Scandal at Six(33)

He did not smile. “I am sorry you feel like that,” he said. “Back in two minutes.”

When he returned, he was not carrying an ice bucket, but a small but deadly looking gun in his hand.

“Now, about that snake. You should not have given it to the keeper. My new people do not go anywhere near the zoo.”

“Too bad. I’m sure you’ll think of something. I had no idea you were at home, and I wanted that thing out of my car as quickly as possible. Ted’s furious with me, as it is. Suspects I’m still on the game. But no, you can relax. No such luck for me.”

“I see,” he said, and frowned. “I think I need to make sure you will do what I say for a little while. Turn around, my sweet, and point your pretty little feet towards the door, and then I will direct you. Don’t try anything stupid or brave, because I hate to be disobeyed, as you know. Off we go, then.”



*



The small room at the back of the hall was cold and dark, and Betsy shivered. She was not warmly dressed, having left home in a hurry with the snake. Now she looked around for something to put around her shoulders, but there was nothing. She supposed the room had once been a maid’s bedroom, and not been used for years.

“Robert!” she yelled for the umpteenth time, and banged on the door until her knuckles were sore. “Pettison! Let me out of here, or the police will be up here very soon. Let me out!”

“No need to shout, Betsy.” He was standing at the other side of the door. “The police, in the shape of one constable guarding the gate barrier, has been up here asking for you. I denied having seen you, of course, and wished him well in his search.”

Betsy leaned on the door. “What’s the point of all this? Is this some new setup to liven up a jaded appetite? If so, you can stuff it. I’m not available.”

“You will be delighted to hear that I am cooking a delicious supper for us both, and I shall be bringing it upstairs in due course.”

“Stuff your supper, too!” she yelled. “Let me out of here; otherwise, I’ll never allow you to call on me again.”

“Oh, I don’t think Ted would be pleased about that. I think we can come to some agreement over supper, my dear. Back soon!”

Betsy sat down and thought. She looked around the room for inspiration, and could not believe her eyes. On a rickety bookcase by the door she saw the gun. He had forgotten it! She picked it up gingerly and looked more closely. She was expecting it to be cold and heavy, but it wasn’t. It was quite light, and made of plastic. It was a toy gun, and she began to laugh. The man was unhinged, she thought, but harmless.





Twenty





Ted Brierley had doubted Dot’s guess that Betsy was with Pettison, and as he heard a car coming up the road, he stood back from the window. No warm welcome from hubby for you, madam, he thought.

Meanwhile, now unashamedly standing staring out of her window, Dot saw the car and nipped out of her front door. The car’s headlights dazzled her, and she stepped back onto the pavement. For one moment, she thought it was coming straight at her, but then realised it was slowing to a halt beside her. The lights were switched off, and a woman got out. It was the errant wife, Betsy Brierley, teetering towards her on ridiculously high heels.

“Is that you, Dot Nimmo?” she asked, peering at Dot through the gloom.

“Indeed it is,” she said tartly.

“What you doin’ out here, then? You need some help?”

“No, it was your husband that needed help. He’s exhausted with worry about you.”

“And you’ve been trying to console him, is that it? If so, you’re wasting your time, Dottie.”

“Don’t talk rubbish, woman,” said Dot angrily. “And don’t judge other people by your own standards!”

“Oh, piss off,” said Betsy, unlocking her door and disappearing inside.

“A good spanking for Betsy?” muttered Dot, and she laughed. “She’ll get her comeuppance one of these days, and I’ll be the first to laugh,” she said to her elderly parrot as she went indoors.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” answered the parrot.

Meanwhile, Betsy confirmed to Ted that she had been with Pettison, omitted to mention that she had delivered the snake to the zookeeper, could not be bothered to tell him about the small servant’s room at Cameroon Hall and said she was very tired and was going straight to bed.

Stretched out, Betsy thought about the evening’s events. Pettison had been very strange, but then he was always strange, one way or another. He’d laughed when she appeared at the top of the stairs, having let herself out of the cold little room. “Just wanted to let you know the situation,” he had said. “And to give you a taste of what might come to be, should you decide to make unilateral decisions or, to put it another way, feel tempted to spill the beans.”