Scandal at Six(49)

“Of course not. If you’ve only just returned from Japan, you probably haven’t heard about the reptile infestation in the shop. Josie has had to contend with a large snake, a large toad, a squashed frog, and a family of rats. Someone put those things into the shop flat deliberately to harm or frighten my Josie to death. That’s why I mean to catch the culprit.”

“And that is someone at the zoo? It always seems so clean and tidy, and well managed. What is the man’s name at Cameroon Hall? Pettison? That’s it. Knew his concubine, poor woman. He nagged her to an early grave. She was a distant relative, you know. Beware, Lois. That is all I can say. Pettison was out in Africa as a young man, and when my father-in-law was a colonial judge, he had some very unflattering things to say about the Pettison family.”

“I knew you would be able to help!” said Lois. “Now, let’s start at the beginning, and pool what we know and what we intend to do about it.”

“First of all,” said Mrs T-J, “how is Josie? She must have had a nasty shock.”

“Brave, she was. Very brave. And seems to have put it behind her. But I know if something else happened—another snake, or a crawling yellow toad—she would probably flip.”

“So it is best to keep her in the dark, until we have cracked the case.” Mrs T-J occasionally came out with lovely old-fashioned phrases, and Lois laughed.

“Exactly,” she said. “So now, to work.”

“Yes, indeed, and I have thought of another thing which may be of help to us.”

“Already?” Lois said, smiling.

“This is a personal memory I have of my much-lamented late husband, and not one which I share with anyone except very close friends. At one time he was, I am afraid, something of a philanderer, and one of his ports of call was a house in the back streets of Tresham. One Sallyanne Blickling lived at Number Forty, Hope Street. A very attractive woman, married, with a number of small children, each with a different father. You get my drift, Lois dear?”

“I’m afraid I do, Mrs T-J. But these things happen.” Lois was at a loss to know what to say next, but the old lady continued.

“One of those children was the spitting image of my husband. A boy, and he was taken care of, properly educated, and is now a captain of industry in London. One of his sisters—not related to my husband!—lives opposite our team member, Dot Nimmo, and carries on the profession of her mother.”

“All this is very interesting, Mrs T-J, but what does it have to do with Robert Pettison? Oh no—I can answer that! This is Pettison’s fancy woman! So do you keep in touch with her?”

“As it happens, I do. I was able to help her along when she ran into a spot of trouble. She set up home with a wimp of a man who people said was her pimp, and took his name. Anyway, she is still the major breadwinner. In her line of business there are some pretty disreputable characters, and when I was on the bench, I was able to have one of them put away for a longish stretch.”

“Mrs T-J, you are a wonder! What’s the shady lady’s name? Dot often talks about her.”

“Betsy. Betsy Brierley. Pettison is a regular, and, some say, her only client, and she will have useful information. Confidential, of course, but she trusts me. I hope we’ll be able to earn her trust.”

“Of course. But we may remove her best client from circulation for a while. How do you feel about that?”

“I am sure she will find substitutes. Still a very attractive woman, I would say.”

After Mrs T-J had gone, promising to have an early interview with Betsy, Lois relaxed, thinking about what her eccentric assistant had said. This showed a completely new side to the old lady’s character. How strong she must have been! A philandering husband, an estate to run, a lifelong justice of the peace, and a lady-of-the-manor image to maintain.

No matter what Mum says, Lois thought, we’re lucky to have Mrs T-J aboard.



*



Justin slept well. He was awoken by the sound of conversation outside his window, and he padded over with bare feet to see who it was. He recognised the top of Josie’s head, but the other person was not familiar. Grey hair, cut short, and a stoutish person beneath. Good shoes, looking like a countrywoman clothed entirely by Cordings of Piccadilly.

He opened the window, and a blast of frosty air hit him, so he closed it again with a bang. Josie looked up, smiled and waved. Then the other person, a rosy-faced, elderly woman, looked, too. He waved back, and withdrew.

He decided to shower, get dressed, and then have a walk around the village. He knew very little about it, apart from the main street. It would be a nice community to get involved with, especially if he managed to give up his association with his uncle.