Ann Purser: Threats At Three

Usually Lois loved to listen to his tales of the past, but this morning she had to keep going, and interrupted him with a question. “What on earth are you doing there?” she asked.

“Cleaning up, as usual,” he said, his voice muffled as he returned to his scratching.

“What is there to clean up? I can’t see anything,” Lois said, frowning. Tony looked for all the world as if he was hiding something.

He straightened up, and held out his hand, palm up. Lois peered more closely, and saw two matches, unspent. “So?” she said. “Kids smoking substances again?” The rear of the village hall was a well-known haunt for a group of youths and girls to gather. The police periodically raided the spot, but the kids were a dab hand at melting into the night. So far, no serious damage had been done, except, of course, to themselves.

“’ere, missus, smell this,” Tony said, extending his dirt-covered hand further towards her. She blenched, but leaned forwards and sniffed. “Petrol,” she said. They stared at each other in silence. Then Tony said, “So they was right, the ones who said there was a plot to burn down the village hall.”

“Oh, my God,” Lois said, feeling sick. “So why didn’t it work?”

“Damp matches,” Tony said flatly. “Otherwise the whole lot would have gone up. And with that wooden fence along the back of all them houses, God knows where it would have stopped.”

“The police, then,” Lois said. “I’ll ring them straightaway. Can you keep those matches safe?”

Tony nodded, and said that as far as the petrol was concerned, the ground was soaked in it, so that wouldn’t go away. “You do it, missus. You can phone your inspector and get some action.”

Lois was so used to people knowing about her association with Inspector Cowgill that she did not even notice his sly grin.

“LOIS? TO WHAT DO I OWE THIS EARLY MORNING TREAT?” COWGILL beamed. He had woken feeling the old depression weighing him down. It had returned on and off ever since his wife died some years ago, and he knew the only remedy was to get out of bed, put on some old clothes and go for a run around the park. He had drawn back his bedroom curtains and was about to set off when his telephone rang. The moment he heard Lois’s voice he knew there would be no need for a run.

“Early morning?” snapped Lois. “I don’t call this early morning. Now listen, Hunter. I’ve just come back from walking Jeems, and met old Tony Dibson… What?… Well, give me a chance and I’ll tell you who he is. He’s the old caretaker for the hall, has a blind wife and looks after her, has lived here for centuries and knows everybody and everything. What? Yes, a great source of information. Now, listen ! I’m going out for the day and haven’t got much time.”

When she mentioned the arson rumour, she could tell he immediately snapped into professional mode and was quiet. “So I smelled the petrol for myself,” she continued, “and saw the matches. Tony says the ground was dry as a bone, so they must have been damp in the box.”

“Going out for the day, did you say, Lois? What time are you going?”

“We’re all leaving about ten o’clock.” She looked at her watch. “In about an hour’s time.”

“I’m on my way,” he said briskly. “Can you meet me at the hall in twenty minutes? Good girl,” he added, and ended the call before she could reply.

Derek was not pleased when Lois explained that because of what she had seen she had to be at the hall to meet the police. “By ‘the police’ I suppose you mean Hunter sodding Cowgill? Honestly, Lois, haven’t we had enough of all this? Why don’t you leave them to deal with some nutter who likes the idea of a good blaze? He’s obviously no real arsonist if he can’t even keep his matches dry!”

Gran, putting hot toast on the table, nodded. “Quite right, Derek,” she said. “This is a special day out for all of you. Don’t spoil it, Lois.”

Lois suppressed a strong desire to tell her mother to mind her own business, and said only that she would be back well in time for Douglas to collect them. “Are you sure you’ll be all right in the shop, Mum?” she added, in an endeavor to change the subject.

Gran bridled. “No, of course not,” she said tartly. “I shall give out wrong change, make a mess of cutting the ham, annoy the customers and in general ruin the shop’s reputation.”

“Okay, okay,” said Derek. “Let’s just concentrate on the day, shall we? Just be back here by ten, Lois. Otherwise,” he said seriously, “I shall have to come and find you and give Cowgill a piece of my mind.”

“No need for that,” Lois said. “And anyway, with your new SOS responsibility, you’ll need all the mind you can muster, without giving away any pieces of it.”

Escaping from the decidedly chilly atmosphere of home, she returned to the village hall to find Cowgill already there. How does he do it? she wondered. Half an hour ago he had clearly just got up, and now here he was, immaculate as always. And with no woman to look after him…

Tony Dibson was also there, still clutching the matches, and he had already told Cowgill all that he knew. “Not usually a matter for the chief inspector, sir?” he said, with a meaning look at Lois.

“Arson is a very serious matter, Mr. Dibson,” Cowgill said smoothly. “And we try to have as little rigid hierarchy as possible at the station, you know,” he added.

What was the bugger talking about? Tony looked at Lois enquiringly, and said could he go home now, as his wife would be needing him.

After he had gone, Cowgill walked round the hall and along the fence, prodding and sniffing, and then asked Lois if she would sit in his car with him for a couple of minutes while he made some notes. She said fine, so long as he didn’t have any etchings to show her, and ten minutes later she was on her way back to the house.

“Where’ve you been, Mum?” Doug said, as he and his family cruised past her a yard or two before Meade House. The name had been suggested by Josie, who said that’s what everybody called it anyway, so why not regularize it?

“Nowhere,” replied Lois, waving to little Harry. “We’re all ready, so I’ll just call Dad. Isn’t that Josie on her way? Good. That means we won’t have to stop again.”

“Hi!” Josie called as she approached. “We’re off to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of space!”

Harry chortled and waved his hands about. He had no idea what his aunt was on about, but he loved her dearly. She slid across the seat to sit next to him, gave him a smacking kiss and said he was her favourite nephew. Doug did not fail with the ritual reply that he was her only nephew, so far.

“Plenty of room,” Doug said, as Lois and Derek climbed into the seven-seater, and with cries of delight for Harry’s benefit, they got under way.

THE MORNING HAD NOT STARTED SO WELL IN WHAT WAS STILL known as Pickerings’ house, though the Pickerings had sold to a mysterious single man who had turned out to be a sinister people trafficker. Needless to say, he had been sent to jail for a long stretch, and the house had been put on the market again. A spry village character had bought it in order to rent it out. He had a deal with the local Social Services Department who needed accommodation for the deserving homeless. One such family were the Hicksons, and they had moved in under the watchful eyes of the villagers.

The house was one of the many old ironstone buildings in the village, and in bright sunshine it glowed a warm dark gold. The end wall had been built with bands of limestone alternating with ironstone, and on an otherwise perfectly plain family house, the pattern of stripes was a glimpse of a long-gone village builder’s unexpected flight of fancy.