Episode 1 - Business as usual

It is astonishing how long rumours and untruths can survive in a small community. Sometimes Cleo still found herself up against them, but it did not prevent Cleo Hartley from opening her Agency to deal with matters outside the police norm.

Cleo Hartley’s friend and fellow sleuth, Dorothy Price, retired pianist, was not to know about Cleo’s tryst with Gary Hurley, not least because she thought it unfair to Robert Jones, whom Cleo di not love, but was grateful to because he had been nice to her when the people of Upper Grumpsfield hadn’t. Older people still found it hard to take to an American woman of mixed blood who had inherited and moved into the cottage that had belonged to people who had treated her mother disgracefully.

Cleo Hartley needed Dorothy’s shrewdness as much as Dorothy needed the excitement of sleuthing for an agency that specialized matters that did not usually concern the police. When she came across criminal doings, Cleo passed them on to her colleague and (intimate) friend, D.I. Gary Hurley. In truth, that was how their affair had started

Detection came naturally to Cleo, but Dorothy was assigned investigations because, sad to say, Cleo’s dark skin was still like a red flag to many villagers. Dorothy had almost become her shadow, while Colin Peck, an ambitious young man dreaming of being a criminal lawyer one day, had only recently started to work with Cleo, though he had done some investigating in London with his girlfriend Julie, Robert's daughter. Julie was working as a photographic assistant in the neighbouring market town of Middlethumpton, Where Gary Hurley was head of the homicide squad at the district police headquarters. Colin was writing his thesis on some marginal aspect of criminal law and was glad to be involved in real-life investigations when Cleo offered him the chance of doing some. Contrary to the rather macho attitude of Gary Hurley, Colin did not mind Cleo being the boss and saw his detective work as an internship.

Robert, the local family butcher and highly prized local singer, was a proud Welshman, conventional and decent. He would not be ousted by a philanderer, he decided. In fact, he acted as though he knew nothing about Gary. Cleo’s play-acting was hurtful, but she would cool off, and so would her beau, Robert was convinced. Cleo thought she was being discrete, but Robert was sure Cleo would marry him. Their first attempt had been thwarted, but the second one would go through and put an end to Cleo’s flightiness.

***

On this particular Wednesday morning, the day after spending most of the afternoon with Cleo in Romano’s guestroom, Gary phoned Cleo’s office while she and Dorothy were having a chat about the jewellery burglaries Gary had once hinted at. Dorothy agreed that it was right up her street. She would start sleuthing straightaway. There were so many big houses in the district and so many rich people who indulged in offline banking to reduce taxes.

“I’ll switch the speaker on so that Dorothy can hear you,” Cleo said, and Gary realised that he was being warned to confine the phone call to business.

It was October. The days were getting shorter and business was not improving at the Hartley Agency. People were becoming more reluctant to give up whatever comfort their current lives had to offer, so they tended to eschew divorce proceedings and left their spying on spouses until after the festive season, which had already started with the sale of seasonal baking, chocolate Santas and even Christmas trees. The spate of discontented souls wanting to put an end to their partnerships as a result of disastrous summer vacations was over. People felt better protected from prowlers or burglars if they had someone coming home for the long, dark nights, though most crimes happened in broad daylight, as Cleo was quick to point out.

Cleo was glad that Colin Peck was willing to track down subversive characters, but it was indeed a nuisance that crimes could not usually be predicted. Burglars did not look like burglars and anyone could be a murderer or a victim.

***

“Burglary is not why I’m calling you,” said Gary. To add authenticity to his call he added “How are you, Cleo? It’s good to talk to you,” at which Dorothy called “How are you, Gary? We’ve missed you.”

So Cleo had not told Dorothy that they had in fact resumed their love-affair after only a brief hiatus. Good so. He would keep the pretence going, though he did not like it.

"Do you know a guy named Burton?" Gary asked.

"He sounds like the old film star and no, I've never heard of him," Cleo replied. "Should I have?"

"I just wondered. Someone found his corpse this morning."

“And you know it’s him?” said Cleo.

“He had an unposted letter in his pocket.”

“To or from someone?

“To a mail order firm.”

“Really?”

“He was ordering some fine mechanical tools, like those watchmakers use on those tiny old-fashioned bits inside watches.”

“I didn’t know you could still get them,” said Cleo.

“Some people wear watches they have inherited, Cleo.”

“A bit of Merrie England again. Quaint.”

“Perhaps the dead guy was a watchmaker,” said Gary.

“Or he wants to mend one of those antique ones, Gary,” said Dorothy. “Or a mechanical clock. There are plenty of those around.”

***

“Is that why you phoned me, Gary?” said Cleo. “If the guy’s dead, it’s your job, not ours.”

The Hartley Agency was absolutely was into corpses. Corpses were police specialties.

"The corpse was found on Upper Grumpsfield common. He'd probably been feeding the ducks. He was still clutching a piece of bread."

"Perhaps it was his breakfast," said Dorothy. “Where’ve you been lately, Gary?”

Was Dorothy checking on Cleo’s affair, by any chance?

“Missing you ladies,” said Gary. "It’s great talking to you again.”

“It’s great talking to you, Gary,” said Cleo.

”Do you know the farm on the road to Lower Grumpsfield? The farm was where Burton wanted his tools sent."

"That's the Kelly farm," said Dorothy. "Paddy Kelly lives with a woman called Magda who is in the entertainment business, to put it delicately. I think he’s actually married to her. Someone lives in the barn behind the farmhouse."

“The wife’s a hooker, Gary,” said Cleo.

“Then I should know her, shouldn’t i?”

“I thought you left those women to the vice squad,” said Cleo.

“So we do,” said Gary.

“You sound regretful,” said Dorothy. “I don’t like the idea Prostitute lowing the niveau of our village.”

“They have to live somewhere, Dorothy. Did you say Burton lived in Kelly’s converted barn?"

“It hasn’t been converted, Gary. Someone just lives there. Kelly gave up the square-dance meetings that had been held there traditionally and declared it to be a ground-floor loft. Such a pity! That country western music was such fun."

"How long ago was that, Dorothy?"

"Quite a while. I heard that Kelly had hired someone to help on the farm. It could be the dead man if it’s the same one.”

"Do either of you know Kelly?"

"I know him slightly,” said Dorothy. “And I  have no wish to deepen the acquaintance. He’s weird; the sort who has skeletons in his cupboard."

"They are in the phone book as Patrick and Magda Kelly," said Cleo. "I’ve just checked my database. I remember looking into the disappearance of some milk churns a while back. They didn’t get them back and then they stopped keeping cows. I don’t know if the two events were connected.”

“Why would anyone steal a milk churn?”

“To paint flowers on and use as an umbrella stand, Gary,” Dorothy chipped in.

“You’re joking!” said Gary.

“No, I’m not.”

“Robert once tried to make a deal with Patrick Kelly for some lamb for the shop since he kept sheep to keep the grass down. Kelly refused his offer," Cleo said.

"Kelly is not much of a farmer,” said Dorothy. “A for Magda, I’ve seen her waiting for a bus down to Middlethumpton dressed like a you-kno-what, with a skirt so short you could see her knickers.”

Gary could not stifle a laugh at that description.

“And Mr Kelly always looks as if he never takes a bath; but he knows how to grow potatoes. I think it’s in the Irish genes."

“Brilliant, Dorothy,” said Gary.

“Magda is definitely a part-time hooker,” said Cleo.

“Even though she is married,” said Dorothy.

“Many married women earn their pocket money that way,” said Gary. "I expect he was a client of hers and she thought country life would be better than the red-light trade, but at some point decided she could get the best of both worlds. Kelly sounded cantankerous over the phone. I'm not in a hurry to confront him. But now you have confirmed that Burton lived on the premises, I’ll have to go there."

"Is that why you phoned? Do you want us to go there instead?"

"They know you aren't police and you're only women."

“I’m sure glad you noticed that, Gary,” said Cleo, with heavy emphasis.

”Of course I noticed. I’m in love with you. Remember?” said Gary, hoping that his declaration sounded enough like a joke to fool Dorothy.

“You should not say things like that, Gary,” said Dorothy. “You know that Cleo is betrothed to someone else.”

 “Don’t worry, Dorothy. I’m just a frustrated Romeo.”

Dorothy wondered about Gary. He didn’t usually make that kind of joke. Cleo was touched by Gary’s blatant declaration.

***

"I don't think women are very high on Mr Kelly's list of favourite people," said Dorothy, continuing her account. "Of course, men like that often see women more as convenience rather than desirable."

“How on earth do you know that, Dorothy?” said Gary.

“I watch TV.”

Cleo was amused. Gary was probably shocked that Dorothy would be so blunt about a sexuality she could not have experienced.

"I expect Kelly approves of her contributions to the family budget," said Dorothy.

Gary enjoyed sending people up. He had now recovered from Dorothy’s reaction to him having the nerve to tell Cleo that he was in love with her over the phone with Dorothy listening in.

"Are you going to add to your startling conclusions, Miss Price?"

Now it was Dorothy’s turn to send Gary up.

"I'm still Dorothy if we're in crime together, Gary, and even more so if we aren’t."

Gary hooted with laughter. What a quaint woman she was. He had witnessed her sharp-wittedness with others, and now he was the target.

Cleo interrupted.

"Joking aside, Sweetheart, what do you want us to do?"

The subliminal meaning was clear to Gary, but Dorothy predictably took the endearment as a joke.

"I didn't tell Kelly over the phone that Brent Burton is dead, my dears," said Gary. “He only phoned to tell me the guy had not turned up for work – farm-work, I suppose he meant.”

“Why would he do that?” said Cleo. “It’s still early morning.”

“Not for farmers Cleo,” said Gary. “They don’t indulge in lie-ins.“

„Neither do I.“ said Dorothy. “Some people even do afternoon lie-ins.”

Dorothy looked hard at Cleo as said that. Gary ignored the remark.

“Kelly may have decided that attack was his best form of defence,” said Gary.

“That would mean that he knew the guy was dead,” said Dorothy.

“Not necessarily. They may have had a spat the previous day.”

“I have a better idea,” said Dorothy. “The dead man and Magda were having it off  and didn’t notice anything.”

“Pfui. I didn’t know that you used such terminology, Dorothy.”

“If the cap fits, Gary…”

***

"So you want us to take him the news, do you?" said Cleo.

"I’d be much obliged. It'll be all over the papers tomorrow. Kelly should know before then. You will just be two women passing by and deciding to buy some …”

… Eggs,” Dorothy chipped in. “I always buy them there.”

“Thanks a bunch for the two women thing!” said Cleo. “Kelly knows I run a detective agency. Or are we to go in disguise?”

“Of course not. I'll be close on your heels."

“What if he already knows about Burton and tells us to clear off, Gary?” said Dorothy.

“Then clear off.”

"Can I presume that Burton did not die a natural death?" said Cleo.

"No. He was shot in the back."

"Are we to tell Kelly that?"

"Better not. On second thoughts, only tell them he's dead if you can't get into the barn any other way."

“So that is what you really want us to do,” said Cleo.

“Didn’t I say that?”

“No. Why would we want to get into the barn?” said Dorothy?

“To look around. Take a few photos. You’ll think of something.”

“I could say I’m his mother,” suggested Dorothy.

“Too risky. You know Kelly and anyway, you would have been there to see your son before now, wouldn’t you?” said Gary. “You’ve bought eggs there, so he knows you, Dorothy.”

“Of course he does. Silly of me,” said Dorothy.

"It's asking a lot of us, Gary," said Cleo. “He isn’t the most peaceful guy in the world.”

“You don’t have to do this, Cleo.”

“We’ll accept,” Dorothy chipped in. “I’ll be Burton’s distant aunt.”

Gary laughed.

“No, Dorothy. You’ll be the lady wanting buy eggs and Cleo will also be buying eggs.”

"You heard, Dorothy!" said Cleo. “Kelly can’t know all Burton’s relatives – even from photos, but you would not have gone there without visiting your relative.”

“Keep it normal, Ladies!” said Gary. “Don’t make things up as you go along.

“We may have to,” said Cleo. “Anything in particular that we should look out for?"

"I'd just like you to get an impression of the whole set-up before the Kelly has time to change anything."

"Does that mean that the Kellys are suspects?" Dorothy asked.

"We're waiting for ballistics to identify the weapon. One bullet is locked in Burton's back, so we’ll need to wait for pathology to dig it out," said Gary. ““Dorothy, are you up to this kind of investigating? Aren’t you…"

"…too old, Gary? Certainly not and I can look after myself!"

"You heard, Gary. Dorothy will enjoy the outing."

"I’m not so sure about that," said Gary.

Somehow, getting women to work for him was not his style even if it was the Hartley Agency.

"If Kelly's aggressive, don't hang around, Ladies!"

"I'll shoot first, Gary," said Dorothy, wondering why Gary didn't do his own dirty work. This was definitely a case for her father's old army pistol.

Gary rang off wondering if Dorothy had been serious about shooting first.

***

"Are you sure going there will be OK for you, Dorothy?" Cleo asked.

"Of course. You need me."

"More coffee first?"

"No. We'd better get moving. I'll have to collect my father's pistol first. Don't worry. It’s just a precaution."

“I thought you were joking. Weren’t you supposed to get rid of it?”

“Well, I didn’t, and I have a licence for it.”

"You'd better not tell Gary about it."

"I just have..."

“I don’t think he believed you. I hope you've never used it."

"Not on people."

Cleo was alarmed. What if Dorothy was trigger-happy?

"Don't worry, Cleo. The safety catch will be on."

“And you will not let anyone see it, will you? Kelly would overpower you faster than you could aim. Pitchforks have long handles.”

“Not if I’m faster,” said Dorothy, hoping to reassure Cleo. “I used to practise at a shooting range in London.”

Mind-boggling, thought Cleo. Dorothy seemed to have no end of talents.