon. Family money, more than likely. Nice chap, though. Did you pay him for the tickets?”

“One,” said Paul. “And he paid me for the crisps.”





Eight





By the time evening came, Lois realised that Gran was not coming back. She had left a delicious salmon salad for their supper, with a note saying she would see them at breakfast tomorrow.

“It’s not right, her being down there and us on our own in this big house,” said Lois. “After all, when we bought this place it was so’s it would have room for the kids and Mum. Look at us! Sitting here at one end of this great kitchen table.”

“So what do you suggest, me duck? Moving to a smaller house and selling this one? We’d get a decent price for it now I’ve done all the improvements. Or we could get a smaller table?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I shall get used to it. Let’s talk about something else. Did you get the eggs I asked you to collect from the shop?”

“Yep. Josie was there, and Gran came down to say hello. She looked very cheerful, and said she was expecting a friend for supper. Josie said that a smart-looking character had been into the shop, bringing fliers for the Tresham theatre company’s next performance in our village hall. He seemed interested in the flat, she said. Introduced himself as Justin something or other.”

“Ah, that chap who comes round every year with the troupe. I think he’s an actor, though probably not much of a one.”

Derek nodded. “I remember him. Quite a nice chap. Josie wondered if he might be a good one for the flat, if Gran decides against it. He would be a possible, locally based in the theatre.”

“He’s got one of those red Fiat 500s that Josie’s been on about.”

“Not much good for a family.”

“I don’t think she’s considering a family yet!”

“There’s a lot of them Fiats about now. Funny, but I looked down the street last night when it was almost dark, and saw one of ’em parked just down from the shop. I wondered if it was Matthew, and the police were economising with dinky little cars for plainclothes detectives! Mind you, the twin turbo ones can go like the wind.”

“Right. Well, Matthew has a dark-blue Toyota, nice and anonymous looking, so it wasn’t him.”

Derek yawned. “Getting late. It’s after midnight and time for bed, Lois, me duck. As your mum frequently says, tomorrow is another day.”



*



Gran’s friend had gone after supper, saying how nice it must be for her to have her own quarters, where she could entertain and do exactly what she liked, when she liked. Gran had agreed enthusiastically, but later began to feel strange. Not lonely, she told herself, but oddly alone. Something missing. Of course, it was Meade House and the family that were missing.

She shook herself, checked the locks on all the doors, put out the lights and went to bed. Sleep refused to come, and she sat up and put on the bedside lamp, then reached for her book. Maybe if she read for a while it would clear her mind.

It was approaching midnight on her little clock when she first heard a scraping noise. A moment’s panic had hit her, and she told herself not to be stupid. It was an old building, and full of mice and, as she knew only too well, rats. She had put down traps, but so far had caught nothing.