Elizabeth Duncan - A Killer's Christmas in Wales

Victoria poured the tea. “Do you think she’ll say anything to you about not giving the photos to them earlier?”

“I don’t think so. I just got them myself yesterday, and I thought Brian had already given them to the police.”

Victoria sipped her tea. “This case has really got me confused. So many bad things going on. Thefts, murders, I don’t know what’s important and what isn’t,” she said. “Or if things are meant to be connected to other things.”

Penny nodded. “Me, too.”

“Would it help if we go over what we know so far? I know you’re determined to find out who stole your brooch.”

“It’s more than that,” said Penny. “I think whoever stole my brooch killed Harry Saunders.”

“Why on earth would you think that? I mean, you may be right, but it seems like an awfully big leap to me.”

“Because Mrs. Lloyd’s letter opener was the murder weapon. And we know there’ve been thefts from the charity shop. Things with not a lot of value being taken. I can’t remember them all, but there was a John Lennon biography, I remember that, and a shepherdess figurine. That sort of thing. So Mrs. Lloyd’s letter opener would fit right in with that lot. But my brooch is different. It’s valuable.”

“Unless whoever took it didn’t know it was valuable. Just thought it was costume jewelry.”

Penny leaned forward. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “but it was in its case, so whoever took it knew it came from a proper jeweler, so must have known that it had some value.” She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head slightly and giving out a little groan. “But what are the chances that a town this size would have two thieves at work?

“I’ve just had an idea. Have you got a calendar?”

“There’s one on my laptop.”

“No, not that kind. A paper kind. Even better, go get your appointment book. You know, that little black one you can’t live without. There’s something we need to check.”

Victoria rose and picked up her handbag from the table near the door. She brought it over to the sofa, opened it, and handed Penny a thin black diary. “Here you go.”

“Right,” said Penny. “Let’s see. Saunders was killed on the Tuesday…” She ran her finger backward over the dates. “This was the big snowstorm, and here”-her finger came to rest on the Sunday of the weekend before-“this was the day Mrs. Lloyd had her open house. So anyone who was there could have taken the letter opener.”

She looked triumphantly at Victoria.

“And a day or two after the open house Florence notices the letter opener is missing. So, I think the letter opener was stolen by someone who attended that open house.” She handed the diary back to Victoria. “What do you think?”

“Maybe,” Victoria replied slowly. “Unless of course it’s Florence. Do you think…”

“Funny you should say that. I asked her a little while ago to try to remember the last time they saw the letter opener, and she never got back to me. You don’t suppose…”

As they looked at each other, the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs startled them.

“Oh, that’ll be Bethan, come for the memory stick.”

Victoria returned a few minutes later and showed Bethan into the room.

“Hi, Penny,” she said with a broad smile.

“You’re looking awfully chipper for someone who’s just come from a murder scene,” Penny said. “What’s up?”

“We’ve just had the DNA results back from the lab on Harry Saunders,” Bethan said. “We ran his results against all others on file. It’s routine, just in case. And the lab team found a match.”

“Really?” said Penny.

“With who?” asked Victoria, almost at the same time.

Bethan shook her head slightly. “You’ll not believe this, but to the skeletonized remains of the woman found in the ductwork of your spa. And to a ninety-nine-point-eight percent certainty, that woman was none other than Harry Saunders’s mother.”

Penny and Victoria looked at each other in stunned silence.

“Could that explain what he was doing here?” asked Penny. “Was he looking for his long-lost mother?”

“But Penny, you can’t,” wailed Victoria. “We’re that close to Christmas and the ladies want their manicures! You’ve got to come in. We need you here.”

She listened for a few moments.

“Penny, you promised me you’d let the police handle this. All of it. Everything. You said you wouldn’t let any of it interfere with the business, and we’re going to lose at least an hour today judging those shop windows for the competition. We have to get that done today.” She listened for a few more moments and then said in a softer tone, “Well, yes, I can see that. Of course, you do. OK, see you later. We’ll do the rest of the windows this afternoon.”

A minute later she rang off, put the phone down, and walked the short distance from her office to the reception desk.

“Rhian, Penny won’t be coming in this morning. Can you see if Eirlys has any openings and, if so, call Penny’s clients to reschedule? She says she’d be happy to do evening appointments or later in the afternoon. She’ll be in just after lunch.”

The spa receptionist called up the appointments page on her computer screen. “Just three ladies,” she said. “I’ll call them now.”

Victoria came around behind the desk and peered over Rhian’s shoulder. “Like this booking program, do you?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s great,” said Rhian. “Once you’ve entered a client’s information, you just have to enter the name again and the phone number pops right up. Like this.” She clicked on one of the women’s names and her phone number appeared. “Not only that, but watch this!” She clicked on the phone number, and the phone beside her desk lit up and rang a few moments later.

“Hello, Mrs. Bowen, it’s Rhian here from the spa. I’m sorry, but I’m calling to ask if you would mind if Eirlys took your appointment this morning. She’s very good.” A few moments later Rhian replaced the receiver and turned to look at Victoria.

“She insisted on Penny, so she’ll come in this afternoon instead. No problem.”

Thinking about the practical applications of the software booking program, Victoria returned to her desk.

Shortly after nine, Penny paused at the window of the charity shop where she had bought the replacement plate for Brian Kenley and where she had spotted her brooch. Her heart began to beat faster when she saw it was no longer on top of the little Christmas tree that formed part of the window display. She pushed the door open.

“Hello,” she said to the woman behind the counter. “The police were trying to reach you yesterday about the brooch that was on top of your Christmas tree. It was stolen. It belongs to me.”

“Does it now?” the woman replied. “Well, as a matter of fact, they’ve already rung about it and I’ve just this minute taken it off the tree.”

“Thank you,” said Penny. “I’m that relieved I am to know it’s safe.” She smiled at the woman. “You know, something funny’s been going on in this shop lately, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to spend an hour or two here to see how things work.”

She gestured at the crowded shelves. “I wondered if you could use a volunteer.”

“Carwyn,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Come out here, please. You’ve got a helper this morning.”

As a short, smiling woman emerged from the back room, the woman behind the desk turned to Penny. “Are you sure you can spare the time? Don’t you have a fancy new massage parlour to be running?”

“It’s not a massage parlour, it’s a spa,” said Penny, “although we can certainly do a healing, deep-heat massage. Might be just the thing for you after a long day here.”