Simon Brett - Mrs. Pargeter's pound of flesh

‘Three ounces less tonight!’ Kim announced in triumph.

‘Oh, great. Well done,’ Mrs Pargeter responded absently.

‘Three ounces! Even the girl who was monitoring my weighing said congratulations.’

Oh dear, she’ll be out on her ear tomorrow, thought Mrs Pargeter. Commendation of a guest’s progress at Brotherton Hall was as heinous a staff crime as a scowl in Disneyland.

‘And, what’s more, I actually got the address of this plastic surgeon in Harley Street.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, love. You’re not still thinking of that, are you?’

‘It’s worth just investigating the possibilities,’ Kim pleaded. ‘I mean, the first consultation with this Mr Littlejohn is totally free.’

‘But any other dealings with him are no doubt totally expensive.’

‘Well…’ Kim Thurrock was still childlike in her enthusiasm. ‘It can’t do any harm just to find out a bit more…’

‘So long as you promise me you won’t start anything before Thicko comes out — I mean, is back with you.’

‘There’s no danger of that. He’ll be home in a couple of weeks. But it would be nice,’ Kim added wistfully, ‘if I’d had my first consultation by then…’

‘So that Thicko can see what’s on offer? You show him Mr Littlejohn’s brochure of available bums and get him to choose the one he’d like to see on you — is that it?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Kim, in a way that meant exactly the opposite.

‘Well, look, don’t you rush into anything, love. Give Thicko time to readjust to you as you are before you go changing yourself — eh?’

‘Yes, of course, Melita.’ Kim gave a little giggle of excitement. ‘Ooh, I can’t believe he’ll be back home so soon.’

‘He will be. And you’ll have a wonderful time,’ said Mrs Pargeter, fondly remembering many comparable reunions with the late Mr Pargeter.

Her mood was more sombre as she sat in her bedroom and thought about Lindy Galton’s murder.

Because there was no other word she would use to describe it. Dr Potter’s ready acceptance of the ‘accident’ explanation had been dictated by concern for the Brotherton Hall business empire — or possibly even darker motives.

But it had not been an accident. Lindy Galton was far too familiar with the workings of the Dead Sea Mud Baths to make the mistake of over-filling one.

Anyway, in spite of what Dr Potter had said about the girl taking advantage of the facilities for her own benefit, Mrs Pargeter knew that Lindy Galton would never voluntarily have gone into the bath, because of her allergic reaction to the mud it contained.

Which meant that someone must have pushed her in. Or, more probably, hit her over the head first and then pushed her in.

What sickened Mrs Pargeter about the murder was the thought that she could have been responsible for it. Obviously not responsible for killing Lindy Galton, but for the fact that she had been killed.

Mrs Pargeter had asked for information about Jenny Hargreaves and Lindy had fixed to meet her by the Dead Sea Mud Baths that evening. It was horribly possible that the girl had been murdered to prevent that meeting from taking place.

Their fixing of the tryst could easily have been overheard. Mrs Pargeter concentrated, trying to visualize the morning’s scene.

Stan the Stapler had certainly been present, on his ladder, clearing the obstruction in the mud tank.

And there had been three other people, one in the bath, one drying under the sunlamp, and the third scrubbing off in the shower. They were all potential witnesses, but in each case, so complete had been their covering of mud, Mrs Pargeter could not even specify the suspect’s gender.

The telephone’s ringing broke in on her gloomy thoughts.

‘Hello?’

‘Mrs Pargeter, it’s Truffler.’

‘Have you checked the hospitals?’

He dismally confirmed that he had.

‘And?’

‘And — nothing, I’m afraid.’

‘What — you mean Jenny Hargreaves’ body wasn’t taken to any of them?’

‘No. And, if I may anticipate your next question, no body of a young girl who had died of anorexia has been taken to any of them for the past two years.’

‘Oh,’ said Mrs Pargeter, as new thoughts started to swirl in her head. ‘Oh.’

‘Is there anything else I can do?’ he asked. ‘Any further investigation?’

‘Yes,’ she replied slowly. ‘Could you get back on to the hospitals — tomorrow morning it’d better be — and find out if any of them has taken delivery of another girl’s body?’

‘Another anorexia victim?’

‘No. This one died of asphyxiation. And her name was Lindy Galton.’

‘Right you are. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got anything.’

Mrs Pargeter sat in her room for a long time that night, lost in thought. But it wasn’t the kind of thought she enjoyed being lost in.

Truffler got back to her early the following morning, the Thursday. Lindy Galton — or rather the mortal and muddy remains of Lindy Galton — had been taken to one of the local hospitals the night before, and there — surprise, surprise — she had been certified ‘Dead on Arrival’.

As yet, Truffler had not been able to find out what level of investigation would be conducted into the ‘accident’ at Brotherton Hall, though Mrs Pargeter was not anticipating anything very rigorous. She felt certain there would be a cover-up — which, considering the circumstances of Lindy Galton’s demise, was perhaps an unfortunate expression.

So the two deaths had been treated differently. Though Mrs Pargeter had no doubt that both were suspicious, Lindy Galton’s had gone through the official channels, while the body of Jenny Hargreaves had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth.

Assuming that it was the body of Jenny Hargreaves. Particularly since she had met Tom O’Brien, Mrs Pargeter couldn’t repress her hope that the girl who had starved to death had been someone else. She only had Ankle-Deep Arkwright’s assurance on the identity of the corpse, and he had certainly not been telling the complete truth.

She knew from her own checking of the computer that ‘Jenny Hargreaves” registration document had been invalid and, although death had removed the opportunity of confirming her suspicions, Mrs Pargeter felt convinced that Lindy Galton had falsified the record on Ankle-Deep Arkwright’s orders.

But, if Ank’s aim was simply to obscure the identity of the first dead girl, why had he used the name and address of a real person? The fabrication of a name would have left no leads to be followed.

It was becoming increasingly urgent for Mrs Pargeter to have a straight talk to Ankle-Deep Arkwright.

He wasn’t in his office. The girl on Reception said that Mr Arkwright would be away for a few days. No, she was afraid she couldn’t say where. But his absence would have no effect on Mrs Pargeter’s status at Brotherton Hall. Mr Arkwright had been very insistent before he left that Mrs Pargeter’s ‘Special Treatment’ should continue and that all the facilities of the ‘Allergy Room’ should be at her disposal for the remaining days of her stay.

It reeked to Mrs Pargeter of guilty conscience. Ankle-Deep Arkwright’s message was effectively saying, ‘I’m going to be away until after you’ve left Brotherton Hall, so you won’t be able to ask me any awkward questions; but, to show there are no hard feelings between us, I’m making it possible for you to enjoy the rest of your time here.’

Just as she was about to leave Reception, Mrs Pargeter had another thought and asked the girl where she might find Stan the oddjob man (she didn’t know how official his nickname ‘Stan the Stapler’ was). But there again she drew a blank. ‘Mr Bristow’ had a few days’ leave owing to him and would not be back until after the weekend.