Hatherton
had been brought to Middlethumpton. He did not know why, but was very angry
about it. Gary drove to HQ to explain about the action of bringing him to
Middlethumpton and then to ask about the nature of Burton and Hatherton’s contact.
Gary also decided
that every inch of Kelly’s farm premises would have to be raked through. Up to
now, they'd only looked at Burton's living quarters in detail and made a superficial
investigation of the farmhouse.
Since their
release earlier in the week, the Kellys had kept their heads down, though news
of Burton's murder and the arson had been leaked to the press. Curious about
their current frame of mind, Gary phoned them while he was waiting for
Hatherton.
Kelly had
evidently assumed that they would be hauled in again and protested that you can't
hang anyone twice, which prompted Gary to point out that they had been freed on
Tuesday and were now both required to make statements concerning fresh evidence
by nine o’clock that very evening. Would they drive over to HQ in their own
car, or would they prefer to be collected by a patrol car? Allowing them to
choose how they would get to HQ was as reassuring as Gary could make it on the
spur of the moment.
It remained
to be seen whether they would turn up. He phoned Cleo and told her of his
decision. Cleo woke out of a deep sleep and pointed out that you could not leave
suspects to their own devices. Gary said that a chip under Kelly’s car would
make it possible to trace them and he had already organized that. Cleo pointed
out that Kelly and his wife could simply get on a bus or train and disappear.
Gary was angry with himself for not thinking of that first.
”Sweetheart,
you need me even if the only reason is that I don’t have the faith in human
nature that you seem to have,” Cleo said.
“I’ll have
to hope that they don’t do a bunk, Cleo. It’s too late to reverse my instructions.”
Gary was now
understandably nervous, but the Kellys came within an hour and Kelly was even
flustered because they had had to park their car in a dark street behind HQ.
Gary had
already decided that once the Kellys were at HQ he would let them stew in
separate cells overnight while he drove to Heathrow to see how Robert was coping.
Hardly had
the Kellys sat down in Gary’s office before he told them he was detaining them.
“Did the
black woman tell you to?” said Magda.
“No one told
me to,” said Gary. “But I have to leave immediately and I might not be back in
time to talk to you again today.”
“Then we’ll
go home and come tomorrow,” said Magda.
“Don’t waste
your breath Magda,” said Kelly. “You can see he isn’t going to let us go again.
What are you afraid of Mister?” said Kelly.
“I’m not afraid
of anything, Mr Kelly.”
“Then let us
go home.”
“I need you
here,” said Gary. “I’ll organize a decent supper for you and we can talk tomorrow
morning.”
“Don’t you
go to church on a Sunday?” sneered Magda.
“Not
tomorrow, Mrs Kelly.”
Gary phoned
for two security guards and the Kellys were led to separate cells.
***
Gary
wondered how he could get at the truth about the Kellys' relationship with
Burton. The Kellys would be questioned
separately. He was sure that Magda had some sort of arrangement with Burton and
would even need protection from the guy she had married if she had broken her
agreement with him. On the other hand, Kelly might have had an arrangement with
Burton.
But he still
had to talk to Hatherton. The questioning would be short since Gary did not
want to miss Gloria’s arrival.
***
Hatherton
was brought in. He was composed. This was not the first time he had been
interrogated.
"Why
did you go to Brent Burton's barn, Mr Hatherton?" Gary asked, without any
kind of preamble.
"Come
on, Inspector," Hatherton said. "You know I import diamonds. Burton
was a diamond cutter by profession."
Gary had not
known that. It was not mentioned in Burton's profile. Quite possibly it was
information Burton had preferred to keep to himself. It was obvious to
Hatherton that this cop had not known about Burton’s profession. What sort of
research did he do?
"I can
see you didn't know that, Inspector. A bit of a dark horse, Burton."
"I had
heard," waffled Gary, hating to be wrong-footed.
"Really?”
said Hatherton, not hiding his disbelief. “Then you know why I went
there."
"There
could have been other reasons."
Hatherton
sighed. He was already bored with Hurley’s clumsy questioning. Interpol did it
better.
"Such
as what?” he said. “My usual cutter in Amsterdam was indisposed. I was tipped
off a while back that Burton might work for me again, and where he could be
found, so I went to find out if he would still cut stones."
"Why
the ‘still’?"
“For some
reason he had closed down his lucrative business. He was the best cutter I have
ever known, Inspector, and he worked for me regularly before he went to ground
in that old barn. I pay well, and I never found out why he gave up stone
cutting for a down-and-out barn and a bit of sheep-sitting."
“Did you say
that Burton also cut decorative stones?”
“You don’t
make much money shaving industrial diamonds, Inspector.”
So Hatherton
dealt not only in industrial diamonds. Jewels were a far more lucrative source
of income, of course, and if he also smuggled them, pushed into cigars, for
instance, his good fees were probably a way of silencing Burton, who was, on
the other hand, unlikely to spoil trade with a good client.
"It’s
like this,” said Hatherton, suspecting that the cop knew nothing about how the
jewel trade worked. “Now and again I get an offer of really high quality
stones. Then I get them cut by an expert and make quite a lot of money on them."
"Did Mr
Burton agree to work for you again?"
"He
wouldn't commit himself."
"Did he
give a reason?"
"No."
"But
you left uncut stones there, didn't you?"
"Nothing
spectacular. Tiny industrial stones wrapped in a sort of rhinestone substance.
I thought it would tempt him to ask for beauties to work on."
"And
did it?"
"I
never got a chance to find out."
"So you
never saw him again."
"That's
about the size of it."
"Who
supplied you with the diamonds, Mr Hatherton?"
"That’s
a trade secret, Hurley."
Gary
realised that he was at a dead end there. He changed tack.
"Did
you get to know Magda Kelly when you visited Burton?"
"I knew
Magda long before she became respectable."
"Really?"
Hatherton
grinned as he thought of her.
"Magda is
quite a girl."
"So you
were one of her clients, were you?"
"That's
none of your business."
"When
did you last see her?"
"When I
visited Burton."
“Excuse my
asking, but did you have sex on that occasion?”
“Excuse my
telling you that it’s none of your business.”
“But you
left stones there, didn’t you?”
“What if I
did?”
"Magda
stole at least one of them," Gary informed him.
“Do you know
how many there were?” said Hatherton. “But that’s irrelevant, Inspector. Magda
probably thought they were worth something, but what she pocketed was an
imitation. I had taken the industrial diamonds with me. The stones I left were only
old-fashioned rhinestones, though fake diamonds can now be made from a lab
substance called moissanite. Burton would have recognized what they were, of
course. That’s probably why he left them for Magda to find."
Hatherton
laughed as he thought of the game he had played with Magda’s greed..
"You
did not meet up with Magda after that, did you?"
Gary’s
questioning puzzled Hatherton. He stood up.
"You
dragged me here to question me about a guy I met only once in recent years and
end up asking me questions about my private life,” Inspector. “What’s it all
about? My private life is none of your business."
"I
don't agree, Mr Hatherton. Everything is relevant in a murder case.
“Murder?”
“Didn’t I
tell you? Burton is dead. Shot in the back.”
“Good God,”
said Hatherton.
I have to go
now. We’ll talk tomorrow morning, Mr Hatherton. I can even bring you together
with the Kellys.”
"What
purpose would that serve?"
“It would
satisfy my curiosity,” said Gary. “Mr Kelly is volatile and curiously
possessive of Magda."
"He
knew what she did before they got married. Wasn’t he one of her clients?"
“Magda probably
wanted to get out of prostitution,” said Gary.
“That would
not surprise me,” said Hatherton. It’s a hell of a trade.”
“The problem
is that Kelly might smell a rat, especially if it involves payments he didn’t
know about, and he might include you."
“I see what
you mean. That would make Kelly dangerous,” said Hatherton, now less indignant
and more thoughtful.
“Yes,” said
Gary, looking closely at Hatherton. “And we should get things cleared up
between you.”
“Did Kelly
kill Burton,” said Hatherton.
“I’m rather
hoping you will ask him that,” said Gary.
“You must be
joking.”
Hatherton had
a peculiar, involuntary little twitch near his right eye and was quite
obviously unnerved. Hatherton had been one of those clients Magda had entertained
on the sly. She had pocketed her payment. Gary liked to watch people reacting
in such situations. Sometimes it produced interesting results. Cleo would not
have approved. It was a man thing, he thought. Getting results rather than
messing around with philosophies.
Gary rang the
buzzer under his worktop and a police guard entered rapidly.
"You
all right, sir?" the anxious guard wanted to know.
"Perfectly.
But my friend here would like to be taken to an arrest cell for a few hours."
“Order
something to eat, Hatherton. The guard will organize a TV and bring you
anything you need – within reason.”
***
Before Gary
drove to the airport he had five minutes to make a list of what he wanted to get
from the interviews with his three captives. It did not make strong reading. He
often wished he was back on patrol. Life had been simpler then.
***
After
Hatherton had been handcuffed and whisked away by the guard, Gary called
Shirley Temple, who had been ‘looking after’ Magda. Shirley was to bring the
prisoner to his office. He had about half an hour before he would have to leave
for Heathrow.
Gary had
decided to ask Magda one or two questions ahead of the big interview next
morning. He would just have a one to one chat with her. Friendly like! Shirley
asked him if he was barmy. Gary did not think so. Shirley could not be present,
but she could observe the proceedings through the one-way glass in the
neighbouring office.
***
"Well,
Magda. Been working in your old profession, I understand."
"I don't
know what you mean."
"Of
course you do, Magda. Burton, Hatherton, and so on. I wasn’t born yesterday. If
the cap fits, wear it!”
Magda came
to a decision. She realised that whatever the cop knew he would use in some way.
She had said too much to that secretary woman in police garb. She would play
along with this copper, but make it her game.
"Only
if you wear it, too, Mister."
Gary overlooked
the innuendo.
"I
can't promise anything except that I’m unlikely to join your list of clients,
Mrs Kelly," he said.
Magda Kelly
paused to drink the coffee Gary had poured out for her.
“Disgusting
stuff,” she said, pulling a face.
The coffee
was rather awful. Gary hoped Magda would not spit it out. She didn’t. Quite out
of the blue she started talking.
“Hatherton was a good private client in the
old days," she announced.
“Private?”
“I kept the
fee.”
"Old
days?"
"Before
I met Kelly."
“Not just
before you met Kelly.”
“To be
honest, no. Not just before.”
"Was
Kelly also a client?"
"Itinerant."
"You
mean he was a casual customer?"
"I
suppose you could call him that."
"But he
knew about your .... profession?"
"He
rescued me from it."
Gary smothered
a laugh.
"Rescued
you?"
"You
know; from commercial sex; fee-paid and all that."
Gary was amused
by her euphemism, but getting her to say more about her promiscuity would not
really serve any purpose right now.
"And
Burton?"
"I never
met him before he moved into the barn."
"Do you
expect me to believe that?"
"It's
the truth."
"But he
was attracted to you from the start. Is that what you wanted to say?"
"I told
him I wasn't interested. Between you and me, I didn’t think he could pay
anything."
"But he
pestered you."
"Yes."
"And treated
you like a normal person not wanting to have an affair?"
"Yes."
"So you
were flattered."
"No."
"Why
not?"
"He was
unappetizing."
That coming
from a prostitute was a bit heavy.
"So he
didn't … whet your appetite."
"Not
for free, he didn't."
"So men
who pay are appetizing and men who don't aren't?"
"You
could put it like that."
Gary paused.
Magda Kelly would not reveal how much she had been paid, of that he was
certain, but he needed to know when she had last seen Burton, with or without payment.
At that moment he would have liked to know whether he himself belonged in the
appetizing category.
"How often
was Burton … appetizing?"
"That
varied."
"How?"
"Circumstances.
Opportunity. Cash flow. Burton was experienced. Kelly is a flop in bed.”
“Even with
your charms, Mrs Kelly?
“I did not
marry him for sex. He might have chucked me out if he knew I was visiting
Burton. Kelly has weird morals and that farm is a good pad."
“I thought
you and Kelly had an agreement about your earnings on the side.”
“We did. He
chose the clients, and Burton was out of bounds.”
“Why?”
“I don’t
work for charity.”
"But
you found him appetizing, now and again. I suspect that you found Burton
appetizing even when he was skint?’
“A girl
needs a hobby, Mister. As I said, he knew his stuff in bed.”
Gary was now
going with the flow.
"He was
attractive in a strange sort of way. He grew on me,” Magda volunteered. ”We’d
wait till Kelly was at the pub. Kelly would be too drunk later to think about
what I did when he wasn't at home."
“Were you in
love with Burton?”
“In love? I
don’t do love. Burton wasn’t as appetizing as you, but he knew what a girl
likes.”
Gary winced
at that and wondered what Shirley was thinking.
"OK,
Magda. Let’s talk plain, shall we? Was the night before Burton was killed the
last time you had sex with him?"
"I
don't keep a diary."
"Your
fingerprints were on the glass rescued from the burning barn. Can you explain
them?"
"I had
a drink with him in the afternoon before they found him and he didn't wash up
afterwards. Anything wrong with that?"
"Did
you ever have sex with Burton outside the barn?"
Magda
deliberately misunderstood.
"I
don't work outside, Mister."
She was
becoming annoyed with the questioning.
"You
know what I mean, Magda. In the park, or a hotel room, or the room upstairs at
Delilah’s bistro."
"No …
No, I lie. We had sex once in that room above Delilah’s regulars’ room, but she
wouldn’t let us upstairs again."
"Did
she say why?”
“She said I
looked like a prostitute and she wasn’t going to let the bistro get a bad
name.”
“Understandable,
but you were seen with Burton there more than once."
“I may have
delivered something from the farm and stayed for a drink and the bumped into
Brent. I don’t remember. He badgered all sorts of women."
"I suppose
he took anything he could get."
"Does
that prove anything? It was me he really wanted. He told me that."
“He was
getting it for nothing, Magda.”
“Not always,
Mister. He paid when he could.”
"We'll check
on your information with Delilah."
"Go
ahead. She’s broad-minded and she's got a nice lover," said Magda with a
sudden sparkle in her eyes. "Very appetizing and we got as far as the snug
once. I could have got him into bed, but Delilah didn’t let him out of her
sight for long enough."
“You’d
better keep your hands off him, Magda.”
Tell him to
keep his hands off me!” retorted Magda.
That
disturbed Gary. He didn’t want to know if Mitch was consorting with Magda.
Delilah was a nice lady. She didn’t deserve to be treated badly and he now
suspected that Mitch had laid Magda on a regular basis.
"Did Mitch
pay you?"
"No. Sometimes
sex is a hobby more than one time, Mister." Magda snaked herself to the
edge of her chair and leant forward so that Gary could not help seeing into her
cleavage. "Have you got a hobby, Mister?"
***
Enough was
enough. The woman was actually making a pass at him. He rang the buzzer for the
duty guard to enter.
"Mrs
Kelly would like to go back to her cell," Gary told him.
Magda Kelly
was led off smirking. The guard was smirking, too. Magda's mojo was infectious.
She was not handcuffed. She stretched a hand out to squeeze the guard’s
buttock. It was Gary’s turn to smirk as the guard turned to look at him with a
‘help me’ expression on his face.
***
Shirley
switched the two-way speaker on and told Gary he had had a narrow squeak. That
did not help to improve Gary's temper. He could have kicked himself for
conducting that interview solo. Was he losing his grip?
Cleo would
laugh her head off about him being alone for one minute with such a woman. Good
God. Could he tell her about it? Could he tell anyone? OK. Shirley was in on it
and he could only hope that she would keep quiet. She hadn't been in the room,
after all. Her listening-in was a privilege. He thought of the recording of the
conversation he had made. Perhaps he should delete it and say it hadn't worked
out, if Shirley decided to reveal that he had been interviewing a female suspect
without the presence of a reliable witness. No. Deleting recordings was no
longer possible. The IT experts would recover it. So much for jumping the guns.
On second thought's he wouldn't ring Cleo. It was his case, not hers.
***
Shirley was
unimpressed by Gary now she had found a new, more powerful admirer. A knockout
pill in her mother's cocoa ensured that Mrs Temple slept soundly through
whatever went on in the house. At 11 p.m. most nights, Shirley was bathed,
perfumed and clothed in something transparent when the object of her current
attentions parked his car round the corner from the house and let himself in
with a latchkey. As always, Roger Stone was too preoccupied with getting into
Shirley's bed to bother about the second car that had parked some way behind
the first. Someone else was interested in that lovers' tryst.
***
***
While Gary was still smarting about what he had to admit was
Magda’s coup and sure that he had revealed to her and Shirley that he was
vulnerable and impressionable, both highly dangerous character traits in a
detective, Robert was negotiating the emotional state of discovering that not
only was Cleo still married, but that her petulant, egocentric mother was about to descend on them and cause even more
havoc. Gary's reassurances that they were watching out for Salerno alias Samson
had done little to put his mind at rest.
"I’m glad you’re in the car with me, Cleo. I could not
have left you alone in the cottage with Jay Salerno at large.”
"For my safety, Robert?"
"Yes, but to be
honest, I don't want to have to deal with Gloria on my own. She's bound to be
hysterical."
"Don't you believe it, Robert! She's always hysterical
about trivialities, but she takes big dramas in her stride."
"This drama is a size too big for all of us."
"Don't worry. It’s just as well I didn’t have to go to
South Africa. To be honest, I'm not afraid of Jay. If he does knock on our
door, it will be the last ditch for him. He must realise that."
"I hope you're right! What a good job it's Sunday
tomorrow. At least I don't have to get to the shop."
“She’ll call you Bobby again.”
Don’t remind me. Your mother's preference for endearing
nicknames really gets my goat."
"She'll still be energy-charged. It's early evening for
her, remember."
"Whatever possessed her to want to come here?"
"She is scared of Jay. She has a guilty conscience and
wants to put things right with me. She’s using Jay’s escape as a reason to come
here."
"Hasn't the rotter been on the run for weeks? Surely
he'd have turned up at your mother's by now if that had been his
intention."
"I would have thought so. But he may be in this country
and she wants to protect me as well as herself."
"A bit late in the day. She didn't protect you when the
bastard nearly killed you."
"She defended him until the truth was so blatant that
even she had to believe it, and that was when he got prison for putting me in
the hospital. But it wasn’t till the court case that my mother realized what a
skunk he is."
"Some mother!"
"Marriage was something she'd have liked and envied me
for."
"Marriage to a delinquent?"
"That's about the size of it. I don't think he'll try
anything, and anyway, he's a wimp. No match for you."
"Unless he's got a knife or a gun!"
"Not his style. Always the macho. Fisticuffs all the
way, but without the rules of fairness. I'd just like to know how he got away
with the identity swap. I would never have credited him with that much
intelligence."
"Cleo, don't start looking for the good in that guy.
He's dangerous."
"I know that, but…"
"No buts..."
They did not discuss Cleo’s continued married state.
Robert's divorce had eventually come through and they had wanted to combine
their wedding with Christmas so that Gloria and few of Robert's Welsh relatives
with whom he still had sporadic contact could be there. He planned to tell them
the whole sad story about his youthful elopement, the sad years thinking he was
a widower and the happy end consisting not only of Cleo, but also the very
belated discovery that he had a grownup daughter.
Robert felt vengeful about the man who had caused Cleo such
pain and not done them the favour of getting killed off. On the one hand he did
not want to set eyes on the man, while on the other he wanted to thrash him to
the point of death or beyond. Watching Robert beating the life out of the steaks,
Cleo hoped he was thumping his frustration away and would remain calm in the
presence of his almost-mother-in-law and not get worked up about the eventual
unwelcome appearance of Jay Salerno.
"Don't worry about a thing, Robert," she said.
"We'll solve the problem of Jay Salerno when we get to it."
"Or he to us! Can we?"
"Of course. We're not going to let a jerk like him
spoil our lives."
"That's all I wanted to know," said Robert.
***
After long drive, several coffees and a glance at the
hot-off-the-press Sunday newspapers, the arrival of the direct flight from
Chicago was announced. Robert had driven Cleo's leased car to Heathrow and been
impressed by its performance. He thought she should get one like it. Should he
order one from a different dealer? Cleo told him she had already done ordered
one from a dealer in Middlethumpton.
For a moment Robert was worked up about that. Had Gary
Hurley had a hand in it? Then he decided he was imagining things and did not
even ask her.
***
After the usual long wait at the exit gate while Gloria ran
hysterically up and down the baggage conveyer belt before spotting and swooping
on her own property with total disregard of anyone who was between it and her,
she made her way towards the exit, waving and smiling broadly as she bore down
on them.
You could be forgiven for getting the impression that it was
just a family reunion, so care-free did Gloria seem now she had regained her
luggage and arrived on what she fondly thought was safe ground. Out of the
blue, Gary Hurley stepped forward through the waiting crowd, showing the
customs officers his ID badge. Ignoring Gloria for the moment, he spoke to the security
staff in charge of that flight. No sign of Jay Salerno or anyone remotely
fitting his description had been on that plane, he was told. Though it was
possible that Salerno had already been able to get through Heathrow security at
some other time, at least he wasn't on Gloria's heels now.
"Why, Gary," Gloria called out. "Nice to see
you and thank you for meeting me."
Cleo and Robert looked on while Gloria gave Gary her full
attention after waving to them briefly and giving a kiss-type salute.
"I don't suppose you recognized Salerno on the plane,
Mrs Hartley, did you?" he asked her, after checking that security hadn’t
overlooked him.
"Oh no, Gary. I would have screamed for help if I had.
The cops back in Chicago told me to do that."
Cleo wondered if Gloria realized the potential danger of an
escaped convict against whom she had testified.
"Mother, you are not here for a party or even by
invitation, so what do you want?"
"That's not a nice way to greet your mother,
Cleo," retorted Gloria. "You've heard about Jay's prank?"
"Prank? He escaped using a dead guy's credentials,"
said Gary. He was baffled that Salerno had been able to bluff US prison
security and hope the authorities would find out who had helped him. Where had
prison security been? He pointed out to Gloria that Jay Salerno could be a
murderer on the run since he had not yet been informed whether Samson’s death
was from natural causes. But whether he had murdered Samson or not, the sooner Salerno
was caught the better.
"I know all that," said Gloria. "That's why
I'm here. I was a sitting target in Chicago without even knowing it, though I
expect he got through to Mexico pretty quickly."
"Why Mexico?" Gary wanted to know.
“Everyone goes to Mexico,” said Gloria.
"Gloria,” said Gary with as much patience as he could
muster,” Salerno could be somewhere in the UK by now. There was a gap of two
days when they didn't even know the dead man was Joe Samson, and we only heard
about the incident this week. Salerno had plenty of time to get on a plane to
the UK before the cops raised the alarm.”
"You mean he could already be on our trail?"
"Yes."
Gloria became solemn and tearful at the thought that she had
kept Salerno's escape a secret from Cleo, though the police in Chicago had told
her not to tell anyone because they did not want their investigations spoilt.
“Do you mean that you were one of the first to know,
Mother?”
“It beggars belief,” said Robert.
Gary escorted Gloria, Cleo and Robert to their car.
"I'll phone you tomorrow, Cleo," he said.
"OK."
"But that'll be after questioning the Kellys."
"You didn't phone after your interview with
Magda."
"Something came up. I'll tell you tomorrow."
"Did she seduce you, Gary?”
Gary looked stricken. Robert looked surprised and a little
gratified. Cleo could not hide a smile.
“So she tried, did she?” Gloria teased. “I can't wait to
hear all about it!"
There was a wall between him and Cleo whenever Robert was anywhere
near and Cleo wanted it that way. Gary went back to his car, that was parked
near Arrivals and adorned with a large notice saying “POLICE BUSINESS” and
drove off without saying goodbye properly.
“He’s unfriendly,” said Gloria. “What’s up with him, Cleo?”
“Indigestion, I expect,” she replied, bundling her mother
into the back of the car together with her suitcase on wheels that was too big
to fit into the car boot. She would not mention Gary, but Gloria did.
“At least your cop came to meet me,” she said.
“He is not my cop and I didn’t know that he was coming.”
“I’m glad he checked on the passengers.”
“And I’m glad he kept to his job and did not get sociable,”
said Robert.
***
“You aren’t having an affair with Gary, I hope,” said
Gloria, looking hard at her daughter. “No. Of course you aren’t. You’d tell me
if you were, wouldn’t you?”
“I wouldn’t, Mother,” said Cleo, “always supposing I was
having an affair with anyone.”
"Want to drive, Cleo?" Robert asked, wondering
what Cleo had meant.
"No, you drive, Robert. I don't think I have the
necessary concentration."
"Who’s Magda anyhow?" Gloria wanted to know.
"The Kellys are farmers from Lower Grumpsfield and
suspects in a murder case."
“And Magda is a whore,” Robert added.
"And you are investigating the case, Cleo? I'm so proud
of you."
"No, Mother, I'm not investigating it, but Gary often needs
someone neutral to discuss cases with."
“I’ll bet he does if the woman had a go at him.”
So Gloria had jumped to the same conclusions after seeing
Gary’s crestfallen face when Cleo mentioned Magda. No wonder he needed the
Hartley Agency and no way was Cleo going to discuss cases or Gary with her
mother.
"Gary has come to rely on Cleo for sound advice," said
Robert. "They're a bit short on that at Middlethumpton Police
Headquarters."
"Well, if you need any assistance, let me know,"
said Gloria.
"I won't, Mother, and it would be highly dangerous for
you to stick your nose in."
"Gary might not think that," Gloria argued.
"I'm sure he would," said Cleo, fury rising in her.
Gloria snorted disagreement. Cleo turned the car radio up loud. The
mother-daughter relationship was on a knife edge again. Why, oh why had Gloria
left Chicago?
Robert stifled a chuckle. Would Gary be able to deal with a
woman like Magda? What advice would Cleo have to offer?
***
Towards the end of the journey home it was Robert who broke
the stalemate between the two women. He turned the volume of the car radio down
and asked Gloria if she had ever sold meat.
"I've done all sorts of things in my day, Bobby,"
replied Gloria. "I had quite a long spell as a saleslady after Cleo's
birth and before I got my figure back enough to start dancing again."
"You never told me that, Mother," said Cleo,
wondering what Gloria meant by figure. As far as she knew, Gloria had always
been tubby. Her line dancing had been in a row of equally tubby women. No dying
swans among them. Wasn't that what had fascinated her father after years of
subscribing to the ballet, where all the girls looked as if they were on the
verge of starvation?
"I know all about American meat cuts, of course, and
how to cook them" Gloria said.
"So do I now," said Robert. "Cleo taught me
and my customers rave about them."
"Why do you need to know that about Mother,
Robert?"
"Yes, Bobby. Why?"
"Phyllis is off sick again," said Robert.
"Bun in the oven, I believe."
"What's that?" asked Gloria.
"She's pregnant, mother."
"Oh!"
Phyllis was Robert's part-time assistant. At first she had
been enthusiastic, grateful for the job and hardworking, but gradually that had
tailed off into sullenness and total lack of cooperation because she was sure
that she was indispensable. Now Robert had just thought up a brilliant way of
showing her that she could easily be replaced.
"She won't be back at work for at least ten days."
"Or ten months," said Cleo.
"And I didn't think she was getting anywhere with Gareth
Morgan, which only goes to show what a dark horse he is."
"Show me that guy!" said Gloria.
"I don't suppose he had anything to do with it,"
said Cleo.
“To do with what, Cleo?” Gloria wanted to know.
“To do with Phyllis having a baby, Mother. Mr Morgan is as
pure as the driven snow.”
Robert found that amusing.
“Through no fault of his own, Cleo. It’s just that women
don’t want anything to do with him.”
“How do you know that?” Cleo asked.
“Because I’ve had a few women in the shop who have
experienced Gareth’s wooing techniques at first hand.”
“OK. Tell me more about the guy!” Gloria said.
“It’ll bore you, mother.”
“Then make it short!”
Cleo had no alternative but to tell Gloria that Gareth
Morgan was a Welsh church organist who had moved into Robert's flat above the
shop after Robert went to live with Cleo at her cottage. Phyllis had had
designs on Mr Morgan, at least initially, except that they were really designs
on Robert’s flat. Given her cunning, it was only a matter of time before she
managed to move in with him, at which Robert chipped in and said he thought she
slept there quite often and might even have moved in by now. If that was the
case, he’d make sure that she moved out again. But Robert thought it might not
come to that since he had seen her getting into a gaudy-looking car with a sparsely
clothed woman painted on the front when Gareth was in the church practising.
The guy dangled his arm out of the car window and it was all muscle and
tattoos. Cleo assumed that he had fathered Phyllis’s child.
"It takes all sorts," said Robert. "I
wouldn't touch her with a bargepole."
"Mr Morgan is not your type, either, Mother. Small,
scraggy, badly dressed, poor skin….."
“I’m not looking for a guy,” said Gloria. “When shall I
start, Bobby?"
"How about tomorrow? We’ll go through the sales routine
and then you can face the customers on Monday."
***
Cleo couldn't have been more pleased. Robert had solved the
problem of life after Phyllis, if only temporarily. He would have a cheerful,
talkative assistant instead of the one who looked gloomy all day, stole meat
and short-changed the customers whenever she could get away with it. He would -
and that was the best part - be giving Gloria something useful to do, which
would hopefully stop her interfering with Cleo's detective work.
"When are you going back to the States, Mother?"
"I only booked one way."
Cleo's feeling of relief was instantly quelled. If Gloria
was a success at the shop, she would not even consider going back to Chicago
until at least after Christmas. Robert's heart sank too, because he was
supporting any decision of Gloria's to stay in Upper Grumpsfield for far longer
than they hoped! But there was no turning back now.
"I’m glad you are going to help me at the shop, Gloria."
"I can't wait. As long as you don't want me to wield an
axe, Bobby. I've never done that."
"No axe, Gloria."
"It's a deal, then."
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