Episode 17 - Shirley Temple

If Cleo thought she had done a good morning's work, at least in theory, she was about to think otherwise. The idea of Shirley Temple actually being on both sides of the fence was Gary's.

Come to think of it, it was in connection with Shirley that she'd heard the name Stone only recently. It had slipped out before Gary could stop himself. But nothing Shirley had done up to now was suspicious, as far as she knew. Gary was oversensitive. Maybe he was still attracted to her and was now being cold-shouldered. He wouldn't tell Cleo that, but it might be a reason for not wanting to work with Miss Temple any longer.

***

Cleo’s speculations were interrupted by a phone call from Gary. This time, even the ring sounded urgent.

"Hartley agency," she intoned.

"Shirley has gone," Gary almost screamed down the phone. “Now what?"

"Calm down. Maybe she's just late, Gary."

"She's never late."

"There's always a first time."

"It's been waiting to happen. She was funny all day yesterday."

"By funny you mean strange, I expect."

"Well, strange then. Kept looking at her watch and left the minute her shift ended."

"Nothing strange about that, Gary. She probably had a date."

There was a moment's silence.

"Gary, are you hiding something from me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you really having an affair with Shirley?"

"I was, sort of platonic. It's really over now."

"So it wasn’t over when we last talked about her:”

“I could not believe she would go off with Roger. He’s not that sort of guy.”

“Most men are that sort of guy, Gary. Are you telling me that she broke it off with you because of Roger Stone?"

"You could say that."

"Did you ring her home number?"

"Yes."

"And she wasn't there, either."

"Her mother told me she'd been out all night. She'd come home, changed out of her uniform and gone out again. Mrs Temple said Shirley was a grown woman and she didn't check up on her. She sounded ratty and unpleasant."

"But what she said sounds reasonable."

"Shirley apparently always informed her when she was staying the night somewhere else. Her mother feigned indifference, as if there were some kind of game going on between the two of them."

"Rivalry. Mothers are often jealous of their daughters.”

“What?”

“But there's an exception to every rule."

You mean Gloria?”

“Gloria is not jealous of anyone, and certainly not of me!”

"I think Shirley has been abducted."

"Don't make such a fuss, Gary. She had a date and unexpectedly ended up in someone else's bed."

"That's not her style."

"You can't deduce that from your sordid little office affair."

"It wasn't sordid."

"You know what I mean, Gary. Cool it and let's get back to real life."

"But what if….?"

"Don't speculate, Gary. Any leads on Burton?"

***

Cleo was glad when the phone call with Gary ended. She had been waiting for him to confide in her about his seemingly rotten marriage, but the revelation that Shirley had been occupying his mind and time was something she had not considered, though she seemed to remember Dorothy dropping one or two hints.

Cleo was trying not to admit to herself that she cared too much about Gary to want him to forget her for someone else. He was entitled to find a different partner if she had turned him down. But had she turned him down? Was she playing around with his feelings?

***

Cleo phoned Colin. Action is often more useful than reflection, she mused.

"Another job, Colin. Do you have time?”

“I’ll make time, Cleo.”

“Check up on Mrs Hurley, that's Gary's wife. Find out if what’s going on in that marriage."

“Why?”

“Don’t ask, Colin. Just do it. The guy sounded troubled just now. I’m worried about him.”

“Has he mentioned problems to you, Cleo?”

“Only that his estranged wife is planning to go to Spain and take his daughter Charlie with her, and I think that’s what is really troubling him – the wife has a Spanish lover and Gary is afraid for Charlie.”

“I’ll get onto it,” said Colin.

The question bugging Cleo now was whether Mrs Hurley was jealous or possessive enough to do away with a rival? Roger Stone was Shirley’s new lover, but only since very recently. Roger Stone was the obvious choice for an ambitious girl and Gary had certainly thought that was the case. But why would Mrs Hurley want to kill a ‘rival’ if she was going off to Spain with some guy or other? She wouldn’t, Cleo decided.

***

Shirley’s mother might know where Shirley was hanging out. That isn't what Gary had asked her to do, but it's what he probably wanted to happen. She would go there immediately. The office jobs could wait. She looked up Shirley's home address. Her satnav would get her there.

***

Mrs Temple was not pleased to see Cleo. She was in the throes of a coffee morning. Cleo was to pretend she was a potential new member of the church and Cleo had to sit through half an hour of meaningless chitchat before the other ladies decided to go home to cook lunch.

***

"Sorry about that, Miss Hartley. They were here to discuss the church fete, but we didn't get any further. As usual, I'll end up doing it all myself."

"I sympathise," said Cleo, thinking of the problems the vicar of Upper Grumpsfield would have if Edith did not get to grips with everything. "What about the vicar's wife? Doesn't she help?"

"We're Roman Catholic here. No wife - to speak of."

"Oops. Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Our priest is anything but celibate. Quite a dish, actually, and no strings attached. Are you here about Shirley?"

Cleo wondered if this dish had also been on Shirley's menu.

"Yes, Mrs Temple. You don't happen to know where she is, do you?"

"That boss of hers asked the same thing earlier. No I don't know."

“Which boss?”

“I think the name was Stone. I thought she worked for a man named Hurley. She even brought him here once. A nice man, but timid. More your age than Shirley’s.”

Cleo tried to imagine Gary being timid. That was not an adjective she would use to describe him.

Mrs Temple pursed her lips and leant forward.

"I want you to know that Shirley is my husband's daughter, not mine, Miss Hartley."

Why was she so insistent on that? No love lost there, unless the woman was lying. But why would she lie about that?

"It's her house and I'm allowed to live here. It was in her father's will."

The answer to an unasked question, thought Cleo. Mrs Temple's resentment probably took most of her energy. OK, she hated being a hanger-on. It might explain why she didn't care much what Shirley did. The relationship between Shirley and this irascible woman was definitely not an amicable one.

"We're not on good terms, Miss Hartley," she said, breaking into Cleo's thoughts.

"Do you think something nasty could have happened to her, Mrs Temple?"

Cleo was starting to wonder if Mrs Temple was mixed up in Shirley’s disappearance.

"I've no idea. I don’t know where she spent last night. One thing I do know and that is that Shirley is keen on climbing up the career ladder," Mrs Temple added with a sneer. "Bad enough if she was carrying on with that Hurley person, though he had quite a lowly position. But if she's infatuated with Stone, she’s barking up the wrong tree. Silly bitch!"

“Why do you assume that, Mrs Temple?”

“Because I’ve met Mrs Stone. She won’t let go. A social climber if ever there was one.”

Mrs Temple stood up and gestured towards the door. Cleo's visiting time was over.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," said Cleo, taking the hint and making her way out. As she stepped out onto the garden path Mrs Temple called out "You can let me know if you find her," before slamming her front door.

***

And that, thought Cleo, was that. But driving home the words ‘if you find her’ circled round and round in her thoughts. What had Mrs Temple meant?

***

It was now nearly one o'clock and Robert would be closing the shop for lunch. She called him on her mobile and ended up talking to the voice recorder.

"I'm the other side of Middlethumpton, Robert. Go home and make us something to eat. I'm on my way back," she told the phone. Robert might have gone to the wholesalers, or be too busy to talk. No matter. She would get home as fast as she could and make a fresh pot of coffee. She was dying for a coffee and wanted to hear his reactions to Mrs Temple.

At this moment she could not think of anything she would like better than an hour or two with her feet up. Robert would have something constructive to say about her morning's work, she hoped.

That is what she would have preferred, but it wasn't to be.

***

Gloria had taken Thursday afternoon off to go shopping in Middlethumpton. She needed more clothes if she was going to live and work in Upper Grumpsfield. She would get off the bus at the stop just opposite Milton's Fashion Store and spend a couple of hours restocking her wardrobe, then get on a bus at the stop in front of Milton's main entrance and be home in time for tea.

There are lots of good things to say about Gloria's outing, not least that she could stop borrowing clothes from Cleo, usually without asking first, and she would be away for lunch, thus making it possible for Cleo to talk to Robert without Gloria's inevitable interruptions. What's more, Gloria would be in a really good mood when she got back. That's what shopping did for most women, provided they found something that fitted them and was if possible a bargain.

Most men had to be coerced into buying new clothes, since they tended to become inordinately fond of the ones they already had, however shabby they were. Shabbiness is a life style, Cleo had once read. Fashion is an illusion, a kind of disguise. A man must have written that. Most women didn’t think like that. They just wanted to look good and feel good. Old clothes containers and charity shops were jam-packed with out-of-date female clothing, some of it unworn. You had to smuggle men’s old stuff out while they were not looking.

***

"So your trip to Mrs Temple was quite a character study," Robert commented, when Cleo had finished telling him about it.

"Yes, but it didn't get me very far."

“I think it did. There must be clues in there somewhere. Maybe Dorothy could spot them quicker than me.”

“What so you think of that mother-daughter relationship, Robert.”

"Yours is better, Cleo. Poor Shirley is tagged with an old-fashioned song-and-dance name and a wicked step-mother to boot," said Robert.

"Unless it's her mother,” said Cleo. “She was so adamant about Shirley being only a step-daughter. I wonder why."

“Whoever she is, she fits in with a fairy-tale step-mother,” said Robert.

***

The phone rang. Robert answered it.

"Sorry, Gary. She's in the bathtub. All stressed out," he lied.

"He'll call again," sighed Cleo. "Thanks for saving me!"

***

Ten minutes later the phone rang again.

"I'll take it," said Cleo. "Either it's urgent or he doesn't know the luxury of a long hot soak."

"Cleo?"

"Speaking."

"They've found Shirley's body on Upper Grumpsfield common."

"Oh no!"

"Shot in the back. Almost a replica of the Burton killing. Found at almost exactly the same spot, half hidden behind some bushes. Except that Shirley had not been feeding the ducks."

“You mean she wasn’t clutching any bread.”

“Yes.”

“What was she doing on Upper Grumpsfield common.”

“At a guess, I’d say she’d come there to die.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Gary.”

“It slipped out. Sorry.”

"Who found Miss Temple?"

"Kids again. Playing cops and robbers. They were scared out of their wits, but is that important now?"

“Less important than knowing the calibre of the pellets, Gary. The parallels to the Burton murder might not be a coincidence.”

"It could mean she was meeting someone there,” said Gary, “whereas Burton had probably only been out for a morning stroll."

“Assuming he was not meeting someone. I'm so sorry about Shirley, Gary. You must be really upset."

"We all are. There's pandemonium here."

"No wonder."

"I'd better get off this line."

"Come for supper, Gary."

"Thanks. I'd like to."

***

"So what was all that about, Cleo?" Robert asked, following Cleo into the kitchen.

"Shirley Temple has been murdered."

"That should please Mrs Temple. Very convenient for her domestic arrangements."

"But she's probably innocent, Robert."

"How do you know?"

Cleo told him where Shirley had been found.

"It could be a coincidence," said Robert. "But Shirley Temple will have talked about Burton at home. And from what you've said about Mrs Temple…"

"I didn’t say she was the killer type."

“What is a killer type?”

“I don’t really know, Robert. I sometimes wonder if I’d be capable of murder if the situation seemed to require it.”

“That’s a comforting thought.”

“Mrs Temple may have thought getting rid of Shirley was now a priority, for whatever reason.”

“Which you will no doubt investigate, Cleo.

“Now you mention it...”

"But why Upper Grumpsfield common? They live the other side of Middlethumpton, don’t they?" said Robert, who was even more puzzled than Cleo.

"Maybe she came with Mrs Temple ," Cleo suggested.

"You mean Mrs Temple came along with Shirley, drew a gun and aimed?" said Robert.

“Maybe Shirley Temple offered to show her mother where Burton was killed.” said Cleo.

“Did she know?

“Of course,” said Cleo.

“Surely Burton was not another of Shirley’s conquests, ” said Robert.

“I shouldn’t think so. There’s no future with a down and out. I wonder what Dorothy would suggest?”

"Of course, if that lady cop had wanted to meet someone secretly, she wouldn't do it in Middlethumpton, would she?" Robert reasoned.

"That makes sense. But in that case why bring mother along?"

"Maybe it wasn’t a secret meeting. Maybe Mrs Temple really did ask Shirley to show her where Burton was murdered. That's macabre, but Mrs Temple is a nasty piece of work and she may have known Burton."

"Wow, Robert, I’ll have to pay you  if you go on having such great ideas We must find out more about Mrs Temple’s past."

"What if he did her old man in, Cleo? Then it turned out that he'd left everything to his daughter. That must have been very frustrating for her."

"Stop, Robert. You sound like Dorothy and you're giving me the creeps."

"Well, it's a possibility, isn't it? You'd better find out if Mrs Temple can drive. Ask Gary if Shirley's car has gone. If it has, the Temple woman might have dumped it somewhere."

"Now you're talking like Kojak, Robert."

"My role-model except for the shaved head."

"It was unconventional when they made those films. It's normal now. Even women shave their heads. You are hopelessly out of date, Robert."

***

Their discussion about the Temples was brought to a halt by Gloria's arrival home, laden with packages.

"Can you pay the cab, Cleo?" she called. "I've run out of cash."

"I'll see to it," said Robert. There were times when he wished Gloria was back in Chicago, except that sales at his shop had never been so good.

"So tell me all about what's been going on," Gloria said, draping her trophies over the back of the sofa. "You look gob-smacked."

"But not about your packages, Mother," said Cleo. "There are more important issues at stake."

"I can't wait to hear about them."

"Gary's coming to supper. I dare say he'll be glad to tell you," said Robert. "You left one bag in the car, Gloria. Good job the taxi driver is honest."

“Only honest enough to wait for the fare, Robert,” said Cleo.

"I'll take a bath now," Gloria said, sweeping out of the living-room bearing some of her shopping spoils.

"She's as meek as a lamb by her standards," remarked Robert.

"She's up to something,” said Cleo. “I know that look… and she wants to avoid questioning. Maybe she met someone in town."

"Does she know anyone?" Robert was genuinely surprised.

"She’s been line-dancing somewhere.."

"But would that make her so meek and mild?"

"It might if she's planning something."

"Well, she won't be meek and mild when she hears about the latest goings on in Upper Grumpsfield," Robert said. "She'll tell us Chicago is safer."

Robert was quite looking forward to Gloria's nonplussed reaction. Not that there was really a comical side to the situation, but….

"She's set her heart on staying here, Robert."

"As long as sales are this high, she can stay till Kingdom come," said Robert, flipping through his accounts book.

***

Accounts were something Robert hated but had to deal with. He hoped Gloria would go to bed early so that he could update the sales figures without interruption, but she never seemed to get tired. Gloria could give dance courses in the evenings, eat cooked meals at midnight and hog the bathroom all the time when she lived on her own, but a bit more consideration would be nice while she lived with them at the cottage. Robert offered to start cooking dinner. He was glad Gloria was moving out.

“For four,” Cleo reminded him, joining him in the kitchen with four complementary coat-hangers over her arm-“Look what Gloria has bought herself."

“You’ll get out of here if you don’t want the stuff spattered with spitting oil,” Robert warned.

***

Gloria had had a lucky streak. The new additions to her wardrobe were nice and bargains. It was fortunate that life offered more than chasing criminals, Cleo thought. She would get her own back on her mother by borrowing something.