M Beaton - There Goes The Bride

‘Did they ever see anyone actually getting into her bedroom by the window?’

‘One of them, Bert Trymp, a bit older than the others, said one night he was going to try because, to put it in his charming words, she must be gagging for it. It’s too difficult to leap from the tree to the window, so he carried along a ladder one night and up he went while his mates watched from the tree. Felicity sees his head and shoulders rising above the window and screams the place down.

‘Bert is arrested but when Felicity’s nightly striptease starts to come out, Bross-Tilkington drops the charges fast, makes a donation to the police widows-and-orphans fund, and the striptease stops.’

‘When was this?’

‘Two weeks before the wedding.’

‘Are the police questioning Bert?’

‘I don’t know. Gosh, if this comes out in the press, poor James is really going to look like a sucker. No wonder her father was desperate to get her married off’

‘And what about Jerry? Why wasn’t he fired?’

‘I thought maybe you could find out something from Olivia Bross. I’m going to drop the Tilkington. Such a mouthful. Was James able to be any help?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ said Agatha bitterly. ‘She played the virgin with him. No sex until after we’re married. I just don’t understand James at all.’

‘Beautiful people get away with a lot,’ said Toni, ‘and Felicity was so very beautiful.’

Agatha fought back an irrational impulse to cry.

‘Let’s go and see Olivia,’ she said. Are the press still around? Do we need to go the back way?’

‘No, we can use the front. Only a couple of local fellows.’

Agatha phoned Olivia as they were almost at the villa and told her to open the electronic gates. The rain was falling steadily as they arrived. Toni got out to phone on the intercom, ignoring the questions of two sodden reporters. The gates opened and they drove in. The reporters tried to follow but were shooed back by a policeman on duty outside.

Agatha fretted that the only real bits of investigation had come from Toni and Patrick. She was determined to take over the questioning of Olivia.

‘I wonder who cleans this place,’ whispered Toni. ‘I mean, I’m sure Olivia can’t clean it all herself’

I should have thought of that, Agatha’s mind grumbled. But she saw a way of getting rid of Toni. ‘Why don’t you leave Olivia to me,’ she said, ‘and go back into the village and ask around.’

‘Wouldn’t it just be easier to ask Olivia who cleans for her?’ said Toni reasonably. ‘Then I’ll take off and question her.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Agatha rang the bell. Olivia answered the door herself.

‘Oh, do come in,’ she said eagerly. ‘Have you any news?’

‘A few leads,’ said Agatha. ‘I would like to ask a few more questions.’

‘Let’s go into the lounge.’

‘Before we do that, would you please give us the name of anyone who cleans for you?’

‘I don’t see how that can be of any help, but there are two women, Mrs Fellows and Mrs Dimity. They live together in a cottage called Strangeways behind the church.’

‘I’ll be off then,’ said Toni. ‘Back later.’

Olivia and Agatha went into the drawing room. ‘Would you like tea or something?’ offered Olivia.

‘No, thank you. I wanted to ask you about that business about the local boys climbing up that tree and watching Felicity as she got ready for bed.’

‘That was disgusting!’ cried Olivia. ‘My poor innocent daughter.’

‘What I really want to know is why your man, Jerry, wasn’t sacked after that. He’s supposed to be protecting the house.’

Olivia looked uncomfortable. ‘He’s so loyal to my husband and he swore it would never happen again.’

‘Now, in the case of both of Felicity’s previous engagements, it appears the first was broken off because the man found he was homosexual and the second, because the bank manager found Felicity’s desire for lots of sex rather off-putting.’

‘That’s disgusting and none of it is true. It was George, my husband, who declared they weren’t suitable. Like me, he wanted only the best for Felicity. I can only assume that both men are so furious at being rejected that they are now making up stories.’

Could Olivia really be so naive? wondered Agatha.

‘Is your husband at home?’ she asked.

‘He has gone out in his boat with Sylvan. He said he needed to get away for a bit.’

‘Without you?’

‘I’m hopeless. I get so dreadfully seasick.’

Agatha experienced a rare feeling of claustrophobia. The room was overheated, the long windows were steamed up, and Olivia seemed to exude sentimental stickiness from every pore. Agatha reminded herself severely that the woman facing her had just lost her daughter.

‘I think I’d like to have a word with this Bert Trymp. Is he in the village?’

‘He works at the garage, but he’s a coarse fellow and will say anything.’

Agatha was glad to be outside again. The rain was slackening off. It wasn’t all that cold and yet Olivia had the central heating blasting away. The more she thought about Olivia’s lack of knowledge of her daughter’s sex life, the more puzzled she became. George Bross seemed a very domineering sort of man. Perhaps Olivia was simply a doting mother who gladly accepted her husband’s interpretation of things.

She drove the short distance to the garage. There was a small showroom to one side, displaying secondhand cars for sale. Behind the pumps was an office where customers paid for their petrol. There was no shop in the garage selling groceries. Possibly the grocery store directly opposite had protested at any such idea. She asked an elderly man who was cleaning up discarded rubbish where she could find Bert Trymp. ‘In the workshop,’ he replied. ‘Round the back.’

Holding her umbrella over her head and sidestepping oily puddles, Agatha made her way round to the shed at the back.

She asked a man in dirty blue overalls if she could speak to Bert Trymp. ‘Bert!’ roared the man, making Agatha jump. A young man emerged from the shadows at the back of the shed. He had a face like a younger John Bull: wide mouth, stocky figure, beer gut. ‘You that detective?’ he asked.

‘That’s me,’ said Agatha. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk privately?’

‘Pub’s open,’ said Bert hopefully.

‘Bit early for drink, isn’t it?’ asked Agatha.

‘That’s why the pub’ll be quiet-like.’

‘Okay, ask your boss for permission.’

‘Don’t need to. Me da’s the boss.’

The pub was quiet, with only two hardened drinkers propping up the bar. Agatha ordered a tonic water for herself and a pint of real ale for Bert. They sat down at a table as far away from the bar as possible. After Bert had taken a huge mouthful of ale, Agatha asked him, ‘I believe you got into some trouble over Felicity.’

‘Well, that were her doing. Egging us all on, like.’

‘The place is well guarded. How was she to guess that you and some randy schoolboys were watching her undress?’

‘There’s undressing and there’s undressing, know what I mean? Her was doing more of a striptease, like. Taking every little bit off slow as slow.’

‘She still may not have known she was being watched.’

‘Oh, yeah? Well, one night, her shouts out, “Show’s over, boys,” and pulls the curtains close. That’s a come-on. I thought, I’ll have her, that I will. So next night, I gets a ladder and climbs up. She screams and yells. We all run for it, but the police are round the next day. Then I gets a visit from old man Bross. He says if it ever happen again, he’ll kill me, but he isn’t going to charge me. I’m telling you, after that I kept real clear.’