Ann Purser - Threats At Three

She didn’t give him a straight answer, but muttered something about being sure she had told him at least some of it. Then she said that the urgent thing to do now would be to find out who it was. Paula had not given her the name of Jack Sr.’s tormentor at work. He had apparently refused to tell her, and his other workmates had decided to keep their mouths shut, too, thinking it would all pass over and be forgotten. That would be the best thing for Jack, they had agreed amongst themselves. The injured man had also been sacked when other redundancies had been necessary. Knowing he had been partly guilty for Jack’s attack, he too had said nothing more, but it was known that he had apparently blamed Jack for having to take sick leave and then finding himself out of work.

“Did Paula tell you all this?”

“Some of it,” Lois said. “The rest has emerged in dribs and drabs. I have not been idle, Cowgill, whatever you may think.”

Cowgill left it there. He said he would now contact the Parks and Gardens Department and see what they could tell him. There must be someone willing to talk.

“I’ll keep in touch, Lois,” he said. “And well done. All I would say, my dear, is that you could be in a dangerous position, knowing what you know. There is a man on the run somewhere, possibly desperate. If you could bring yourself to let me know any more dribs and drabs that might come your way, I would be most grateful.”

“Bollocks,” said Lois, and ended the call.

“I love you when you’re angry, Lois Meade,” Cowgill said to the dialling tone.

“What did you say, sir?” said Chris, coming in for her meeting with the boss.

“Never you mind,” said Cowgill. “It was a private call.”

IN NO TIME AT ALL, THE PARKS AND GARDENS DEPARTMENT OF the local authority had supplied Cowgill with the names and addresses of all those made redundant after Jack Hickson had left the department. No, they answered when he asked about a punch-up in the department, they had no knowledge of any such disturbance. In fact, they were quite put out by the suggestion. Good staff relations were a priority with the authority, they insisted.

Cowgill had handed the list to Chris, filled her in with details of Jack Sr.’s fight with a fellow gardener and asked her to do some legwork. “Go and see them all,” he’d instructed, “and don’t let them know you’re coming. This one will be a slippery eel, I suspect. Even a hint that we’re on to him will send him slithering off to a new hideaway. Meanwhile,” he added, as she prepared to leave his office with a bundle of papers, “I shall be out for the rest of the day. I need to have a chat with my most useful contact in all of this.”

“Of course. I’ll find you somewhere in Long Farnden, then?”

“Get going, Chris,” Cowgill said.

NEW BROOMS WEEKLY MEETING BROUGHT TO AN END LOIS’S WORK on setting down information and endeavoring to make sense of it. She felt she had cleared up some of the puzzles, but was not a lot nearer solving either of the priorities. We’re going round in circles, she had decided. There must be another way in. Who else might be sitting on useful clues without knowing it? After his second disappearance, Jack Hickson Sr. was obviously keeping his distance and was unlikely to reappear in the village. But she was sure he wouldn’t be far away. From what Paula had said lately, it was not impossible that she and Jack could get together again.

As for the other man, Lois was not so optimistic. The only hope of him being still around was that the grudge had not been settled. Or, she thought, as the first of her team rang the door bell, maybe it is not wholly his show. Maybe someone else is pulling the strings, and he’s just the puppet? Perhaps they should be looking at the whole thing as a network of connected motives?

“Oh, lor, it get’s worse!” she said aloud, as the door opened and Andrew looked in.

“Okay to convene, Mrs. M?” he said.

The rest of the team followed, and Lois welcomed them. “Let’s hope this week we can concentrate on our jobs, without the distraction of missing kids and the police crawling all over us,” she said. “Now, Hazel, shall we start with the list of new potential clients?”

“Twenty of ’em,” Hazel said flatly. The others stared at her. This was at least twice as many as usual for a weekly count. “Seems the village being in the news has brought in an influx of helpless housewives. I reckon, and Mrs. M agrees with me, that they’re all nosy blighters who think one of us would be good for a juicy gossip. Anyway, Mrs. M and me have been through the list, and sorted out four clients most likely to stay with us, gossip or no gossip.”

“Can we cope with that many extras?” Sheila Stratford said. She was now the acknowledged senior cleaner, having been there longer than anyone else, and she usually spoke for the rest.

“Yes, I think so,” said Lois. “I’ve been through schedules carefully, and with Paula being able to do a couple more hours, and Andrew not having any interior décor projects on at the moment, we can work things out. I may have to look for another member of the team later. We’ll see. If any of you would like some extra hours, let me know.”

Dot Nimmo’s hand went up, like the girl at the back of the class. “Please, Mrs. M,” she said, “I would. I’ve got time on my hands now. My sister Evelyn has moved away, as you know, and to tell the truth, I’m lost for company.” Lois smiled. She tried not to have favourites among her staff, but she could not help having a soft spot for Dot.

Dot Nimmo! Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of her before? With her past connections with the underworld of criminal gangs in Tresham, she could well be sitting on information that would be vital! She was not even sure the connections were all in the past. After all, Dot’s husband and his entire family had carried on businesses which all sailed close to the wind, and involved the odd mysterious drowning or apparent suicide. Then Dot’s husband had died, as had his brother and father, and not all of natural causes, but this did not mean that Dot had lost touch with the rest. The reverse was more likely, Lois was sure.

“Good, that will be helpful, Dot,” she said. “Can you stay behind for a few minutes, and we’ll go through your schedule with Hazel. Now, any other matters?”

Floss had a breakage in a client’s house to report, but said that it had been a pottery figure of a clown that the owner had never liked, so there was no problem. Sheila reported that Edwina Smith was happy to give young Hickson some odd jobs around the farm at weekends, if he was interested. Now that she was a widow, she was having a hard time getting through the work, even with help from Sheila’s husband, Sam.

Finally all the details were dealt with, and the meeting broke up. Only Dot and Hazel remained, and in a short time Dot’s revised schedules were worked out. Then Hazel went, saying she would see everybody at the soap box grand prix on Saturday.

“Next year,” said Dot, “can we have a New Brooms soap box, Mrs. M? I know some of my nephews would be really good at getting a speedy one knocked up from odds and ends. Not sure where the odds and ends might come from, but no questions asked!”

This gave Lois the perfect opportunity. “Sit down again, Dot,” she said. “I wanted to have a chat about your family.”

Dot looked alarmed. New Brooms was her life now, and she dreaded something bad happening inside the Nimmo gang that would cause her to lose her job.

“Don’t look like that!” Lois said. “It’s nothing alarming. No, I really wanted to pick your brains. In strict confidence between me and you, and I really mean that, Dot, we are still not happy with Jack Jr.’s story about what happened to him. It might be that he’s made up all that stuff about being at a friend’s house.”