The late-middle-aged man’s body lay on a bench with a large barbell balanced across his crushed throat.  His shirt was discarded untidily a short distance away, near the cross-trainers.  His trousers had been dumped nearer the door on one of the rowing machines.  He still wore one brown loafer, with the other discarded at the end of the bench.  His socks were a mustard yellow, patterned with black and white footballs.

This was PC Patrick O’Shay’s first suspicious death scene, so Detective Inspector Peter Van Niessan tried to ease the feelings of horror with a touch of dark humour.  “What d’you reckon, Patrick?  Run over by a bus?”  

Patrick O’Shay's sandy hair framed a babyish face, but Van Niessan reckoned there was a smart brain inside and had spoken to his superiors about trying him out on something above his current pay grade, as a detective.

The young PC gave his boss a sideways glance and looked away.to hide his smirk.  “Alligator bite’s my guess.”

Peter Van Niessan was impressed.

Jennifer Sterling was already a detective sergeant, and a competent one at that, but she was standing back, avoiding looking at the body.

“Morning, Peter.”  Dr Bob Robertson breezed into the Gym and came over to inspect his patient.  “Won't have any trouble qualifying for a death certificate, this one.”  He sucked in a breath.  “At least he shouldn’t have stayed alive long enough to feel that pain.”

Bob put down his case and took out a pad of certificates.  “Got a name?”

Jennifer Sterling had just fished a wallet out of the body’s trouser pocket.  “Here.”  She walked towards the doctor.  “Better give this to you.”  DS Sterling was wearing standard-issue crime scene gloves and booties, as well as her usual trouser suit and blouse.

As the doctor wrote and examined, a photographer started to take pictures of the entire scene.

DI Van Niessan stood watching the doctor.  "He was locked in, lights dimmed in the normal way.  The cleaner let herself in with a key this morning around 6.30 and found him in here.”

“Right.  If you can check what keys were supposed to be where.  Any that were left on the premises last night, I’ll need to check for prints and DNA.”  He turned to the photographer.  “Did you catch that?  Pics of locks, please.”

“Yup.  got it.”

DS Sterling was walking around the room, looking carefully but not touching.  Patrick O’Shay had copied her lead, but just in the area of the bench and weights.

“I’ve got my own snaps,” said Van Niessan.  “Anything obvious that we should know before we leave you to it?  Looks like rigor’s set in, so have you got an estimated time of death?”

After some more touching and sucking in of breath, the Doctor said he thought the man had probably been dead since around 11.00 pm to 1.00 am.

The DI took a brief look around.  “Found anything, Jennifer?”

“Nothing, Sir.”

“How about you, O’Shay?  Anything strike you as useful to us?  Don’t be afraid to mention anything that could help.  It’s better to say something that’s not relevant than fear embarrassment and keep quiet.”

“Only the obvious question, Boss.  What the fuck went on here?”

Peter Van Niessan smiled wryly.  “Right, let’s get on and ask some questions.”

 

 

As Lucy Twelvetrees swung into the car park, she saw it wasn’t a normal Friday 8 am at Wallyborough Leisure Centre.  All three managers’ cars were there, unusually, and a few others.  Near the main entrance was a marked police car, a small similarly coloured van signed “Forensics” and a couple of unmarked cars in the disabled bays. Backed up to the main entrance was a black van with a crest on its door and “HM Coroner” displayed modestly across its side.

Parking not too close, Lucy got out and walked along the edge of the car park, by the wall, not wanting to be noticeable, hoping to look respectful.  She turned ninety degrees by the side vehicular access, past the pretty little patch of garden with its red and white geraniums, catching sight of an unknown man through the window.   He looked to be fiftyish, neat brown hair and a suit and tie, seated at the coffee table in William’s office.  She couldn’t see whom he was talking to.

Lucy couldn’t see much inside the main office as she passed either, due to the ugly vertical blinds.  She stepped as lightly as she could, her heart hammering, past the frosted glass of the cash office, and turned left...

Oh my god.  A body.

Icy fingers grasped her gut as she saw the black body bag being transported from the building to the coroner’s van on a trolley. Reflexively she bowed her head.

 

Entering Reception, she saw her line manager, Steve Balls, and a young woman police officer sat on the easy chairs.  She looked from one to the other.  “Do I... ?”

“No need to clock in, Lucy,” said the dashing, athletic, but not always nice, manager Steve.  “We won’t be opening to the public today.”  He glanced at the uniformed woman sat near him.  She stood up and stepped towards Lucy.

“Hello, Lucy.  My name is PC Zuri Timani.  I’m afraid to tell you that a deceased person was found in the gym this morning.  Steve tells me he wasn’t a member of staff.”

Lucy realised she’d been holding her breath and let it out on hearing the last part.

“Come and sit down,” said PC Timani.

Steve was far from Lucy’s favourite person lately, so she sat at the other end of the small cluster of seats; yet she was glad to have a familiar face nearby.

The officer took out her notepad and pencil and angled herself towards Lucy.  “If you could just give me your name and address, please...”

“Lucy Twelvetrees, number one The Cottages, Timberleys Lane, Wallyborough.”

“Thank you.  And Steve tells me you’re in charge of children’s activities, is that right?”

“Well, some, yes.  I don’t have anything to do with the private clubs, like trampolining and gymnastics... But I’m the Co-ordinator for the children’s services run by the Centre itself.  The Creche, the Jungle Gym – that's a soft play area, the Bounce and Balance sessions...“  Lucy realised she was waffling and stopped talking, her cheeks turned red.

“Right, with you,” said Zuri Timani.  “So you don’t work in the gym at all?”

“No.  I use it.  Centre staff are allowed to for free.  But I never do any shifts in there.”

“Do you have anything to do with locking up the premises?”

“Only the Creche and the Jungle Gym... tea rooms if they’re set up and I’m doing a party, that kind of thing.”

“So not the main doors, or the gym?”

“No.”

“Just one more thing, then I’ll let you do what you need to do..  Do you know Mike Crawshaw?”

Lucy pressed her lips together in thought and slowly shook her head.  “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

And with that Lucy was allowed to go home.

 

It wasn’t until late afternoon that Lucy was able to find out more about what had happened, after news articles started to appear online following a press release from the police.

She had put some dinner on to cook and opened her laptop again on the kitchen table.  Her quite tall, quite handsome, brown-haired and bearded husband came in just as she had logged onto the Argus website and found the headline.

“Hey Ben, it’s the main headline in the Argus now.  ‘Dead body found in Wallyborough Leisure Centre this morning... in the gym... Name not yet released... Cause of death... treated as suspicious’.”

Ben put down his rucksack and kissed Lucy’s auburn head.  “You okay about this now?”

She turned and smiled up at him.  “At least I didn’t see it... Well, outside a zipped black bag.  I’ve been more curious since I phoned you.  I’ve been messaging with Ayesha and Pam, and Marta, and Carl.  Sounds a bit heartless, but it’s better than bottling it up inside and imagining all sorts.”

“That’s true.  It’s normal to want to find out about it, talk about it when something horrible happens.  You know, like if there’s something awful in the news, and they just keep on about it for hours, and you can’t help but listen.”

“Hm, suppose as they say, it’s good to talk when you lose someone, get past the shock phase, an’ all that.”

Lucy watched Ben swirl the kettle to check it had water in it and put it on to boil, but her mind was back to what Marta had told her.

“Coffee?” said Ben.

“Er, yes.  Lovely, thanks.  There was one thing that my mind keeps jumping back to and I have to try to visualise it, but I don’t want to...”

Ben put the coffee canister on the workbench and looked at his wife.  “What’s that, love?”

“It’s pretty gruesome.”  Lucy’s amber eyes gazed into Ben’s brown ones.  “Marta opened the cafe for drinks for managers and police and so on, and the cleaner who’d found the body came in and talked to her about it.”  Lucy gave a stiff little smile.  “Like we were just saying, I suppose... the need to talk.  Anyway... the guy had stripped off his shirt and trousers, and was lying on the bench press thingy, and... he had a big barbell...”  Lucy waved a finger across her throat.  “Dropped.  Here.  Well, who knows if he dropped it or what...”  Lucy stood up suddenly.  “I’ve put a quiche in the oven and done new potatoes.  Want some salad with that?”

Ben came over and hugged her, and she cried until she had desensitised herself from the gruesome image in her head.

“It’s typical of that place, isn’t it?  I told you the doors were locked, didn’t I, on the phone?  But just goes to show how thoroughly they check the place before locking up and going home – not.”

“Why, Lucy, are you implying your place of work is badly run?  Never!”

Lucy put the chopping board on the counter and took a knife out of the drawer.  “Hah.  Mind you, it was a cleaner who found the bloke, so at least there was the intention to clean the gym.”

“That’s something.  But best be careful what we say in case the girls come down.”

“They’re at Sophie’s house.”

“Oh yeah.  Thought they were quiet.  Table for two, then, madam?”  Ben took a couple of place mats and coasters over to the table. “Anyway, I’m glad you were spared a morning working with the Creche Coven.  Got to be a plus.”

“Dead body saves Creche Supervisor from breakdown.  I can just see that as a headline in the Argus.”

“Saves Creche Supervisor’s husband from an ulcer – sub-heading.”

 

 

CHAPTER 2

Mr Legal Eagle Slips Up

 

 

The large and sprawling multi-purpose Wallyborough Leisure Centre opened to the public again after the gym tragedy from noon the next day, Saturday.

That evening was hot, and the air conditioning wasn’t working.

In the main hall, Lawrence Eagle was happily and sweatily playing badminton with three colleagues from his law offices when he slipped on something. His muscular right leg shot out to the side, causing havoc to various ligaments and tendons holding the limb to his pelvis. 

“Aargh!  Bloody hell!  Oh my...  My leg!”  He grasped his thigh with both his hands. 

“Lawrence!” squealed the curvaceous Angela from the other side of the net, her golden hair curling rebelliously out of her headband.

“Bloody hell, that hurts!” cried Lawrence.

Olivia, long black hair sleek as ever, rushed towards him, concerned.  “Oh my god, Lawrence, what the fuck have you done?”

Angela’s tall badminton partner, George, came round in long strides, cursing.

“My bloody leg!” groaned Lawrence.

"Olivia, call an ambulance!" shrieked Angela.

The other badminton players in the hall who weren't already staring now did so, whispering amongst themselves.

George reached a long arm down to his friend.  “You alright?”

"Never better," said Lawrence through gritted white teeth as he reached to grab George’s arm.

George hauled Lawrence to his feet - or at least his left foot and the toes of his right foot - and helped him over to a bench.  The two women followed in the way ducklings will follow their mother.

"I'll get you some water, Lawrence," said Angela, rushing out the door.

Olivia put an elegant hand on George’s bicep and breathed into his ear, "Will he be alright?"

"Olivia, go and find the manager and see if there's a first aider. Tell them what happened."

"Yes, George.  Good idea."  Olivia reluctantly released George and whisked her slim form away with a sense of purpose.

Angela returned with a cup of water and sat beside Lawrence. Her sympathetic words were drowned out by the voice from the PA system calling for the duty manager to go to the main hall. “Please take the first aid kit,” the voice added.

 

***

 

Meanwhile, in reception, an overworked lady with severe short grey hair served a crowd of customers arriving at the last minute for the Toned to the Core session.

A man in a track suit with a towel around his shoulders was demanding hot water in the showers.

The phone rang constantly when the receptionist wasn’t talking on it.

Eventually a lanky young man with long dark hair and stubble came over and asked for the first aid kit.

“You can have it if you can find it, Carl,” said the receptionist without looking away from the customer she was serving.

Carl had a good idea where to look when the box wasn’t where it should be (which was often). He rummaged through a desk full of files, holiday request forms, tubes of new shuttlecocks, printing ink cartridges, and notes, and there it was.

In the main hall where the badminton courts were set up, Carl spotted Lawrence perched on the bench with his leg stuck out, and headed over.

“Do I take it you’re the gentleman who needs first aid?”

“Can you help him?” pleaded Angela.

Lawrence explained what had happened and pointed to where the troublesome wet patch was barely visible. 

“Right.  I’ll sort the floor in a minute.  You reckon you’ve just pulled something?  Didn’t bang your head when you fell?”

“No.  Just this almighty ripping feeling.”

Carl nodded and delved into the first aid box, retrieving a tube of cream.  “This is good stuff.  It really heats the area.  Just rub some on where it hurts.  Hopefully the pain will ease a bit.”

“You look young to be the manager of a place this size," George said.

Carl shrugged. "If you saw my bank account you wouldn't think it looked like a manager's either.”  He grinned.  “I'm just a humble part-timer earning a crust while at uni."

George curled up one side of his mouth and gave a nod of understanding.

Lawrence's handsome face began to relax as he felt the beneficial effects of the cream kick in. "So, there's no properly trained person on duty?” he asked, “when there are all these people, in here, in the gym, doing the classes?"

"I do have a first aid certificate.  But we’re often on a skeleton crew weekends and evenings.  Please don't quote me on that else it'll somehow be all my fault and I'll lose my job."

Carl stood up.  “I’ll go and check the floor.  Then we’ll need you to fill in an accident report form.”

Olivia asked, “Lawrence, do you think this calls for an official letter from a lawyer, ie you?”

Lawrence shook his head. "The young lad's done all that I could expect, and what I slipped on could have just been a bit of spilled drink or sweat."

“See how much pain you’re in by the morning," said George.  "That guy’s okay, but if you look around – well, doesn’t look like management are all that concerned about maintenance and cleaning.”

“Judging by the lack of staff, I’d say management aren’t that bothered full stop,” said Lawrence.

Carl came back over.  “Not quite sure what the slippery substance was. Looked a bit thick for your average water-based drink. I'll clean it up in a minute, but I've put the Wet Floor sign over it.” He took a clipboard and form from the lid of the first aid box.

George and Olivia went to inspect the cause of the accident. 

“’Your honour, it did indeed seem thicker than a watery juice drink of the sort usually used to rehydrate a badminton player’,” said George in his in-court voice.

“’Too oily, your Honour," said Olivia.

“I wonder if they get many complaints,” mused George.

“More than they can cope with, I bet.  Which is why they need a letter to shake them up.”

 

***

 

Meanwhile, in her comfortable and clean semi-detached house on a development five minutes’ walk from the Leisure Centre, a widow was being comforted by her eldest daughter.  

She needed to be kept informed, but she felt uncomfortable with the presence of DS Jennifer Sterling and PC Patrick O’Shay who had come back to inform her that her husband had a large quantity of LSD in his body when he died from the accident in the Wallyborough Leisure Centre Gym, his throat crushed by a barbell.

Her daughter Amber squeezed her shoulders as she sat overwhelmed by it all, hunched forward in an armchair.

“Mum, that might explain why he was in the gym, lifting weights, when he hadn’t done before.”

“But he wouldn’t take drugs.  Not that sort, and nothing since uni.  It doesn’t make sense.  He doesn’t take drugs, and he doesn’t lift weights,” Mrs Crawshaw insisted and began sobbing again.

After the officers left, Rosa Crawshaw looked searchingly into Amber’s eyes.  “Surely, I’d have known if he took drugs, wouldn’t I?”

“He didn’t, mum.  I know he didn’t.  Someone must have spiked his drink or something.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 3

Bridge Over Troubled Workers

 

 

By Monday afternoon the Argus revealed the deceased in the gym was Mike Crawshaw, 63, who’d spent his last evening at the Leisure Centre’s Bridge Club, of which he was an established member.  Afterwards he went into the Centre’s bar to watch football on television with some other members.  The paper also reported the large amount of hallucinogenic in his body.

Of the others who attended the Bridge Club that Thursday evening three were members of what Lucy Twelvetrees referred to as the Creche Coven.

There was the sour-faced mother of two further ‘witches’, Eva Idle.  She had worked as a creche assistant for two or three decades, originally in the Baby Creche, which no longer existed.  She held no formal qualifications for the work but was a mother and grandmother.  People might describe her short hair as mousey.  She was neither fat nor thin, of medium height, and possessed no great skills in the fashion stakes.

Another long-standing creche assistant (also originally from the Baby Creche) was the younger Maya Collins, who likewise had no formal qualifications but was also a mother, of a teenage son. She wore her hair the same length all round, reaching her collar.  It was soft and honey-blonde.  Maya usually wore a little mascara and lipstick.

The third Creche Coven member who played bridge that night was the former supervisor of the Baby Creche, when it existed, and who had continued as supervisor for a few weeks of the newly formed, never preferred general Creche, for children aged 0-5.  She hadn't worked at the Leisure Centre as long as Maya and Eva.  Her name was Betty Ayamwright.  Her greying hair was sensibly short, and she usually wore a pale shade of lipstick, but rarely any eye makeup.  She was just two years younger than Eva, in the throes of getting divorced, and said she had a grown-up son, although no one had met him.  She seemed to lack a waist.

Tuesday morning the comparatively young Pam McTosh, currently assistant in the Creche and elsewhere in the Leisure Centre, questioned her co-workers, Eva, Maya and Betty about their fellow member of the Bridge Club, Mike Crawshaw, a.k.a. the body in the gym: what was he like? Was he into drugs a lot?  Did people in the bridge club like him?  Was he a ladies’ man?  Was he secretly gay even though he was married to a woman?

The general opinion was that he was respectable, kind, and not the type to take hallucinogenic drugs.

“He liked a pint or three and watching the football, that’s as bad as he got,” said Maya.

“He was a decent family man,” opined Eva.

“He was a good bridge player,” said Betty.

***

Lucy Twelvetrees was the Children’s Activities Supervisor.  She’d loved her job until she’d been forced to stop giving casual shifts to a member of staff in the Creche, Helen Idle.

The problem was Helen’s mother was the bridge playing Eva Idle, and her sister was yet another Creche worker, Barbara Mourdant.  They and their friends and fellow Coven members, Maya and Betty, had never forgiven Lucy for dropping Helen from the Creche staff.

Betty hadn't enjoyed transitioning from being in charge of the baby Creche to the new arrangement, and had decided to step down to work as a casual assistant, just a couple of mornings a week.  Lucy knew Betty regretted that now, and it made Lucy an even bigger target for Betty’s wrath.

“Lucy, can’t you change things around so I can work Monday and Tuesday each week?” Betty often whined.

“I refer you to the answer I gave the last time you asked,” Lucy would reply.

“When are you going to let Helen come back to work?” Eva would demand.

“That is not up for discussion, you know that,” Lucy would respond.

“You need to be clearer about who’s supposed to be doing what,” Maya would say.

“Barabara,” Lucy might say.  “Could you get the painting table ready for after snack-time, please?”

“I’m rocking this baby in her pram.  You do it,” would be a typical reply.

“I was just being clear about who’s supposed to be doing what,” Lucy sometimes couldn't resist saying.

Maya thinks I don’t notice when she flips me the bird.

Lucy called them the Coven, because of the way they would manage to huddle themselves down in the far corner of the room, ostensibly playing tea parties with the toddlers, or working on something nearby, mumbling between themselves.

 

That Tuesday morning after the initial death chatter, Barbara was rocking a baby to sleep in a pram, while Maya was at a table nearby supervising children with puzzles.  Eva and Betty were sitting on tiny chairs at tiny tables holding plastic teacups, a teapot and pretend food in front of them.

As Lucy sat down to join in building Duplo castles with the children, she heard Betty say, “Wouldn’t be surprised if she gave him the LSD in his drink.”

Lucy shot a look at Betty, who held a little saucer in one hand and brought a tiny cup up to her lips with the other.  “Mmm, lovely tea,” she said and smiled at the little boy next to her.

Who was she talking about?

Lucy built a bridge and took some cars from the mat beside her for a couple of children to drive under it.

She heard Eva say, “Probably rejected her advances.”

But like Betty, by the time Lucy’s eyes were upon her, Eva was drinking pretend tea.

Are they talking about me?

At eleven o’clock, Ayesha fetched the staff drinks from the Centre’s cafe, next to the Creche.

Betty said to Eva, “I’m just off to the loo.  Keep an eye on my coffee.  Make sure nobody puts anything in it.”

Lucy wouldn’t have minded if they’d laughed, or even smiled, and it was all a touch of dark humour; but they didn’t.  

Later, Lucy took a couple of light footballs and some hula hoops from the cupboard and cast her eyes around to see who was free to go outside with the children.

“Lucy, the children haven’t been outside yet.”  Barbara’s tone was accusatory.

Why do you think I’ve got these?

“Barbara, Maya, Ayesha, Pam, can you please get the over-twos in their sunhats and outside to play?  Thanks.”

Eva was up on her feet much faster than she usually moved.  “Betty and I will go outside.  Pam and Ayesha, you can take over the playdough and the tea party.”

Lucy and Ayesha exchanged glances; eyebrows raised.

Pam moved over to the dough table and sat down.

Lucy shrugged, shook her head, and went to the baby corner.

Ayesha came over.  “You shouldn’t let them do that,” she said quietly.

“I know.  But I can’t argue with them in front of the children.”

After outside play the Coven’s topic of conversation turned to Betty’s divorce lawyer not doing her job properly and getting Betty more than 50% of the marital home and possessions.  “You get useless people in all walks of life, I suppose.”

Lucy glanced up and Betty and Eva were looking directly at her, or through her.

Now I’m getting paranoid.

“Look at them,” said Ayesha.  “When they huddle round those tables, drinking their pretend tea and nibbling on plastic food, making aspersions about you, or me, they do look like a coven of witches round a cauldron”

***

When Lucy arrived home that afternoon, she got out of her car and looked at the back wheel.

“Oh, bloody hell!” She kicked the nearly flat tyre. “I thought so.  Why? Why me?”

She leant her forearms against the window and dropped her face into her hands. “Bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody...” She sighed aggressively. “I just knew it!” 

A couple of weeks ago she’d been dismayed to come out of her cottage in the morning to find someone had cracked the rear near-side window of her car.  It could have been someone passing on the way home from the pub, but she seriously suspected a member of the Creche Coven.

When she’d told her husband what she thought, Ben had said he felt it unlikely. But her nerves were so rattled lately that she suspected the Coven when anything bad happened.

And that morning four of them had been at the Leisure Centre...

They’d been there. My car had been parked outside.

Coincidence? I don’t think so!

 

 

CHAPTER 4

An Inspector Calls,

and a Sergeant and a Constable

 

 

Despite the fact Lucy hadn’t known the late Mike Crawshaw, she’d never so much as seen LSD, and she had a watertight alibi, she felt nervous at having to be interviewed by a police officer about the death in the gym.

She was sent down to the bar, where she found the baby-faced police constable, Patrick O’Shay.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Twelvetrees.  Sorry to use up some of your lunch break...”

“That’s okay.”

PC O’Shay asked if Lucy knew the deceased, of anyone having LSD on the premises, where she was that evening, and who was responsible for checking the Centre and locking up. 

Patrick O’Shay made short notes every time Lucy spoke, and she wondered what he had to write.

“Have you heard anything on the Leisure Centre grapevine about what happened that night?” he asked.

Lucy scratched her head and thought, but nothing came to mind that was useful to the investigation.

Patrick smiled at her.  “Thank you.  That’s all for now, but please let us know if anything crops up that we might find useful – don't worry about whether or not it’s relevant.  Just anything that strikes you...”

Lucy stood up.  “Sorry I haven’t been of any help.”

“Oh, you were.  It all helps us to build up a picture.  The more we know, the easier it is to find out what happened.”  Patrick smiled again, looking directly at her.

It’s true what they say.  Policemen do seem to be getting younger every year.

“Could you ask Ayesha Karim to come in next, please?  And we’d appreciate you’re not talking to any of the others until we have spoken to them first.  Thank you.”

 

Lucy grabbed a sandwich and latte and took it outside on the cafe’s patio.  It was a large rectangle of paving slabs, with straight flower beds down either side.  The sun was shining, but a light breeze prevented it being too hot.  Carl the helpful first-aiding student bought himself a mug of tea and went over to where Lucy was sitting.

“Anyone sitting here, Luce?”

“Yes, my imaginary friend.  But you can sit next to her.”

“You been grilled by the Feds, then?”

“Yeah.  Got the water torture until I admitted working in the Creche.”

“They’re a weird lot in there... well, not you, of course.  Or Ayesha.”

“Of course.  We’re perfectly normal.  I was only saying so to the fairies in the bottom of my garden yesterday.”

“Hah!  My fairies have been driven out by the goblins from next door.”

Lucy chewed her sandwich.  Carl sipped his tea.

“Y’know, when you were off for that month, or whatever, I thought you’d left because of the way those women treated you, the way Betty and them were talking,” said Carl.

“That’s what they want.  Me out and Betty back in charge.”

“They’re a horrible lot, and they certainly don’t do a lot of work.”

“You’ve noticed, and you don’t even work in the Creche.”  Lucy chuckled.

“Y’know,” said Carl, “I was on reception for a bit the other day, and this woman came over to complain.  She’d been in the Jungle Gym with her kid.  They were alright, but she was concerned about a little girl cutting herself on a nail in there.  She said the woman behind the counter – who incidentally had only just arrived -- sent the mum and child off to the loos to wash the cut, then just carried on drinking her tea.”

Carl waved the back of his hand at a problematic fly that seemed to want his drink.  “Go away, you bugger!”

One more wave of the hand and the fly got the message.  Carl continued, “When the mum and kid came back, they asked for a plaster, and the woman had to rummage around to find one.  And she didn’t even bother to check out the nail or write an accident report.”

“That’s dreadful.  If one kid could hurt themself on a nail, so could anyone else.”  

“Exactly.  Anyway, I got the lady who spoke to me, to fill in a form, and I went and beat the nail into submission and put loads of duct tape over it.”  Carl rolled his eyes at Lucy.  “And there was no one on duty in there while I was doing it.  Bloody useless some of those women.”

“Who was supposed to be in there?”

“Eva.  So, seems she only appeared to drink her tea and hand out a plaster.  God, her and her daughters are a sour bunch, aren’t they?  Glad you got rid of the dark-haired one.  She gave me a tongue lashing once, just for... being there.”

“Oh, Horrible Helen.  Yes, the place is better off without her, apart from the flak I’m still getting from her family, and Eva’s friends.”  Lucy stretched the corners of her mouth down in an expression of distaste.

Carl put his elbows on the table and sipped from his mug, gazing into space.  “Y’know, I think she’s on something, that Helen.  Or an alki.  Something’s not right with her.”

“Huh!  Glad it’s not just me that sees it.  That’s why I had to let her go.”

 

***

 

While Lucy was working in the Jungle Gym and Carl cleaned the main hall that afternoon, Rosa Crawshaw was struggling with another interview about her husband’s death with DI Peter Van Niessen.

“Amber, can you make some tea for us, please?”  She asked of her daughter.

DS Jennifer Sterling moved towards the door.  “I’ll give you a hand, Amber.”

Van Niessan asked, “How are you coping, Rosa?”.

Tears sprung to her eyes.  “I’m beginning to accept the idea that he’s... gone.  But any time someone asks me how...”  Mrs. Crawshaw grabbed more tissues from the box on the side table next to her and tried to wipe away the tears but couldn’t stem the flow.

Peter Van Niessan gave her time to compose herself, then said gently, “Think of these questions as just another task that has to be completed.  We’ll soon be done and leave you in peace with your daughter.”

Rosa dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.  She took a slow deep breath in and shuddered as she let it out.  “Okay, let’s give it a go.”

“Firstly, have you remembered anything more about that evening, or the time leading up to it?  Any unusual messages or calls asking Mike to go anywhere, or do anything?”

Rosa shook her head.  “Absolutely nothing.  He just went to the Leisure Centre for seven, when Bridge Club starts, as usual.  He’d already told me a few of the men were going into the bar afterwards to catch the second half of the football over a pint...  And he didn’t come home again.  Have you spoken to the Club members?”

“We have.  They confirmed your husband was playing bridge from when the club started, and when the session finished, he went with three other men to watch the football in the bar.  Three of the women from the club had a drink together in a quiet corner, and they saw him there.  Nothing seemed amiss.  The women left a little before ten.  Your husband left about half an hour later, while the rest stayed until closing time.”

In the Crawshaws’ small kitchen, Jennifer Sterling asked Amber to tell her about her father, Mike.

Amber placed a tray on the workbench and took out some cups and saucers.  “He’s just so wonderfully ordinary.  My sister and I grew up with parents who seemed content to be together, unlike some of our friends.  Never any fear they’d divorce...”

Amber filled a jug with milk, put it on the tray.  “Dad liked his bridge and watching sport.  Mum goes to a needlework group once a week, out for coffee with her sisters fairly regularly.  Probably quite healthy, they each had their own interests, but...”  teaspoons went on top of the saucers.  Amber reached down the sugar bowl.  “But they did a lot together.”

“Did you do things as a family?” asked Jennifer.  “Holidays, days out?”

“We went on some lovely holidays, mostly to the Mediterranean.  The odd few days in Wales or the Lakes.  Family Christmases with the aunts and uncles and cousins were a laugh...”

Jennifer nodded.  “What about other things?  Did your parents like the same sort of music, films...?”

“They both liked ordinary sort of music for their age, you know, pop.”  Amber stirred the teapot and put it on the tray.  “They even used to swap books after they’d read them.”

“But your dad seemed content?  Did he ever flirt with other women... or men?  Could he have been having an affair?”

Amber shook her head and lifted the tea tray.

“Any money troubles?” asked Jennifer.

“Nope.  Nothing.  He was just so... nice, and normal, and kind and good.  Why would anyone want to harm a lovely man like that?” 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 5

I Don’t Mind Mondays

 

It was Monday lunchtime.  Lucy put a couple of tables together and set some chairs around them.  It was time for another dreaded Creche staff meeting. 

Since Lucy stopped Helen Idle working in the Creche, and the feud had begun, the Coven took these opportunities to set Steve against Lucy.  He was her direct line manager.

But this time Steve brought along Joe Chen, the new manager who outranked Steve.  Lucy wondered if he’d make a difference, and if so, for the better or worse.

Oh well, at least he’s a distraction.

"Joe's here today,” said Steve, “just to learn more about what goes on in the Creche.  We don’t have long, so let’s get straight to it.  Everyone got a copy of the minutes?"

"Yes," said Joe, Ayesha, Pam and Lucy.

"They're wrong again," said Eva.

There was a grumble of agreement amongst the Coven.

Joe’s expression was unreadable as he said, "Which bit do you disagree with?"

"All of it,” said Eva.

"Well, let's go through it, like, shall we?" said Joe.

“Right near the beginning,” Eva whined.  “She’s put the names of the people who were here, but she didn’t put Barbara under ‘Apologies’.”

“I told mum I had to go to the school that day,” Barbara said.

“I mustn’t have heard her.  It wasn’t in my notes,” said Lucy.

Barbara said, “You heard me, didn’t you?”

Maya and Betty said “Yes”, Ayesha and Pam said “No”.

And so it went on.  Betty demanded to work Mondays and Tuesdays each week.  Eva asked when her other daughter, Helen, was going to be given shifts again.  Maya complained Lucy didn’t give clear enough directions.   Barbara grumbled Lucy was too bossy.  Only Joe was made of tougher stuff than Steve, and he argued back, politely and logically.

When it was over, Lucy and Ayesha put the chairs and tables back.

Ayesha pushed her long black hair out of her face.  “What d’you reckon then?  D’you think Joe helped?”

“It was good he got to hear the truth about Betty and Mondays.  Maybe she’ll be embarrassed into shutting up about them.  I may have to have a word with Joe to explain why Helen isn’t safe to work here, but at least he didn’t question my decision in front of the Coven.”

Ayesha giggled. “It made me laugh when Eva said ‘Helen’s good with kids’. My arse she is.  Good with a bottle more like.”

“Fingers crossed Joe’s going to be our saviour.”

***

Wendy was a solicitor who worked at the same law firm as Lawrence, who slipped while playing badminton, and George, Angela and Olivia.

It was a lovely evening, and she sat in her garden to enjoy a gin and tonic.

“Hi, lawyer lady Wendy,” came a voice from above her.

She glanced up and saw Pablo, who lived in the first floor flat with his husband Carlos, who also happened to be Wendy’s accountant.

“Come down and join me.  Is Carlos there?”

“Of course, otherwise I would be pining and not smiling.”

Carlos came from behind him onto the balcony and playfully hit him across the back of the head.  “I’m here.”

“Come down, both of you.  What can I get you to drink?”

“Beer, please,” the men said in unison.

“I didn’t really need to ask, did I.”

“Shall I bring Pablo’s latest orange almond cake?” 

“Ooh, lovely, Carlos.  Thanks.”

A couple of minutes later, the men had joined Wendy at ground level.  “I love this garden.  We’re lucky we can enjoy it from our balcony,” said Carlos. “It’s healthy to be among lots of plants.”

“I was in a jungle the other day,” said Wendy.  “With my little nephew.”

“What do you mean?” asked Pablo.  “You went to Kew Gardens or somewhere like that?”

“No.  It was only a pretend jungle.  It’s a soft play area for children, at the Leisure Centre.  It’s called the Jungle Gym.”

“What’s that place like?” asked Carlos.  “I was a bit worried about the man found dead in the gym.”

“My exercise classes are quite good.  But the building is a bit tatty in places.  Could do with a good clean and repainting.  My nephew had a good time in the Jungle, though. Lots of climbing and sliding, over three floors.  Mind you, a little girl hurt her hand on a nail that was sticking out, and the woman who was working there – well, that is to say, was wearing a Leisure Centre uniform and came and stood behind the counter to drink her tea...  She was bloody useless.  Didn’t do anything about the nail.  Can you believe?”

“Not good.  What did you do?” said Carlos.

“I reported it on the way out to a nice young man on reception.  He went straight off to fix the nail and got me to fill in a report form.”

They sipped their drinks and nibbled on cake for a peaceful minute.

“Ooh, I’ve just remembered something else.  One of the solicitors who works with me hurt himself playing badminton there. He slipped on something on the floor and wrenched a muscle.  He’s still limping!” 

Pablo grinned at Carlos.  “Perhaps we should go and see this house of horrors.  See if it is being run alright or badly.”  His grin fell away.  “As long as there are no more dead bodies there.”

“They have a bar,” said Wendy.  “And they show the football on huge screens.”

Carlos swung his arm around Pablo’s shoulders.  “Well, that settles it then.  We must check it out.  It’s our deber cívico, si?”

“Si.”

 

* * * 

 

That same evening, Carl was coming out the local mini supermarket when he recognised two men approaching: George and Lawrence the limper.

He stepped in front of them. “How’s the injury?”

“Oh, hi! It’s, er, Carl, isn’t it? From the Leisure Centre?”

Now George recognised him. “Oh yes. Hello.”

“Still hurting, I’m afraid, but I won’t sue.  Glad you were there with your miracle cream.  It really helped.”

“Good.” Carl nodded. “Mind you, I sometimes wish someone would sue that place. It’s so badly run.  And now we’ve had someone dead or dying locked in the gym overnight.  Could do with a clear out of the people who only turn up to get paid and do bugger all.”

George glanced at Lawrence. “Wendy said you should think about suing.”

“How could I do that when Carl sorted me out so well?”

He turned to Carl. “We’re just going to the Frog and Toad. Want to join us for a pint? On me.”

Carl hesitated and glanced at his shopping bag. “Why not?”

The Frog and Toad was a new micro pub, set up where a greengrocer’s used to be.  It didn’t seat many, but it sold a range of craft beers, and there was a sense of humour about the decor.  A couple of bar stools looked like lily pads with legs, and some frog and toad cartoon prints adorned the walls.

Two pints in and Carl was enjoying himself, telling the other two about the horrors of the Leisure Centre -- the suspicious death in the gym being the most notable, but already known by any locals.  He regaled them with tales about the Creche Coven, the girl who got cut on a nail, and how he thought he was going to have to deliver a baby in the soft play area.  Carl was a natural born storyteller, who could make even the mundane and humdrum world of a leisure centre seem entertaining.

After three pints apiece it was Lawrence’s round again.  He brought the beers back to the table without spilling too much, and sat down, shaking his head slowly.  Laughter still played on his lips. “Maybe we should take some action – not sue the place. But it’s owned by the Council, so it’s our money they’re wasting. We could form an action group...”

George giggled.  “What a good idea.  Cheers!”

“Dead bodies, murder, intrigue, a witches’ coven...  God only knows what’ll happen next,” sighed Carl, and belched, loudly.

 

CHAPTER 6

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

 

 

The next day in the Creche, Betty tried a new tack.  “Lucy, couldn’t you change somebody from Mondays to another day?”

“I don’t know that anybody would appreciate that. You could ask someone to swap with you. Eva maybe?”

Lucy knew that Betty wanted to work with Eva and Maya.

“Or Barbara, perhaps.”  Lucy’s inner demon laughed.  She also knew that Eva liked to work her two shifts on days when her daughter was in.  All the other regulars did the full five days so couldn't swap.

Catch 22, Betty!

Betty stomped off and moaned to Maya, who shot Lucy a filthy look.

But later Lucy was surprised when Betty offered to fetch the staff drinks, unasked. 

She returned, put the tray down on the high shelf away from the children, and the Coven gathered like wasps round a jam jar.  Eva brought a mug of latte over to Lucy and didn’t say anything sarcastic.

Maybe yesterday’s meeting with Joe did do some good.

 

Before noon, Lucy had to go home.

She had developed cramping in her stomach and her head was throbbing.

Ayesha called her a cab.  She was in no fit state to drive.

Just making it to the bathroom in time, Lucy spent an hour emptying the contents of her digestive tract.  As she slumped back exhausted, she did think the little LED lights the girls had insisted Ben install looked pretty and star like against the blue ceiling.

 

***

 

“Carlos, what’s going on over there?” asked Pablo.  They were walking home after an evening out in the town centre, passing a smart terrace of bay fronted Georgian houses opposite a stone church.

Carlos followed Pablo’s gaze and saw four men.  Two seemed to be spoiling for a fight with the other two, who were walking briskly in front of them.

“Hey, gay boy!” called one of the aggressors.  “Come and show me how butch you are.”  He was tall and skinny with scruffy dark hair and jeans that could do with a belt.

“Yeah, come here.  Hit me on my nose.  Betchya can’t,” said his mate. Fair-haired, equally scruffy, a little shorter and stockier.

The two victims looked to be trying to ignore them, but the bad guys were closing on them.

“Bastards.  They’re looking for a fight,” said Carlos, in Spanish.

“Homophobic bastards,” Pablo corrected.

“Come on you two,” said the fair-haired aggressor.  “Come and show us what you’re made of.”  He moved his fists about in front of him, vaguely mimicking a boxer

The other two men kept walking.

“Sugar and spice and all things nice,” said the dark-haired bully.  “Oh no, that’s girls.”  He started laughing so much he nearly fell over.

“Slugs and snails and puppy dogs’ tails,” fair-hair commented.  “That’s what you’re supposed to be made of.  But you’re missing something.”  Then he too creased up in gales of laughter.

“They’re drunk,” said Carlos.

“Maybe they’re too drunk to fight,” Pablo said.

As the two idiots staggered about, the pair of victims turned off across the open grass next to the grey brutalist style Swimming Centre and sped up.

Carlos took Pablo’s hand.  “Come on, we better keep close.”

The bullies continued to follow the other two men -- speeding up a bit but moving in a very unconventional manner.  The dark-haired one was now acting like he was flying, arms flapping at his sides.  His friend laughed hard and stuck his own arms out straight to the sides. “Look.  I can fly too.  I’m a plane.”

“What a state!” said Pablo.  “I’ve been drunk, but I hope I’ve never looked that stupid.”

“Some people don’t know their limits.”

Dark-hair was now prancing about like a ballet dancer, but he was getting close to his quarry.  His mate was doing something equally strange with his arms and weaving about all over the place but also coming up close behind the other two men.

“Quick, Pablo.  I think we’re going to be needed.  I don’t like the way this is going.”

Pablo, thirty-five, was over six feet tall; Carlos, in his late thirties, was nearer 5’9”.  They liked to hike and dance, they ate well, and were strong, fit and flexible.  They would be useful helping two men fight off a couple of scrawny drunkards.

They were within ten metres of the yobs; who in turn were closing in on their quarry.

The fair-haired tormentor whooped and gave a glancing karate chop to the side of the head of one of the victims, then pushed him in the back.  His gruesome friend pummelled the other one, rather ineffectually, with both fists on his head.  “Bam, bam, bam,” he giggled.

The victim ducked and tried to run away, but he was kicked from behind and stumbled over, dragging his partner with him.

With the two victims now down on the grass, the hooligans started swooping round them, making a racket like demented vultures, and giving kicks and punches, mostly not finding their mark.  It was like a war dance.

Carlos and Pablo rushed forward, each aiming for a yob apiece to get them away from their prey.  Pablo simply flung his arms around one and pulled him back, while Carlos caught the other by the upper arms and yanked him sideways.  The two thugs fell down like giant rag dolls.

The fair-haired one noisily rolled about on the ground as if he found it hilarious.  The other one was back to flying, weaving his way towards the paving slab encircled boating lake.

The fair-haired man got into a crawling position and seemed about to stand up, but Carlos pushed him back down, causing raucous giggling.

“Pablo, look after them.  I’m going to get that guy.”

The original victims were now getting to their feet, but the bully stayed down, rolling and writhing and making the weirdest sing-songy sound. “Wee-arr-woo-woo-wup...”

“Are you guys alright?” Pablo asked the sober couple.

“I think so,” said one.  “Are you okay, Ross?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”  He took his boyfriend’s hand.  “I was terrified.”

Pablo mumbled that he thought the other men were drunk, but his attention was really on Carlos following the dark-haired loon, who was now walking around the edge of the boating lake on tiptoe, his arms out to the sides like a tight-rope walker.  He started singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Carlos was following him closely, not taking his eyes off him.

The fair-haired thug started singing the same song as he struggled to get up on his knees.  Suddenly he turned and looked at the three men nearby him and shouted, “Can you see the rainbow?”

His two victims and Pablo just stared at him.  His expression was far more stupid than aggressive now.

“I’m going over that rainbow.  You see it?  That one there?  I’m going over it to look for the gold at the other end.”  He tried to stand up again, without success.

Meanwhile his mate was back to ballet dancing within inches of the water: sticking his leg out with pointed toes, arms arced above his head; still singing.  Carlos was cautiously getting closer.

The dark-haired ballet dancing goon pointed his leg straight out in front of him, over the lake, arms still above his head... and fell into the water, hitting an arm and his head on a boat on the way down.  As he went further down, Carlos stared into the water.  The madman didn't return to the surface.

“Oh my god,” whispered Pablo, as Carlos took off his shoes.

The two now-recovering victims were also staring at Carlos, who had jumped into the lake.

The fair-headed idiot turned to follow their gaze.  “Where’s me mate gone?  Has he gone swimming with that other guy?”

Pablo only had half-an eye on him now as he watched his husband try to bring the man to the lake’s edge, but he was thrashing about and making it very difficult.  Pablo heard Carlos call out, “Sing some more of your rainbow song.”

The man went limp and started to sing again.  Now Carlos was able to bring him back to the side of the lake and haul him out.  The fool was still singing, appearing to have no clue what had just happened.

His friend staggered to his feet, singing the same song, and trying to walk towards him; but his legs got caught up with each other and he fell down again.  He was screeching with laughter, rolling about, oblivious to how hard his hands and elbows were hitting the ground.

Ross asked his partner, “What’s going on?  I don’t get it.”

“It’s okay.  You’re safe now.”

Pablo looked to his husband, saw he was out of the water safely and dragging the wet man along by the arm.  Then he looked at the other guy, still rolling about and singing, horribly discordantly.

“They’re not drunk, they’re high as kites.”

Pablo had spoken in Spanish again.

“What did you say?” asked the man beside him.  Pablo repeated it in English.

The man on the ground shouted, “I’m high.  I’m getting higher.  I’m flying up, up into the sky...”

By the time the soggy hooligan had been dragged back to the small gathering, he was declaring he was a duck and could fly up to meet his friend.

“Shall I phone 999?” asked Pablo.

“No.  It’s only ten minutes' walk to the hospital.  Come on.  Let’s get them there.”  He turned to the other two.  “Can you guys help us, else it’ll take twenty minutes the way they are, and I’m getting cold.”

At the hospital Carlos was given some dry clothes from lost property, and the two men somewhere up near the International Space Station were put on drips while nurses tried to find out what they’d taken.  Eventually the information was given – LSD.

The police officer on duty took the names and addresses of all four men who had brought them in, and the briefest of statements about what had happened.

At last the heroes were on their way home, in two Ubers.

"LSD is too dangerous," said Carlos.  "Why do people take it?"

"It makes them think they are Superman.  Like that guy who died in the gym."

 

 

 

CHAPTER 7

Dying for a Change

 

 

“Thank you everyone,” said Lucy, closing an evening staff meeting in the colourful Jungle Gym, the soft play area.  “If you could return your cups to the cafe, you can release yourselves back into the wild.”

Steve appeared at her side.  “Well done.  The quiz was a good idea.”

Lucy gave him a glancing smile, wishing she could say, “This isn’t the Creche.  It’s easy when there’s only one witch and a bunch of nice people.”

But she felt proud and light inside.  She was glad Steve had been reminded she wasn’t useless, and now she was keen to take her good mood back to Ben, Amy and Belle.  She hung up the Jungle Gym keys, clocked out (second attempt successfully), called good night to all in earshot, and headed for the exit.

A long, loud scream coming from the corridor halted her in her tracks.  She felt like her heart had been shocked into a new rhythm.  She spun round and saw a panicked and tearful Pam headed her way.  This woman was rather highly strung, but she looked genuinely terrified.  

Lucy rushed towards her.  "Pam, what's happened?"

Pam wrapped her arms around Lucy and wept.  Lucy hugged her and stroked her dark hair.

"It'll be alright, Pam," she soothed, extracting herself from the other woman’s grip before she suffocated.  "Come and sit in the office."

Under the shocked gaze of a few customers and a bewildered receptionist, Lucy took Pam’s hand and led her to the office, still shaking and sobbing.

Steve stood up swiftly from behind his desk and helped Lucy get Pam into a chair. 

Holly the blonde PA stood up and stared, her eyebrows knitted together, jaw slack.

"What is it, Pam?” asked Steve.  “Are you hurt?"

"No."  The first word Pam had managed to speak since Lucy found her.

Eventually the sobbing subsided, and Pam was able to croak, "There's a dead body!"

“What?” shrieked Holly.  “Another one?”

“Where, Pam?” asked Lucy, but Pam folded herself over the desk and bawled.

Lucy’s pulse pounded in her ears, frightened there was someone somewhere desperately in need of CPR.  “Pam, where is the body?”

Pam raised her head. "In the ladies changing rooms.  She's lying on her back, and her hair's wet, and there's blood on the floor.  Blood all around her head."

Lucy was off like a shot. “Call an ambulance,” she yelled over her shoulder.

 

There on the floor in the ladies’ changing rooms, conveniently wrapped in a towel, but wearing nothing else, lay an inert woman, a large halo of blood around her head; and another woman crouched over her.

CHAPTER 8

Lights and Music

But No Disco

 

 

It was a pleasant evening with no rain forecast, so Carlos and Pablo walked to the Leisure Centre to see what it was really like and experience the bar.

They strolled through the park and past the fenced off running track and athletics areas.

As they approached the car park, an ambulance swung in from the road, lights flashing, siren blaring.

Pablo and Carlos turned to face each other in sync, eyebrows raised, mouths open.

"Que carajo?" said Pablo.  “Is it more drugs and murder?”

"No, I’m sure it’s not.  Maybe more people have been punctured by nails sticking out of the floor."  Carlos grinned, revealing perfect white teeth.

Pablo's eyebrows rose further, again mirroring his husband’s expression.

Carlos made a little snort of a laugh.  "Don't worry.  I'm sure it's just someone who exercised too hard. Or maybe they slipped, like Wendy’s friend."

"So long as we don’t have to wade through blood...“  Pablo’s gaze swung back to the car park.  "Oh no, Carlos!  Now the police!  Now I am really worried.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around Pablo’s neck and rubbed his knuckles against the top of his head.  "I still don't think there'd be a second body in the same place."

Then an unmarked police car arrived, small blue lights flashing inside the grill.

 

***

 

It was Eva crouching over the dead-looking woman when Lucy went to see what Pam McTosh had found.

"Eva!  What's going on?" said Lucy.

Eva sat and looked up at her with tears in her eyes.  "I came in to wash my hands and she was just lying there.  I don't know what to do.  Is she dead?"

Lucy crouched beside the supine form, feeling nauseous and a little dizzy, and put a hand in front of the slack mouth.  "Can't tell," she murmured, then gently felt the woman's wrist.  "Yes.  She's alive. I can feel a pulse."

Lucy paused for a second, her thoughts now completely engrossed on the injured woman, which mercifully pushed away the sick and swimmy feeling.  She put her ear to the woman's mouth.

Yes.  Patient breathing.  Should I put her in the recovery position?  Or leave her in case she has a spinal injury?  This is easier in a first aid class.

She felt through the woman’s wet hair to her neck.  Ooh, yuck!  Sticky blood!  Her impulse was to snatch her fingers away, but she forced herself to continue.   Why does blood feel even worse than it looks?

"Eva, does she look like she could have hurt her spine?"

Eva seemed to have difficulty finding Lucy's face.  "I don't know.  I didn't see what happened.  She was just there when I came in."

Lucy didn't think pushing for Eva's opinion was worth the effort.

I’m going for it.

She carefully moved the woman's right arm out to the side.

What next?  The leg?

Lucy gently bent the left leg at the knee.  Then she lifted the left arm and started to put it across the woman's body.  No, no!  Roll the body first! 

Eventually Lucy had the woman in the recovery position.

Then the shakes started in earnest.  Her head felt light and dizzy.  She rocked back into a seated position, too afraid to stand.

Lucy looked at the pale and frozen Eva and smiled tightly.

"She's OK.  She's breathing.  She has a pulse."

Eva blinked and looked at Lucy.  "Should we call an ambulance?"

"On its way.  Pam found her and came down and told us.  I left her with Steve, and they were going to call 999."

"Thank goodness for that."  Tears rolled down Eva's cheeks.  She looked vulnerable and lost, childlike.  She didn't look like that cruel member of the Creche Coven now.

Lucy's tears flowed freely, the tension lifting from her weakened body.

 

* * *

 

Wendy was doing a Toned to the Core class in the Studio, along the corridor from the ladies' changing rooms.  The group moved as one to the loud, pounding music, which had left them oblivious to the sound of the screaming and the sirens.

“To the right, two, three, four... To the left, two, three, four... Forward...”  Arms waving, knees bending, feet stepping...

There was a rap on the door and Steve Balls came in and gestured to the instructor to turn the music off.  He strode over and whispered in her ear.  She nodded and fetched the signing-in sheet.

Steve straightened and assumed an air of authority.  "If I could have everyone's attention, please."  He held up the signing-in sheet.  “I need to check you're all here.  Raise a hand when I call your name, please.  Thank you."

"I forgot to sign in," wheezed an overweight man.

"So did I," added a skinny woman.  "Sorry."

"Okay, don't worry, I'll add your names at the end.  I'll go through the list first."

Three people had forgotten to sign in, all apologetic.  Steve warned them of the importance of being on a register.  “So we know who’s where, in case of a fire, or...”

“Else you might end up left behind and burnt to a crisp," chipped in a young woman with heavy make-up.

There was some laughter and some complaining.

But there was no missing woman from this class.

Ten minutes before the class was due to finish, there was another knock on the door, and a young female police officer entered.  The instructor turned the music off again, pulling a disgruntled face.

“My name is PC Zuri Timani.  I understand Mr Balls has been in and checked the register.  There's no one missing, is that right?"

The sweaty people looked at one another, murmured, shook their heads.

"Okay, thanks.  Now, did any of you go to the women's changing rooms since the class started, to get some water, go to the loo...?"

"No," said some voices.

A tall, broad-shouldered lady ventured, "I went there just as it was about to start, but not since.”

"Did you see anything unusual?"

"No."

"Have any of you seen or heard anything unusual this evening?"

Wendy and most of the others said, "No."  A couple commented they were surprised the Jungle Gym had been open that late.

"Thanks."  She made a note.  "Anything else?"

"What's happened?" A tall man asked what was on all their minds.

"We’re just trying to put a name to a woman who had an accident earlier,” the PC reassured them.

“Has she lost her memory?” someone asked.

PC Timani hesitated and improvised.  “She left before she told us.”

Dismayed murmuring rolled round the room.

Wendy was suspicious.  You don’t send in the police for someone who’s just wandered off after hurting themselves.  Dead or on LSD... some connection to the gym death, I bet.

“I think we’ll call it a night,” said the instructor, yanking leads out of the speakers.

The class slowly packed up their belongings and left.

They found the ladies' changing rooms had police tape across the doorway and a young male officer standing on duty outside.

“How are we going to get our clothes out of our lockers?” asked Wendy.

Several pairs of eyes shot her way.

“Yes, how?”

Blushing, the young PC pulled himself up straight and puffed out his chest.  “If you’d like to wait in the cafe or bar, I’ll be along to assist you shortly.”

Bet there’s a body in there, thought Wendy.

She decided she could go back for her things tomorrow.

As she exited the main doors and stepped into the fresh air, a voice saying her name made her jump.

It was just Carlos.  "You don't know who was in that ambulance just know, do you?” he asked.

“Was it an ordinary ambulance, with lights flashing?” she said.

“Yes.  Why do you ask?”

“It means the patient wasn’t dead.  I've been in a class and the police came in asking if anyone was missing."

Pablo appeared at her side.  “Oh, you poor thing.  It is alright.  They were rushing, in the ambulance.”

“Yes, it’s okay,” said Carlos.  “Hey, we came for a drink and to spy, like we spoke about, but didn't get past reception.  We had to give our names and contact details."

Pablo added with a cheeky grin, "We did not expect it to be this bad!"

Wendy couldn’t help but smile at him, despite knowing the police presence meant something serious had happened.  

 

 

 

CHAPTER 9

The Lady Vanishes

 

 

The Leisure Centre had entered panic mode, for the Leisure Centre that is.

William Sumner and Joe Chen had been called in to deal with the fallout.

For a short while DI Peter Van Niessan was in attendance but left once the body was found to be not so dead after all. 

DS Jennifer Sterling was top dog now.

The three women who had seen the injured person, plus Steve as duty manager were interviewed first by the Detective Sergeant.  PC Patrick O’Shay, relieved from his duty outside the changing rooms, used the bar to interview other members of staff in the building.

The official line was that it had been an accident, but the police had a duty to investigate under the circumstances. 

After being questioned, Steve was asked to go through the CCTV footage to find where Pam came out of the changing rooms screaming.

Once DS Sterling had finished interviewing her, Lucy was sent to help by identifying the “body” in the video, while it was still walking. 

“That’s her.  See how her hair is purple at the bottom?  It showed even when it was wet.”

Steve took a few screen shots and sent them to Jennifer, along with a copy of the whole recording for the day. 

“Can we just look at what happens after she goes into the changing rooms, please?” Lucy asked.

Steve’s thoughts seemed elsewhere. “Lucy, you saw her... lying there.  Do you think it looked like an accident, or do you think... someone did it to her?”

“Difficult to tell.  I didn’t see a tell-tale bar of soap near her feet or anything she could’ve tripped over.  Got to admit, I’m a bit suspicious.  Well, quite a lot suspicious.”

On the screen, one camera showed the attendees exiting the Jungle Gym staff meeting.  Steve clicked to expand it.

They all headed towards reception, except Pam and Eva.

Pam disappeared out of view walking in the direction of the exercise studios.

Eva went out the fire exit, leaving it ajar.

Lucy and Steve looked at each other.

Steve grinned. "Shall we look to see where Pam went, or watch this camera a bit more and see when Eva comes back?"

But before they decided, Pam came back into view and entered the changing rooms.

A few minutes passed.

"Probably gone to the loo first," commented Lucy.

Steve frowned.  "Why would she go into the changing area at all?  She doesn't have a towel with her or anything."

Lucy arched an eyebrow.  "That's where the full-length mirror is.”

“Say no more.”

And then a very distraught Pam burst out of the changing rooms, opened her mouth very wide, and rushed towards reception.

Seconds later, Eva was seen to come back through the fire exit.

"I wonder where she went,” murmured Steve.

“Rewind,” said Lucy.  “Did anyone go in after the victim and come out before Pam?”

They saw no one.

“Did anyone go in just before Miss Purple Hair?” Lucy suggested.  “Maybe our perp knew where she was headed?”

A few people dressed in shorts were seen coming out of the changing rooms and walking towards Wendy’s class before the victim showed on screen.

Just ahead of the walking not-quite-dead there was another woman. She was heavily pregnant, wearing flowing floral trousers.  She was clasping her bulge and waddling in an uncomfortable manner.  Long blonde curls obscured her face as she entered the rooms.

She came out again just after Pam had entered.  She headed towards the main hall and was traced via other cameras to the cafe, which she plodded across and left by the gate to the car park.  The Centre’s footage didn’t show where she went from there.

 

 

CHAPTER 10

The Genesis of the Investigators

 

 

On a warm and sunny Wednesday morning Wendy called on Carlos and Pablo with some pastries, hoping to catch them for breakfast.  She wanted to be with some friendly faces.

They sat out on the sunny balcony overlooking Wendy’s lush garden drinking tea and eating.

“I know who was in the ambulance the other night, leaving the Leisure Centre,” she said.

“Oh, who?” asked Pablo.  “What happened?  Are they alright now?”

Wendy pressed her lips together and shook her head.  “It’s a friend of mine, from work.  Karen.  She was pushed and her skull cracked on the floor.  She’s in an induced coma because her brain was so badly swollen.”  Tears started to well in Wendy’s eyes.

Carlos reached out a hand and put it over Wendy’s.  “I'm so sorry to hear that.  You must be very worried.”

Pablo leant his elbows on the little round table between them.  “Oh, Wendy.  That is dreadful.  Do the police know who did this thing?”

“No, not really.  They said the only clue is a woman seen near her at the time, on the CCTV footage.  She has long blonde hair and is pregnant.  But they haven’t been able to trace her.”

Carlos and Pablo looked at each other, mirroring their surprised expressions.

Wendy lifted the lid of the tea pot and looked inside.  “D’you mind if I make a fresh pot?”

“Let me,” said Carlos, rising.

When he returned, Wendy thanked him and poured milk into her cup, offering the jug to the others.  “You remember my telling you about that other friend of mine from work - you've met him - Lawrence, who slipped and hurt his leg playing badminton?”

“Yes.”

“Si.”

“He wants to form an action group, to look into what’s wrong at the Leisure Centre.  He thinks it probably needs a change of management.  Or for the Council to take other steps.”

“It sounds like he’s right,” said Carlos.

“It sounds like they need a better floor in the ladies’ changing rooms, with more rubber on it,” said Pablo.

“True,” said Wendy. “But I was wondering if you two would like to come with me, join the group.”  Wendy tentatively sipped her hot tea.  “Carlos, you ended up in the boating lake the other day.  I think it should be fenced off.  It’s all Council property.  Council problems.”

“We would be glad to help, wouldn’t we Pablo?”

“Of course.  Good community spirit.”

“I want to speak to that helpful young man who was on reception at the Leisure Centre, who mended the nail and so on.  He’d be useful to help us understand what’s going on.”

“Good idea.  Just let us know when the meeting will be.”

Pablo grinned.  “I think I will make a good detective, to track down the lazy members of staff.”

 

***

 

It was a sunny day outside, but a cloud hung inside the Creche.

Betty loudly asked Lucy if she could have both Monday and Tuesday shifts the next week.

We sorted all that at the staff meeting last month.

"Would you like to work in the Jungle Gym sometimes on Mondays?"

Lucy knew Betty would say no, but then she couldn’t moan about needing the money.

“No, thank you,” Betty said and turned away.

"She wants to work in here with her friends," Eva snapped.  “And we want Helen back.  You had no right to sack her.  It’s wrongful dismissal.”

She's got over our bonding in the changing rooms, Lucy was disappointed to note.

Barbara reinforced her mum’s message.  “Helen’s really depressed about losing her job here.  She loves children.”

In a pie with some cider?

 

* * *

 

Detective Sergeant Sterling came to the Leisure Centre to speak with managers Steve Balls and Joe Chen.  “It seems the woman in the changing rooms was pushed, rather than fell.  There’s some bruising on her front consistent with a hard shove.”

“That’s reet bad.”  Joe frowned and sighed.  “So now we’ve got a case of GBH to add to a suspicious death, like?”

“Possibly attempted murder added to manslaughter,” said Sterling.

Steve asked, “Any idea who she is, this new victim?”

“Yes.  We found her locker key near the drain.  Must have shot from her hand when she was attacked.  Her bag was in a locker.  She’s a local solicitor.  Karen Twelvetrees.”

“How’s she doing, like?” asked Joe.

“Still unconscious, I’m afraid.  Cracked her skull, hitting that floor.  They’re keeping her in a coma until the brain swelling goes down.”

“What about the mysterious vanishing, pregnant blonde?” asked Steve.

“She hasn’t been picked up on a single camera.  Amazing, isn’t it?  When the quality of most CCTV cameras is so good these days.”

“Do you consider her a suspect?” asked Steve.

“She’s the nearest we’ve got to one, yes.”  Jennifer sighed.

 

***

 

Carl, the hard-working student, had been invited to join the action group by both Lawrence and Wendy, as neither realised the other knew him.

Carl asked Lucy if she’d like to join, knowing how fed up she was with the Creche Coven and Steve’s ineffectuality. Wednesday lunchtime he set up a WhatsApp group and named it the Centre Investigators.

 

Carl:         

Hi fellow action group members.  We can arrange meetings, exchange info here.

Wendy:     

Thank you, Carl.  Good idea.  We already have some bad news.

Carl:           

What's happened?

Wendy:     

The woman injured at the LC last night was our colleague, Karen.  She's still unconscious.

Carlos:       

Hello.  I am a member of the group.  Wendy told Pablo and me this sad news this morning.  Who else is in the group?

Lawrence: 

Hi Carlos.  We’ve met before.  I work with Wendy.  And Karen.

George:     

I work with them too.  Hello everybody.

Lucy:        

 Hello.  I work at the LC and know Carl.  Have joined this group.  Sorry to hear about your colleague.

Lawrence: 

Hi Lucy.  What is your role in the LC?

Lucy:           

Creche Supervisor.  I have a lot to moan about the place.

Wendy:       

Hi.  I’m a solicitor and big-time moaner.

George:       

Hi Lucy.  Also a solicitor.  I’m too nice to moan.

Lawrence:   

Ditto

Pablo:         

Hi.  I’m Pablo.  Have never been in Leisure Centre, but my husband has been in boating lake.  Sad about Wendy’s friend Karen.

Carlos:       

Are we all going to meet?  Can exchange stories.

Carl:            

Lawrence or George will suggest a pub.

George:     

Of course.  Shall we meet at the Cartwheel on Friday?  8pm?

Lawrence: 

The Cartwheel is a good idea.  Friday is a good idea.

Carlos:       

Beer is a good idea.

Pablo:         

This is why I married Carlos.

Lucy:           

I can do the Cartwheel on Friday.

Wendy:       

Me too.  Look forward to meeting you.

 

***

 

When Jennifer arrived back at Wallyborough Police Station, DI Peter Van Niessan called a meeting.

Perched on a desk facing a group of officers, Van Niessan’s expression was unusually serious.  

“I’m concerned about this new strong strain of LSD that’s hit the area.  We’ve had one death due to it, at the Leisure Centre.  Another bloke ended up in the boating lake and might have drowned if he hadn’t been rescued by a stranger.  We’ve had calls about worrying behaviour, minor damage, random threats.  We’re not the drug squad, but we’ve got to be aware that people acting strangely might be on it and a danger to themselves or others.  Keep it in mind.”

He went on to speak about the two cases at the Leisure Centre.  “We need to know if Mike Crawshaw had his drink spiked, as he seems to be Mr Clean by all accounts. And if someone did that, did they also lure him into the idea of weightlifting?  He’s never been known to do that before.”

Peter slid off the table and wandered over to the window.

“And then we have Karen Twelvetrees shoved over and now in a coma with a cracked skull, also at the Leisure Centre.”

He turned and ambled back towards the desk, eyes down, tapping his lips with his pen.  “Was the person who did that tripping at the time, and didn’t attack her intentionally?  Or, was she just the victim of someone taking offence by something Karen said or did -- overreacting?”  He looked up at his audience.  “Was it a crime of opportunity, maybe connected to her being a solicitor?  Or...”  He held his hands out, palms up. “Was it planned in advance for whatever reason...?”

DS Jennifer Sterling sat forward. “And are the two Leisure Centre incidents connected in any way?”

“Reading my mind, now Jennifer?” said Van Niessan.  “But yes, that’s a possibility.  And if so, why, how...?”

Leaning against the desk, legs crossed at the ankles, he said, “Patrick, as you’re now ‘acting detective constable’...”  A murmur of surprised pleasure rose from within the small group.  “I want you to go to Ms Twelvetrees’ office and get a list of all her clients from, say the last three months, and a list of all current Leisure Centre staff and Bridge Club members, and compare the three.  Anyone on more than one list...  And have a look if you can see anything else among her cases that may suggest someone with a strong grudge against her.”  Peter stood up straight.

“Jennifer, I want you to come with me to re-interview the Bridge Club members who were there that night.  I think we need to go deeper.”

 

 

CHAPTER 11

Various Visits

 

 

Acting Detective Constable Patrick O’Shay arrived at the offices where Lawrence, George, Wendy, and Karen worked.  He entered a small lobby and through a doorless opening into the office Olivia and Angela shared.

The women turned and smiled at him.  Olivia said, “Good afternoon.  How may I help you?”

Patrick smiled back, appreciating her long sleek black hair framing an attractive oval face.  “P -- DC Patrick O’Shay.  I’m looking into the Karen Twelvetrees’ case.  I’d like to check her client list for the past three months, if I may.”

He showed Olivia his warrant card.  “I’m just acting DC at the moment.”

“Do you have a warrant to go through Karen’s computer?” asked Angela.

Patrick looked to her smiling round face with its loose golden curls, unsure whether she was serious.

“May I speak to one of the solicitors, please?  Perhaps the senior partner?”

Olivia was already in Lawrence’s online diary and saw he had no clients due imminently.  “I’ll just go and ask Mr Eagle.”

Angela’s big blue eyes probed Patrick’s green ones.  “Are you treating what happened to Karen as a deliberate attack?”

Patrick blushed.  “We have to investigate all avenues at this stage.  We have very little information to go on.”

Olivia reappeared.  “If you’d like to speak to Mr Eagle,” she waved an arm towards his open office door.  “He’s a partner.”

Patrick thanked them both and went in, coming back out with Lawrence after a minute or two.  He was led through a corridor to an office at the side of the building, overlooking a small courtyard: Karen’s office.  Soon access had been set up for Patrick to retrieve and view the information he needed.

He downloaded all the files, but only looked at two cases, because he recognised the names.  One was Betty Ayamwright, Bridge Club member, which was a divorce case where Betty wanted a larger share of the marital estate than her husband was offering.  The other was the name Collins.  As part of the LSD crackdown, Patrick had arrested a lad by that name who was found in possession of enough of the drug to be charged with “intent to supply”.

He decided to read the rest later, took out the thumb drive and went back to speak to Lawrence.

“Can you think of any reason at all why someone would want to hurt Ms Twelvetrees?”

“I’ve thought and thought, but I haven’t come up with anything, I’m afraid.”

Lawrence introduced Patrick to George, who similarly hadn’t a clue why anyone would want to hurt Karen; and George in turn passed the young officer on to Wendy. 

“Karen is one of the nicest women you’re likely to meet.  I just can’t think why someone would want to harm her.  She didn’t say anything about any clients she felt uneasy about.  No personal problems that she mentioned to me.”  Wendy opened her hands in a genteel shrug.  “I hope you find them.”

Wendy stood and showed Patrick back out to the where Olivia and Angela worked.

He glanced from one to the other.  “Don’t suppose either of you have any theories as to why Karen Twelvetrees was hurt?  Anyone turn up here, or phone, and badmouth her?  Anything like that?”

“Not a clue,” said Olivia.

“Love triangle?” suggested Angela, smiling.

The Acting Detective Constable blushed again and left with a wave of his hand.

As the door closed behind him, Olivia said to Angela,” He’s probably younger than you.”

“But he has green eyes.  Did you see his green eyes?”

 

Back at his desk in the police station, Patrick was interested to learn that young Mr Collins, only sixteen, had been accompanied during questioning by his mother, Maya Collins.  She was also one of the Bridge Club members who had gone for a drink in the bar after Mike Crawshaw's last meeting, and also a creche assistant at the Leisure Centre.

His suspicions about the Bridge Club and the creche employees rose when he came across a case where a woman called Helen Idle had sought to sue the Leisure Centre for wrongful dismissal.  The Creche Supervisor had ceased giving her shifts, but as her zero-hours contract with the Centre hadn’t been terminated, Karen had deemed there was no case to answer.

Helen’s mother, Eva Idle, had phoned and demanded the matter be taken more seriously and wanted action taken against the Creche Supervisor, Lucy.  Patrick realised this mother, Eva, was the third female member of the Bridge Club who went into the bar after the meeting the night Mike Crawshaw died, and she also worked at the Centre.

Apart from the unpleasant tone of the transcripts of the mother, Eva’s phone calls there was no record of any threats made, by these three woman or in any of the other cases on file.

Karen’s recent records had included Betty, Maya, Eva and Helen.  If Patrick had spoken to Lucy again, he’d have discovered the only one missing from the Creche Coven was Barbara Mourdant... but he’d only spoken to Lucy briefly.

What kind of people do they have looking after the little children in that place? thought Patrick.

He ran these women through the data base, and found nothing against Betty, Maya or Eva.  Helen had been banned for drunk driving, and arrested for possession of cannabis and LSD, although had not been charged.

Patrick pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed down the sides of his face.  “What a sodding mess,” he mumbled.

 

***

 

After the earlier meeting, DI Peter Van Niessan had said to Jennifer Sterling, “Out of the bridge players, may as well start with the three men who watched the footie with Mike Crawshaw, and the three women who also went into the bar.  Can you give them a call and arrange an order to visit them?”

Thus, while Acting DC Patrick O’Shay was doing his investigations concerning Karen, Peter and Jennifer had six people to interview at their homes, in relation to the death in the Centre's gym.

Richard Harrison ended up first on their visiting list.  He was seventy-three, retired and living in a small semi-detached bungalow with his wife.

Neither Mr nor Mrs Harrison could imagine Mike Crawshaw took drugs or think why anyone should have wanted to spike his drink.

Van Niessan said, “Yet at the time of his death, he had a lot of LSD inside him.  We all seem to be overlooking something.”

Jennifer pressed on.  “You don’t think he’d got himself into any bother, maybe hid it well?"

Richard scoffed, but his wife gave it some serious thought. “Well, he was very charming.  And something did happen.  Maybe you should cherchez la femme.”

Mr Harrison shot his wife a look.

“Well,” she said.  “Something happened.  No good not wanting to think ill of the dead.  What do you think was behind it?  Secret debt?  Blackmail?”

“No, I certainly do not,” retorted her husband.

“Well, either he took the drugs and was so high he thought he could lift something too heavy for him, or someone wanted to do him harm.”

Jennifer Sterling leant towards Mrs Harrison, keeping her voice low and calm.  “And if there was a woman involved, what’s your thinking?”

Mrs Harrison pursed her lips.  “Unrequited love, I suppose.  most likely on the woman's behalf.  He did seem to be solidly married.”

“You think he was having an affair and tried to end it, or just didn’t want to get one started?” asked Jennifer.

“I don’t know.  Either.  Richard knows the people there better than I do.”  Mrs Harrison frowned and crossed her arms.

Mr Harrison frowned too.  “You want me to guess who Mike was having an affair with?  Or who wanted to have an affair with him?  My god.  What a bunch to choose from!”  He sighed.  “Well, I supposed Maya’s the only one I can imagine him being attracted to.  But I think she’d be more interested in someone younger.  Betty.  Maybe Betty was after him.  She strikes me as a bit lonely.  Maybe the sort to fight for what she wants.  She’s pleasant enough that he might have played along a bit, but not at all someone he’d choose with Rosa at home.”

 

***

 

Next on the officers’ list was Lachlan Armstrong.  He answered the door in a baggy cardigan that seemed wrong for the warm weather, and slippers that made him shuffle to keep them on as he walked.  The only surprise to come from the interview was that Lachlan confessed he’d taken LSD in his student days.  He could imagine it making someone believe they were strong enough to lift a heavy barbell. “Couldn’t see anyone popping a pill in poor old Mike’s beer that night, though.”

 

***

 

The third man who had been to the Bridge Club and watched the football afterwards was Welshman Dai Jones, sixty-nine.  He was affable and cheery, neat and tidy.  “I thought you’d probably want to find out more about poor old Mike.  I haven’t read about any arrests or other developments online.”

Peter Van Niessan took the lead.  “Everyone says Mike was an all-round good egg.  Was he really that good?  Mr Perfect? Or do you think he could have got himself into a bit of trouble.  Financial, maybe.”

Dai looked thoughtful, his face puckered, but said he couldn’t imagine any kind of trouble Mike would have been in.

“Did you ever know Mike to take drugs?” asked Peter.

“Oh no.  He wasn’t that sort at all.  Liked a pint, but not drugs.”

Jennifer Sterling asked, “Were there any women after him?  Maybe in the Bridge Club?”

“There’s flirty Andrea.  She’d flirt with any bloke with a pulse.  Even me.  But I don’t think she’d seriously try with a married man.  The only one I can imagine making any sort of play for him would be Betty.  But...”  his gazed flipped to Van Niessan and back to Jennifer.  “The only one I think he would have fancied, if anyone, would be Maya.”

 

 

CHAPTER 12

The Coven Questioned

 

 

Back in the car, Peter checked his phone.  “Well, well.  Young Patrick has more on the women we’re about to see.  The one Mike may have fancied, Maya Collins has a teenage son who got nicked for possession of dope and LSD.  Might be enough for a successful charge of with intent.  Probably means if he was older he’d have been booked for it straightaway.  And his mum sat in on his interview... along with Karen Twelvetrees as his solicitor.”

The officers looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“And there’s one who got chucked out of the Creche, Helen Idle, who was found in possession of LSD,” said Peter.  “And her mum just happens to be Eva Idle, who we're going to see! Eva phoned Karen and gave her a tough time demanding fairer treatment for Helen.  There we go, another connection.”

Peter continued, “So there’s a dead Mike and a comatose Karen link for Maya Collins and Eva Idle.  And Eva's daughter may have a grudge against Karen?”

“Interesting.”  Jennifer started the car.

“Who’s the third Bridge Club member – Betty, is it?”

“Betty – the only possible one Dai could think of, blah, blah – was using Karen to arrange her divorce settlement, and she wasn’t too happy with the outcome, apparently.  Small world, eh?”

"So all three of the Bridge Club woman in the bar near Mike that night have links to unconscious Karen."

“Yup.”

"My goodness.  What a nest of vipers looking after little kids and babies in the Leisure Centre!”  Jennifer Sterling shook her head.

Peter chuckled.

“So, which of these lovable women do we have next on our visiting list?”

“Betty Ayamwright.”

“Wonderful.”

 

Betty Ayamwright lived in a flat in a respectable three-storey block with balconies overlooking the bowling green.  She had the appearance of a stereo-typical librarian from a few decades ago.  Her greying brown hair was short and practical, and her short-sleeved knit top and cotton skirt were demure shades of blue.

“May I get you some tea or coffee, officers?”

“We’re alright, thank you,” said Peter.

DS Jennifer Sterling took the initiative to sit in one of the winged armchairs, and Betty perched on the front of the sofa, before Peter felt he had permission to sit.  The flat was very clean and neat.  On the mantlepiece were two small bowling awards on either side of a blue glass vase.  On the walls were a print of a Scottish-looking castle, and another of a flower meadow.  No photographs anywhere.

Jennifer opened the conversation.  “I understand you work at the Leisure Centre and attend the Bridge Club there.”

“That’s right.  I used to be Creche Supervisor, but I stepped down to have fewer hours and responsibilities.  I now have time to pursue my leisure activities, including bridge.”

“How long had you known Mike?”

Betty moved her neatly folded legs as if conjoined from angled one way to the other and gave a smile that looked rather stiff.  “It must be nearly two years.  He was a member of the Bridge Club when I joined, with Eva, my friend.”

“Were you close friends with him?” Jennifer asked.

Betty made the briefest of pouts.  “We had a good connection.”

“Were you surprised about the quantity of drugs found in his body?  You've heard the police report?”

“Yes, I read about it.  And I was totally surprised.  I had no idea he took drugs of any kind.  I knew he liked his beer.  But I’ve never seen him... acting like he’d taken drugs.”

“Do you think he took it himself, or do you think somebody spiked his drink?”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to judge, but I was very surprised...  Perhaps someone did give it to him.”

“Did Mike have any enemies, anybody who would want to spike his drink?”

Betty pursed her lips.  “I couldn’t say.  I can’t really imagine anyone at the club doing that or wanting to...  Andrea’s a bit odd.  Lachlan too.”

Jennifer glanced at Peter, who took over the questioning.

“Betty, do you think Mike had any financial difficulties?”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t have thought so.”

“What about his personal life? Do you think he may have been having an affair?  Trouble with his wife?  His children?”

“Inspector, he never said anything to me... but one never knows.”

“Could he have been looking for a little... something, outside his home?”

“He wasn’t a ladies’ man...  Although I suppose there could have been someone...”

Jennifer jumped back in.  “Do you think any of the ladies at the club would have liked to lure him away from his wife?  Or any of the men?”

Betty gave Jennifer a sharp look.  “He was an attractive man, but he was straight.”

Peter sat forward in the armchair.  “The thing is, Mrs Ayamwright, Mike Crawshaw did ingest a large amount of LSD, and had his throat crushed by a barbell.  It did happen.  Do you think he took the drugs himself, and this accident happened as a consequence?”

Betty’s mouth formed a thin line.  “No, I don’t think he took the drug knowingly.”  Betty sighed.  “But I can’t imagine who... “

Peter allowed Betty time to think before asking, “Did you observe anyone in the bar that night having the opportunity to spike his beer?”

Betty’s face twitched, as if she was deciding what to say or whether to say it.  “I wasn’t sitting close enough to see.  He was sitting with Richard, Dai and Lachlan, and they were all distracted by the football...  Any of them could have managed it.  Unless Lucy, the Creche Supervisor, was there...”  Her lips closed tightly again, resembling a clam.

Peter sensed Betty wasn’t going to give anything more than speculation and thanked her for her time.

On the way down the stairs, Jennifer said.  “What do you think?”

“Either she didn’t want to give much away, or she didn’t have anything to give away.  Apart from... We’ve no record of Lucy the Creche Supervisor being there, have we?”

 

***

 

Their next visit was to Eva Idle in her 1960s chalet bungalow.

“This is the one with the troublesome daughter, Helen, right?” said Jennifer as she climbed out of the car.

“Quite a lot troublesome, I’d say.  Drunk driving, possession, sacked from working with the children, trying to sue people in revenge.  Not the type to make her parents proud.”

Mr Idle greeted them at the door and waved them towards a lounge overlooking the small front lawn.  “Coffee?”

Peter couldn’t refuse coffee that smelt that good.  Its aroma filled the small hallway.

Eva was seated at one end of a wooden framed brown settee, in navy trousers and a white polo top.  She had a long, narrow face with a slightly hooked nose. Her hair was short at the back and sides, a little fuller on the top, and mousey in colour.

With the detectives sitting in the two armchairs, Mr Idle dispensed the drinks and sat next to his wife.

Eva said, “It is alright if Jason stays, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said the DI with a smile.  “Certainly.  So, what can you tell us about Mike Crawshaw?”

“I met him at the Bridge Club.  I joined with Betty.”

“Ah yes, you work together, don’t you?” said Peter. 

“Yes.  I worked in the Baby Creche, then Betty joined and became supervisor.  But they put the two creches into one and Betty stepped down to work less.  I’d already reduced my hours, but I do work in the Jungle Gym sometimes.  No Lucy bossing me around in there.”  Eva made a strange noise that Peter took to be a laugh.  I wonder if all this Creche talk makes sense to Jennifer?

“We liked it in the Baby Creche," continued Eva.  "Just a group of friends, feeding babies, rocking them to sleep, having a nice chat.”

“What happened to the Baby Creche, Eva?”

“William Sumner took over the Leisure Centre and stuck the toddlers and the other women in with us.  It’s far too small, that room.  And now there’s Lucy telling us what to do.”

Eva’s voice came a little softer now.  “Some of our friends left, so I did manage to get jobs there for our daughters, but... “

Mr Idle put a hand on Eva’s knee.  “Best just keep to what involves poor Mike, eh?”

Peter presented a caring smile. “Don’t worry.  The Leisure Centre is where it happened.  It’s useful to understand what goes on there.  Is it a good place to work, Eva?”

“Not so much now, with Lucy in charge,” Eva said pithily.  She sighed.  “It was much nicer under Betty.”

Jennifer re-entered the conversation and did her woman-to-woman act.  “You say you have two daughters working with you?”  

Eva smiled, “Yes, they started together, just on zero-hours contracts at first, in the Creche.  Then Lucy sacked Helen!  Barbara now has a proper contract, and works in the Jungle Gym too, like me.  It should be the same for Helen.”

Jennifer gave Eva what she hoped was an understanding smile.  “You must have been disappointed when one daughter left...”

“Very.  She went to a solicitor, Karen Twelvetrees, about wrongful dismissal, but she said that didn’t apply to her type of contract.  So we tried to sue Lucy.  That solicitor said we couldn’t do that either.”  There was bitterness in Eva’s voice.  “I phoned her myself and had strong words, but she said we couldn’t...  Wouldn't more like.”

Mr Idle said quietly, “Helen has brought some things on herself.”

“She just likes a drink now and then.  Who doesn’t?  She overdid it that one night,” Eva whined, “and was just unlucky that the police stopped her, and she had that pot and ecstatic with her.”

Eva looked to Jennifer.  “It was only a tiny bit.  Not like what Mike must have taken.”

Peter put down his coffee mug and sat back as comfortably as he could in the poorly padded chair.  As it seemed Eva had finished her rant, he changed direction.  “Do you think Mike Crawshaw had any enemies?”

Eva shot him a look that made the DI think of an eagle.  “Mike?  Enemies?  No, he was a lovely man; a friend to everyone.  Some of the women were a bit sweet on him.”

“Which women, Eva?” asked Peter.  “Do you think he felt the same about any of them?”

“Betty rather liked him, I know, not that she’d admit it.  And Andrea.  She definitely did – he was a man with a pulse.“  Eva made that funny laughing noise again.

“Did he ever take any of them out?” asked the DI.

“Oh, I don’t think so.  He was happily married.  I think he rather liked Maya, but I don’t think he cheated on his wife.  Maya didn’t say anything.”

“What about any of the men?  Do you think there was any attraction between Mike and them?”

“No.  Not men.  He was a normal, decent married man.”

“So nobody hoping he might leave his wife, you don’t think?”

“No.  It’s respectable, the Bridge Club.”

Jennifer stepped back into the conversation.  “What about this drug business, Eva?  Were you shocked to hear Mike had taken so much LSD?”

“Oh, he wasn’t like that!  I don’t know what happened.  I think maybe he accidentally swallowed some belonging to somebody else.  Thought it was a peanut or something.”

Peter exchanged a glance with Jennifer.

“Just picked it up by mistake, you think?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t know.  People have been talking about putting it in a drink.  So perhaps he picked up the wrong glass.  Maybe it was Lachlan’s.  He’s always such a mess.  How do people normally take LSD?  I thought you smoked it, but there’s no smoking allowed at the Leisure Centre.”

Peter tapped his lips with his finger.  “Any idea how Mike ended up trying to lift weights in the gym?”

“It must have been because of the drug.”

Peter Van Niessan decided if they wanted any more information from Eva, they could leave it until later, and she wouldn’t mind talking.  She obviously enjoyed a chat.  But it was time to move onto the next person.

 

***

 

The last of the bar-going Bridge Club members was Maya.  She lived a little further out in the leafier part of Wallyborough, in a semi-detached house with a pretty front garden.

Jennifer looked at it approvingly.  “I expected something rougher for a woman who’s probably divorced, only works part-time and who has a teenage son up on a charge of possession, possibly with intent to supply.”

Peter Van Niessan smiled.  “One of the things I like about this job is that you never know what you’re going to get.”

Peter was also surprised when Maya opened the door.  She was about 5’6”, slim, lovely soft honey-coloured hair, and dressed in close fitting black jeans and a tie-dye top in shades of green.  He could see why Dai Jones had said that if Mike had fancied anyone from the Bridge Club it would be Maya, if Betty and Eva were the standard for the other women members.

Maya waved them in cheerily with a “Hi” and rushed into the sitting room to turn off the music.

“Sorry about that.  Would you like something to drink?”

“Not for me, thank you,” said Peter, and Jennifer followed suit.

“Please, sit down.”  She picked up a mug from a side table.  “I made this a moment ago, so the kettle will still be warm if you change your mind.”

Peter nodded for the DS to open proceedings.

“Maya, thank you for seeing us this afternoon.  It is, of course, concerning the death of Mike Crawshaw.  As I’m sure you’ve heard in the media, we know the cause of death – the LSD, the weight lifting attempt -- but we want to know how it came about.”

“Yes, I did read all about it.  It’s shocking.  I really didn’t know he was into drugs.  Mind you, I didn’t even know my own son was until I was contacted by the police station.”

Both officers left the silence for her to continue talking in her own way.

“Perhaps he’s always used drugs but had it under control.  I know some people can be like that.  He certainly never showed any signs.  Maybe this time he just took too much, or it was just too strong – that stuff I read about in the Argus...”

Van Niessan asked, “What do you think about his going into the gym and lifting weights?”

“I understand people think they can do all sorts of strange things when they’re on drugs...”  Maya shrugged.

“Can you think of anyone who may have wanted to lure him into the gym, to take a risk?  Maybe they were high too... thought it was funny at the time...”

Maya hugged her drink and looked into the middle distance.  “Well, I’m pretty sure most people went home.  After bridge I went into the bar with my friends Eva and Betty, and Mike was in there too, watching the football, drinking beer with Richard, Dai and Lachlan.  Didn’t see anyone else there from the club.  They were still there watching the end of the match when we left.  Seemed fine.”

Jennifer asked, “If Mike had the drug in him because someone spiked his drink, who do you think that would be?”

“That’s very direct.  But...” Maya paused and appeared to give the question some thought.  “I can’t imagine it of anyone at the club, sorry.  I think he must have taken it himself, just didn’t know how much or how strong it was.”

Peter took over again.  “Was there anyone you can think of who would have access to the drug and could give it to him? Anyone at the club, a business rival, his wife, someone he knew who worked at or frequented the Leisure Centre...”

Maya’s gaze remained unfocused a moment and her brow showed a slight frown.  “I have absolutely no idea.”

Jennifer jumped in quickly.  “Was he having an affair?”

“An affair?  Not that I know of.  He was quite flirty.  I think Betty was a little smitten with him, possibly Eva.  And of course, Andrea -- although I think it’s mostly an act with her.  No.  I definitely had the impression he was happily married.”

“No one suffering with unrequited love for the man?”  This was Jennifer again.

Maya scoffed.  “No.  He just didn’t seem that sort of man.”

Peter took over.  “How about in the wider Leisure Centre.  You work there.  Do you know who would have the connections to get hold of LSD?”

Maya smiled wryly.  “Me, probably, from what I have recently learned about my son.”  She sighed.  “Otherwise I suppose my money would be on one of the students.  Probably stereo-typing, but as a demographic they would be my first suspects.  Unless Lucy...”

“But you’ve never noticed anyone high, or handling drugs there?” the DI pushed.

May a shook her head.  “I’ve seen people getting drunk, but I don’t remember ever suspecting anything more than alcohol.”

Back to Jennifer.  “How is the Leisure Centre generally, as a place to work?  Are you one big happy team?”

Maya eyed Jennifer with what could only be described as a sneer.  “Far from it.  There’s Lucy, the Creche Supervisor, who drives us mad.  Then there’s some of the building supervisors who aren’t around when you need them to shift some equipment, that sort of thing.  They skive off and it’s annoying...”

Peter jumped in.  “Who was supposed to have made sure everywhere was clear and safe and then lock up for the night, that Thursday?”

“Oh, let’s see.  That would probably have been Steve Balls.  Yes, as far as I can remember he was on duty.  He’s a manager, but he ranks lower than Joe Chen and William Sumner.  But to be fair, Steve may have left it to one of the supervisors if things were going on a bit long and he needed to be home.  That’s often the way of things.  The supervisors are less likely to have wives and children waiting at home compared to the managers. There again, they’re less conscientious.”

 

 

CHAPTER 13

Die of the Day

 

 

Acting DC Patrick O’Shay had left an email for DI Peter Van Niessan on all he had found out about the now-comatose Karen’s recent client list.  He attached the full file he’d downloaded.

Van Niessan called Patrick and DS Jennifer Sterling to his office first thing in the morning.

“Good work, Patrick.  So, do I understand it right – the most likely motives for Karen’s attack lie with the Leisure Centre staff?  That’s your finding?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s all I could see, too.  But I think we need to talk to this young lad who had his mitts on the LSD, about Mike’s case, because of his mum being one of those staff.  He probably knows his way round the place, where the keys are kept and so on.  There’s a chance it was some prank.  Probable means and opportunity if no real motive.”

Peter leant back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.  “Then there’s that other charming family member, Helen Idle, taker of drugs.  Eva Idle’s daughter who worked there and was sacked.  Again, possibly means and opportunity if no motive, for Mike Crawshaw.  But she may have had the motive for Karen Twelvetrees.  She didn’t seem to be too pleased that the solicitor told her she had no redress after being sacked.”

Jennifer smiled wryly.  “Her mother certainly wasn’t happy about it.”

“And I gather Eva has another daughter who still works at the Leisure Centre, Barbara somebody.  I better speak to her, too.  See if she has any light to shed.”  Peter put his arms down and stretched his shoulders.  “Nobody else who works there seems to have any connection to Mike or Karen – agreed?”

Patrick and Jennifer both agreed.

Peter continued, “But I’d like to speak to that Creche Supervisor, Lucy, who keeps coming up in conversation.  Not very popular with her staff, by all accounts.  We know she couldn’t have attacked Karen – she was in the staff meeting, in the kids’ soft play area, and the video footage shows she just went from there to Reception.  Even the staff who don’t like here haven’t connected her to Mike, or her being here the night of his death.  But she might give us some useful insight into them.”

Peter tapped his pen against his lips briefly.  “Plus I want to speak to the three managers, and those supervisors who stand in for them – at least any who were on duty on the evenings of concern.  Oh, and the bar staff when Mike had his last beer there.  They might know something even if they haven’t twigged it’s relevant yet.  So, Patrick...”

“Shall I arrange when you can speak to them?” 

“Thank you, Patrick.”  Peter beamed at the young officer, glad to have found he was quick on the uptake.

Within five minutes DI Van Niessan and DS Sterling were on their way to the Leisure Centre.

As they neared the library, the car in front of them screeched to a halt as the one ahead of that lurched to the left.  A car coming from the other direction had stopped in the middle of the road.  Before it lay a man on the ground.

Jennifer pulled over and grabbed her radio as Peter leapt out and jogged to the prone form.

He flashed his warrant card to anybody looking.  “Detective Inspector Peter Van Niessen, Wallyborough Police.  Stand back please.”

He knelt down beside the injured man.

Peter was shocked to see it was Dai Jones, his interviewee from the previous day, with one leg at a strange angle, an arm flung above his head, and a lot of blood on the road.

A woman was knelt the other side of Dai, her face pale, her eyes wide.  “He just leapt out – and I mean leapt.  It was like he was dancing or something.  The car couldn’t stop...”

“Dai,” said Peter firmly, touching his face.  “Don’t fall asleep.  It’s Peter Van Niessan.   You remember we spoke yesterday, at your place?”

“My... my...  Yeah.  Mike...  I...”

“An ambulance is on its way, Dai.  Hang in there,” urged Peter, his facial features drawn inwards.  “What a coincidence Jennifer Sterling and I were passing, eh?  Look at me, Dai.  What were you doing in the road, Dai?”

The woman said, “He seems to be after something of his, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.  ‘My’... something.”

“My... No.  Betty... Lucky...”  Dai seemed to be looking to the side of the road where Jennifer was just getting out of the car.  “She...  There...” and then he seemed to giggle.  Blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

Peter whisked off his jacket and covered Dai with it.  He looked around.

“Madam, could you go into the hairdresser’s and borrow some towels, just a few?”

The lady on the other side of Dai stood up looking slightly bewildered, but she soon went on her errand.

Dai continued to try to speak.  “My...  My...  Over there...”

“Look, here’s Jennifer now.  You remember?  Who you met yesterday, with me at...”

“My...”

Jennifer knelt down and put her tense face close to Dai’s white one.  “Yes, at your flat.  We came to talk to you.”

“Where’s my wife?  My... He said it, not...  Boy...  My...” and Dai did the strange giggle again and coughed.  More blood came out.

Peter looked at Jennifer.  “He seems to be looking for something of his – maybe why he ran out into the road.  Over that way.”  He turned to the side of the road from which they’d come.  “You can’t see anything there, can you, Jennifer?  Not his phone or his wallet or something?”

Jennifer straightened up on her knees and scanned the tarmac with wide eyes.

“Phone, yes.  Thought... Not her... My... Over there,” wheezed Dai.  “My... er...  I...”

Peter watched almost without breathing as Dai’s agitated face stopped moving.  He took Dai’s wrist and felt for a pulse.

The woman reappeared with a small pile of soft white towels.

But it was too late to use them for a pillow or to keep Dai warm.

Peter took one from her and covered Dai’s face with its staring eyes.

 

***

 

A while later, when other officers and specialists had taken over the scene of the road death, Peter and Jennifer got back into the car and shut the doors.  Jennifer leant back against the seat and rubbed her hands over her face.

“Are you alright?” asked Peter, concerned.

She sat forward, gave her head a slight shake, and sighed.  “Not a pleasant experience.  Poor sod.  I need a coffee.  Alright if we get one before we do those Leisure Centre interviews, sir?”

“Of course.  I doubt they’ll leave the country.”

In under half an hour, Jennifer Sterling pulled into the crowded Leisure Centre car park.

“Park over there, will you?”  Peter Van Niessan pointed to the gates at the end of the cafe patio.  “I just want to check it out – see if there’s anything we’ve missed about the lady vanishing.”

They didn’t spot anything new.  There was no penny drop moment.

“Oh well, let’s go in this way anyway, get more of a feel for the layout.  It is a bit confusing down by the gym.”  Peter opened the gate for Jennifer.

Looking to her left, Jennifer saw a low slide and climbing set on a soft black surface.  “I suppose that’s where the infamous creche is.”

“Yes,” said Peter, smiling wryly.  “Pity the windows are shaded like that and we can’t spy in.  Never mind.  We’ll meet the unloved supervisor soon enough.”

They passed through the cafe.  If they had turned right they would have found the bar; but they turned left along the corridor, passing the creche door, and into the reception area.

“Look at the layout from Reception to the gym...” said Van Niessan. “There’re the ladies’ loos to the right, the gents, the boiler room, then the door to the gym set back there.  Daft place to put the camera, with the door recessed like that...  The angle’s wrong, too.  And on the other side, two separate doors to the office.  It’d be easy for somebody to go unrecorded into the office where the key should be, or to hide out while someone checks and locks the gym if they weren’t being too thorough.”

DS Sterling nodded.  “And there’s the other office, accessed through the end of the main one. Belongs to the top bloke who’s never here.”

As they entered the general office, Joe Chen greeted them, and walked them over to the separate room, William Sumner’s little-used office.

“Thank you, Mr Chen,” said Peter.  “Are you free to speak with us now?”

“Sure.”  Joe turned to Holly at her desk.  “I’ll just be in here for a bit.  If you can get Steve or William on standby for next, that’ll be mint.”

Peter gestured for them all to sit around the coffee table.

“Mr Chen...”

“Jie’ll be fine.”

“Joe, were you on duty the night of Mike Crawshaw’s death in the gym?” asked Peter.

“No.  Nor on the evening the woman was attacked in the ladies’ changing rooms, I’m afraid.”

Peter asked, “Did you know Mike Crawshaw or Karen Twelvetrees?”

“No, I didnae, sorry.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about either of those two evenings, or how the centre is run generally, that may help us get to the bottom of all this?”  Peter watched Joe Chen in silence for a few moments.

At last Joe spoke.  “I’m afraid the only thing I can think, like, is that this place is nae good at taking care over details like checking the premises before locking up.  I haven’t been here long, but I have noticed they’re a bit slack, like.”

Peter and Jennifer exchanged glances, and the DI decided there wasn’t much more they needed to ask Joe at the moment.

They spoke to Steve Balls next.  He had been on duty both nights in question.  He swore he’d checked everywhere and locked each area as he made his way through the sprawling building the night of the Bridge Club tragedy.

“Did you go right inside the gym so you could see all of it?” asked Peter, knowing the weights area was off to the side, along with some of the other strengthening equipment.

Steve looked downwards and was quiet for a moment.  “Okay.  I can’t say for certain I saw every part.  I just know I was satisfied that everyone had gone home before I locked it.”

Peter persisted.  “Could you actually see the bench press?”

Steve blanched.  “Possibly not.”

“Did you see any Bridge Club members after their meeting had finished?”

Steve got a little nearer to meeting Peter’s eyes.  “I saw the Creche women in the bar, and I must have seen the men there too, when I did my rounds of the building.  But I wouldn’t have particularly noticed them, not knowing them personally.”

“Do you remember anyone about the place, maybe a little unsteady on their feet, or talking too loud, or acting strange in any way?”

Steve framed his chin in his thumb and forefinger a moment, then managed to make eye contact with Peter.  “No.  Other than people cheering or shouting abuse at the football on the television in the bar, I don’t remember anything else.”

Shifting slightly in his seat, Peter said, “We’ve already established that when Karen was attacked you were in the staff meeting and then came down to your desk.  But did you know Karen at all?  Had you met her, or seen her about this place?”

“Not that I can remember, no.  When Lucy pointed her out to me on the CCTV footage, she didn’t seem familiar.”

The first building supervisor Peter and Jennifer interviewed was a tall and wiry man.  “I was on duty the night that poor bloke was left shut in the gym, yes, but I don’t remember seeing him wandering about off his head.  Or nobody else for that matter.  And Steve did the locking up that night.  I went home on time for a change.”

Jennifer asked, “Did you know Mike Crawshaw at all?”

“Not by name, no.  I heard he was one of them Bridge Club lot, but I don’t know ‘em, except for the women who work in the Creche.”

“What about Tuesday evening, when the woman was hurt in the ladies’ changing rooms?”

“I was here, yeah.  I heard Pam scream!  Fair blood curdling, it was.  So I looked out and saw her go into Reception.”

“You say you looked out.  Where from?”

“I was in the main hall, helping take down the trampolines, with the bloke that runs the club – the trampolining.”

“The woman who was hurt was Karen Twelvetrees, a solicitor.  Did you know her, or had you ever met her?”

The tall thin man turned his mouth down at the sides and shook his head.  “Nope.”

“Thinking back to Tuesday evening, did you happen to see a pregnant blonde woman – long hair?”

The man repeated the mouth downturn and headshake of a moment ago.  “Nope.”

The second building supervisor was also tall, but heavy set.  He wasn’t on duty the night of Mike’s death.

Peter questioned this one.  “Were you here on Tuesday evening, when the woman was hurt in the changing rooms?”

“Yes.  I got called in to give my name, and basically say I saw nothing, to that young copper in the bar.  But I’d been working outside, watering the football pitches, making sure the outside changing rooms were okay, picking up rubbish...”

“Did you know the woman who was hurt, Karen Twelvetrees, a solicitor?”

The man scrunched up the left side of his face a moment. “Didn’t know who it was at the time.  But no, never met her, that I know of.”

“Did you know the man who died in the gym, Mike Crawshaw?”

This time the man pulled the right side of his mouth into his cheek, then shook his head. “Bridge Club member I hear.  No, didn’t know him.”

Peter asked, “Do you remember seeing a pregnant woman with long blonde hair in or outside the building that evening?”

He squashed his lips together, looking thoughtful.  “No.  Doesn’t ring any bells.”

The last supervisor to be interviewed did remember seeing the blonde pregnant woman leaving when he was having his break in the cafe, but didn’t know either of the victims, and wasn’t on duty or in the building the night Mike met his untimely end.

As he left and shut the door behind himself, Jennifer said, “We’re not getting very far, are we?”

Peter stood up and stretched his back, gazing out on the tiny flower garden.  “I wonder if poor old Dai’s death will give us any new clues about Mike Crawshaw?  You never know, there might be a link... somehow... maybe.”

“There seem to be a lot of coincidences about at the moment.”

“There certainly does,” said Peter, walking to the door, “Better see if the big boss man has arrived yet.”

As he looked through into the general office, he saw a man he hadn’t met before stand up.  “Mr Sumner?”

“Yes,” said the short stocky man in a grey suit.  “Ready for me now?”

William Sumner turned out to be of absolutely no help to the officers’ enquiries.  After he’d left, Jennifer commented, “For someone so high up on the Council’s pay scale, he was rather a disappointment.”

Peter laughed.  “You’re right there.  He didn’t even look the part.”

Checking her notes, Jennifer said, “Next, we have the daughter of Eva Idle, the one who wasn’t sacked or banned for drunk driving.  I wonder what she’ll be like.”

Peter’s eyebrows briefly flicked up.  “I have a feeling she’s going to be a bit like her mother.  Don’t let her talk too long unless it’s useful!”

They found her to be a fleshier version of Eva, but with softer, light brown hair.  She had her mother’s whiny voice.

“I don’t know what mum finds so fascinating about bridge, or why she goes to a club for it.  Mind you, she’s with Betty and Maya, and they’re all good friends.  That’s probably the main reason.  I don’t think I’ve ever met any of the other members, though.”

“Have you heard of Mike Crawshaw?” asked Jennifer.

“I have now!  Not many dead bodies turn up in my place of work.”  Barbara’s strange laugh was uncannily like her mother’s.

“You work in the Creche and the Jungle Gym, I believe?”

“Yes, for my sins.  Sometimes I do the odd Bounce & Balance session in the main hall, or supervise a party in there, with bouncy castles, that sort of thing.  It’s all money.”  Barbara’s mouth lengthened slightly in what might have been a smile.

Jennifer persevered.  “What’s it like working in a place like this?  Do you enjoy it?”

Barbara rolled her eyes.  “Not really.  Sometimes it’s alright.  Better than stuck in an office I suppose.  But the trouble is, Lucy’s in charge of most of the children’s activities and she’s useless, and not a very nice person.”

“Oh?”  Jennifer feigned surprise.  “Why do you say that?”

“She’s really bossy.  She doesn’t like us chatting amongst ourselves.  The kids are only little, I don’t think they mind.  And she sacked my sister, that’s caused the most problems.  Helen can be a lazy bitch at times, but that’s no reason to sack her.  She was bloody furious, and mum’s still upset about it.  But I expect Steve, the manager, will make Lucy take her back soon.”

Peter took over.  “Were you here the night of the attack in the ladies’ changing rooms, at the Jungle Gym staff meeting?”

“Nah.  Mum went.  No need for us both to go.  Mum just tells me anything that I need to know, like any changes they’ve decided on.  Sometimes I go and fill mum in afterwards.”

“Where were you that evening, from say 6pm?” asked Peter.

“Oh, I dunno.  At home I suppose.  Unless I popped to the shops...”

The detectives let the silence hang, waiting for Barbara to explain.

“No, I was just at home.  Yes.  Definitely.  Doing the usual stuff – dinner, kids, watching telly.”

“Thank you, Mrs Mourdant,” said Peter.  “Could you ask Lucy Twelvetrees to come in now, please?”  He smiled. Barbara lifted herself languidly off the chair and walked the few steps to the door as if passing through treacle.  “Okay,” she said without turning round, and let herself out of the office. 

“What do you reckon Lucy will be like?”  Peter grinned.  “A dragon like the Creche women imply, or a normal person who just wants to run the Creche properly.”

“Maybe tall and hard-faced.  Well spoken... Maybe a bit school ma’am...  Proper.”

A minute later, there was a knock on the door, but it didn’t open.

“Come in,” called Peter.

A short, hesitant woman with wayward auburn hair entered.  She gave an uncertain smile, and looked at the vacant chairs, choosing the one nearest the door.

Jennifer opened the conversation.  “Hello, Lucy.  Firstly, did you know either Mark Crawshaw – the man who died in the gym – or Karen Twelvetrees, who was attacked in the ladies’ changing rooms?”

“No.  Pam McTosh came screaming after finding the lady, so I went to see if she needed CPR or something.  But I didn’t recognise her at all.  It was a hell of a relief to find she was actually alive.”

“You thought she was dead?” said Jennifer Sterling.

Lucy let out a little sigh of a laugh.  “Pam said she’d found a dead body.”

“Oh, I see.  And you work with Pam, don’t you?”

“Yes, in the Creche, and I’m her supervisor for the Jungle Gym and some other children’s activities.”

“What’s she like, Pam?”

“A bit away with the fairies at times, but she’s okay.  Gets on with her work unless she’s distracted.  Kind to the children.”

Jennifer continued to ask the questions.  “What about the other women?  We know three of them were at the Bridge Club meeting the night Mike Crawshaw died.  Betty, Eva, and Maya.  What are they like?”

Lucy rolled her eyes.  “A bloody nightmare!  They want me out, and quite frankly I’d be very happy if they left.  Sorry, but they’ve been bullying me and made me very ill.”

“Oh dear,” said Jennifer, raising her eyebrows.

“They didn’t like it when the two creches were put together.  Probably nobody thought it was a good idea except William Sumner.  He's the head honcho.  But instead of making the best of it, Betty, Eva and Maya were the hardest to accept the change.  But the real problem was that I had to let Helen Idle go.  She’s Eva Idle’s daughter, and Barbara Mourdant’s sister.  Eva is a longstanding friend of Betty and Maya, so they all kicked off at the first staff meeting after Helen went... and they haven’t stopped since.”

“Why did you have to let Helen go?”

Lucy grimaced.  “She didn’t do a lot of work.  She ignored the kids sometimes... was snappy with them.  I think she was drunk half the time, to be honest.  Not the sort of person to be looking after vulnerable under-fives.”

Lucy explained about the snidey remarks and Betty’s obsession with wanting to work Mondays and Tuesdays.  Eva’s whining that Helen should come back.  In fact, she poured out all the highlights of her bad experiences with them, including her suspicions about their damaging her car window and tyre, and possibly putting something in her coffee.

After Lucy left, Peter remarked, “The dislike is mutual then.”

Jennifer laughed.  “I didn’t guess her right at all, did I?  But she gave us a bit of an extra insight into the bridge-playing women.  They don’t strike me at all as the hard done by people they’d like us to think.  And I’d say Steve’s a bit scared of them, or lazy, or both.”

“I agree.  And if Lucy’s suspicions about her car and laced coffee are true, we mustn’t dismiss them as harmless middle-aged women.  Three of them were here when Mike died, and they knew him.  At least one -- no, two of them had possible access to drugs – from Maya's son and Eva’s daughter.  And they had all had dealings with Karen.”

In response, DS Jennifer Sterling slouched down in her seat and stretched her arms back, easing her shoulders.

“Just the bar staff to talk to – they should be in by now, then we can go off for a change of scenery to interview a couple of druggies.”

Yes, Eva and Maya's little darlings.  Can't wait."

 

 

CHAPTER 14

More Questions than Answers

 

Peter Van Niessan and Jennifer Sterling had moved to the Leisure Centre bar to interview the staff there

They were on the last one – a tall blonde woman with short hair. 

“The men all seemed nice, normal blokes, even the scruffy one,” she said.  “But the women are a bit odd.  Those three who were in on the night you’re talking about are a bit... up themselves, if you know what I mean.  They work with the children.  Some of the students do that too, as well as in here, and they say most of the Creche women look down on them and treat Lucy like shit.  And when they’re not in the Creche – supposed to be in the Jungle Gym or somewhere - they’re often conspicuous by their absence... allegedly.”

Peter asked the blonde, “Did you see anything that could have been Mike Crawshaw’s drink getting spiked?  Or his acting like he was on more than beer?”

“Not a thing.  No people knocking into their table.  No games of ‘find the lady’ with the pints.  Mike left after the match finished, and he looked fine to me.  He said “Goodnight”.  His mates stayed on to watch the post-match discussion.  They all seemed fine, too.  He must’ve gone off into the gym or the gents or somewhere and taken it himself.  Although why that time of night, I’ve no idea.”

Jennifer had an idea.  “Do you know Helen Idle, who used to work in the Creche, too?”

“Oh, yeah.  She was a takings-booster.  Glad she left, really.  Something about her I didn’t take to – especially the thought of her being in charge of little kids.”

“Was she here at any time the night Mike died?  With the other Creche women?”

“No.  She has been in, with her mother and them, since she left, but I haven’t seen her for a few weeks.”

“Do you know Maya Collins' son, Liam?”

The barmaid crinkled her brow.  “Maya? the younger of the three from that night?  I didn’t realise she had a son.”

“Was there a 16-year-old lad about that night?  Sober or otherwise?”

“No.  Don’t remember anyone who could have been that young.  Sorry.”

Peter and Jennifer thanked her and left the bar, leaving the building via the adjacent cafe.

“They all seem to be in agreement with each other, don’t they?” said Jennifer as they crossed the patio.

Peter looked thoughtful.  “They do indeed.  And not one of them struck me as lying; did they you?”

“Nope.”

“The delightful-sounding Helen Idle next, isn’t it?” said Peter, opening the car door.

“Yes.  I wonder if she’ll be as bad as I picture her in my head.”

Once seated in the car, Peter made a phone call to his Acting DC.  “Patrick.  Could you look through that Leisure Centre CCTV footage of the bar and nearby again?  We’ve had no luck on anyone seeing Mike’s drink get spiked, nor seen him take the drug himself.  Can you look more closely for a spiker, and also study Mike, in the bar and when he leaves?  See if you can spot him starting to get under the influence.  And is the last sighting of him definitely disappearing into that dark gym doorway?”

Peter finished his struggle to connect his seatbelt just as Jennifer was about to drive out of the car park.  “Bloody thing,” he mumbled.  Then into the phone he continued, “And for bonus points, Patrick, please look very carefully at Dai Jones.  See if there’s anything odd going on there?  He died this morning.  See you later.”

It only took a couple of minutes to arrive at the home of the next interviewee.

Eva’s daughter Helen lived in a dingy one-bed flat, with the living area and kitchen shoehorned into what must have once been a front bedroom of a Victorian terraced house.  The air was thick with the stale smell of tobacco mixed with some sort of fruity vape; the once white ceiling tinged with yellowy brown patches.

Helen had the family’s long face and hooked nose, but hers was thin, like the rest of her.  She had dark hair down to her shoulders.

Jennifer imagined it would look a lot better after a good trim, shampoo and a decent conditioner.

“Sit down,” Helen said, waving towards the tatty two-seater sofa.  She perched her bony frame on the windowsill.

Peter opened the questioning.  “Ms Idle, did you know your mother’s friend, Mike Crawshaw?”

“Nope.  I didn’t go to that bridge club of hers.  Don’t get that game.  I know Maya and Betty, of course, but if I met any of the others, I don’t remember them.”

“We have on record you are an occasional drug user.  How do you think someone in the club got hold of some LSD?”

“Probably went into a pub in town and found it on sale in a quiet corner.  That’s the usual way.”

Peter crossed one long leg over the other.  “Helen, we’re not here to bust you for drugs.  Did your mum ever ask you to get LSD for someone?”

Helen narrowed her eyes.  “I don’t deal.  I barely use it myself.”

“We’re not interested in supplying, just getting some for a friend or family member as a favour.  We need to know how Mike Crawshaw got hold of the stuff.  Can you help?”  Peter looked Helen in the eye with what he hoped was a gentle smile. 

Helen looked away with a sigh and a stretching of her already thin lips.  “Look, I might have sold Liam some once, but I told him that was it.  He said he just wanted to try it.”

“Liam?  Is that Liam Collins?”

“Yeah.  I charged him a good price for it – there's money in that family.  Anyway, I told him where to go to find a proper dealer.  He had a really good trip on the stuff I gave him.”  Helen made a funny snorting noise which Peter recognised from speaking to her mother and sister previously -- it was a laugh.

“Do you think his mother, Maya, knew he was taking drugs?”

“No idea.  I just know she’s not miss goody two shoes like she makes out.”

“Oh,” said Jennifer.  “How so?”

“Well, her husband’s away on the rigs a lot of the time.  Let’s just say I don’t think she stays lonely for long.”  Again, there was that funny laugh.

Jennifer laughed too, albeit artificially.  “One for the men, is she?”

“She’s certainly a big flirt.  My mum doesn’t see it.  But Maya’s probably made her way around most of the men at that bridge club, as well as the supervisors at the Leisure Centre.”  Again, the laugh.  “She’s been useful to me, putting it on with Steve Balls.  He wasn’t going to help me get my job back.  He backed Lucy up ‘cos she’s the supervisor.  But he doesn’t like her anymore.  I’m pretty sure he’s rather fond of Maya, though.”  The laugh grated on.

Jennifer leant towards Helen and adopted a conspiratorial manner.  “Does she use drugs or alcohol to help her get the men she wants?”

“No,” said Helen bluntly.  “Just sex.  Well, probably.  Maybe there’s some wine involved, that sort of thing.  But I don’t think she needs drugs.  I’ve seen her in action!”

“What about the, er, less attractive friends of your mum’s?” said Jennifer.  “That Betty, for example.  She’d need a bit more than just what nature gave her, wouldn’t she?”

More grating laughter.  “She would.  But I don’t know if it would spoil her image.  She tries to be classy, but mum told me she grew up in a council flat in Scotland.  She taught herself to speak with that southern English accent of hers.”

“Did she?” Jennifer feigned being surprised only a little more than she actually was.

But neither Jennifer nor Peter could get any more information on supplying LSD or Mike Crawshaw, so they thanked Helen and took their leave.

***

 

The next interview was with Liam Collins, at the pretty semi-detached house they’d visited the day before to speak to his mother Maya.  She was there again today.

Maya offered tea or coffee as before.  Peter said they would love a cup of coffee, in the hope of getting Maya out of the room so Liam could speak more openly than he might with her present.

“Come through to the kitchen,” said Maya.

So much for that idea, thought Peter.

Liam was a tall, slim boy, who could have got away with pretending to be older in a pub or going to see a movie if ID wasn't requested.  He had his mother’s honey-blonde hair, which he wore a little long.  He was prone to blushing whenever the question of drugs arose.

“No, I never sold or gave drugs to anybody else.  Just sharing with friends.”

Other replies included, “I never met Mike Crawshaw”, “I don’t mix with mum’s friends”, “I know my way all around the Leisure Centre, I used to go to holiday clubs there when I was younger”, and (he said quietly) “Yes, Mrs Twelvetrees was my solicitor when I was caught for having drugs.”

Jennifer asked, “What did you think of her?  Any good?”

“She’s the only solicitor I’ve met.  But she seemed kind enough.  She’s trying to help me.”

“When was the last time you were in the Leisure Centre in the evening, Liam?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment.  “Probably sometime in May.  When the football stopped for the summer.  I play for a local youth team, which is mostly to do with my school.  We can’t drink in the bar though, not alcohol, because the staff know we’re not old enough.  We used to go into the cafe and get some chips and a drink.”

The coffee was drinkable, but Peter and Jennifer didn’t get much information -- maybe just a few things they could discount, like the idea of Liam being close to his mother’s friends and slipping them the odd baggie of drugs.

***

As they drove back to the police station, Peter said, “I think we’ve had enough for one day, with what happened in the road by the library this morning.  You need to go home, Jennifer.  I hope I can too.”

They arrived at the car pool, parked, and headed for the building.  They met Patrick O’Shay on his way out.

“Sir, I’ve just left you a message.  Dai Jones had a large amount of LSD in his system, too.”  He watched as Peter absorbed this information, not looking too surprised.  “OK if I get off now, Sir?”

“Yes, Patrick.  You too, Jennifer.  Good night.”

 

Peter didn’t go home straightaway.  There was something that struck him he hadn’t paid enough attention to.  He sat down and opened the file of CCTV footage from the Leisure Centre from the night Mike Crawshaw died.  He started at 11.59pm and worked backwards.

He focused his gaze on the screen.  There was Steve Balls, exiting the building, walking to his car and driving off.

He continued to wind backwards, finding Lachlan, Richard and Dai emerge.  They crossed the car park on foot in the dim light and disappeared together down the road.  They didn’t return.

Next, he saw the three women, Maya, Eva and Betty leave the building.  He saw Eva walk to her car parked near the building and drive off.  But Betty and Maya walked across to the car park behind the cafe patio.  Out of sight of the cameras.

The Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency database told Peter which cars these ladies owned, so he went back to the video footage to watch for them appearing in the main car park and exiting at the road.

Peter watched carefully because it was nighttime and the lights in the car park weren’t brilliant.  But then he saw Betty’s car.  As it neared the road, he was able to verify the number plate was correct.

But he didn’t see Maya’s car.

He kept going backwards, and the sky became light, but he hadn’t seen Maya’s car.  He played the footage forward again, right up to where the two women walked to the part of the carpark behind the cafe and afterwards.

Still there was no sign of Maya’s car.

Calling up her phone number on the computer, he rang her.

“Hello?”

“Sorry to trouble you again this late.  This is DI Peter Van Niessan.  To whom am I speaking?”

“It’s Liam.”

“Hello, Liam.  Is your mother there, please?”

“No.  She's not here."

Peter tried Maya’s mobile number, but it didn’t ring.  It was turned off.

 

Granny’s had a stroke, so mum’s gone to the hospital.”

“Okay.  No matter.  I hope your grandmother is better soon.  Thank you, Liam.  Good night.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 15

Questionable Visits

 

 

The next morning, DI Peter Van Niessen tried to call Maya again without success.  He asked PC Zuri Timani to follow up.  He needed to know how Maya claimed she went home on the night of Mike’s death.

Peter wanted Jennifer Sterling, as a woman, to question Dai Jones’ widow.  As he wanted to speak to witnesses to Dai’s death himself, he felt it would be good experience for Patrick O’Shay to back up Jennifer.

His first port of call was to the hairdressing salon, where the towels had been fetched from.

It wasn’t quite 9am, but already one woman was having her hair washed and another was having hers cut. The salon had an aroma of coconut and fruit that Peter appreciated.

The owner, a slim woman in her thirties with spikey pink hair, was checking stock levels, and readily agreed to speak with him.

“I was sitting at the counter by the window when it happened.  Something caught my eye,” she waggled an index finger towards the pavement.  “I saw this man stagger to the end of a parked car, liked he was drunk.  Suddenly he looked across the road and literally leapt, like, between two parked cars.  Then he swayed and Bang!  The car hit him.  It was his own fault.  He wasn’t looking at the traffic at all.”

“Cars were parked both sides of the road like they are now, weren’t they?” Peter asked.

“Yes.  They always are when everything’s open.”

Peter pointed through the window.  “Would you say he went into the road between where that red Citroen and blue van are now?”

The woman looked and frowned.  “Yes, just about there.  Kinda level with, well, where the salon ends and the bakery begins.”

Peter gazed at the cars and the road.  “Did the man look across the street or into the road when he went, would you say?”  He kept his voice low and calm.  “Did you see anything or anybody that might have attracted his attention?”

Van Niessan watched the woman’s expression.  He found it gratifying that she seemed to be truly trying to relive it in her mind’s eye.  After another moment she spoke.

“I don’t think it was anything in the road.  I didn’t see anything.  So I think it was the other side of the road... unless it was in one of the parked cars...” Suddenly she straightened.  “It was a person, on the pavement.  A woman, I think.  Someone not very big, but not a child...  They weren’t ‘especially tall, or thin, or fat.  Her hair was... not really short like a pixie cut... but not long... Quite thick... Definitely not bleached blonde, or jet black... or bright ginger.  Brown, maybe, or possibly grey.”

She continued to stare at a particular spot for a moment, then looked back at Peter.

He smiled at her.  “I wish all witnesses were as clear as you.”

“Maybe it’s to do with how I try to imagine women’s hair, so I can suggest styles I think will best suit them.  I like drawing, too, and if I concentrate, I can bring up a picture quite clearly in my mind.”

Eyebrows raised, Peter nodded and made a note in his pocket book.  “Was there anything else that struck you as odd?”

“Erm, no.  Just him.  Was he drunk?”

“He was certainly under the influence.”

Peter asked to speak to her two employees, but they had been busy with clients and had nothing to add.

***

Peter left the salon, his mind churning over the significance of the person Dai had seen the other side of the road.  The woman.  Was it one of the three from the Bridge Club who visited the Leisure Centre bar after the meeting?  As did the now deceased Mike and Dai.

As he entered the bakery next door, he heard an old-fashioned bell ring, and a delicious aroma of fresh, warm bread and cinnamon wafted to meet him.  He was welcomed by a large balding man wearing a stripy apron. 

Peter showed him his warrant card and told him why he was there.

The big man shifted his weight between his feet and rubbed his chin, gazing out at the road in front of the shop.  He gave an account of what happened that confirmed what the hairdresser had said.  He concluded. “I wouldn’t blame the driver.  Poor sod, it was the bloke’s own fault.  Was he drunk?”

The detective inspector used his tactful phrase again.  “Under the influence.”

The man nodded and uttered a grunt that seemed to say, ‘I knew it’.

Unlike the hair stylist, however, he hadn’t noticed anyone, or anything, the other side of the road.

His wife hadn’t seen any of it, stuck in the kitchen baking, as she was while Peter was there.

The DI looked at the inviting baked goods in the glass cabinet and chose ten cakes and pastries to take back to the station.  He was looking forward to eating a couple himself and knew little offerings like that always helped with morale amongst the team.

 

He carefully placed the box of treats in his car, then walked over to the library.  He hoped the many windows might have let someone see the accident.  But his hopes were crushed when he was told that no one had noticed anything until the sirens arrived.  He realised how faint the road sounds were from inside the building. 

***

“Any advice or requests for this visit?” asked Patrick O’Shay as Jennifer parked the car in front of Dai’s flat.

“I’ll take the lead with the widow.  If there’s anyone else there offering tea, you could go with them, help carry the cups, then see if they have anything interesting to say.  He seemed like a nice bloke, Dai, and his widow may think he was perfect, but someone else might see his flaws.”

A middle-aged woman, who said she was a friend, answered the door.  The officers made their usual introductions and went inside to meet Mrs Jones.  She was a slim, neat and tidy sort of lady looking quite small hunched in a large armchair.

There were three big bunches of flowers in vases on the sideboard, giving a wonderful scent to the bright room that was almost a continuation of the sizeable garden beyond the floor to ceiling windows.

The cultural norms of sympathy were expressed and returned in the form of the lady who’d answered the door offering tea or coffee.  Jennifer thanked her and said tea would be lovely.

“Let me help you,” offered Patrick.

The dark blue three-piece suite looked both soft yet supportive.  Jennifer sat at the end of the sofa near Mrs Jones.

“Obviously we’re trying to make sense of what happened yesterday morning.  I hope this won’t be too distressing for you, but it’s best we get the questions over with as soon as possible.”  Jennifer smiled sensitively at the older woman, forearms resting on her legs.  “Mrs Jones, had Dai ever taken drugs before?”

“He’d smoked weed in his youth, like most people of our generation.  I don’t know if he’d ever taken anything else.  Nothing significant, I’m sure.  But since we’ve been married, which is over forty years, I don’t think he’s had anything other than alcohol.  He liked his beer, but he was rarely drunk.”

Jennifer nodded.  “How about any of his friends?  Any of them into recreational drugs...?”

Mrs Jones pushed her light-brown hair out of her face and rubbed her eyes.  “I expect Lachlan has the odd joint.  Out of all Dai’s friends he’s the only one I can imagine.  Dai was calm and happy, and only drank beer because he liked the taste really.”

Jennifer took a slow deep breathe.  "Mrs Jones, the post-mortem revealed Dai had ingested a large quantity of LSD.  The same as Mike Crashaw."

The older lady's gaze swung to Jennifer's face, lower lip dropped.  "No.  It doesn't make sense.  Either of them."  Tears welled up in her eyes.  "How did this happen?  Who did this to them?"

"We're trying very hard to find out, Mrs Jones."

After a moment, Jennifer changed tack.  “What sort of person was Dai?”

“He was all that I could hope for in a husband.  Had a good job in electronics before he retired.  Provided a decent living for us, was good company – loving and caring, great sense of humour.”  Mrs Jones allowed herself a small smile.  “A good father to our son.  He’s in Canada, but he’ll be over later today... “

“That will be comforting for you, I’m sure.”

Mrs Jones nodded.

“He was a green, Dai.  Member of the Green party, Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth.  That garden out there,” she waved her hand towards raised vegetable beds, trees and shrubs.  “Everything organic.  We have a lot of our own fruit and vegetables.  He has an allotment too.  Grows even more down there.  Always friendly, happy to swap seeds, cuttings, share produce...  I often went with him when the weather was nice.  I’ll have to limit what I grow...”  Mrs Jones started to sob.

Jennifer reached out a hand to her knee, but was glad to see the friend return just then, with Patrick carrying a tray.  The friend rushed over to Mrs Jones and hugged her and stroked her hair.

Patrick put the tea tray down on a large wooden chest that served as a stylish coffee table.  He looked to Jennifer for guidance.

She nodded to him to sit with her on the sofa.

Mrs Jones began to calm, and her friend set about organising the tea and biscuits.

After a couple of minutes Jennifer tried another question.  “Was there anything unusual about yesterday morning?”

Large tears rolled down Mrs Jones’ cheeks, but she had her emotions under control for the time being.  “Everything seemed normal.  Usual breakfast.  Dai topped up the bird bath and feeders, I cleared the table...  Ooh, he did get a phone call.  He was going to the library before a stint at the allotment.  I don’t know if it was someone from there...  I remember he scrunched his face up a bit, the way he does when he has his plans interrupted – but he’d never moan to anyone about it.  He’d always go out of his way to help people.  It’s just I know him and all his little quirks...”

Mrs Jones took a deep breath and made a gallant effort at a smile.  “He just said, ‘Okay, I’ll see you there.’  Then he muttered, ‘women’ or something like that, smiled at me, and said he’d see me at lunchtime.” 

Jennifer glanced at Patrick and was pleased to see he noted down the information.  She turned her attention back to Mrs Jones.  “No idea who was on the phone?”

The widow shook her head, and more tears trickled gently down her face.

Her friend patted her hand. 

Patrick surprised Jennifer by saying, “Mrs Jones.  We’re working on the assumption that someone spiked Mike Crawshaw’s drink and enticed him into the gym on the night he died.  Did your husband... Did Dai mention any ideas about who that might’ve been?”

Dai hadn’t divulged any thoughts to Jennifer and Peter on Wednesday afternoon, so she was even more surprised at Mrs Jones’ answer.

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that too.  About Mike...  I’ve been so preoccupied thinking about Dai.”

Her friend gave more reassuring pats on the hands.

“It’s probably a load of nonsense anyway...  Wednesday evening Lachlan texted Dai and asked if he thought Mike could have been having a thing with Maya, from the Bridge Club.”

Jennifer felt her stomach clench.

“Lachlan said he’d been thinking... LSD did get inside Mike, and he did end up dead under one of those weight things...  But he didn’t take LSD, and he didn’t do weightlifting...  So somebody must’ve given him the drug maliciously, likely out of spite, probably in the gym after it was closed.”

Mrs Jones frowned and bit her lip.  “So, Lachlan thought... well, maybe Mike had been having an affair with Maya but called it off.  The thing is, I don’t know if you know, but Lachlan said Maya’s son had been arrested for drugs, including LSD.  So... Maya could have helped herself to some of it and given it to Mike... in revenge or whatever.  Fanciful, I know, and I said so to Dai... but Mike did end up with drugs in him, and dead.”

The tears kept at bay as Mrs Jones gazed unfocused at her hands in her lap.  Then she looked to her friend.  “I told you about it, didn’t I?”

Jennifer realised how Patrick had hit on the question, talking to the friend in the kitchen.  She ran the idea through her mind, but the question that needed to be asked next came from Patrick O’Shay.  “How do you think that translated into someone giving drugs to Dai, your husband?”

“I think Lachlan would’ve told Richard about his theory too – Richard Harrison, from the Bridge Club – and probably other members.  He’s lonely since his wife passed, and he loves to talk...  It could have got back to Maya, and... like Chinese Whispers, she thought it was Dai spreading the rumour.  Or maybe she’s after Lachlan too – to get rid of him, that is.”  Mrs Jones’ damp eyes widened as she looked up at Patrick, then at Jennifer.  “Oh dear...”

 

 

CHAPTER 16

Mild Goose Chase

 

 

Having checked for anything else that Mrs Jones had in mind about the whole situation, Jennifer and Patrick left.

In the car, Jennifer phoned Peter Van Niessan about Lachlan’s theory on Mike’s death that he’d shared with Dai, and probably others.

“This was the night before Dai’s death,” she added.

“Okay,” said Peter.  “I’m already in the car.  Head to Lachlan’s house and I’ll meet you there.”

As they drove to the house they’d visited two days ago, Jennifer continued to update Peter.  “Someone phoned Dai yesterday morning.  His widow doesn’t know who, just that he was a bit inconvenienced, that he said he’d see them there (wherever “there” is), and then mumbled something about ‘women’.”

Peter didn’t answer for a moment, then said, “Right, Patrick, take the car back from Lachlan's to the station and work on who phoned Dai.  Jennifer, you and I will have a word with Lachlan and take it from there.”

As Jennifer rang the doorbell, Peter said, “Let’s see if Lachlan’s theory has any merit, and who he shared it with.  Even if the idea’s wrong, someone with a guilty conscience could have got rid of Dai, and God knows who else.”

Jennifer rang the bell again.

A long thirty seconds later, she rapped the knocker hard and put her ear close to the door.  She heard no one moving about inside.

Peter clicked his tongue.  “Who else did Mrs Jones think Lachlan shared his theory with?”

“Richard Harrison...”

“Let’s try there next.”

Richard wasn’t home either, but his wife was.

“He’s gone to the cafe at the bowling green to meet some friends from the Bridge Club.  They’re all rather upset about Mike and Dai.”

Jennifer parked the car where the wall had been broken.  It was easy to climb over, and quicker to get to the cafe via the back entrance.

There they found Richard and Lachlan, alive, with Betty, Eva, and her undelightful daughters, Barbara and Helen.  At the table with them were two other men and a woman from the Bridge Club, spoken to in the earliest stage of the investigation.

“I am very sorry for the loss of your two friends.  Enjoy your lunch,” said Jennifer and sat at a nearby table.  Peter was leaving the counter with a tray of coffees and cakes.  Both officers hoped that the ‘mourners’ would presume that was their reason for coming into the cafe.

“Nice of you to treat me to a cake, boss,” said Jennifer with a grin.

“I’ve got another ten in a box in the car, from the baker’s.”

Like the others in their party, fifteen minutes later Lachlan and Richard left, walking in an orderly manner, showing no signs of having been drugged.

"Well, said Jennifer, "As a motive for Dai’s murder, the rumour that Maya was behind Mike’s death, and therefore Dai’s, doesn’t hold so much water now that the person who started it, Lachlan, is unscathed.  And if the rumour had reached Richard, it hasn’t done him any harm either."

"So far.  And where is Maya?"

 

Back at the police station, Patrick spotted Peter Van Niessan returning.  He hurried over to him as he was entering his office.  “Sir!”

Peter turned.  “Patrick?

“That call to Dai Jones on the morning of his death – afraid it came from a burner phone, in the vicinity of the Leisure Centre.”

Peter groaned.  “Of course it had to be from near that bloody Leisure Centre.  That place is at the heart of everything these days!”

To heighten Peter Van Niessan’s fraying mood, Zuri Timani had been unable to contact Maya.  “Her mobile’s still off."

“Okay, thanks.  We'll take over now.”

Peter turned to Patrick.  “I want you to go to Maya's house.  Maybe Liam will be in.  If not, just check it out.  Make sure we don't have another body on our hands."

Slumping into his desk chair, Peter reviewed the situation in his head and decided to see what Betty had to say about how Maya went home the night Mike died.  Which had been his original purpose for trying to contact Maya.  He wanted to see if they agreed with each other.  Presuming Maya was still able to agree or disagree with anyone.

Adding to Peter’s frustrations, Betty didn’t answer the first time he called her.  He decided to go home and try again later.

 

Sat on a stool at the island in his kitchen, Peter impatiently tapped his foot while he waited for the third time since arriving home to connect to Betty’s phone.

“Hello?” said Betty.

At last.

“Mrs Ayamwright?  DI Van Niessan here.  I’ll be quick.  Could you tell me how you came home from the Leisure Centre on the night Mike Crawshaw died?”

“Erm, by car.”

“Your car?”

“Yes, my car.”

“You drove yourself.”

“Well, I don’t have a chauffeur, or even a husband these days.”

Betty’s tone annoyed Peter.

“You hadn’t been drinking too much?”

“Certainly not!”

“I’m sure you’ll understand we have to ask questions that may seem inappropriate.”

He avoided moving straight on to Maya.

“And how about Mrs Idle?  Did she drive?”

“Yes.”

“And Mrs Collins?”

“Erm... Oh yes.  She drove to the Leisure Centre.”

Empty air followed.

“Did she drive home?”

“Well... er, she came with me.  We were a little concerned about the amount of wine she’d drunk that evening.  And she was due to work in the Creche the following morning, so she could pick up her car then.”

As he cut off the call to Betty, Peter's phone rang again.

"Patrick.  Any luck?"

"For us, yes.  Maya is in the hospital.  She's fine, but her mother had a stroke yesterday and was admitted.  Maya's been with her most of the time."

"Ah."

"And she said Betty gave her a lift home that night because she was drunk."

"You managed to ask, then?  Well done.  That ties up with what Betty said.  Thanks, Patrick.  Time for you to get some rest."

***

 

Wallowing in a deep warm bath that evening, Peter churned the Bridge Club cases over in his mind.

From what the hairdresser had said, they were looking for a woman who lured Dai to his death.  And the rest of the evidence put Maya at the top of the suspect list, except for Betty’s hesitant alibi.

But did Maya have sufficient motive to attack Karen?  Young Liam had said he liked Karen, and that she was trying to help him.

Of course, Liam could have chosen to sound grateful in front of his mother.

And that case of the unconscious solicitor may not have been related to the Bridge Club deaths...

But his gut told him it was either Maya or another of those Creche women who were behind the whole thing.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 17

A Conference at the Cartwheel

 

 

The Cartwheel was a traditional English pub dating from the eighteenth century.

When Lucy arrived shortly before eight on Friday night, she found Carl sat opposite two men, with three pints of lager on a long table in the back corner.  A banquette ran along two sides of the table, and wooden farmhouse style chairs stood opposite

Carl introduced Lawrence and George.

“Do you remember I told you about the guy who hurt his leg playing badminton?  That’s Lawrence.  I rescued him, and he’s followed me around ever since, overcome with gratitude.”

George stood up, revealing to Lucy that he was way above average height, and sinewy.  “What can I get you...?”  His gaze shifted to beyond Lucy.  “Oh, bugger.  Now it’ll cost me.”  He laughed.

Lucy turned to follow his line of sight.  Approaching was a smart woman in her forties or fifties, with light brown hair, followed by two younger, dark-haired bearded men.

“Hello.  You must be Lucy.  I’m Wendy.”  Lucy smiled at the woman’s warmth, although she was more well-spoken than the men at the table.  “I work with those two reprobates.”  She glanced sideways.  “George and Lawrence.  I met Carl when I complained about a staff member not working in the Jungle Gym.”

“The child who got cut on that nail,” said Carl.

“Yes, that.  I was with my nephew, but it was another child who was hurt.”

Lucy nodded.  “Thanks for reporting it.”

“Anyway,” said Wendy, turning to put a hand on Carlos’s shoulder.  “Lucy, Carl, this is my friend, accountant and neighbour, who also happens to be the man who jumped into the boating lake to rescue an idiot high on LSD.  Have you heard about that?”

“I read it online,” said Lucy.  “Hello, hero.”

“Oh, yes.  I read about that too,” said Carl.  “Nice to meet you, hero.”

The Spaniard grinned.  “I will allow you to call me Carlos.”

Lawrence and George seemed to already know him and greeted him warmly.

Wendy turned to the taller Spaniard, then to the rest of the group with a shrug.  “The other guy followed us in.  Probably hoping for a free pint.”

George and Lawrence laughed.

“Hey!  I don’t just want the beer.  I want this man too.”  Pablo took hold of Carlos’s hand and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Okay,” said Carlos, grinning and putting an arm around Pablo’s shoulders.  “Everyone wants a piece of the hero!  Tonight, you can be my husband.  I think I will call you Pablo.”

Wendy rolled her eyes, smiling.  “Why don’t you pretend you both live in the flat above mine, too?”  She turned to Lucy.  “They do.”

George extended his offer of drinks, and within a few minutes they were sitting around the large table, with five pints of lager, one white wine and a gin and tonic.  

After the initial chatter, Lawrence’s gaze swept round the six other people at the table, and he smiled.

“Right.  We’re not here for the booze, we have work to do!”

“I’m here for the booze,” mumbled George.

“Me too,” said Carl.

Lawrence laughed.  “Okay, we’re here for both.  But we’ve all experienced some sort of problem with the Leisure Centre, or other Council facilities.  And seeing that it technically belongs to us as taxpayers, we’d like it sorted so we can use it safely.”

“All those in favour say ‘Aye’,” said George.

“People power,” said Carl.

Wendy nodded decisively.  “We don’t know what happened in the gym, when the man died – and now another bridge player has died, high on LSD, so I expect they’re connected... And sadly, poor Karen was attacked at the Leisure Centre.”  Wendy looked down at her drink for a moment, then back at the group.  “Anyway, I think these things are a bit beyond us, so let’s concentrate on what we hoped to resolve in the first place.”

“Yes,” said Lawrence putting down his beer glass.  “It would be great if we could help crack the attacks, but meanwhile let’s do what we can.”

Geoge finished his pint and put down his glass. 

Carlos stood up and scooped up the empties.

“Update,” said George.  “No, two updates.  First, looks like Carlos is getting more drinks in.  Second, what I was going to say... we had a young detective in on Wednesday morning going through Karen’s latest cases, so I hope something will crop up soon to help get the bastard who hurt her.  But she’s still in a coma.”  He looked grim for the moment.

Pablo helped Carlos at the bar.

Lucy said, “I had some detectives interview me yesterday morning, at work.  Did they speak to you, Carl?”

“No.  I spoke to that officer in the bar on the evening Karen was hurt, although I was only there because I was chatting after my shift.  I hadn’t been in when the guy in the gym went to meet his maker.”

Lawrence took a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket.  “I thought it would be best to write down all the problems we’ve experienced or heard about.  No particular order, we’ll brainstorm.  Then we can see what kind of case we have and whether to take it to the manager in charge of the three leisure sites, or to a head of department at the town hall... or if we need to take it to the elected councillors.”

“That is very professional,” said Carlos, smiling, and placing two more glasses on the table.

“It is, isn’t it,” said Lawrence.  “Perhaps I should do this sort of thing for a living.”

Once Carlos and Pablo were sat down, and everyone had a drink, Lawrence asked who’d like to start.

Wendy raised her right index finger.  “Me.  I’d like to see some secure fencing around the boating lake... to prevent people falling in and having to be rescued by my friend.”

“That is a very good idea.  My poor Carlos.  He was so brave!  And he came out all soggy... but a hero.”  Pablo had an infectious grin.

Lawrence wrote a note with his smart, marble-effect fountain pen.

“Anyone know anything more about the swimming pool and the park around it?  Any more problems...?” Lawrence asked.

None of the group had used the facilities there for a long time, likewise the town’s tennis club.

Lawrence rapped his fingers on the table.  “Now then.  Onto the main event.  Wallyborough’s very own Leisure Centre.”

“Displeasure Centre,” mumbled Carl.

There was more laughter.

Wendy leant against the soft back of the banquette.  “They definitely need more CCTV cameras, and of better quality, if they don’t have clear footage of that poor man entering the gym.  But I was thinking of this mysterious pregnant blonde who left through the gate from the cafe patio and disappeared.  I mean, they have that great big running track, and the other athletics facilities, with no real security.  No camera covering most of it.”

George nodded decisively.  “Yes.  Very important.  Also, Lawrence, it’s your round.”

During the next drinks, notes were made of the Jungle Gym’s lack of supervision, especially when Carl was alone with a woman who went into labour on the top floor, and Wendy’s nail incident.   Lucy added its need to be cleaned thoroughly and regularly, beyond what staff could do while the customers were in, especially the balls in the pits.

“I dread to think how many kids were in there because they’re too busy having fun to take themselves off to the loo.  Could be all sorts under those balls and nobody would know.  Sweets, crisps, some poor kid whose mum left him behind...   There is a proper machine to feed the balls through to wash them.”

Carl leant his elbow on the table and looked round at Lucy.  “And the main hall needs a thorough clean, too – more than the occasional mopping.”

“Excellent point,” said Lawrence.  “Then people are less likely to slip and wrench the bits holding their leg to their pelvis.  That is very painful, believe me.”

“And...” Lucy started in a tone she hoped sounded dramatic.  “If you saw the small children in the Bounce and Balance sessions, and the parties, you would be horrified to see how often their hands go on the floor, or they pick up balls or bean bags or whatever from the floor, and they...”  she mimed dropping something into her wide-open mouth.  “In they go, straight in the mouth.  A cleaner floor would be preferred.”

Cleaning proved to be quite an issue at the Leisure Centre, as did lack of staff on duty: on Reception during busy times, available building supervisors for supplies and help when equipment failed, and helping customers in the absence of managers.

“General security is obviously a problem,” said Wendy, “and relates to the lack of managers and these supervisors.  That’s how someone can get shut in the gym, dead or dying.”

As they came to the end of the main points, Carl leant back looking at everyone.  “I think we now need to hear from Lucy about some other staff.  She calls them the Creche Coven.”

Lucy blushed but found it therapeutic to share what these women had put her through.  When she had finished, she apologised for going on.

“Not at all," said Lawrence.  "They seem to be the same people who need improving their service in the Jungle Gym.  And little children should have the best care.  I’m glad you’ve stuck to your guns about dropping that woman from the Creche.”

“Same here.”  Wendy nodded with a frown.

“There’s something else,” said Carl.  He paused for a beat.  “Three of the Coven are members of the Bridge Club, and even went into the bar after their meeting that fateful night, as did the poor bloke who met his end in the gym, and his mates.”

Carl and Lucy were questioned again on the details, and speculation was bandied about concerning these women and the tragedy.  Lucy was glad they were taking the matter seriously.

After a quiet moment, Carlos said, “What’s the latest on your friend, Wendy?”

Wendy pressed her lips into a straight line.  “She’s still unconscious.  I don’t know what the police learned from going through her cases, but the only suspect I know about is that pregnant blonde who vanished.”

Lucy’s gaze unfocused, then settled on those opposite her.  “The one called Helen who I let go said she was going to sue for wrongful dismissal, and later her mother said they ought to sue me.  And Betty keeps on about how useless her solicitor is, because she won’t get her enough money in her divorce settlement.  Maybe they used Karen?”  Lucy laughed lightly.  “I’ve developed a very suspicious mind.”

Wendy’s eyes widened.  “Maybe.  Helen wouldn’t have a case if her contract wasn’t terminated.  Maybe she didn’t like being told that.”

Carlos waved his hand.  “Hold on, please.  There is a woman who is nasty, and she could be connected to the death in the gym and Karen’s near death in the changing rooms?”  He looked at Lucy wide-eyed.

“Well, er... at least two.”

A moment’s silence was followed by more speculative chattering about the Coven, Karen, the late Mike Crawshaw, even Dai Jones.

Lucy put her hand up like a school child.  “And...  My surname is Twelvetrees and my sister’s name is Karen.  There could be some... identity misinterpretations.”  She shrugged her shoulders and bit her bottom lip.

Wendy’s jaw looked like it was about to hit the table.  George put a hand over his mouth.  And Lawrence’s eyes grew large.

“What?” said Pablo.  “What is it?  What have I missed?”

Carl turned to him.  “The Coven women who hate Lucy may think Karen is Lucy’s sister.”

“Dios mío,” said Pablo, and turned to meet Carlos’s eyes.

Lawrence murmured, “Oh my, what kind of Coven’s web have we stumbled into?”

 

 

CHAPTER 18

A Letter and some Bottle

 

 

Here we go again. Lucy trudged towards the main entrance to the Leisure Centre.  It was Tuesday, so the entire Coven would be in, which made her muscles bunch up tight.  The previous day, Betty had bagged a cherished Monday shift because Pam had had to go to the dentist.  Now she had them for the second day in a row.

But at least now I have a bigger support network.

And hopefully Joe will sort things out, after what he learned at the Creche staff meeting.

Especially when the Centre Investigators put in their report...

Lucy’s shoulders unhunched and her faced relaxed, as her mood lightened.

The Coven arrived en masse.  But there was the fairly reasonable Pam, and Ayesha, her friend.

All in all, the good outweighs the bad.

Lucy headed to the cupboard in reception for the toy dinosaurs.  She’d promised little Tommy he could play with them today, and his dinosaur battles were hilarious to watch.  She spotted Steve Balls marching her way, with deep creases between his brows and his lips were pressed tight.

The feeling of lightness Lucy had just thought herself into suddenly took on a lot of weight, and the space between her ribs felt tight and acidic.

“Lucy,” Steve said gruffly. “I need to speak to you in the office.”

“Bu--”

Steve cut her off.  “I’ve told the receptionist to get the others to open the Creche if you’re not back in time.”

And with that he turned on his heel and strode back to the office.

Lucy felt her heart thumping.  Steve in a mood she’d hoped was a thing of the past.  This was so unexpected.  She wanted to get out of the Centre, to be home.

But her bag was in the Creche, and facing the Coven to fetch it filled her with dread.  So did the prospect of being talked at by Steve.

She dashed to the Ladies and locked herself in a cubicle, tears burning her eyes, threatening to flow. Steve hadn’t said what he wanted to talk to her about, but she recognised that expression. It was his ‘I’ve got something I’m going to blame you for’ face.

She was fed up arguing about how she was supposed to do her job.

I follow the regulations, I don’t start those arguments with the Coven, and rarely oppose them in front of others.  The children are happy, and there’s no shortage of customers.  I’m not doing anything wrong.

The tears didn’t flow.  She was too angry. She took steadying breaths, thinking clearly again: feeling confident she did her job properly.

I’m not totally useless.

She felt emboldened with renewed faith in herself.

Exiting the cubicle, she knew she was ready to fight back.  It was now or never.  Do or die.

She expected to see Steve at his desk, but apart from someone photocopying, there was just Joe.  He looked up at her with a tight smile. “Hi.  Steve’s in William’s office.”

A straightening of her shoulders and a deep breath helped pushed down a wave of doubt.   “Thanks.”

Her legs felt weak as she walked across to the head honcho’s office.

She knocked and went in.  This room had a coffee table and some easy chairs near the door, but Steve was at the large desk in the far corner.

“Sit down, Lucy,” said Steve, without looking up.

The chair at the end of the desk was her best bet, Lucy decided, rather than the one opposite Steve, so she didn’t have to face him eyeball to eyeball.  She wasn’t that brave.

Holding up a piece of paper, he said, “I’ve received this,” and proffered it to her.

Lucy’s hands trembled as she took the paper.

 

To Whom It May Concern:

We, the undersigned, wish to complain about the decline in standards in the Creche since Lucy took over.

It seems chaotic, with older children running about while babies are trying to sleep in their buggies or play in the baby corner.

Lucy always seems to be sitting at her desk when we sign in and out.  She tells us what our little ones have learned.  It’s not school.

Betty and the other women play with the children or look after the babies.

Betty, Maya and Eva, who are well experienced and have been there many years, are to be sent on training courses.

And Helen was sacked because Lucy didn’t like her.

We ask that you return things to the way they were under Betty.

 

The letter was signed by four Creche customers.  It didn’t go unnoticed by Lucy that one was a first-time mum who’d only started to bring in her baby after Lucy took over.

She put the letter back on the desk facing Steve.

“You see,” he said stiffly, “this is what your staff have been complaining about, and now I know they’re right.  It’s not the relaxed place it used to be.  And you’d be better off working in a school.”

Lucy thought for a moment, forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply.

“Let’s go through the complaints, shall we?”  She pointed to the first paragraph.

“’It seems chaotic, with older children running about while babies are trying to sleep ...’  Now, Steve, tell me, was it my idea to put both the baby and toddler creches together in the smaller room?”

Steve rubbed his forehead.  “We needed the old toddler creche room for exercise classes.”

“But was it my idea?”

“No.  But it was your job to make it work.”

“Betty was supervisor at the time.  What did she do to make it less chaotic than it is now?  Oh yes, she couldn’t and that’s why she stepped down.”

Steve didn’t look at Lucy.  “I can’t remember.”

“I deliberately chose to continue with Betty’s system, including being at the desk when the children arrive and leave.  I’m responsible for making sure they don’t eat the wrong food, and don’t go off with someone who’s not listed.”  Lucy looked at Steve and tried to make eye contact, hoping he’d understand the predicament she’d been put in.

Steve got up and walked stiffly over to the window and looked out on the neat little patch of garden outside.  “What about all this teaching nonsense?  Can’t the kids just play?  That’s what Eva and Barbara particularly don’t like.  They don’t need to go on training courses for that.”

“It’s the law.  All staff need a qualification for working with pre-schoolers, and you know it.  But did I make the law?”

Steve crossed his arms and turned his head towards Lucy.  

“Of course not, but the others don’t like all that planning and making notes on what the children learn.”

Lucy sighed.  “It’s mandatory unless all the parents have agreed to opt out.”

“Well maybe they should opt out.”  Steve’s voice had risen a little.

“Then we’d lose the government funding!  Is that what you want?  Anyway, is it my fault they haven’t opted out?

Steve sighed loudly.  “Of course not.  But it’s just a creche.  You don’t have to make such a big thing of the learning.”

“What, you mean getting the staff to show the kids that if you mix white paint with red it turns pink?”

Steve turned round to face Lucy properly, arms still folded.  “How many people don’t learn what colours are, apart from the colour blind?  Eh?”

“It’s just speeding up the process.  Getting the kids ready for school at a similar level.”

Steve huffed, but Lucy persevered.  “To the kids it’s just play, and it gives them a good start.  Where’s the harm?”

Steve came back and dropped himself heavily into the chair.  “The harm is the staff don’t understand how to do it, and it’s a waste of my time having to argue with them.”

“The courses will help them understand.  They’re only local, the odd half day here and there.  They get paid for it.”

They sat in silence a moment.

But Lucy didn’t want to miss the chance to get her point across once and for all.

“You shouldn’t consider it a waste of your time to stop them bullying me because they don’t like doing their jobs.  If you’d just put your foot down, they’d have to shut up or leave.  You told me that once.  You might like to ignore it, but it is harassment, which is an offence.”

“It’s not as straightforward as you make it out to be.  They won’t do things the way you or I tell them to, and it’s a waste of time trying to get them to change.”

“Then they shouldn’t be working here.”

“What do you want me to do -- sack them?”

“They’ve been bullying me, and it’s gross misconduct, according to the Council’s Employment Policy.”  Lucy folded her arms.  “If they no longer agree to their terms and conditions of employment...”

Steve dropped his head down to his hands.

The matter needed resolving now, else Lucy would have to quit after all.  “I’ll speak to the customers on the letter, but you need to talk to those women, for all our sakes.”

Steve stood and walked out.

 

 

CHAPTER 19

The Good, the Ugly and the Bad

 

 

Lucy felt an edge of defiance and was pleased that she’d stood up to Steve.

But there was the Coven to face if she wanted her bag and phone. 

Talking to the parents who’d signed the letter didn’t seem so bad in comparison.  It was simply a matter of explaining legislation that was for the benefit of their little darlings, and how the Creche came to be organised as it was.

But dealing with the Coven was much harder.  They would insist they were right; Lucy was wrong.  They’d drag in Helen’s losing her shifts, and complain about Betty not working Mondays, and end up tying her in knots.

Verbally ripping each one of them to shreds until they ran away sobbing, appealed to Lucy.  But that would lose her both her job and her reputation.

In reality, she knew she couldn’t confront them again.  Steve would have to talk to them.

Maybe... a letter of my own, to the Coven members?

She sure as hell wasn’t going to spend the morning in the Creche with that lot .... but her belongings were still in there.

Go to the Creche, say I’ve been in a meeting and now have to deal with paperwork... Just enough to deflect questions, get my things and scarper.

Lucy straightened her back and shoulders and took deep breaths.  Once she was sure the threat of tears was gone, she stood and walked into the main office pretending to feel as cool as a cucumber.

Thank God Steve’s not here.

Joe Chen called her over.  She had no idea whether he was going to back up Steve or help her.

In a low voice he asked, “Are you alright?”

Lucy shrugged.

“Did Steve want to speak to you about a letter?”

“Yes.  Did you read it?”

“No.  He just said something about a letter of complaint and you, then when he came back, he said he’d speak to you in William’s office.  He didn’t look best pleased when he came out!”

Lucy sighed and shook her head slowly.  “He shouldn’t have felt pleased.  The Coven is bullying me, simple as that.  I had to lay it out straight.  He’s too scared to do anything about it.”

“The Coven?”

“The women in the Creche who have it in for me.  Never wanted me in charge anyway but it didn’t kick off until I let Helen go.”

Joe’s eyes widened.  “They wrote a letter of complaint about you?”

“It came in the guise of a complaint from some customers, but I can tell by what it said the Coven were behind it.  The fact a newbie customer signed it was a dead giveaway."

“Hmmm.”  Joe looked down at his desk, flicking his pen back and forth.  “What are you going to do now?  Are you off somewhere?”

“Just plucking up courage to retrieve my bag from the Creche...”

Joe smiled.  “Well, I’d be interested to hear what’s going on and see if I can help, like.  Can I get you a coffee or tea or something?”

“A latte would be great.  Thank you.  Back in a sec.”

She marched across Reception, down the corridor and knocked on the Creche door.  Her stomach felt tight and panic threatened.  But it was Ayesha who answered the door, and her friendly face gave Lucy back her determination.  

“I’ll speak to you later,” she whispered to Ayesha.  To the room at large she said, “A busy morning of meetings.”

Her bag retrieved from the cupboard, and her phone from the desk drawer, she was off.  No eye contact, no response to her name from someone whiney.  Job done.

 

* * * * * *

 

It felt so much more civilised sitting with Joe in the comfortable chairs at the coffee table, rather than at the desk with Steve.

Joe cradled his coffee mug.  “I have to say I was reet shocked at the hostility in the staff meeting last week.  Steve had warned me, but I hadn’t expected that.  So petty.  It has to stop.  But tell me more about what goes on behind the closed creche door?  And what was this letter all about?”

Lucy told him everything, concluding with, “Sorry.  I’ve kept you sat there listening to me for ages.  I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.”

“I’ve got my job to do, and this is an important part of it.  I hope I can help you, Lucy.  I need to get the Creche running properly, and it won’t with the clash of personalities in it now.”

A slight frown revealed Lucy’s continued concern as she waited for Joe to sip some more coffee and speak again.

“If it comes to it,” he said, “we’ll have to redeploy the ones who can’t accept the changes to other areas.  We can’t afford to go back to two creches.  The childcare props up the popularity of the classes and the gym, but it’s too labour intensive to be money-making on its own.  Aye.  So, we must make it work as one unit, but believe me your job’s safe, pet.”

Lucy eyes were wide as she looked at Joe.  “Thank you.”  She felt her insides were full of gently swooping little birds and butterflies.  She had waited so long for anyone with influence to tell her this.  “So, what happens next?”

“When the customers have gone and they’re just packing up, I’ll go in there.  I’ll speak to them one at a time, like.”

Joe stood up and Lucy followed suit.

“I am very grateful.”

 

* * * * * *

 

Lucy needed fresh air.  She beamed as she strolled through the sun-dappled trees, smelling the honeysuckle climbing the boundary wall, listening to the birdsong over the hum of traffic.  Her sense of relief was so great she stood still for a moment, drinking in the blue sky as if she hadn’t seen it in years.

For the first time ever, she sat on a bench dedicated to a former Mayor of Wallyborough and took out her phone.  Smiling at the photo of Amy and Belle on the screen, she dialled Ben and told him briefly what had happened.  Next, she updated the Centre Investigators’ WhatsApp group.

The Jungle Gym, being closed from 12.30 to 1.30, Lucy ate her lunch peacefully in there, enjoying music on the play area’s surprisingly good sound system.  

Just before her shift started, she checked her phone again.  Her spirits soared even higher when she found a romantic gif from Ben.  And there were supportive messages from the Investigators.

Wendy:       

You’ve been very brave spelling it all out. Hope it shuts them up.            

Lawrence:   

Well done.

More good news – Karen is awake and able to move and speak a little.

Carlos:         

Does she know who attacked her?

Lawrence:   

She has no memory of what happened to her in the changing rooms.    

George:       

Must have another get-together before too long.  A celebration.

Wendy:       

Who knows what wonders Joe will have worked.  Maybe the Coven will resign.

Lawrence:  

Meet later in the week maybe – could be a double celebration.

Carlos:         

Let us know the outcome from today, Lucy.

Carl:             

Would love to have been a fly on the wall when Joe talked to the Coven.

 

Lucy loved all this caring.  She set out the afternoon’s art activity, happiness with a tinge of jitters keeping her abdomen tight.

Just before unlocking the door for the afternoon’s customers, she checked her phone again. 

 

Pablo:           

My heart is beating like a hammer.  I cannot concentrate on my work.  I MUST know what the Coven DO !!!

Lucy laughed, a proper happy chuckle.

 

* * * 

 

In the cafe overlooking the bowling green Betty, Maya, Eva, Barbara and Helen sat round a table, with sour expressions on their faces.  Betty stirred a large dark teapot. 

The pot looked like a cauldron.

 

***

 

The following morning Eva and Barbara phoned the Leisure Centre claiming to be sick.  Betty wasn’t due in.  Maya came in and mentioned nothing about Joe or her friends.

At lunchtime Lucy updated the curious and caring Centre Investigators.

 

That evening on WhatsApp there was a message from Carl.

Carl:            

Joe didn’t show for his shift at 4pm.  No one can get hold of him.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 20

The Score Rises

 

 

Lawrence:

Has anyone checked the ladies' changing rooms, or the gym?

Carlos:        

Have you seen any blonde pregnant ladies there today?

Lucy: 

It’s a bit scary.

Pablo:          

Not worry.  The witches have probably got him tied up somewhere.

Lawrence:

Have people tried phoning him?

Carl:            

Yes.  Steve and me, twice each.

Lawrence:

What did Steve think?  Was he going to check on him?

Carl:            

I don’t know.  He’s in a bad mood.  Maybe he’s put out cos Joe had to speak to Creche Coven.  And then 2 of them didn’t come in.

George:        

Carl, could you go round to his place?

Maybe he’s just been out - got his shifts muddled?

Carl:            

I don’t know where he lives.  I’m home now.

Wendy:       

Seriously, are any of you worried about Joe?

Lucy:           

A bit.  Could the Coven actually have done something to him?

Pablo:          

If he has been attacked, surely must be Coven.  But probably is OK.

Carlos:         

Maybe we shouldn’t speculate.  See what happens in the morning.  Try not to worry.

Lucy:           

Probably best.  Catch you tomorrow, guys.

 

* * *

 

Patrick O’Shay knocked on his Inspector’s open door around 7.30pm, peeped round, and found him at his desk.

“Patrick!  I thought you’d have gone home by now.”

Patrick looked at Van Niessan.  “I almost made it out the door, sir.  Then the phone rang on the front desk.  PC Timani covered the phone and told me a body’s been found, and did I want in?  So I took over the call.”

“You're enjoying your secondment to CID, methinks.”  Peter grinned.

He stood up to his full six feet, shrugged on his jacket and walked round the table, picking up his phone and keys.  “Walk and talk.  Where’s Jennifer?  Has she gone home?”

“Yes, sir.”  Patrick followed him.  “Maybe I’m going through a macabre streak.  But the chance to investigate another possible murder made me decide against going home.”

“The most intriguing of crimes, usually.  The victim can’t tell us who did it.  Not like a burglary or fraud...  Anyway, where is this body?  Do we know anything about it?”

“A dog walker was going across one of the fields on Paige’s Farm, and he spotted a man and a bike in the ditch.  Apparently, he told the call handler, ‘Either this man holds the world record for staring or he’s dead’.”

“Very droll.  He’s not known to us, or to this dog walker, the body?” asked Peter.

“Unidentified at the time it was called in, sir.  But uniforms and the forensics crew are on their way.”

“Good.”

As they approached Van Niessan’s dark green Vauxhall Corsa-e, he handed Patrick the keys.

Five minutes later they came to the farm where the body had been found.  Two marked police vehicles were already there, telling them which field they needed, but no forensics van yet.  They walked across the field towards a taped off area.

“Where’s our witness, the body finder?” said Patrick.

Peter pointed further up the field to a man walking a German shepherd.  “Probably him up there.  Let the dog get its walk while he waits.”

A uniformed officer waved to them and jogged over to the man with the dog.  They turned round and headed back.

Another uniformed officer stood beside the taped off area, and two more were walking across the field, studying the ground.

Peter and Patrick went to the tape and looked down at the body.  It was a man, mostly on his front, but his face was in profile, staring at the far side of the ditch.

“Does he look familiar to you?”

“A bit, sir.  But I can’t place him.  He’s kinda out of context down there.”

The man with the German shepherd arrived with PC Barns.

Van Niessan extended his hand and introduced himself.  “You found the body?”

“Yes.  John Simmonds.  And this is Klaus”.  He nodded to his dog, who instantly sat on Simmonds’ command.

Peter looked at Patrick, pleased to see he already had a notebook and pencil out.  He introduced him to John Simmonds.

“Good evening, Mr Simmonds.  Klaus,” said Patrick.

“What can you tell me about this, Mr Simmonds?” said Peter.

“Well, Klaus and I were just taking our post-dinner walk.  We came from across the road.” Simmonds waved an arm toward the parked cars. “So this is our first field.  I spotted the bike, and Klaus caught a scent trail leading to the ditch.  I ordered him to stop and stay, so he hasn’t touched the body.  And that’s about it for our involvement.  I dialled 999 straightaway.”

A siren sounded, heralding the arrival of the Forensics van.

“Thank you, Mr Simmons.”

“Your uniformed officers were here very quickly.  They’ve done an excellent job.”

“Pleased to hear it.”  Peter smiled.  “Have you any idea who the deceased is -– anyone you see regularly...?”

“I think I may have seen him now and then, in the distance.  Riding his bike.  Of course, it may be different people riding bikes... can’t blame any cyclist cutting across here instead of going through that junction.”  Simmons nodded towards a confusing mass of traffic lights.  “But I don’t know who he is.  Never spoken to him.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder.  The forensics team was making their way over.  Peter handed Simmons his contact card.  “Please give me a call if you remember anything else...  And thank you, Klaus, for being a good boy.”

Dr ‘Bob’ Robertson chatted with Peter, while his assistant took photographs of the body from every conceivable angle, the bike and the field and surrounding area.

Then it was Bob’s turn to slide down into the ditch and examine the body.  He removed the backpack the man was wearing and handed it to Peter.

He addressed Bob’s camera happy assistant.  “Can we have one of your plastic blanket thingies, please, Matt?”

Matt Bishop went over to his chrome case and took out a folded plastic sheet.

“Right Patrick.  Lay this out on the ground, keeping the folded-in side off the grass, then we can put this bag on it and try to find out who our unfortunate ex-cyclist is.”

There wasn’t much in the bag, and Patrick fished out a wallet and phone.  He opened the wallet and found a driver’s licence.   The face looked familiar, as did the name.

He turned to the man beside him, holding out the card.  “Boss?  Another coincidence?”

 

 

CHAPTER 21

Bad News Day

 

 

At 8am Thursday, Lucy ran down the stairs calling, “We’re all going to be late!”

She ran into the kitchen to find Amy and Belle at the table polishing off their cereal. Ben was doing an impression of Munch’s the Scream.

She laughed, both at Ben and with relief that the girls were ready for school.

“Daddy’s done everything, sleepy head mummy,” said Belle.

“And I took Bouncer for a walk,” said Amy, grinning.

“Thank you.  Thank you all for being wonderful and not actually being late.”

Ben kissed her on the forehead.  “You needed your sleep.”

“Too much going on in my poor brain, I suppose.”

“I hope you find Joe this morning,” said Ben, putting away the cereal and milk.

Lucy felt her stomach tighten.  “So do I.”

“On a brighter note, maybe Eva and Barbara have resigned.  I expect Betty will too, if that’s the case,” said Ben.

“Nice thought.”

Having made sure the girls had everything they needed, Lucy waved them and Ben off.  Then left for the place of fear, with a smidgen of hope.

 

Clocking in successfully on the third attempt, Lucy started setting up the Creche.  It was hard to concentrate.  It would be great if Joe had rattled the Coven enough that they left in a huff.  But could he have upset them too much?

Surely the Coven wouldn’t really do anything to him, would they?

Lucy hastily put out the toy farm, some dolls and prams, and a table of wooden puzzles, hoping to appear normal.  She didn’t want anyone to think she was completely crazy: there was enough of that sort of malarkey going around already.  But she was desperate to hear Joe had shown up safe and sound.

Nine o’clock.  Someone should be in Reception.

The woman with the severe grey hair was now behind the counter.  Lucy went over. “Hi.”

“Hello, Lucy, how are you?”

“Okay, thanks.  Is Joe in?”

The receptionist looked behind her through to the general office.  “I haven’t seen him.”

“No matter.  I’ll try and catch him later.”

Lucy saw Steve, but quickly turned away.  She hadn’t come face-to-face with him since he'd walked out on their meeting.

Just then, she saw Barbara arrive with Maya, deep in conversation.  Lucy’s stomach lurched.  At least she knew, to her disappointment, Barbara hadn’t resigned. 

Accepting she wouldn’t be able to learn anything more about Joe until lunchtime, Lucy forced herself to concentrate on preparing the Creche for the morning’s session.

But it wasn’t long before Pam whirled in.  “William’s here.  He wants us all together in the bar in five minutes.  He’s going to make an announcement.” 

Lucy felt an urgent need for a bottle of antacid.  “Okay.  Let’s finish setting up, then we’ll all go together.”

Ayesha stepped closer to Lucy.  “What do you reckon, Luce?  There sure has been some funny things going on around here lately.”

“You’re not kidding.”

“Two of them not turning up yesterday said to me they didn’t like what Joe told them.  Are Betty and Eva rostered off today?”

“They are.”

Lucy’s head felt like it had a tight band around it.  She wasn’t sure whether to tell Ayesha what was on her mind...

“Ayesha,” she whispered.  “Did you know Joe didn’t turn up for work yesterday, late shift?”

Ayesha turned to Lucy, brown eyes wide.  “After...?”

Lucy nodded and bit her lip.

“Come on,” said Pam.  “Let’s go to the bar now.”

 

Staff from the cafe, gym, Reception, the Jungle Gym, plus private exercise class instructors were sitting or standing around the bar.  William Sumner was leaning against the counter facing the room.  A cleaner rushed in last.

Lucy looked around and saw that Steve and the two buildings supervisors on duty were looking serious.  Holly and the receptionist looked upset.    Lucy felt fear like a lead weight inside her.

William stood up straight, albeit with his hands in the trouser pockets of his grey suit.  The murmur of voices ebbed away.

“I’m afraid I have some very sad news for you all,” said William.

Lucy’s eyes stung with tears.  She knew what was coming.  Surely, this meant one of the Coven was a murderer...

William cleared his throat. “I was informed this morning that Joe Chen passed away yesterday.  The Centre will be closed today as a mark of respect.  We have put a sign on the front door to inform customers but hope to get the information out on various media shortly, too.”

A fitness instructor called out.  “How did he die?”

A member of the cafe also had a question.  “Where did he die?  It wasn’t in this place again, was it?”

“As I understand it, he had a fatal accident riding his bike to work,” said William.  “I don’t know any more details.”

I bet I bloody well know more.  Tears trickled down Lucy’s cheeks, but she didn’t sob.  She wasn’t only sad; she was angry and frightened.  Coincidences don’t stretch this far.

William spoke again.  “We have two police liaison officers for any of you who need to talk about your feelings.  I understand this is difficult for everyone, and a shock.  If you need to discuss things, please come to the office.”

William suggested people leave via the cafe patio if they wished to avoid any customers arriving.  He would stay and keep an eye on the front entrance in case he was needed.

 

Lucy, Ayesha and Pam hugged briefly, then left for home.

Ben was the first person Lucy messaged, then the Centre Investigators.

Lucy:           

Joe is dead.  Fatal accident on his bike yesterday afternoon coming to work.

Wendy:       

I am so sorry to hear that.

Lucy:           

Thank you.

Lawrence:   

I don’t believe this is a coincidence.

George:       

Nor do I. 

Carl:            

What?!  Did they tell you at work?  I haven’t been in.

Lucy:           

Yes.  LC closed for the rest of the day.

Carlos:         

This is dreadful.  Were there any witnesses?

Lucy:           

Not that I’ve heard of.  I know it seems unreal, but I think someone did it.  Or am I overreacting?

Pablo:           

No, not overreacting.  This is very sad news for you, Lucy and Carl.

Lawrence:   

Do you want to meet to discuss it?

Lucy:           

Yes.  Soon.  My head’s spinning.

Carl:              

I would like to talk about it.  To people who know what’s on my mind, including my suspicions.

Lawrence:   

Makes sense.  Cartwheel tonight, 8pm, any good?

 

Once the meetup had been agreed, Lawrence went into George’s office.  “If those women did kill Joe, do you think Lucy’s in danger?”

“If they did, then yes, I do.”

Lawrence perched his hip on the edge of George’s desk, frowning.  “I think we need to get Olivia and Angela to check if any of the Coven did have dealings with Karen.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 22

Board Meeting

 

 

“Jennifer, Patrick, my office,” Peter said, poking his head round the door to the main CID area.

When they arrived, Peter said, “Sit down.  Thinking heads on.  We’ve had three deaths and one near miss connected with that bloody leisure centre, and we haven’t made any of sense of it.  So we’re going back to the beginning.”

Peter picked up a black marker and wrote in the top left corner of his blank white board: 

Mike Crawshaw --> crushed throat

“Right, our first dead body.  He wasn’t strangled or stabbed or shot or bashed.  He appears to have killed himself.  But it wasn’t suicide.  He wouldn’t have done it without the LSD.  Either of you think he deliberately took the drug?”

Neither thought so.

“So someone put it in his drink or whatever, and he ended up dead.”

Peter drew another arrow to the word Murder.

“We’ll leave that one there for the minute...”

On the next line he wrote: Karen Twelvetrees --> Shoved/Skull

He sat on the corner of the desk.

“What do you reckon for this one?  Attempted murder or GBH?”

“Hmm,” Jennifer said.  “Can’t say without a motive, by definition.”

Patrick said, “If it is connected to the others, then it probably should be attempted murder.  But we don’t know if it’s connected or the intention.”

“Precisely,” said Peter.  “But we can rule out ‘Accident’”

He added “GBH/Attempted” to the board 

He started a third line: Dai Jones.

“He had a load of LSD in him, and witness reports say he suddenly leaped into the road.  The observant hairdresser said there was a woman on the other side of the road who caused him to do it.”

“Murder,” said Jennifer

Patrick said, “Given the LSD and Mike link, gotta be.”

Peter added more to the board:

Dai Jones --> LSD/Car --> Murder

On the next line he added: Joe Chen --> Bike/Neck --> Murder

“The forensics give us it all really,” said Peter.

Patrick asked, “Did the post-mortem show up any signs of LSD?”

“No.  So our only connection is --”

“That bloody Leisure Centre!” said Jennifer, grimacing.

“Quite.”  Peter perched on the corner of his desk.  “Anyway, who do we have by way of suspects?  Starting with Mike?”

“I’d forget the men from the Bridge Club for this,” said Jennifer, “because Mike left before them.  No motive for the Leisure Centre manager or his staff that evening.  My money’s on one of those bridge-playing creche women.”

“Same,” said Patrick.

“Me too,” said Peter.  “I’d put Maya at the top of the list, because of the potential love interest.  But Eva and Betty, too.  Spiteful.”

Jennifer nodded.  “Definitely.”

“Yup,” said Patrick.

Peter added --> Maya (Eva/Betty) to the board.

“Mind you,” said Patrick.  “Just supposing they were in it together... Perhaps they committed a murder for each other, so the killers wouldn’t have a real motive...”  He grinned at his colleagues.

“Patrick!  Don’t!” said Jennifer.  “My head’s spinning enough as it is.”

“Too right,” said Peter.  “Without bloody good forensic evidence, you’d never solve it!  Even if it could be possible.”

Peter smiled and shook his head.  “Right, for that, you can go and fetch the coffees.”

Once they were settled again, using Peter’s desk as a coffee table, complete with a small plate of biscuits, Peter said, “Let’s skip Karen for the minute.  Who do we think for Dai?”

Jennifer answered immediately.  “Maya.  Because of the reasoning behind her killing Mike, and the rumours Lachlan shared.”

“Agree,” said Patrick.  He helped himself to a biscuit.  “Unless it was part of the three-way murder/favours plot.”

“Oh my God,” said Peter.

He stood up and put --> Maya on the board.

“Any ideas for Joe?”

Pressing her lips together, Jennifer frowned.  “Hmm...  Out of the three already under suspicion, I’d say Eva, because of how strongly she feels about her daughter being sacked.  Mothers protecting their cubs and all that.”

The two men nodded.  Peter wrote on the board: --> Eva.

“So, given only those same three wretched women, plus Eva’s daughter Helen, came up in Karen’s records...  But Eva has an alibi for Karen -- the Jungle Gym staff meeting -- and not forgetting the mysterious blonde on the CCTV... who do we think for our lady solicitor in the changing rooms?”

After a silence, Jennifer spoke.  “If Liam was telling the truth about liking Karen, we don’t have a motive for Maya.  We don’t have opportunity for Eva.  That just leaves complaining Helen or Betty, who was annoyed about her divorce settlement.”

Patrick said.  “It could have been either, dressed up as the blonde.”

“Bugger,” said Jennifer.

Peter turned back to the board and added along Karen’s line: --> Helen/Betty.

He took a step back and studied what he’d written.  “We’ve ordered our thoughts and narrowed some of it down... a tiny bit. Huh.  More interviews, methinks.  Photo the board.  Make it your lock screen.  We have to crack this.”

Then Peter looked at Patrick.  "And yes, either of them could have been dressed up as the blonde.  You've got a good brain behind that baby face, haven't you?"

 

 

CHAPTER 23

Delving Deeper

 

 

In the clean bay-fronted room with its Victorian fireplace and ornate ceiling, George leant his long hands flat on the large wooden desk Olivia and Angela shared and grinned.  “Ladies.  How are we today?”

Angela giggled.

Olivia rolled her eyes.  “We are fine, George.”

“Jolly good.  Because we need you to do a little job for us if you can, please -- go through Karen’s cases for the last few months and see if she had dealings with any of these people.”  George put a piece of notepaper on the desk, on which he’d written the names and addresses of all the Coven women, including Helen, plus Liam, being Maya’s son.  “They’re all local.  Thanks.  I’ve opened the relevant files on Karen’s computer.  Hasta la vista!”

“I think this calls for coffee and cake, don’t you Ange?” said Olivia.

“It would do if we had any cake.  We’ll probably have to make do with biscuits.”

“Okay.  You forage for food, and I’ll make the coffee.”

The two young women went to Karen's comfortable office and sat either side of the desk, Olivia at the keyboard, Angela with a notebook and pen.

“I’ve found a Liam Collins from a couple of weeks ago,” said Olivia, her eyes continuing to scan the screen.  “Yes, arrested.  His mother, Maya, sat in on the interview with him...  He was found in possession of cannabis and LSD.”

Angela asked, “Personal use or like a dealer?”

“It seems the police said he had enough so that they could do him on ‘intent to supply’, but if he told them who he got it from, blah, blah.  Karen advised him to tell them and said she hoped to get it down to just possession...  Seems he was scared.”

Angela noted and nibbled, while Olivia sipped and scanned.  “Says here his mother phoned Karen to make sure he didn’t get done for dealing, and to tell the police he’s too scared to give any names.  He’s only sixteen.”

“Do the notes imply the mother was threatening about it?" asked Angela.

Olivia read some more.  ”Doesn't read that way.  Just a mother scared for her son, seems like."

Angela sipped her coffee and nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie.

“Oh, here’s mention of that Mrs Ayamwright," said Olivia.  "It refers to an ongoing case.  Divorce settlement.  She seems to have been giving Karen a hard time because she thinks she’s owed more from her husband.  Sounds a greedy bitch.”

Angela wrote, Olivia sipped and nibbled.

Going further back in time through the records, Olivia stopped.  “Ah.  What was the surname of that Eva person?”

Angela checked George’s writing.  “Idle.”  She giggled.  “I wonder if she is.”

Olivia gave her friend a confused look, then chuckled.  “Yes, probably.  Anyway, she wasn’t too idle to phone Karen on this day to try to persuade her to do one of two things for her daughter...”

“Oh, I remember her,” said Angela, rolling her eyes.   “Had to take a message when Karen was out.  Yeah, I got a tongue lashing.  Thought her daughter should be able to sue a couple of people?  What was her daughter’s name?"  She consulted the list again.  "Helen.  Hellish Helen, and the idle mother and daughter double act."

Olivia chuckled.  “Yes.  Hellishly idle, I'd say.  The daughter.  Seems she was booted out of the creche she worked in and wanted to sue for wrongful dismissal.  Only the contract was for the whole Leisure Centre, and wasn’t terminated.  Just one of those zero hours things, so Helen could have worked in one of the other departments... theoretically.”

“So, not technically wrongful dismissal then, Ollie?”

“Correct.  Seems neither mother nor daughter were very happy with that, so they wanted to sue the supervisor of the creche who stopped giving Helen shifts.  You can see why some people are so against those sorts of contracts, can’t you?”

Angela asked, “And what did Karen say to that – No, I’m guessing.”

“Correct.”

“So mumsy and daughter are not happy bunnies?”

Olivia was still reading notes from the screen.  “Not at all happy bunnies!  The mother told Karen to fuck off!”

Angela had trouble keeping the coffee she’d just sipped in her mouth.

Olivia laughed too.  “Some people just won’t accept no for an answer.”

She found nothing more going back four months, except the start of the cases.  Angela took her notes to George.

 

***

 

With Jennifer driving, she and Peter went to speak to the women under the most suspicion, according to the whiteboard in Peter Van Niessan’s office.  First port of call was Eva Idle’s house.

Mr Idle wasn’t in this time.  Eva didn’t offer the coffee that Peter could smell – such a lovely rich aroma, slightly nutty.  In fact, apart from “Hello” she said nothing as she walked ahead of them to the lounge and sat down.

Her features seemed pinched as she looked at Peter.  “Is this about Joe Chen?”

“Partly,” said Peter, sitting.  “What have you heard?”

“Barbara phoned me and said he was dead.  Fell off his bike.  They’ve shut the Leisure Centre.”

Peter leant his forearms on his knees.  “Mr Chen was forced off his bike and his neck broken.  You wouldn’t happen to know who might have done such a thing, would you?”

“Me?  No.  No idea!”  Eva’s voice sounded a little shrill.  “And I don’t know who killed or drugged Mike Crawshaw either.  Why are you asking me?”

Peter gave her a half smile.  “We have many people to speak to and we had to start somewhere...  What can you tell me about Joe, Eva?”

“Not much.  He hasn’t been there long.”

“Working at the Leisure Centre?”

“Yes.  That’s the only place I know him from, but I usually deal with Steve.  Joe came to one staff meeting we had in the Creche, and he came to talk to some of us at the end of our shift on Tuesday but that’s about all, really.”

“What was your impression of him?  Did you like him?”

Eva fiddled with her fingers in her lap.  “I don’t know.  He was alright, I suppose.  But he was higher up than Steve, and you could feel it.  He wasn’t so friendly.”

“What did Joe want to talk to you about on Tuesday?”

“It wasn’t only me.  He spoke to most of us.  He said there’d been a letter of complaint from some customers about how Lucy runs the creche.  The letter said they wanted it to go back to how it was when Betty was in charge.  And they wanted Helen reinstated.”

“Was it just a matter of keeping you all updated, or did he ask you to help in some way?”

“Well, I suppose he was just telling us about the letter.  He probably wanted me to know that Helen could be coming back, that people wanted her back.  It’s nice to hear that about your daughter.”  Peter felt there was something off about Eva’s smile, as if she were exaggerating what Joe had said.

Nothing more transpired that felt of use to the officers so they moved on to Betty.

 

“Mrs Ayamwright, have you heard about the death of Joe Chen?” asked Peter.

“Yes, I have.  So sad.  He wasn’t very old.  Just goes to show you never know...”

“It wasn’t an accident, according to the forensics team.  Someone deliberately caused his front wheel to whip sideways, so he fell into the ditch and his neck was broken.”  Peter watched Betty for her reaction.

“No!  No... that’s dreadful!  Who would do a thing like that?”  Betty was wide-eyed.

Jennifer jumped in.  “Who do you think, Betty?”

Betty looked at the detective sergeant and blinked.  “Who do I think...?  Why are you asking me?”

Peter was quick to step in next.  “We think it could be work related.”

Betty looked at Peter, slightly open-mouthed, blinking again.

Jennifer again: “Was he liked at work?”

The quick-fire questioning seemed to have the desired effect on Betty of denying her time to think, but she didn’t give any quick answers.

She blinked and licked her lips.  “Well, I don’t know who had many dealings with him.  People like Steve and Holly, I suppose.”

“Which one is Holly?” asked Jennifer.

“She’s supposed to be William Sumner’s PA, but of course he’s rarely there... she’s the admin woman.”

“He sat in on one of the creche staff meetings, I believe,” Peter said.

“That’s right, he did.  Steve usually comes, but the last meeting we had, he brought Joe – to get to learn about us and what we do.”

Jennifer asked, “Did he talk much in the meeting, or just observe?”  

“He took over.  We were going through the minutes, and Steve asked if we all agreed with them.  We didn’t.”

“Why?” asked Peter.

Betty explained how Eva was concerned about the accuracy of who was present and who had sent apologies.  Peter felt Betty realised how petty Eva’s complaint was; and she continued to look uneasy as she tried to explain about the discussion of herself wanting to work Mondays -- which led to explaining the history of the merging of the two creches, and who was supervisor when.  By the end of the tale, Betty’s eyes were aimed anywhere other than at Peter or Jennifer.

Although she looked up as she said, “Eva and Barbara were keen to make sure Joe knew how much they wanted Helen back, to work in the creche.  It would be nice for Eva to have both her daughters working with her again.”

Peter nodded.  “I understand Joe spoke to the Creche staff at the end of Tuesday morning’s shift?”

“Yes, most of us.  Lucy wasn’t there.  She was supposed to have been.  But some customers had written a letter of complaint about her.”  Betty cleared her throat genteelly.  “They said they wanted it to go back to how it was when I was in charge.”

“And they wanted Helen to return to work, is that right?” asked Peter.

“So I understand.”

“From whom?” asked Peter.

“Well, er, from Joe.  He told us about the letter.”

Betty didn’t have much more to say about Joe, and as for Karen, she kept to her line about being merely disappointed she could not get her a better divorce settlement, without displaying bitterness.

“Dai had LSD in his body, probably causing him to be so careless jumping into the road,” said Peter.  “Did you know Dai took LSD?”

“I read he had taken some.  But it was as much a surprise to me as it was when I learned about Mike taking it.”

“A witness thought Dai went into the road to go to a woman on the other side.  Would you know who that might have been, Betty?”

“A woman?  I can’t imagine.  Dai was married, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Peter.  “But we’re not suggesting it was some kind of triste.  Just that a woman was seen who may have waved or beckoned him.”

“Oh, yes, I see.”

Jennifer asked, “Why did you think it might have been some kind of romantic interest, Betty?”

The calm and proper Mrs Ayamwright blushed just a little.  “I... I, er, don’t know...  Well, Lachlan thought Mike might have been having an affair with Maya.  He thought that may have been behind Mike’s death.  Mike wanted to end it, or something.  I suppose that’s why I thought...”

“Do you think Mike was having an affair with Maya?” said Jennifer.

“I hadn’t thought so.  Not until Lachlan messaged some of us to ask if we thought that was the case.  Now I’m not so sure...”  Betty looked demure as she lowered her eyes.  “I think perhaps she did and... what with her son being in trouble for possession of LSD...”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 24

It Wasn’t Me

 

“Oh, it’s you,” Maya greeted Peter and Jennifer, immediately turning away and heading to the front room.  “Come in.”

Maya was still an attractive woman, but her hair was unkempt, and she had shadows under her eyes.  She was in a less pleasant mood than during her last interview. 

“How’s your mother, Maya?” Jennifer asked.

Maya looked back with a weak smile.  “She’s out of danger now, thank God.  But she’s still in a bad way.  Left side of her body is partially paralysed, and her speech is slurred.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  It can take a long time to fully recover from a stroke.”

“Thank you.”  Maya plopped down in the armchair next to the window and let out a heavy breath.  “Do you want to talk to me or Liam?”

“Both, ideally,” said Peter.  “Is Liam in?”

“He’s in his room.”

“Don’t bother him just now.  You’ve heard about Joe Chen?”

“Yes.  I’ve been back at work the last couple of days.” Maya rubbed her temples.  “Except work was cancelled today.”

“Who do you think forced Joe off his bike, Maya?”

“Forced him off?  Wasn’t it an accident?”

“Forensics say no.  It was deliberate.  Who would do that to him?”

Maya frowned and shrugged.  “No idea.  He hasn’t been at the Leisure Centre long.  I doubt it was anything to do with that.”

“Of course, it’s just one avenue of investigation.  But we’ve found nothing elsewhere...”

Maya sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.  “I can’t really wrap my head round guessing games at the moment.  I’m worried about my mum, and the effect it’s having on my dad.  I’ve got to get back to the hospital soon.  Then I’ve got this charge of Liam’s hanging over us...”

Jennifer leaned forward, displaying some genuine sympathy.  “We’ll be out of your hair soon.  But we need to know if there was anyone at work who had it in for Joe.  Did he piss anyone off?”

“He pissed me off on Tuesday.  He came to talk to us one by one.  Pretty much accused us of making some customers write and complain about Lucy.  She is a rubbish supervisor. Betty was better, but I didn’t have anything to do with the bloody letter.”

Peter asked, “Do you think any of the other women might have encouraged the customers to write the letter?  Betty maybe, because she wants to go back to being supervisor?  Or Eva or Barbara in the hope of getting Helen her job back?”

“Well...”  Maya ran a hand through her hair.  “They might have given people ideas.  Betty does regret giving up being supervisor.  Eva wants Helen back.  Barbara does too, although she used to complain about her laziness.”

Peter said, “Someone got annoyed about Joe having a go about that letter, didn’t they?  Who was it?”

Maya shot him a sharp look.  “None of us liked it, being accused like that!  I didn’t write the letter.”

Peter persisted.  “Did you force Joe off his bike, Maya?”

“No, I did not.  I’ve got enough going on.”

“Was it Eva?”

“I don’t know.  She hated him for some of the things he said, about the letter and at the last staff meeting.”

Peter and Jennifer exchanged a glance but kept quiet.

Maya flopped her head against the back of the armchair.  “Could have been Barbara just as easily.  She’s quick to lose her temper, and she didn’t like him having a go at her or upsetting her mum.  Maybe it was Helen, even, especially if she was drunk or high.”

The silence hung in the air a little longer, until Jennifer quietly said, “Was it something you could imagine Betty doing?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Probably less likely.  Although she does seethe, at a deeper level.  She’ll moan but doesn’t go on about Lucy in the same way.  She’s more likely to have a go at Lucy herself, y’know, like keep asking her about working Mondays. She holds a grudge, Betty, but is... a bit cleverer, maybe.  Eva and Barbara are whingers.”

“I hear Betty was very upset about not getting the divorce settlement she thinks she’s due,” said Jennifer.  “Has she told you much about that?”

“She’s mentioned it.  We know she’s not happy.  But she can keep it inside too.  Can’t always tell what she’s thinking.”

“Did she blame her solicitor?”

“I suppose so.”

“What about Helen wanting to sue Lucy?” asked Peter.  “I gather Eva contacted the solicitor to plead her daughter’s case, too.”

“Yeah.  They thought Helen could sue for wrongful dismissal but were told not.  So they tried to sue Lucy.  Their solicitor refused to help them with that too.  I think they’re going to try another firm.”

It struck Peter that Maya didn’t say Betty’s solicitor also represented Helen.  He glanced at Jennifer, whose frown and glance back at him suggested she’d noticed too.

Peter said, “Betty didn’t recommend her solicitor to Helen or Eva, or vice versa?  Or to you for that matter, over Liam’s case?”

“Liam was represented by the solicitor on duty at the time.  I don’t know who Betty or Helen used.”

After another short silence, Peter said in a low voice.  “Were you having an affair with Mike Crawshaw?”

“What?  No.  I think we might have, but, well... he was married.  So am I.”  Maya turned her head and looked through the window.

After a moment Peter asked, “Did you phone Dai Jones on the morning he died?”

Maya shot her gaze back to the Detective Inspector, a deep frown between her brows.  “No.  Why?”

“Apparently a woman did.  The phone signal was picked up somewhere near the Leisure Centre.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“Any idea who it might have been?  Someone from the Bridge Club maybe?”

“I suppose it could have been Betty or Eva.  They met up at the cafe by the bowling green with some others, didn’t they?  I couldn’t go because of my mum.”

Peter felt Maya was too distracted and he’d hit a dead end with her for the time being.

He asked to speak to Liam.

Liam still wasn’t giving a name for whom he bought his drugs from, just a description and the name of the pub.  He agreed Helen had told him where to go, but said no names were ever mentioned.

“Have you ever given or sold any to anyone else?” Peter whispered to Liam.

“Just shared --”

“He only got it for himself,” his mother said.  “He wasn’t dealing.  And I don’t think you should be questioning him about it without a solicitor present,” said Maya.

Time to go.

***

 

There was no answer at Helen’s flat, so they moved on to Barbara’s, a typical semi-detached for the area.  Helen was there with Barbara, so it was a case of killing two birds with one stone, even if they would’ve preferred to do them one at a time.  Barbara had two young children at home, but their dad took them to the back room.

Peter began the questions.  “I understand you know about the murder of Joe Chen?”

“Murder?” both sisters answered simultaneously.

“Yes, forensics were able to show that someone deliberately forced his front wheel to make him fall into the ditch.  Who do you think did it?”

“Why should we know?” whined Helen.

“We’re asking people connected to the Leisure Centre.  He spoke to you, Barbara, on Tuesday, didn’t he?  About a letter of complaint regarding Lucy?”

Helen said, “Someone should complain about Lucy.  I heard it was some customers.”

“It seems,” Peter said, “they complained because some of the creche women persuaded them to.  And Joe wasn’t very pleased about it.”

Barbara said, “He was a right sod about it.  If we don’t like Lucy, then it’s her fault not ours.  She should take Helen back and let Betty work Mondays.”

“She’s too strict,” added Helen.

“Who could have been angry enough with Joe to force him off his bike?  The biggest motive seems to lie with you ladies.”

“Well, it wasn’t me or mum!  Must’ve been Maya or Betty if it was one of us who Joe had a go at,” said Barbara

If it was any of us, it must have been Maya or Betty.  Mum wouldn’t attack anyone,” said Barbara.

Jennifer shifted the topic to Karen, the solicitor who had her skull fractured in the changing rooms at the Centre.  “Helen, I gather you were angry with Karen Twelvetrees because she wouldn’t represent you in a wrongful dismissal case, or in a suit against Lucy, is that correct?”

Helen rolled her eyes.  “Yes.  She said I would lose, both.  I bet some top lawyer from London wouldn’t say that.”

“And your mum phoned her and try to persuade her to help you?”

“Yes.  She’s my mum.  Of course she’d try to get Karen to change her mind.”

“She’s lucky I didn’t phone her,” said Barbara, sneering.

“Which one of you attacked her?” asked Peter.

“What?!” screeched Barbara.

“Don’t be mad,” said Helen.  “Who’d risk attacking a lawyer?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” said Peter.

The two sisters looked at each other, frowning, mouths puckered.

“Fuck knows,” said Helen.

Jennifer asked, “Was Maya having an affair with Mike Crawshaw?”

Helen looked at Barbara, who shrugged and said, “I don’t think she went there, what with both of them being married.  I think she fancied him.  Even mum and Betty said he was good looking and a nice bloke.  And I got the impression he liked her too... or “had a sweet spot” for her, as Betty put it.  But I don’t think so...”

“No, I don’t think she’d have wanted the hassle,” said Helen.

 

***

 

Peter had spoken that morning to William Sumner, Head of Wallyborough Council’s Sports and Leisure Department, to inform him of Joe’s death.  Joe had been his second in command at the Leisure Centre.  As Steve Balls was the next in line of command at the Centre, Peter felt they ought to interview him again.

With the Leisure Centre closed, they went to Steve’s house, a solid semi in a respectable road.

Peter was used to observing people’s body language.  He felt Steve was a little nervous, but nothing about his manner screamed ‘violent criminal’.

“I gather Joe was due on duty yesterday afternoon, is that correct?”

Steve shifted his position, ending sitting just how he was two seconds ago.  “Yes, that’s right.  He was due to work from four until the place emptied for the night.”

Peter asked, “When was Joe last in, and when did you see him?”

“I was in on the early, and Joe was in at nine.  I had this problem with the creche supervisor that took up quite a bit of my time.  Some customers had sent a letter of complaint about her.  She made a bit of a fuss... she does everything by the book and all that.  So I kept away from the office and that end of the building afterwards...  Did some maintenance checks and so on.  I didn’t really talk to Joe.  He was still on shift when I went home.”

“You didn’t talk about the complaint against the Creche Supervisor with Joe?”

Steve looked away.  “No.”

“Did you talk to him the next day, yesterday?”  

Steve gazed out the window.  “Not really.  There was an email from him yesterday morning, about the Creche.”

Peter gave Steve a moment to continue, but when he didn’t, he said, “Go on.”

“It was about the letter.”

“Oh?”

Steve frowned and pressed his lips into a hard line.  “Look, can I get you two a drink.  I need a glass of water.  Is that alright?”

Peter nodded.  “Water’s fine, thanks.”

“Same, thanks,” said Jennifer.

Peter wandered into the hall, next to the kitchen, and came back just ahead of Steve.

Steve returned to the room with three glasses of water; the coolness showing in the condensation on the tumblers.  “Here we go.  Nice and cold from the fridge.”

He sat down again, composed himself and took a deep breath.

“You were telling us about the Creche problem,” said Peter.

“Yes.”

“What did Joe’s email say?”

“Well, it seems that after Lucy and I had words, she went and told Joe.  He seemed to take Lucy’s side and went and spoke to the women.  In other words, he undermined all the work I’d done over the past few months to try to smooth things out...”

So that was it.  Joe put Steve’s nose out of joint.

A short while later, Peter and Jennifer left.  Getting in the car Jennifer said, “Do you think Steve’s put down by Joe made him want to force him off his bike?”

Peter gave her a wry smile.  “Maybe he felt it too emasculating.”

 

 

CHAPTER 25

Wicked Little Letter

 

 

Eva returned to work in the Creche the following Monday, and Betty on the Tuesday.

“Happy birthday, Betty.” Maya held out a beautiful bunch of flowers to her friend.

Eva presented Betty with a neatly wrapped cube. “Happy birthday. This is from me and Barbara and Helen.”

“Oh, this is so lovely. Thank you.”

Lucy felt a knot in her stomach but forced a smile on her lips. “For you, Betty. Happy birthday.”  She handed over a gift bag containing some bath products and a card.

“Oh, thank you, Lucy.”

Just doing my supervisor’s duty.

At 12.15 Maya came over to Lucy. “You’ve remembered we’re going to the beauty rooms now?”

“Yes. Have a lovely time, ladies.”  Lucy felt genuinely pleased.  Pleased they were going.

Is one of them really a murderer?

 

After lunch, Lucy supervised a Bounce and Balance session for the under-fives and their parents.  Needing some cleaning supplies she headed to the outside changing rooms where they were stored.  As she passed the bar, she saw Betty continuing her birthday bash.  Helen had joined them.  Lucy’s insides tightened.  She hated to see the Coven all together, sat round a circular table, cackling.

No doubt casting evil spells on me.  But maybe I’m safer when they’re all together.

***

When Lucy unlocked the Creche door the following morning, she found a white envelope on the floor, “Lucy” printed on the label.

Oh, let this be a party invite or something nice.

She picked it up, saw it was unsealed, and tipped out a single folded sheet onto her desk.  She straightened it out and felt like she’d been kicked in the guts.  Her head spun, she felt sick and dizzy.  The words on the paper were made of colourful cut out printed letters.  They read:

 

You will be gone soon

 Forever

 

When Lucy unfroze, her options flew through her mind: go to the office, call the police, run out and go home. 

She wanted to scream and scream until all the fear and anxiety of these past months had drained from her body.

Then she started to shake. 

She pulled her phone from her bag and called Ben.  Damn!  Voice mail!  Probably on his way to work.  “Call me straightaway”.

Her immediate thought was that the letter was from someone in the Coven...  The CCTV!

Having rushed to the office, she found Steve was working at this desk.  He would have to do. 

“Steve?” 

He looked up.  No smile. 

Lucy felt icy inside.  “There’s something you need to see, and then we have to look at the CCTV again.” 

The usual impatience swept across Steve’s face, but then it formed itself into a more uneasy expression. 

“What is it, Lucy?” 

She held the envelope out towards him, her hand trembling.

Frowning, Steve looked at it, then reached out to take it, but Lucy snatched it away.  “Wait!  Better put gloves on.  It’s already got my fingerprints and DNA on it, better not add yours.” 

His frown deepened as he looked her in the eye.  He stood up and fetched the first aid box and put on a pair of gloves, then took a clean sheet of A3 paper from the printer and put it on his desk, moving other items aside. 

“Right, I’ll open it on this.” 

He took out the folded page, placed the envelope on the clean sheet, and gently opened the letter.  Lucy’s heart was hammering as she watched Steve stare at the evil message in those mockingly jaunty letters.

She half expected him to accuse her of making it herself.  But he didn’t.

“Right,” he whispered.  “Have you called the police yet?” 

“No.  I only just found it.” 

“I’ll call them. They’ll want to take this.”  Steve nodded at the letter held between finger and thumb as if it were contaminated.  He put it on the piece of paper with the envelope.

He used the landline with the local police station programmed in.

“Good morning.  This is Steve Balls, manager at the Leisure Centre.  Could I speak to DI Van Niessan or Jennifer Sterling, please?”

There was a pause.  Lucy held her finger between her front teeth.

“Seargent Sterling…”

Listening while Steve explained the situation, Lucy wished she could just run away.  Her body was sending her flight signals.

Just as he put the receiver back, Holly came in and walked over to her desk. 

“Holly,” Steve said in a hushed tone.  “Can you get me a large clean envelope, please?” 

She looked across with her head bowed, seeming to understand something serious was going on. She took a large white envelope and brought it over. 

“Thank you.  Look at this,” Steve murmured.  “Not for general knowledge.  I’ve called the police.” 

Holly and Lucy made eye contact. Lucy nodded and felt the pressure of tears behind her eyes threatening to overflow. She hadn’t expected anything like this. Even though she’d feared a physical attack, like Karen and Joe.

Steve carefully put both the letter and the smaller envelope into the larger one, placed it in a desk drawer and locked it. 

As if fate were watching and had helped keep their secret, chatter was heard out in reception, and two burly members of staff came in. 

“Morning, Steve.”

“Hi. Alright?” Steve said in his normal tone.

Holly turned and walked back to her desk.

Lucy took the chair at the desk next to Steve’s and turned on the computer. I hope I look normal. 

She couldn’t stop her right leg jigging and felt sure she looked flushed.

There was no way she would go back into the Creche, even if the files and diary remained in the locked cupboard, and no play equipment was out.  Lucy was keeping well away.

She looked at Steve.  He was staring at his computer screen but didn’t seem to be reading anything on it. 

Trying to speak, Lucy only managed an odd little cough.  Steve turned to look at her, all the resentment she had seen so much of lately gone from his expression.

“Are you okay?” 

Lucy found it hard work holding back the tears.  “No,” she murmured.  “Will you… will you deal with the women when they come in?  Don’t let them near me, please.” 

“Of course. You don’t have to have anything to do with them.”  Steve’s face was gentle, his voice subdued.  “Why don’t you go into William’s office?  Shut the door.  I’ll get you a coffee.  Latte?” 

“Thank you.”  She picked up her bag and traipsed to William’s office, shutting the door behind her. She sat in an easy chair, clear of view from the small window in the door, and the tears let themselves out. 

She called Ben again.

“The person you have called is unavailable right now.  Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Bugger.”

“Beep.”

“Ben, they’ve sent me a threatening letter at work now.  Anonymous.  Steve called the police.  I need you.  Please get here as soon as you can.  Thanks.”

Lucy sat, right leg still jigging, and stared out the window, at the pretty little planted area beyond, crying steadily but quietly.  Ben phoned. “I’m on my way.  I’ll be there in ten or fifteen minutes.” 

Lucy’s voice was quiet, drained.  “Thank you.” 

“I love you,” Ben reminded her. 

 

Steve brought in the latte with some sugar and biscuits.  “Give your blood sugar a boost.”  His gentle smile reminded Lucy of how he used to act towards her before the Coven’s campaign became so intense.

He went back out to the general office.

DS Jennifer Sterling attended with Patrick O'Shay.  Lucy leant forward and saw through the door window the letter being put into an evidence bag, and Steve speaking to them. 

Ben arrived just after the police, and all he and Lucy had time for was a quick hug, but it was enough to help Lucy’s trembling reduce. 

“I’ll wait for you in the cafe, love.  Call me when you’re finished, and I’ll come back for you.” 

“Thank you.”

Jennifer and Patrick sat at the coffee table, and Lucy resumed her seat opposite.  This feels so unreal.

“Can you tell us in your own words what happened?” said Jennifer. 

When Lucy finished recounting events, she hesitated. 

“Is there something you want to add, Lucy?  Any thoughts... even if you’re not sure they’re relevant...?” 

Lucy looked out at the little garden again as she tried to form the words in a sensible order. A group of red and white geraniums looked bright and cheerful.  There is still beauty and normality in the world outside this damn building. 

Drawing a strengthening breath, she said.  “I think I know who sent this letter.” 

She explained about the Creche Coven, how ill their bullying had made her, and how at first Steve had been supportive, then seemed to change his mind.  How Joe had intervened and spoken to the frightful four.

“And the next day he mysteriously crashes off his bike and dies.”

Then she pointed out the possibility that one of the women had confused Karen Twelvetrees, the attacked solicitor, with her sister, Karen.  “Twelvetrees is my married name, but people often keep their original name these days.  I’ve mentioned my sister in the Creche – You know, Karen said she could babysit…”

Jennifer nodded.

“They’ve made me afraid, psychologically, for months. But since there have been two physical attacks that can be linked to me, however, tenuously... I’m scared.  Can you speak to Lawrence Eagle about it all, the solicitor.  Long story, but he has notes about all the coincidences and stuff. He’s very methodical.  He may be able to help you. Well, it would help me. Then I’ll know you have the whole story.”

“I know Lawrence vaguely.  I’ll contact him, and Acting DC O’Shay can check what Steve’s found on the CCTV footage.  Back in a minute.”

“Thank you. Can I call my husband to come in now? He’s just in the cafe.” 

“Yes, certainly. I’m sure you’ll feel better having him with you.” 

Lucy messaged Ben to come back.  He arrived just moments before Jennifer returned. 

“Lucy,” she said. “Do you remember when you looked on the CCTV to identify the unconscious person in the changing rooms?”

Lucy frowned. “Yes.” 

“And do you remember a blonde woman, pregnant, who was in the changing rooms at the same time as Karen?” 

Lucy reached out for Ben’s hand and clutched it tight. 

“Yes.” 

“It was the same woman who put the letter under the door.” 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 26

Watching by the Detectives

 

 

“That letter was for me,” said Lucy, her voice shrill.  “It literally had my name on it.  So, the woman who attacked Karen has it in for me.”  She clung on tightly to Ben’s arm.  “Is she going to bash me next?”

Ben hugged his wife.  “We won’t let her, Luce.  The police are on to them now.”

Lucy was trembling.  “It’s got to be the Coven.  They did my car window, my tyre.  They’ve bullied me until I couldn’t stand it.  They made Steve believe I’m useless.  It’s them.  They’re cruel, and callous... The same person who did Karen sent me that letter.   By motive, the same person killed Joe!”

As Ben held Lucy firmly, Jennifer leaned across the coffee table and spoke calmly.  “We’re going to find out who did this.  We’ll keep a close watch on you and them.”

Lucy delved into her bag for another tissue and wiped her eyes and nose.  She looked at Jennifer.  “I really believe whoever sent me that letter is a murderer.”

Jennifer’s frown and steady gaze convinced Lucy that she took her words seriously.  She phoned Patrick to come back in and join them.

Then she turned to Lucy. “When we last spoke to the women, and Steve, they all mentioned a letter of complaint from some customers, but it was never clear how this linked to Joe…”

Patrick returned from speaking to Steve in the general office and sat down.

“Steve said Joe had sided with you,” said Jennifer.  “But no one said Joe had threatened the women with disciplinary action --”

“Huh.  I told Steve he should tell them to do their jobs or go.  That he could sack them.  Bullying is gross misconduct.  He just walked out on me!”  Lucy finished with a shrug, hands out.

Jennifer nodded.  Patrick made a note.

Lucy said, “One of the customers who signed the letter saying Betty ran the Creche better than me didn’t even use it in those days.  Someone got her to sign.”

Patrick asked, “And you think Steve didn’t believe it, but Joe did?”

“Yes.  And I think that’s why Joe’s dead.  You need to find the one who dresses up in a blonde wig with a cushion up her front.”

After a pause, Jennifer asked, “Do you know why this person attacked Karen?”

“I know Karen’s had dealings with Betty and Helen, and her mum Eva.  And represented Maya’s son.  If Karen angered them, and they thought she was my sister…”

Jennifer exchanged glances with Patrick.  “Lucy, do you know anything about the man who died in the gym, Mike Crawshaw?”

“I don’t know anything about him.  But I know Eva, Maya and Betty go to the Bridge Club here.  They’re suspects for attacking Karen, so…  Connect the dots, as they say.”

“Tell me your thoughts about the daughters – Barbara and Helen.”

“They are horrible people, especially Helen.  Karen wouldn’t do what Helen wanted.  So the blonde, with her face conveniently not filmed because of her hair, and the fake pregnancy and waddle -- it could have been Helen.  And she was here yesterday.  Remember the letter…”  Lucy said, her voice rising.

“Helen was here?” asked Patrick, putting his hand out and making a calming gesture.

“Yes, it was Betty’s birthday, and she went with the other Coven members to the beauty rooms and then into the bar for lunch.  I saw her.”

“Okay,” said Jennifer.  “You’ve made it clearer.  Thanks.”  She looked at Ben.  “Are you taking Lucy home now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I think she’ll need you with her today, and when she goes out...  I would say it’s best Lucy doesn’t go anywhere on her own for the time being.”

“And we mustn’t let Amy walk Bouncer on her own anymore,” said Lucy.

“Is Amy your daughter?” asked Jennifer.

“Yes.  We have Amy and Belle.  Amy’s just nine, and she took the dog out by herself for the first time recently.”

“I would strongly suggest you don’t let your children out without an adult while this is going on,” said Jennifer.  “At least until we’ve completed our investigation.”

“I won’t let Lucy or the girls out without me or someone I trust,” said Ben.

Lucy squeezed Ben’s arm and smiled up at him.

Then she turned to Jennifer.  “There’s no way I’ll be working in the Creche, of course.  But if the investigation drags on, do you think it would be alright for me to do some shifts in the Jungle Gym or Bounce and Balance in the main hall, in the afternoons, when the Creche is closed?  I won’t let them drive me away from my job again.  I was signed off sick for four weeks because of them.”

“I don’t want you coming here if any of the Coven are doing shifts anywhere,” said Ben.

“Yes,” agreed Jennifer.  “I’d advise you not to work here at any time they are on the premises.  Remember, Karen only went into the changing rooms on her own.”

“Right.  Yeah.  I’ll be very careful if I do come in.  I just don’t want them to stop me working again, and I don’t want to hang around at home feeling afraid and bored.”

“Take the threat seriously, Lucy.”  Jennifer’s features were hard set as she made steady eye contact with the other woman.  “Be careful.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 27

Words With Witches

 

 

In the afternoon, Peter went with Jennifer to try their luck with the Coven.

“Where to first, sir?” asked Jennifer.

“I think we’ll try Helen.  We’ve got to start with who attacked Karen, looking for the pregnant blonde.  I just fancy Helen the most for that.”

“You don’t think it would be easier to try and get a confession for the lesser crime of the threatening letter?”

“Maybe.  But they might be savvy enough to realise about the cameras.  And besides, I have a cunning little plan.”

Peter was pleased when Helen buzzed open the front door.  He led the way up the stairs to her seedy flat two at a time, a smile on his face as he rapped on the door.

Helen opened it a crack and peered out.

“Mrs Earth, glad you’re in,” said Peter, briskly.  “We need a word.”

As soon as she opened the door enough, Peter strode in, with Jennifer close on his heels.  He sat down on the grubby sofa without waiting to be asked, and Jennifer followed suit.

He delved straight in with his questioning, in a strong, clear voice.  “What did you have against Lucy’s sister?”

“Have you met Lucy?”

“Yes.  And you met her sister.”

“Well… yes.  I used her as a solicitor.”

“And she didn’t do what you wanted.  So you attacked her.”

Helen swung her gaze up to meet Peter’s, her head jutted forward.

“What?  That wasn’t me!”

“Well, who was it then?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Apart from being a Twelvetrees, why did you hate her?  You thought you should be able to sue the Leisure Centre?  You thought Lucy deserved to pay for chucking you out?”

Helen’s jaw sagged, and she stared at Peter wide-eyed.

“That’s what I went to see her about, yes.  And I was fucking annoyed when she said I didn’t have a case because of that stupid contract.  Lucy wasn’t going to let me work again, in the Jungle Gym or anywhere else.  She’s in charge of it all, you know.  She owes me.”

“So you thought you’d bash her sister?  What was your intention?  Just to crack her skull open or to kill her?  You hit her very hard!”

“It wasn’t me!  I didn’t do it, and I don’t know who did.  Honestly.”  Helen’s wide, eagle-like eyes were filling with tears.

Peter stood up, followed straightaway by Jennifer.

He looked into Helen’s moist eyes.  “I’m going to get to the bottom of this, mark my words.”

And with that he turned and stomped out, Jennifer in his wake.

Back in the car, Jennifer said, “You do know Karen isn’t Lucy’s sister, don’t you?”

“Yup.  But I wanted to see if Helen knew.  She doesn’t.  Doubles her motive.”

“Your cunning little plan.  Good one.  She certainly looked under pressure this time.”

“Right, let’s whizz round to Barabara’s, before they have time to discuss it.”

Jennifer drove them to the next interview within four minutes.  Peter marched into the typical semi with the same attitude he’d used at Helen’s flat.

Two little children had followed their mother into the hall, and as he marched past Barbara, he gave them a big grin and stuck out his tongue, while the suspect couldn’t see.  He had kids of his own, and he never wanted to frighten children unnecessarily.

“Go and carry on doing your puzzles,” said Barbara.  “Mummy’ll just be in the front room talking to this man and lady.”

Pity they’re here and the dad isn’t.

But Peter was going to do the routine, just a bit quicker and quieter.

He remained standing.  “Do you hate Lucy Twelvetrees’ sister Karen?”

Barbara swept her plumper version of Helen’s face towards Peter.

“Well, I suppose I do.  I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Did you attack her?”

“No!”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it Helen?”

“Not that I know.  She didn’t tell me if she did.”

“So you agree it’s possible?  She was that furious with her?”

“Hang on.  I didn’t mean that.  I’m sure Helen didn’t attack her.  It was just… a way of speaking--”

“Somebody did,” Peter cut in.  “Helen hates her.  Would make sense.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I really don’t think so,” said Barbara.  “She can be sharp with people, but I don’t think she’d half kill someone.”

“What about completely kill someone?  Is that what she intended?  Is that what she did to Joe Chen?”

Barbara was quicker than her sister to succumb to tears.

“Who was it, Barbara?” persisted Peter.  “You or your sister?  Or did your mum do Joe?”

Barbara started to sob, and Peter thought about the children.

He spun towards the door.  “Let me know when you’re ready to speak.”  And he marched out, Jennifer in hot pursuit.

Once seated inside the car, Peter said.  “I hate to make a woman cry when her little kids are there, but we’ve got to make progress.”

“It was swift,” said Jennifer.  “She’ll wipe her tears, and the children probably won’t have cottoned on to what was happening.  I’m liking this style, sir.”

“Let’s hope it rattles the right cage.”

“Where to next?”

“I think we’ll see if Betty’s in.  Try the harder approach on her.  I can’t make out if she’s as tough as old boots or just doesn’t show emotion.”

“No, she’s a hard one to read.”

As they stepped out of the car into the bright sunshine, Peter hoped they would be lucky again and find Betty in.  She was.

Peter strode into her minimalist flat as soon as the woman had opened the door enough again, hoping to unsettle her composure.  He walked straight over to the window and looked out at the bowling green below.  “What is it about Karen Twelvetrees that you hate so much, Mrs Ayamright?  That she’s Lucy’s sister, or because you’re greedy and think you should get more than fifty percent of your marital possessions?”  He spun round, and his eyes found hers.

“Who says I hate Karen Twelvetrees?” asked Betty.

“You bashed her, didn’t you?” said Peter.

“No I did not.  I may not like her, but I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

“Who did then?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

There’s a touch of Scottish accent coming through her acquired southern English one.  I’ve rattled her.

“Yes, you can say.  You know it’s time to tell us.”

Yes, even stoic Betty’s got tears in her eyes.

“Was it you, or was it Helen or Barbara?  Maya?”

“Why… Why are you asking me?  If you think it’s one of my friends, why don’t you ask them?”

“We’ve spoken to two of them, and that’s why we’re asking you.”

Betty turned away from Peter’s gaze.  He nodded to Jennifer.

“Betty,” said Jennifer softly.  “We need to be sure which one of the group it was.  Tell us now.  Don’t let it drag on any longer.”

Betty glanced at her then down at the floor.  “I cannae tell you because I don’t know.”

“Well,” said Jennifer, “who do you think it’s most likely to be?  Helen?  Barbara?  Maya?”

Betty’s eyes took on a hard quality.  “Why don’t you ask Lucy.  She’s the evil one around here.  Sister or no, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Betty plonked herself down in an armchair.

Jennifer persisted.  “Why do you think it would be Lucy?  What motive would she have?”

“I don’t know.  She’s just a thoroughly bad person.”

“Why is she a bad person?”  Jennifer sat at the end of the sofa, near to Betty.  “What is it you’re not telling us?”

“I found it difficult transitioning from being in charge of a creche full of babies, with my friends, to having a load of toddlers, plus Lucy, and Ayesha and Pam.  It was stupid.  Impractical.  And Lucy pushed for it and forced me out of my job.”

Peter said, “Is that why you sent her that threatening letter.  Saying she would be gone, for good?”

Betty straightened her back and blinked a couple of times, then raised her eyes to Peter.  “What letter?”

She’s gained her composure.  We’ve lost the advantage.

As abruptly as he’d entered the flat, Peter headed to the door, opened it and said over his shoulder, “We’ll be back when you realise it’s better to tell the truth.”

Jennifer sprung off the sofa and whisked herself to the door and out.  She said nothing to Betty.

Downstairs, as they stepped back out into the sunshine, Jennifer asked, “Why such a sudden exit, sir?”

Peter frowned.  “She started to crumble, then suddenly she got a grip of herself.  The bad cop, good cop act lost its impact, and I didn’t know where to go next, so I thought we should leave her to stew.  Wanted to keep the attitude though.  What did you think of her?”

“I thought she was on the edge of telling us something, too.  But I saw that change.  I don’t know whether she’s keeping schtum about herself or one of her friends.  I just feel there’s something.  Might be just be a suspicion she’s scared to voice.”

In the car, Jennifer started the motor and asked, “Maya next?”

“You got it.  We’ll be lucky if she’s in as well, but let’s try.”

Back at the smart semi-detached with the pretty front garden, there was no reply the first time Peter rang the doorbell.  He tried a second time and was rewarded by hearing someone moving about inside.  Eventually Maya came to the door.

Peter was ready for his marching in and playing hard cop routine, but Maya threw the door open wide and rushed down the hall and through the kitchen to the back garden.

The two visitors looked at one another with raised eyebrows.

“Best go out the back, then,” said Jennifer.

“S’pose so.”

As they stepped out into the garden, Maya was winding a hose back onto its reel.  “Sorry.  I left the hose on.  Didn’t want to swamp my seedlings.”

“That’s okay,” said Peter.  “I’m afraid we do need to ask you some more questions, though.”

“Come into the kitchen,” said Maya.  Her mood was nowhere near as stressed as the last time they’d called round, but she wasn’t the tidy and polite hostess of their first visit.

Taking a seat at the island, while Maya filled the kettle and turned it on, Jennifer asked, “How’s your mum?”

“Well, it’s slow going, but she is making progress.  The doctors say she’s doing well considering, and they expect a good outcome.  Tea?  Coffee?”

Unlike on his two visits to Eva’s house, there was no delicious aroma of coffee, so Peter looked at Jennifer.

“Thanks.  Whatever you’re having,” she said to Maya.

“Likewise,” said Peter.  Can I play bad cop without the element of surprise?

He decided silence was best for the time being, while Maya set about making a pot of tea.

Jennifer asked, “What are you growing out there, from seed?”

“Tomatoes, cucumbers, salad veg.  There’re certain things I manage to grow, so I stick to those.  Not very good at flowers.”

She left the pot and a jug of milk for the officers to make their tea as they liked it.  “Sugar?”

“No thanks,” said Jennifer.  “Neither of us.”

Then Maya sat on a stool at the end of the island.  Peter left her to pour out her own tea and settle.

“Maya,” he began, and waited for her to look at him.  “Did you put an anonymous letter to Lucy under the Creche door?”

Maya looked at him and frowned.

“It was a nasty little letter, but if you tell us about it now, the consequences won’t be so serious.”

“What letter?”

“C’mon, Maya.  The threat to Lucy.  We know it was one of you women who want her out.”

Maya made direct eye contact with Peter.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If you do, you’re a bloody good actor.

“I think you do know,” he said.

She held his gaze, her eyebrows raised.

“When was this, the letter?  Was it this morning?  Is that why Lucy didn’t come into the Creche?”

“Yes.  It was a very unpleasant letter.  Anonymous.  Who would do a thing like that?”

A frown crossed Maya’s even features before she answered.  “Well, maybe Helen…  Or Eva…  Maybe Barbara.  They can be a bit nasty when someone upsets one of them, and Lucy has managed to upset all of them.”

“Explain, please,” said Peter.

Again the now familiar tale of Lucy’s sacking Helen was told, which also upset her mother Eva and sister Barbara.

At least we’ve got the ball rolling, thought Peter.  “So they’re a tight knit family.  Hurt one you hurt them all.”

“Exactly,” said Maya.  “So really it could have been Eva who wrote the letter, standing up for Helen.  Possibly Barbara, but I don’t think she’d come up with the idea, not this long since it happened.”

Jennifer looked at Maya.  “Didn’t you get reminded about the battle of wills between all of you and Lucy the other day, by Joe Chen?”

“Yes.  We did.  I suppose that could have stirred them up, even Barbara.”

Peter stepped back in.  “Could it have brought up the anger that’s been simmering in them to the extent one of them killed Joe?”

Maya looked into the mug she was cradling in her hands for a moment.  Then she looked at Peter.  “I honestly don’t know.  I wouldn’t have thought so, but if the police believe he was murdered, then someone had to have done it, and…  Well, it’s got to be possible under the circumstances.”

Jennifer asked, “Which one do you think?”

Again Maya was silent a moment.  “Helen’s the most likely, I suppose.  I can see why Lucy got fed up with her.  She doesn’t have the nicest of dispositions sometimes.  Especially if she’d been on the booze, or drugs, the night before.”

“Who would you put as second most likely?” asked Peter.

Maya blew out a slow breath.  “Probably Eva.  If she was strong enough.  Barbara’s less imaginative, although she’s strong.  I don’t want to know how Joe was killed, so I’ll leave it to you to decide if a woman nearing sixty could have done it.”

Jennifer said, “So, you’d put Helen on the top of the list, and probably Eva second if she was strong enough, then Barbara?”

“Yes.”

“What about Betty?” asked Peter.

“Betty?  Oh, I don’t know.  She’s not happy with the situation, and she was angry with Joe for trying to tell her how to do her job.  But I don’t know that she’s the murdering kind.”

“Maybe,” said Peter, “she just wanted to teach him a lesson, and it got out of hand.  Could you imagine that of Betty?”

Maya tightened her mouth on one side.  “That would be nearer to possible I suppose.  But she’s a bit more… ladylike… refined.  I don’t know, cleverer perhaps.  Less likely than the other three.”

“We spoke to Betty earlier,” Jennifer said in a confidential tone.  “We felt she wanted to tell us something but wasn’t sure if she should.  Do you think she did kill Joe, but didn’t mean to?  Would she want to confess?”

Maya shook her head and took a swig of her tea.  She gazed ahead, unfocused.  “I really don’t know.  I can’t imagine it of any of my friends, really, but then…  If I think about each one, it could be possible…”

“Who do you think attacked Karen Twelvetrees?” asked Peter.

Maya frowned.  “You think someone at work had a motive?  Surely they’d go for Lucy, not her sister.”

“Karen represented some of your friends, as well as your son.”

“What, did Helen use Karen to try and sue about losing her job?”

“She did.  And remember what you said about the whole family.  But Betty also used her for her divorce.”

“And Betty wasn’t pleased with the outcome,” said Maya, frowning.  “That does put a different light on things…”

Peter felt he had given Maya food for thought, and he decided to leave her to mull it over.  It did seem possible she was innocent and keen to see justice done.  Could she become an ally in unravelling this horrible mess? 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 29

Peter, Patrick and Pam

 

 

Patrick hung up the phone and walked into Peter’s office. “You can see Ayesha and Pam at the Leisure Centre around noon.  The others in the Creche today are the ones you spoke to yesterday, except someone who usually works in the café… Marta.  Eva will be there if you want her.”

“I think we’ll leave her today,” said Peter.  “Let that family and Betty sweat it out.  See if any of them squeal to save their own skins.”

Jennifer arrived a couple of minutes later.  “Sorry, I was downstairs scrounging some of the good coffee for our machine.”

“In that case you’re forgiven,” said Peter.  Anyway, I’d like you to do some follow up questions, with the widows Crawshaw and Jones.  And drop into that hairdresser to see if her amazing memory has come up with any more details about the person who was across the road when Dai leapt out.”

 “Okay.  I wonder if she could tell if the person was wearing a wig.” 

Peter smiled.  “Probably too far away.”

Jennifer left with a wave.  “Laters.”

Patrick stood with his hands on the back of a chair opposite Peter.  “When do you want to leave for the Leisure Centre, sir?”

“Around 11.45.  Clear some paperwork first.”

 

***

 

As Patrick drove to the Centre, Peter said, “I think I’ll interview that woman from the café who’s helping in the Creche today.  And whoever else is about.  Now we’re concentrating on these particular women, a peek into what others make of them might help.”

“Couldn’t do any harm, sir.  Maybe even the supervisors and receptionists.  They must have contact with them.”

“Good thinking.  We’ll see who we can find.”

William Sumner was working in his office.  Now the Centre was a member of management down, with Joe gone, he’d been ordered to spend more time there rather than his favoured Swimming Centre.  But he was happy for the officers to use his room for their interviews.  Peter thanked him and asked to speak to Pam McTosh first.

“Patrick, you spoke to this women the day Karen was attacked, didn’t you?”

“Briefly.  It was mostly Jennifer.  She was really shaken up.”

Pam looked nervous as she entered the office.

“Please, sit down, Pam.”  Peter gestured towards the empty chairs on the other side of the coffee table.

“Have you come to talk about that lady I found?”  Pam put her hand over her heart.  She sucked in a deep breath. “I thought she was dead!”  

“She’s on the mend, I’m pleased to say.  It’s a good job you found her when you did,” said Peter.  “She’s a solicitor by the name of Karen Twelvetrees.”

“Yes, I heard.  Is she Lucy’s sister?  Barbara said she was, but I’d met Lucy’s sister, and I didn’t recognize her.”

“No, I don’t believe they are related.”

“Oh.  Right,” said Pam.

“Do you have any idea who might have attacked Karen?  Somebody who works here maybe…?”  Peter raised open palms and gave a light shrug.

“Er, no.”  Pam shook her head.  “Someone said it was a blonde pregnant woman.”

“That’s who we saw on the CCTV footage.  But we now believe it could have been a disguise.”

“Oh!”

“Pam, I’ve been told some people you work with really don’t like Lucy.  Can you imagine any of them thinking Karen was her sister, like Barbara said, and, say, getting into an argument or a fight with her?  Maybe not planning on hurting her as badly as they did…”

Pam pursed her lips and frowned.  “Well, it’s true some of the women in the Creche don’t like her…  And if they thought it was her sister…  Helen’s the worst, but she doesn’t work here anymore.  Lucy stopped her.  She was furious, and so was her mum and sister.”

Peter tilted his head towards Pam, hoping to convey he was keen to hear more.

“And Betty can’t stand Lucy being supervisor.  And Maya’s friends with all of them...”

“What about you, Pam.  Do you like Lucy?”

“She’s alright.  She can be quite a laugh at times and has some good ideas for things to do with the children.  But I’m not going to seem too friendly when the others are around, in case they start to bully me too.”

Peter leaned forward, arms on knees, and in a soft voice said, “Pam, we happen to know that some of the people you’ve mentioned, the bullies, knew Karen before.  They may have had motives, and… if they thought she was Lucy’s sister as well…  If you had to pick one of them, who do you think would be the most likely to attack Karen?”

Pam pressed her lips together and looked away.  “Helen...  But they can all be nasty.”

Peter didn’t want to rush Pam.  She was cooperating but still looked anxious.  He decided to give his protégé a chance to hone his skills.  He looked at Patrick with a slight nod.

Taking his cue, Patrick spoke with a soft voice. “Pam, did you hear about the threatening letter someone sent to Lucy?”

“Oh, is that what they were talking about earlier?  Is that why Lucy didn’t come in yesterday or today?”

“Yes.  It really was a horrid letter, and not signed.  Obviously we need to know who sent it.  Can you help?”

Pam’s cheeks turned pink and she smiled at Patrick.  “Well, those same people I mentioned before.  It could have been any of them.”

Smiling back at Pam, Patrick said, “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea who attacked Joe, would you?  We can’t find anyone with a motive, except the women he told off at the end of the Creche session, the day before he died.”

Peter couldn’t help being amused at the way Patrick held Pam’s gaze, looking deep into her eyes.

Pam’s cheeks changed from pink to red.  She looked down at the coffee table. “Well…  It could have been Barbara.  She looks quite strong, and she was really angry when Joe spoke to her.”  Pam sighed.  “But so was her mum, and Betty, and Maya.  They all hated it…”

“Why did you say Barbara first?  Do you think she’s the most likely?”

Pam looked back up at Patrick through her lashes.  “Yes,” she said quietly.  “I might have thought Helen, if she still worked with us.  I don’t suppose Eva’s strong enough.  And Betty… she’s nearly Eva’s age, but I think she’s stronger.”

Patrick continued to smile at her.  “What about Maya?”

“Oh yes, Maya could have done it.  She’s strong.  She was angry with Joe, too.  But I don’t know if…  No, I just don’t know if she would…  I’ve never met anyone who’s killed someone though…”

Peter caught Patrick glance at him and again gave a slight nod.  He straightened his posture, giving Pam time to clear her thoughts about Joe.

“Pam, you know a lot of what goes on around here.  Do you know anything about that man who died in the gym, high on drugs?”

“He went to the Bridge Club here.  The one Eva and Betty and Maya go to--” Pam stopped, her mouth forming a circle.  “Do you think…?”

“We’ve hit a dead end everywhere else,” said Peter.

“Oh.”  Pam’s eyes were as round as her open mouth.

“What do you think, Pam?”

Pam’s hand covered her mouth.  “It could be any of those three.  I don’t know why, but they could have done it.  Do you know Maya’s son was arrested for possession of drugs?  I think one was acid.”

“Yes,” said Peter.  “Do you think he could have helped his mum?  Or could Maya have taken some of his LSD to use?”

“Well…” Pam stretched the word out.  “I suppose it’s possible.  But why would she do such a thing?”

“We don’t really know,” said Peter, and leant forward again.  “Although someone said they thought Maya and Mike had been having an affair.  What d’you think?”

“Oh, I hadn’t heard that.  Though Eva said she thought Mike was “sweet” on Maya, but that she thought it was Betty who liked him.  Maya flirts with the supervisors and that, but I’ve never heard her talk about going out on a date with anyone, even though her husband’s away a lot.”

Pam frowned.  “Why would that mean she’d want to kill him?”

Peter shrugged.  “Well, maybe he wanted to finish with her, and she got upset…”

Pam twisted her mouth to one side.  “I can’t imagine that, to be honest.  Not Maya.  She’d probably shout a lot of swear words at him and stomp off.  That’s more Maya’s style.”

“You don’t think someone was hoping to seduce him by giving him drugs?” asked Peter.  “And it all went wrong?”

“Not Maya, no.  And definitely not Eva.  But Eva said Betty fancied him.  She’s hardly sex on legs, is she, Betty?  Maybe she thought she’d try her luck with the acid.”  Pam shrugged.  “Who knows?”

“You’ve been very helpful, Pam,” said Peter.  “Thank you.  Could you ask Ayesha to come and talk to us now?”

“Sure,” she said to Peter, but smiling at Patrick on the way to the door.

When the door closed, Peter turned to his young assistant.  “You’re in there.”

“Hah!  I prefer redheads at the moment.”

“Oh, Lucy?”

“No, she’s too old.  But if you need me to go back to that law office, let me know.”

Peter smirked.  “Well, we may have to go back there and speak to Karen’s colleagues.  Tell you what, if I decide to, I’ll take you instead of Jennifer.”

Patrick blushed slightly, but he was grinning.  Then there was a knock on the door. 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 29

Points of View

 

 

“Come in,” said Peter.

A woman in her thirties with long black hair entered the office.

“Ayesha?  Come and sit down,” said Peter.

He asked what she knew, or thought, about the letter to Lucy and the attacks on Karen and Joe.  Ayesha was very clearly in Camp Lucy and referred to the women under suspicion as the “Creche Coven”.  Her opinions were very similar to Pam’s, believing Helen and her mother and sister were the most “evil”, Betty was a persistent nagger, and Maya sided with them and wished they could go back to being in a babies-only creche again.

“I wouldn’t discount Helen when it comes to the letter,” Ayesha said.  “Even though she hasn’t worked here for a while, she would have taken great pleasure in sending it, out of sheer hatred for Lucy.”

Peter nodded.  “Interesting.  What do you think about the attack in the changing rooms?”

“Eva was in a staff meeting with me, otherwise I might’ve suspected her.  So Helen would be my prime suspect…  Betty second, then Barbara, Maya last.”

Betty and Barbara have swapped positions, compared to Pam’s thoughts, Peter noted.

“Thank you.  Nice and concise.  Who do you think killed Joe?”

“I’d put them in the same order, but of course Eva doesn’t have an alibi this time – that I know of.”  Ayesha made direct eye contact with Peter, eyebrows raised, but he stayed silent.  “So I’d say: Helen or Eva, Betty or Barbara, then Maya.”

Peter smiled.  “Any idea about the man who died in the gym?”

“I’ve no idea.  Don’t know anything about the bloke.  Although I’d guess whoever did it was behind that other guy getting run over while tripping.”

Peter crossed one leg over the other and allowed a moment’s silence.

“Obviously we’ve spoken to the women you’ve mentioned.  Who else might be able to help us out?  What about the lady who was in the Creche with you this morning – Marta?”

“The Coven do speak to her more than me.  She stays neutral.  They may have let something slip.  And she must have formed opinions.  Otherwise, I’d just talk to anyone who’s about.  You never know who might have heard or seen something.  Just need their memories jogging.  Maybe.”  Ayesha shrugged.

“Thank you, Ayesha.  Is Marta still about, do you know?” asked Peter.

“I’ll go and have a look,” said Ayesha, standing.  “I’ll send her along if I find her, or I’ll come back if I can’t.”

A few minutes later, a slim lady in her twenties with collar length chestnut hair entered.  “Hi.  I’m Marta.  You want to see if I can help you?”

“Yes, Marta.  Thank you for coming.  Please, sit down,” said Peter.  “I understand you work in the Creche sometimes?”

Marta sat in the chair nearest the door.  “Yes, I do.  Times such as this, when Lucy is away.  Then I can fill in.”

Peter detected an eastern European accent.

“And you work in the café, too?  Anywhere else in the Centre?”

“Sometimes I have helped with children’s parties.  When they have bouncy castle, or in the Jungle Gym.  I like children, but I don’t have diploma.”

Peter said, “We are concerned about some of the attacks on people here, and the nasty letter sent to Lucy yesterday.  Do you know anything about these things?”

“Yes, I have heard about the attacks, and today Pam said Lucy received frightening letter.”

“Can you guess who did any of these things?” asked Peter.

Marta frowned.  “The nasty letter to Lucy, probably it was sent by Eva or Betty, or Barbara or Maya, perhaps.  They don’t like Lucy at all.  They not treat her well, and they make her ill.  That’s why Joe came and talked to them.  He said they must be kind to Lucy and get on to do their jobs.  They were very angry.”

“Do you think they were angry enough with Joe to hurt him?  To force him off his bike?”

“I don’t know.  It is very terrible thing to hurt someone so bad they die.  I don’t know if it could have been a woman.  Betty said it was someone wanted to steal his money.”

“Oh,” said Peter.  “Did anybody else say that Joe had his money stolen?”

“I don’t know,” said Marta, tilting her head.  “Maybe Betty just said it to me because I was upset.  I cried.  I liked Joe.  He was a nice man.”

Peter smiled.  “You heard about the lady called Karen, who was attacked in the ladies’ changing rooms?”

“Yes.  This is another thing that is dreadful.  Was it the same person who killed the man in the gym?  Or was that accident because he was on drugs?”

“It could be the same person,” said Peter.  “We think somebody gave him the drugs, perhaps in his drink, and persuaded him to do something dangerous.”

Marta’s shoulders hunched and her fingers twisted together.  “So you say it could be one person who killed the man in the gym, then attack lady in changing rooms, then kill Joe, and now send nasty letter to Lucy?  You think is all one person?”  Her voice steadily rose in pitch.

“Yes, we think it’s possible.  What do you think Marta?  Who do you think would do this?”

Marta gazed out the window for a moment.  “If it was somebody who do all of those things, I think it be one of the women in the Creche.  Eva or Barbara, or Betty or Maya.  Because they don’t like Lucy, and they angry with Joe for telling them to be nice to Lucy.  But I don’t know if those people know the lady who was attacked or the man who was killed.”

“Do you think they are all capable of killing people?” asked Peter.

“I don’t know.  I thought must be a man.  But maybe.  They can be cruel sometimes.”

“Do you know Helen Earth, Barbara’s sister, Eva’s other daughter?”

“Yes, a little bit.  She worked here but Lucy gave her sack.  This start all the arguing.  But I only worked with her once or twice.  She did seem a bad person.  I think she could kill somebody, maybe.”

“You haven’t heard anyone in the Creche say they sent the letter to Lucy yesterday?”

“No.  Only just a little bit ago Pam said Lucy had received a nasty letter.  She said you told her.”

Peter nodded.  “Marta, can you think of anyone else who works here who could kill Joe, or attack the lady in the changing rooms, or the man in the gym?”

Marta frowned and puckered up her nose and lips.  “No, I can’t think of anybody else.”

“Thank you, Marta.  Can you suggest someone else we can talk to, about the women in the Creche?  Ask their opinion?”

“Erm… you could talk to Anne in the café.  She speak to everybody.  Or maybe the people who work at reception.”

“Is Anne in the café now?”

“Yes.”

“Can you ask her to come in to see us, please?  Thank you for your help, Marta.”

When Marta had shut the door, Patrick said, “It’s the same story over and over again, isn’t it?  It could be those women, but nobody knows which one.  Although the money seems to be on Helen or her family.  Did you have any luck with Jennifer yesterday?”

“I’m not sure.  I thought we rattled Betty, then she seemed to take back control and clammed up.  I think I put the frighteners on Helen and Barbara, but perhaps they’re too thick skinned to feel they have to speak up.  Then we spoke to Maya, and to be honest, I don’t think it’s her.”

“She seems to be bottom of the list today,” said Patrick.

“I do hope they speak to each other,” said Peter, “or look at each other suspiciously, whatever, to force one of them to tell us something useful.”

There was another knock on the door.  This time it was Anne from the café, a middle-aged plump and pleasant lady.

She told Peter she couldn’t imagine anyone she knew would kill someone.

Afterwards they spoke to Holly, the PA.  She confirmed the Creche Coven could be nasty at times, and she was glad Helen had gone, as she was the worst of the lot, in her opinion.  “But being nasty doesn’t mean you’d kill someone, does it?” said Holly.

They talked to two receptionists.  One of them thought Betty and Maya were lovely friendly people, and thought the Creche problems were only related to Helen and her family.  The other one knew there was some very bad blood in the Creche and wondered if Lucy was not as nice as she seemed.

“You’ve never had any problems with Eva or her daughters?” asked Peter.

“Well, I must admit I wasn’t fond of that Helen.  The other daughter… haven’t had much to do with her.  Eva’s okay most of the time.”

Patrick asked, “What about Betty and Maya?”

“Betty is a bit haughty.  Maya seems alright,” the receptionist said.  “Although I saw her down by the library the other day, at least I think it was her, but she strode past me and didn’t say Hello back.  But a man had just been run over.  She might have been upset if she saw it actually happen.”    

 

 

 

CHAPTER 30

Patrick the Sheriff

 

 

Patrick was happy when he arrived early for his 10am shift.  He was enjoying his secondment to CID, plus he was going to meet Angela again at the law firm, all being well.

When Jennifer came in, he asked, “How did you get on with your enquiries yesterday?”

“I didn’t really learn anything new.  I felt sorry for Mike and Dai’s widows, poor things.  But the best I heard was the hairdresser was convinced the woman who beckoned or waved to Dai had lighter brown hair, definitely not dark - collar length all round.  When I asked, she said it could’ve been honey blonde.”

“You’re thinking Maya?”

“Exactly.”  Jennifer dropped herself down on the edge of the desk with a sigh.  “Sod it.  Just as Peter and I seemed to be coming to the conclusion she was innocent.  Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree assuming all things Leisure Centre tie up like we think.”  

“Coffee?” Patrick offered.

“Definitely.”

Jennifer took her mug to her own desk, and Patrick opened a blank file.  He laid it out like Peter’s whiteboard and filled it with his latest personal thoughts on who was first and second most likely to have committed each crime.

Mike             -->       Throat (LSD)     -->      Murder         -->       Maya (Betty)

Dai               -->       Runover (LSD)  -->       Murder         -->      Maya (Betty)

Karen           -->       Bashed/Skull     -->      GBH/Att’d     -->      Helen (Betty)

Joe               -->       Attacked/Bike    -->       Murder         -->      Helen (Betty)

Lucy             -->      Letter            -->              -->                 -->      Helen (Betty)

Seeing Betty come up in second place for each surprised him.

Patrick considered the likelihood of Helen having killed Mike or Dai.  The only reason would be for her mother.  But the idea that Eva felt hateful or spiteful towards Mike, or Dai, didn’t add up.  Nothing had suggested that.  So, not Helen for all five.

Pam had said something about Betty fancying Mike, and probably not attracting him…  He was a married man…  Patrick doubted Betty was the sort of woman to cheat on your wife for.

And the logic that whoever killed Mike killed Dai still held.

The sound of his desk phone shook him out of his thoughts.  It was Peter.  “Get your makeup on, Patrick, you’re driving me to Karen’s law office in five minutes.  You get to talk to the girls out front, I’ll speak to the solicitors.”

 

Both Olivia and Angela welcomed Patrick with smiles.  Angela’s cheeks were delightfully tinged with pink.

“Can I get you a coffee or tea?” asked Olivia.

“Thank you.  Whatever’s easiest.  Milk no sugar, please.”

“You’re sweet enough,” said Angela and giggled.

“Oh no, it’s you providing the sweetness,” Patrick said, grinning and blushing a little.

“What can we do for you?” asked Angela.

“We’re still trying to crack Karen’s case.  We think we’ve narrowed it down to five women, but we can’t seem to nail down which one.”

Putting the mug of coffee on the desk in front of Patrick, Olivia fetched a chair from behind him.  With his eyes still on Angela, Patrick sat down.

“This group of women,” said Olivia, “Do you mean the ones who work, or worked, at the Leisure Centre?”

Patrick dragged his gaze to Olivia.  He smiled.  Olivia didn’t blush.  “Yes.  You know about all that?”

Angela said, “It was us who looked through Karen’s records and found them.  All very suspicious.  Most people are pleased with Karen’s work.  She’s popular.”

Patrick swung his gaze back to Angela, with her golden curls and bright blue eyes.

“What can you tell me about these women?”  Patrick glanced at Olivia then back to Angela.

Olivia said, “Huh. I remember Mrs Ayamwright.  She came in quite often.  She’s right up herself.  Seemed determined to get more than her fair share out of her husband.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Angela.  “I don’t know where she got the impression she’s above the rest of us.”

“That younger one,” said Olivia.  “What was her name?  Seemed quite the opposite, but no more pleasant…”

“Do you mean Helen Earth?” asked Patrick.

“Yes, that’s her.  Appropriate name I thought,” said Olivia.

“Did you meet the other three, Maya, Eva or Barbara?” asked Patrick.

Angela rolled her eyes.  “Oh, Mrs Idle -- I had her on the phone a couple of times. God, does she go on.  All about her daughter Helen who lost her shifts.  Why couldn’t she sue the Leisure Centre?  Or the Council?  Then she wanted to sue someone else.  Very whiney, too.  I don’t think she came in person, though, did she Olly?”

“Not that I remember,” said Olivia.  “And I don’t recall anyone called Barbara.  What’s her surname?”

“Mordaunt,” said Patrick.  “She might not have had any dealings with Karen, come to think of it.”

“Right,” said Olivia, frowning.  Then she lifted a finger.  “Ah, I remember Mrs Way, though.  That’s Maya, isn’t it?  Came in with her son because he wasn’t eighteen?  She seemed more reasonable.  Stressed, but that’s understandable.”

Patrick sipped his coffee.  “So you met Betty, Helen and Maya in person?”

“Yes,” said Angela

“I did too.”

“Can you describe them?  I know it sounds mad, but it’s just a thought.  What did Betty look like?”

Angela and Olivia described Betty just as she’d appeared to Patrick.

“Helen?” he asked.

Again their description matched what he had seen.  And the same applied to Maya.

“You never saw them looking different - say one day with their hair dyed, that sort of thing?”

They hadn’t.

No blonde wig worn here, then.

Patrick asked, “What did you mean by Helen seeming opposite to Betty?”

“Oh, just that she was kind of scruffy,” said Olivia.  “Certainly didn’t put on any airs or graces, like Betty.  Not afraid to swear in public.”  She chuckled.

Angela added, “Still seemed to think the world owed her a favour, though.”

Patrick bantered with the women a little longer but felt frustrated to learn nothing new.  And when Peter returned, it was time for him to leave.

In the car Peter asked, “Did you learn anything new.”

“Nobody turned up in a blonde wig, at least not under any name we’ve been considering.  The rest was about what they thought of the women.  Same old, same old.  No mention of Barbara.”  Patrick was quiet as he navigated his way past a row of horse riders.  “Did you find our anything new, sir?”

“I’m afraid not.  We are going to have to really push to get someone to open up.  On the assumption that one or two of them committed murder, and all the rest of it…  If they, as individuals, think we’re going to arrest and charge them for all of it, surely they’ll sing out what they know or at least guess about the others.”

“I think you’re right, sir.  We need to tighten the noose.”

Peter let out a long sigh.  “There is a possibility we’ll be able to push from an extra angle any day soon.”

“How’s that, sir?”

They arrived at the police station car park.

“The drug squad are planning a dawn raid either tomorrow or at the weekend.  Whenever they’re sure they’ve got all their ducks in a row.  Then we may be able to find out more about the LSD connection, even squeeze Liam Way and Helen a bit tighter.”

“I’ll look forward to that, sir.”  Patrick changed to his idea of an old west cowboy accent.  “’Bout time we cleaned up this god damn town.”

Peter sighed again, but he was smiling, and got out of the car.

“Then,” said Patrick.  “When we’ve got something to celebrate, I can ask the pretty little lady out on the town!”

It felt good to laugh, and good to hear his boss laugh along with him.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 31

Sunday Bloody Sunday

 

 

Late Saturday afternoon, Peter Van Niessen received the tip from the drugs squad he’d been waiting for.  The bust was happening in the early hours of Sunday morning.

He’d given Jennifer Friday off and sent Patrick home after their visit to the solicitors’ offices, and hoped they could all have Saturday off too.

On Sunday he wanted to crack the cases they’d been working on.

 

***

 

“So you don’t think I’m being stupid, then?” Lucy asked Ben as they cleared up the kitchen after a late Sunday breakfast with their daughters.

“No.  You’ll be with Ayesha.  She’s your friend.  The only one to have properly stood up for you against the Coven.  A couple of hours running a Jungle Gym party with her will do you good.”

Lucy smiled.  She felt rested after her days at home, and she loved Ben, Amy and Belle to bits, but it would be great for a meetup with the Investigators, then spend time working with Ayesha and a bunch of children having fun.

“Your new friends have been great, haven’t they?” said Ben.  “You’ll enjoy being with them.  And I trust them.  But if they can’t take you to the Leisure Centre, phone me.  No gaps in between events on your own.”

Lucy reached up and kissed Ben on the cheek.  “I will.  I’m certainly not taking any chances.”

 

***

 

At the police station, Peter and Jennifer were questioning Eva while Maya and Helen sweated it out in other rooms.  They had agreed not to call young Liam in until later, assuming he was still needed.

Barbara was allegedly at her parents-in-law’s house with her husband and children having Sunday lunch.  For the sake of the family, and because she couldn’t confer with her mother, sister or friend, Peter said she could come in after her meal.  It would be easier on the kids and grandparents that way.

Nobody knew where Betty was.

Eva sat hunched in a chair opposite Peter.  The duty solicitor, a fat, pasty faced man, assigned to represent Eva sat beside her.  Jennifer sat on the fourth chair.

Peter said, “Eva, where is Betty Ayamwright?”

“I don’t know.  We’re good friends, but I’m more family oriented on Sundays.”

“Did she say she was going anywhere today, or for the weekend?”

“Not to me.  Why?”

Leaning towards Eva and keeping her voice soft, Jennifer said, “We have to sort out this thing about Mike and Dai.  Things are moving swiftly.  It’s been implied that you gave Mike the LSD, lured him into the gym and encouraged him to try weightlifting while he was high and thought he was stronger than he was.  Is that what happened, Eva?”

Eva glanced at the solicitor, who nodded. 

“No, it wasn’t me.  Why would I do that?”

No one spoke for a moment.

“Was it Betty who said that?” asked Eva.  “Is that why you asked where she is?”

Eva looked frantically from Jennifer to Peter.  “What, you think she pointed the finger at me, so I killed her to keep her quiet?”

Peter asked, “Did you, Eva?”

Eva’s gaze darted between the others sat at the table.  “I haven’t hurt anyone.  I wouldn’t hurt Betty.  She’s my friend...”

Jennifer again spoke in her gentle voice.  “Where did the LSD come from, Eva?”

Eva raised her eyebrows above her wide eyes.  “I... I haven’t done anything.  I don’t understand... “

Peter’s voice was firm as he spoke again.  “Did Helen give you the LSD, Eva?”

Now tears began to form in Eva’s eyes. “My Helen’s a good girl, really.  She just uses stuff to help her cope.  Finding friends was always hard, even at school.  And that good for nothing husband of hers left before the year was out.  She just self-medicates to help her nerves.”

Peter persisted.  “And she gave the stuff to you so, what, you could teach Mike a lesson?”

Tears slowly trickled from Eva’s eyes and her jaw slackened.  After a moment she said, “I don’t want to touch drugs.  Helen needs my support.  I said to come home, but it just ended up in arguments.  I wouldn’t encourage her to buy more drugs.”

Jennifer sounded matter of fact as she asked, “So you didn’t ask her for the LSD?  Did she just give it to you, to help you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  Eva said in a shrill voice.

She started to sob.  The solicitor asked to have a word with his client alone.  Jennifer and Peter agreed, hoping he would encourage her to confess, if there was anything to confess to.

In the corridor Jennifer asked, “What d’you think, sir?”

“We have absolutely no motive for Mike, or Dai.  She’s very protective about Helen.  But chances are, she doesn’t know half what Helen gets up to.”

Jennifer nodded.

Five minutes later they went back into the interview room.  Eva had regained her composure.

Peter changed tack.  “Did Maya want revenge because she wasn’t getting anywhere with Mike?  She wanted him but he didn’t want her?”

Eva’s bloodshot eyes were wide.  “Maya?  I don’t know.  I think Mike liked her.  I’m sure Maya liked Mike, but just as a friend.  He was a very decent man.  I couldn’t imagine him cheating on his wife... or even leading Maya on.  If anybody was after Mike, it was Betty…”  Eva seemed to hold her breath for a beat.  “Oh, is that why you’re trying to find her?”  Eva’s red tinged eyes were even rounder, so was her mouth.  The eagle look again.

“Did you fancy Mike?” Jennifer asked.

“I could see he was good-looking, and kind and charming...  But I’m beyond that sort of thing.  I have a husband and a family.  I’m a grandmother.”

Peter said, “Who else had access to LSD, Eva?”

Eva’s brows were still furrowed and her mouth dropped open and then shut, which reminded Peter of a goldfish.  “Maya’s son, Liam.  He got arrested for having drugs.  I think one of those was LSD.”

“So Maya could have got hold of some,” said Peter, “and slipped it in Mike’s drink that night in the Leisure Centre bar.”

Eva’s brows were now low, and her unfocused gaze roamed around a moment, before she spoke.  “She didn’t go anywhere near his drink.  She ordered a bottle of Merlot and one glass when we went into the bar, and kept with it.  I bought drinks for Betty and me, then later she went back to the bar and bought more for the two of us…”

“Could Betty have got drugs?” asked Jennifer.

“I haven’t a clue,” said Eva shaking her head slowly.

I really don’t think she has, thought Peter.

He took advantage of Eva’s befuddled state and spoke abruptly.  “Who sent that letter to Lucy?”

Betty’s eyes took a moment to focus on Peter.  “What letter?  The one from the customers?”

“No, the unsigned one, pushed under the Creche door on Tuesday afternoon.”

“Oh yes, Pam said Lucy’d had a nasty letter on Wednesday and that’s why she wasn’t in the Creche.”  Eva shook her head.  “I don’t know who wrote that.”

Peter watched Eva very carefully as he said, “We will have the handwriting analysed.  Even if someone’s disguising their writing, an expert can tell…”

Eva glanced at him.  “Well do that then and you can stop blaming me.”

I don’t think she knows it wasn’t handwritten.

“Did you kill Joe?” asked Peter.

“No.  Why should I?  I was angry with him for taking sides with Lucy, but I’d never kill anyone.”

“Perhaps you didn’t mean to – just to hurt him?”

“No.”  Eva snapped out the word.

“Did Helen do it, because she thought Joe deserved it for upsetting you?” said Peter.

“No.  My Helen isn’t like that.”

“Suppose she was on drugs at the time?” Jennifer said.

“Wh… What?  No.  She wouldn’t.”

Jennifer persisted.  “But she loves you…”

“And she’d already attacked Karen,” said Peter.

Eva looked like an eagle again, with her eyes beady and her thin slightly hooked nose, as she peered from one detective to another, then at the solicitor.

“No…” she said, but Peter didn’t think she sounded very convinced.

One last push, thought Peter.  “Was it Helen or Barbara?”

Eva’s eyes opened even further.  “Neither of them!”  She burst into tears.

Peter didn’t think Eva was the culprit but decided against sending her home.  Mention of her daughters might frighten her into revealing something. And he didn’t want her to phone Barbara or Betty.

“We’ll get you a cup of coffee,” said Peter, remembering how Eva’s house smelt of coffee, “But follow us.  We’ll take you to another room.”

Peter led Eva and her solicitor to a smaller interview room.  Just as he turned to open the door, he saw a uniformed officer bringing Barbara into the corridor.

“Mum!” she screeched. 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 32

Two Chats and a Surprise

 

At three o’clock, Lucy got out of Ben’s car.  “See you later, girlies.”  She blew her daughters a kiss and waved to Ben.  “I’ll call you when I know what time I’ll be ready for a lift home.”

At the big table in the back corner, her six new friends, the Centre Investigators, were waiting for her.  Someone had bought her white wine.  Lucy was going to keep to coffee, but one would be okay.  She was so grateful for the kindness of these people.  They had been in touch with her every day since that poisonous letter arrived at the Creche.

“How are you feeling, Lucy?” asked Wendy.

“Glad to be out without poor Ben as my security detail.  I reckon a while with you lot will set me up in the right frame of mind to face the Leisure Centre.  I don’t want to develop a phobia about the place.”

Lawrence asked, “Had any more thoughts who the mysterious blonde may be?”

“I’ve had thoughts, but…”

“Who do you feel it is?” asked Carlos.

“Out of the witches I work with, Eva would be the one.  But I’m her alibi for when Karen was attacked.  So... Helen, most likely.  She is a horrible woman, and she hates me.  I feel convinced it’s her.”

“I could imagine it,” said Carl.  “Especially if she was on something at the time.  Mind you, that may be most of the time.”

“Being on drugs makes a person do some very stupid things,” said Pablo, wrapping an arm around Carlos’ shoulders.  “It could have made my husband drowned!  But he is a hero, so he was okay.”

“Maybe she’d met that man in the gym, through her mother,” said Carlos, “and she thought she could have a good time with him if they were both high.  But it went wrong.”

“Could be,” said Lawrence.  “Lured into the gym by a younger woman and all that – intrigued…”

The group sipped their drinks in silence a moment.

Then Lucy said, “As horrible, sarcastic and naggy as they are, I can’t really imagine Maya or Betty or even Barbara attacking someone.  Now I’ve had time to do little else but think about it.”

“So, as Eva has that alibi,” said George, “if it’s one person, it has to be Helen.  Otherwise it could be a mother and daughter act?”

Lucy nodded.

The group chatted away, mulling it all over again.

When they fell silent, Lucy asked, “How’s Karen now?”

Wendy pointed a thumb toward Lawrence and George.  “These two went to see her earlier.”

“We did.  Poor woman, she’s still in a very bad way.  It’ll take quite a while until she can go home,” said Lawrence.

“But we still managed to interrogate her, in a very gentlemanly way, of course,” said George, grinning.  “She remembers nothing that happened at the Leisure Centre, but she does remember why she went.  To have a shower, because she couldn’t use hers at home.  The drains were blocked, from her flat, the one upstairs and next door.”

Lawrence nodded. “The CCTV shows the blonde arrived before Karen.  We reckon she blocked the drain at the pavement and waited for Karen to go to the Centre for a shower after work.  She only lives in Winchester Road, so it’d be the easiest place.”

“Hmm,” said Lucy, her brows and lips tight in thought.  “That makes sense...  If they knew what time to expect her.”

“No doubt they’d watch the house.  Karen likes to go home at the same time every day,” said Wendy.

Carl leant his elbow on the table.  “Did she remember anything else?”

“When we asked, she remembered the creche women who’d consulted her,” said Lawrence.  “But she didn’t remember a pregnant blonde woman.”

“Did you ask if she thought it could have been any of them who attacked her?” asked Carlos.

“Superficially,” said Lawrence, “she’d guess Helen.”

“That’s interesting,” said Lucy.  “Same feeling as me.”

 

Just before 5pm, Pablo asked if Carl was going to work at the Leisure Centre that evening.

“No, I’m not on today.”

“You can’t go to supervise that party by yourself, Lucy.  You need an escort,” said Carlos.  “Would you like us to walk with you?”

Lawrence leant forward.  “George and I already have it covered, if that’s alright with Lucy.”

“Are you taking me?  I can phone Ben...”

“The football’s on.  5.30 kick off,” said Lawrence.

“Yup,” said George.  “We’re going to bravely face a bar with beer and live football on television, just for you.”

Wendy said, “Oh, how will you cope?”

Lawrence grinned.  “It’s an inconvenience, of course.  But, Lucy, will you allow us to accompany you to work and lurk about to protect you from murderous witches?”

“I’d be honoured.  And early Sunday evening should be as Coven free as it gets, so I don’t envision anything disturbing your enjoyment of your beer and football.”

 

***

 

While Lucy was at the Cartwheel, Maya was being interviewed by Peter and Patrick.  Unlike Eva, Maya remained dry eyed, and most of her answers were “Yes”, “No” or “I don’t know”.  However, her features and body language became less rigid when Liam was brought into the picture.

“Did Liam give you the LSD you used on Mike,” asked Peter, “or did you take it without his knowing?”

“Liam wouldn’t give anyone drugs so they could kill someone.” Maya’s eyes were wide.  “He’s not that sort of boy at all.”  She moved her head slowly from one side to the other.  “No.”

Maya sat back and folded her arms.  “It’s just he’s at the experimental stage.  Boys around him are trying drugs, and you know what they can be like, urging each other to try, making them feel small if they don’t.”  Now she placed her arms on the table.  “I’m sure that’s all it is.  We’ve had a good talk.  Hopefully, he’s finished that phase. I’ll be keeping a closer eye on him.  And his father will be back next week.”

“He’s on the oil rigs, isn’t he?” asked Peter.

“Yes.  But Liam needs him, and so do I with my mother so ill.  I’m going to persuade him to work elsewhere, somewhere local.  Or at least not to be away for so long at a stretch.”

“What about other men?” asked Peter.  “Are there any you’re close to who Liam can look upon as a father figure?”

“I have a brother, but he lives over a hundred miles away.  Didn’t come down to see Mum for the first few days, when Dad and I could really have done with some back-up.”

Peter smiled.  “With your husband being away so much, and you being like a single mother a lot of the time, do you ever date other men?  I wouldn’t blame you in your situation.”

“No, I don’t do that,” said Maya, her eye contact unwavering.

“What about your friendship with Mike Crawshaw?” asked Peter.  “I gather you were close.  Did he help, take you out to get away from the stress, that sort of thing?”

“I told you, I’m not like that.”

“You’re not like that, or Mike wasn’t?” asked Peter.

Maya’s brows went down as she scowled at Peter.  “Yes, I like to flirt with the young blokes at work, but that’s all it is.  Banter.  For a laugh.  And I did like Mike and found him attractive, and Eva told me he liked me too.  But I’m just not bothered.  I need friends, and my brother to pull his weight.  And my son to stop giving me a hard time.  Company and support.  I’m not after an affair.”

Is she a really good actor? Peter asked himself.  He looked at Patrick.

He took his cue and checked his notebook.  “Maya, where were you in the morning of Thursday 12^th, two and a half weeks ago?”

“Two and a half weeks ago?  A lot’s happened since then.  Can you narrow it down for me?”

“It was just after Karen Twelvetrees was attacked at the Leisure Centre,” said Patrick.  “We spoke to you about it the day after that, on Wednesday 11th.  Where were you the next morning?” 

“Working in the Creche.”

Bugger! thought Peter.  Why didn’t I check on that? So much for it being her luring Dai across the road!

“Are you sure?” asked Patrick.  “Didn’t take a bit of leave?  Have a dental appointment?”

“Nope.  Medical appointments, having my hair done, that sort of thing I do in the afternoons.  It wasn’t anybody’s birthday or anything special.  And I’m saving up my leave until my husband comes back and Liam’s finished his GCSEs.  But of course, I had to take time off because of my mum’s stroke.”

Patrick kept his head low and looked at Peter beside him.

Peter asked Maya, “Where is Betty today?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t normally see her on Sundays.  Sometimes we meet at a café or something, but not on a regular basis.”

Peter put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand.  It gave him a moment to think.  He looked at Maya.  She looked back at him.  Not a hint of trying to hide anything.

Peter sighed.  “Who do you think gave Mike Crawshaw LSD?”

“Not a clue,” she replied.

Peter hesitated before speaking again, and Maya said, “Are you sure it wasn’t one of the men from the Bridge Club?”

“Can’t find a single motive, and CCTV shows them all going home while Mike was in the bar, except for his mates who stayed to watch the end of the footie.”

Patrick asked, “What about Karen?  Any idea, Maya?”

Maya twisted her mouth to one side a moment.  “Still can’t think of anyone except Helen, or possibly Barbara, doing it for her.  Or Betty. Because Karen pissed them off.”

“What about Joe?” said Peter.

Maya twisted her mouth the other way.  “Again, Eva or one of her daughters.  Or else it would have to be Betty again.  Certainly wasn’t me.”

There was a knock on the door and a uniformed officer opened it and looked in.  “Sir?”

Peter said for the benefit of the recording that the interview was suspended and went out into the corridor.

The PC said, “You’re gonna want to hear this, sir.”

Peter leant against the wall and waited for the man to go on.

“We’ve just had a phone call from Betty Ayamwright.  She says the murderer is a Mr Idle, husband of Eva.  Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes.”  Peter pushed off the wall and stood up straight.  “What else did she say?”

“That she can’t come in for an interview because this man knows that she knows, and he’s trying to kill her.”

Peter’s eyes bulged.

“She been out for lunch in town, and she’s trying to evade Mr Idle on foot down by the river.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 33

A Twist in the Tale

 

 

Walking to the Leisure Centre with Lawrence and George, Lucy felt confident and lighter than she had since she’d received the letter from the blonde.

She felt safe with them, although the prospect of being back in the building gave her a twist of fear in her stomach.  But she would be working with Ayesha, and children, which was what she loved.

It still seemed unreal that at least one of the bullies was so much worse than she could have imagined, but the CCTV confirmed the link between psychologically attacking her and physically attacking someone probably mistaken for her sister.

Her gut told her it was all to do with Helen, the same as the bullying had been.  She could imagine Eva acting on an extreme version of a mother’s protective instinct.  How nasty she had been towards her... 

Another memory popped into her mind, and she subconsciously reacted to it with a little jerk.

“Are you alright, Lucy?” asked Lawrence.

“Oh, yes, I was miles away, thinking about Creche Coven criminals.”

“I like a bit of alliteration myself,” said George, grinning.  “What were you thinking?  Are you okay to be going to work this afternoon?”

“Yes, I think so.  I have you two bodyguards.”  Lucy smiled up at George.

I wonder just how tall he is.

“I just remembered when someone put something in my coffee in the Creche.  God, that was awful.”

“Who was it that gave you the coffee again?” asked Lawrence.

“Well, Betty uncharacteristically went off to get the drinks without being asked, but it was actually Eva who handed me mine.”

“Helen… prime suspect, possessor of drugs," said Lawrence.  “Gets a little help from Mama…”

Lucy chuckled.

She really appreciated the friendship and the protection of these two men, and the other investigators.

***

Peter Van Niessan had dispatched Jennifer and Patrick with a couple of marked vehicles to search for Betty and Eva’s husband, Jason Idle.

He sat in his office and thought:

Maybe he’d thought Eva had a thing going for Mike Crawshaw.  And then thought that Dai was onto him.

He could have got LSD from his daughter.

The hit on Karen didn’t fit, because of the blonde… No.  He isn’t particularly tall.  With a wig hiding his face, women’s loose clothing and something stuffed inside them to give a pregnancy bulge…  It could have been him dressed up.

And he could have done Joe for upsetting his wife.

It made sense.

He decided to let Maya go and tell her he didn’t need to speak to Liam today.

Eva and her two daughters he had to keep in and separated.  He didn’t know if any or all of them knew what Mr Idle had done.

***

 

The receptionist with the severe grey hair was on duty when Lucy entered the Leisure Centre. “Hi, Lucy.”

“Hello.  Anyone still in the Jungle Gym at the moment?”

“No, they went about 4.30.  Hopefully that means they’ve cleared up for you, ready for the party.”

The receptionist reached behind her and took the keys off the hook, handing them to Lucy.  “You are doing the party, aren’t you?”

“Yes.  I’m a bit early... “

“The birthday girl’s mother phoned to ask if you could put some decorations up.  If not in the Jungle Gym, then in the party room for when they have tea.”

“Okay, thanks.  I’ll sort something.”

Lucy turned to Lawrence and George.  She led them away from the reception desk.

“Thanks, guys.  I really appreciate your help.  But now there’s a football match and plenty of beer waiting for you in the bar.  I’ll go and open the play area, then you’ll probably see me wandering past to get some birthday decorations from the outside changing rooms.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Lawrence.

“You’ve got our numbers,” said George, “and you know we’re nearby, if anything spooks you.  Don’t worry if it’s a false alarm.  If you’re worried, call or come to us.”

Lucy smiled widely.  She felt so lucky.

“See you later.”  And with that, she headed off down the corridor to the Jungle Gym.

***

Peter worried he wasn’t putting enough manpower into finding Betty and Jason Idle.  He didn’t want another body on his hands.

It was a beautiful June Sunday.  There should be plenty of people down by the river, affording some safety for Betty.  Yet the killer had been brazen before.  He hadn’t been bothered about a busy Leisure Centre in the early evening.

He phoned Jennifer.  “How are you getting on?  Any of the uniforms think they won’t be able to identify Betty or Idle?”

“Patrick and I both know what they look like.  We haven’t spotted either.”

“What if he’s wearing a wig… some sort of disguise?” said Peter.

“Bugger.  He could be, couldn’t he…  But Betty knew it was him.”

“Good point.  Concentrate on finding Betty and keeping her safe, and Jason Idle will be a bonus catch.”

“Sir, do you think Betty’s got herself in a panic?  Or do you think it’s real?”

Peter could hear background noise like it was thankfully busy down by the river.

“I think it’s real.  It actually all fits.  But if not, we can’t take any risks.  I’ve sent Maya home.  I have Eva and the daughters here.  Chances are I could get photos of Betty and Idle from their phones, but I’m worried about tipping them off, in case they don’t want us to find him.”

***

Lucy was pleased to see that the Jungle Gym was tidy and clean.  The big frogs, with their wide gaping mouths that were the bins, even had fresh liners.  She never knew what state to expect the facility to be in.

She put her bag behind the counter and carried out a safety check.  Then she put out some drawing and colouring sheets and crayons for the children.

Satisfied, she went to check the tearoom.  Again, she was pleasantly surprised to find tables and chairs laid out correctly, and a clean empty bin.

Next job was to fetch the party decorations.

At least they haven’t forced me out of doing parties, Lucy thought as she strode along the corridors until she reached the bar.  There were Lawrence and George.  They spotted her and waved.  She continued to the pair of doors, which opened to the outside.

There was a raised concreted area here sheltered from the elements.  It overlooked the football pitches.  Lucy turned to her right, to the away teams’ changing rooms, where the decorations were kept, along with all manner of necessary stock, from toilet paper to sticky tape.

As Lucy turned to go in, she saw Betty’s back.  Her stomach churned.

What the hell is she doing here?

 

 

 

CHAPTER 34

Time To Go

 

 

Well, at least it’s not Helen.

Betty turned and smiled.  “Ah, Lucy.  I need your help.  I’m trying to get those decorations for the Jungle Gym.”  She turned back and hefted boxes to one side, clear of the walk-in cupboard.  “Somebody’s put all this stuff in the way.  Honestly, those supervisors - men don’t have the sense they were born with.”

Trying to hold back the tears this woman provoked in her, Lucy asked, “Isn’t Ayesha working with me today?”

Betty was turning pink with the exertion from shifting boxes.  She pushed her glasses back up her nose and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.  “She’s gone down with a bug.  I’m all they could find at such short notice.  I wouldn’t be here if there was anyone else, believe me.”

I haven’t got to work with her, have I?

Why didn’t Ayesha warn me?

She thought about rushing into the bar, to Lawrence and George, but no.  This was really irritating Betty, not the murderous psychopath.  That was Helen.  So tummy muscles tight and her heart pounding, Lucy went into the room, leaving the doors open.  There were several large boxes still in front of the cupboard.

Betty turned the face Lucy had come to hate towards her. “This is a health and safety nightmare,” the face whined.  “And I’m not sure where the party things are.”

Taking a deep calming breath, Lucy moved closer to Betty, distracted by the exasperation she often felt at how badly things were organised in the Wallyborough Leisure Centre.

Folding the flaps on the top of a box closed, Betty muttered, “This is toilet paper.  What’s it doing out here?  Lucy, can you look in there and see if you can find the decorations box?”

Lucy went into the cupboard, looking around at the shelves full of boxes.  The one with the birthday decorations should be labelled in felt tip.  Where is it?  The door behind her banged shut.

Lucy jumped.  Her heart beat faster and harder.  The knot in her stomach squeezed tighter.  She spun back round towards the door.

Thank God it’s not self-locking.

Then she heard a key turn.

Betty had locked it!  Betty had locked Lucy in this cupboard, inside the outdoor changing rooms where there were no other staff or customers.  This place with its two layers of doors to prevent anybody accidentally glimpsing someone changing their clothes.  In all, three layers of doors between her and the outside.  And her phone was in the Jungle Gym inside her bag.

“Betty!  Let me out!”

Nothing.

“Betty!”

Still nothing.  Has Betty gone?

Lucy hated confined spaces.  The thought that she was trapped overwhelmed her.  Her mind could not contemplate anything rational.

I must get out!

She screamed: a long primeval wail.  Her face contorted, her mouth opened full stretch, her hands clenched tight in her hair.

She couldn’t think what to do.  There was no picturing her husband and daughters and whispering how she wanted to be with them now.  She didn’t feel surprised it was Betty who had locked her in and not Helen, or her sister Barbara, or her mother Eva.  All Lucy felt was sheer terror.  

The cupboard felt so small and dark; the only light was coming in from around the door where it was chipped and misshapen.

Lucy screamed again, shaking violently, and the tears began to fall.

Yelling to be let out, she thumped on the door fiercely.  She couldn’t register the pain as the sides of her hands hit the wood hard and repeatedly. 

Then Betty spoke close to the door. “This is for taking my job and not listening to me and not letting the Baby Creche carry on.  And for upsetting Eva by sacking Helen.  And for having a sister who is as mean as you and as bad a divorce lawyer as you are a supervisor.  You humiliated me, and people talked about it, and it put Mike off.  He ended it with me instead of his wife.  I couldn’t have him spreading that around.  And then Dai got wind of what had happened.  And then you made Joe Chen humiliate me too.”

There was a brief pause.

“I’ve lost the man I loved, and another friend, and I’m poor, and people don’t respect me as much as they should anymore.  I’ve waited so long to catch you on your own, but you’re always with someone.  Well I’ve got you now.  And like I put in the note, you’ll be gone, now, forever.”

Lucy had barely breathed as she’d listened to Betty.  Karen had been mistaken for her sister.  Joe had been killed because he stood up to the Coven on her behalf; or at least to Betty.

And who were these two other men Betty seemed to have killed?  The man in the gym, the bridge player, and then his friend?

Did Betty really do all that because of her – according to Betty’s warped perception?

But what am I going to do?

“Betty, let me out now.  I won’t tell anyone what you did.  I’ll leave and you can have your job back.  Then you can be happy again.”

Silence.

“Betty!  Please!”

Still silence.

Lucy resumed thumping on the door, demanding to be let out.  But she heard nothing back.

Fatigue made her slow her shouting and banging on the door.  The crying became quiet sobbing.

The thumping slowed and then stopped.

Lucy rested her forehead against the door.

She wondered if Betty were even still out there.

Was this just a nasty little lesson and Betty would plead it had been accidental?  An accident with the cupboard’s lock?

Lucy stayed still and listened.  She felt the silence in her ears like they were full of cotton wool.

Panic swelled inside Lucy again like something alive had taken over her body.  It stopped her being able to think about anything but the desperate need to get out.  All rational thought had gone.  The amygdala in her brain had hijacked her system and pumped stress hormones through it in the rapidly circulating blood.  Her subconscious mind had chosen flight against fight, but flight wasn’t possible, and fighting a locked door was exhausting.

Finally, she slumped to the floor, drained.  Her body trembled fiercely but other movement was difficult.  Her limbs felt heavy; her head felt light.  Her mouth and throat were dry.

She could smell smoke.

And like smoke being brought into a room on a breeze through an open window, something flowed into her brain.  The fog cleared and she was able to think again.

She needed something to drink.

Is there any water in this damn cupboard?

No, only paper and carboard and a few bits of plastic.

She coughed trying to relieve the feeling of dryness in her throat, but it did no good.  She moved her tongue about and tried to bring up saliva into her mouth.  The dryness and that smell of smoke felt awful.

Keeping her lips shut she continued to get some moisture up into her mouth.  But she couldn’t get rid of the smell of smoke.

The smoke is real!

Betty was leaning against one of the pair of outer doors, keeping it just open.  The underside of the toes on her right foot, encased in a sensible navy-blue shoe, prevented one of the inner doors (there to preserve the modesty of changers) from shutting too.  The cardboard of the box containing the toilet paper was thick and had been difficult to light.  Betty had feared she would run out of matches.  And Lucy’s screaming and shouting and hammering on the door had been so annoying.

She continued to watch to be sure the flame didn’t go out.

She was glad Lucy had arrived early; she wasn’t often late.  It meant it still wasn’t time for the party to start.  Even if Ayesha had arrived (she wasn’t so punctual), she would assume Lucy was decorating the party room.  Ayesha would probably do a nice Happy Birthday sign in her celebrated graffiti-style writing for the Jungle Gym.  It would be a little while yet before she would try to find Lucy.

Betty shifted her position and now kept the inner door open with her left foot.  She was surprised how slowly the tiny flames were spreading across the surface of the box.  Betty wondered when the contents would catch fire.  Surely toilet paper, even of that indelicate quality, would burn more swiftly.

The infant fire reached one flap on the top of the box and the small blue flames started to curl round the end so both the inside and outside of the board were burning.

Betty smiled.  Now it was starting to take off.  She could leave it soon without worrying that it would extinguish itself.  She mustn’t be there when people started to realise what was happening.

And there it went.  The toilet paper had caught fire, and the flames were dancing.

Betty removed her foot from the inner door, stood up straight and pushed the outer door open, and her sensible navy-blue shoes walked her away as it swung shut again.

 

 

CHAPTER 35

Gone In a Puff of Smoke

 

Lucy’s entire body was shaking.  She felt cold inside and hot over her skin. She was locked in this cupboard, and now there was no one to plead with to let her out. If she wanted to escape before the smoke overwhelmed her, it was down to her own efforts. Survival instinct forced her back to rational thought.

Think. How can I unlock the door?

The latch needs to be forced.

She’d seen people on TV do it with a credit card.

She delved through the boxes on the shelves, looking for something similar.  She found various thicknesses of carboard and thrust them into the lock.  Too bendable.

Lucy found an old biscuit tin with plastic stencils inside.  The stencils were too floppy; the edges of the tin and its lid were rolled over and too thick.

The box holding the party decorations for the tearoom was unearthed. 

All paper products.  No good!

Lucy was sweating.  She flung off her Leisure Centre sweatshirt.  

Think!  Think!

There is nothing in here to force the lock!

Wisps of smoke were drifting under the door now.

She packed her jumper as tightly as she could under the door to hold back the smoke, hoping it wouldn’t catch fire.

Lucy covered her face with her hands to think.

What other ways do you open a locked door?

Her shoulder would probably break before the door if she barged it. She tried kicking it.  She caused it to vibrate very slightly.  She tried to kick harder, which was an improvement but not enough.

Think!

She lay down on her back and thrust both feet against the wood.  Better.

Can I break the door or burst the lock this way?

She stamped again and again on the wood until her muscles screamed at her.

 

While Lucy was fighting for her life with the door, Betty had sidled along the wall, ducked past the entrance to the bar and the camera above it, to the Home changing rooms where she retrieved her bag.  She took off her jumper, rolled it up tight and popped it into her large tote bag.  She took out a loose top, light jacket, and a blonde wig. She put them on.  Then she pulled on a pair of lose flowing trousers over her stretchy black ones.  Finally, she inflated a camping pillow and tucked it inside the loose trousers and top.

Betty assumed they had seen recordings of her in this outfit a couple of times but she needed the disguise just one more time.

Carefully avoiding the camera, Betty made her way round to the back of the building, to where she had left a fire exit door ajar. Entering she was at the back of the main hall.

 

Lawrence tapped a beer mat on the table, a frown on his face. “George, did you see Lucy come back from wherever she went outside?”

“No, sorry, I was watching the football.”

“We’d better make sure she hasn’t bumped into a certain pregnant blonde lady?”

George groaned as a long shot on goal went wide.  “Yes.  Good point.  That’s what we’re here for, to make sure she’s OK.”

Lawrence stood up.  “I’ll go and have a look what’s out there.  You stay here and keep the table for us.  I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

George grinned and turned his gaze back to the large TV screen.  “Thanks.  I do care, but this is a bloody good game.”

Lawrence made his way past the other customers and along the corridor to the exit.  Passing through the double doors he looked right, towards the Away changing rooms, and then left.

He leapt back. She was there, the mysterious blonde, hair and floral trousers flaring behind as she disappeared towards the back of the building.

Quickly he sprang after her and peered round the corner.

The woman kept close to the wall, until she arrived at a door standing ajar. Lawrence stood still in the shade and watched. She went inside, shutting it behind her.  A fire exit!  Not openable from the outside.

Lawrence’s body twitched between two directions.  Should he follow her?  But he hesitated.

Where’s Lucy?

Rushing back the way he’d come he smelt smoke.

He stopped and breathed in deeply through his nose to locate the source of the smell.  It was coming from the Away changing rooms.

He sped towards them.  The doors were locked, but the smoke was definitely coming from under them.

With his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, Lawrence raced back inside to the bar.

“There’s a fire in one of the rooms outside!  Where are the extinguishers?”  The man in black behind the bar grabbed an extinguisher, handed it to Lawrence and headed to the other end of the bar.

“I’ll fetch another.”

Lawrence called to his back, “Get the emergency services, all of them!”

Lawrence looked to where George had been sitting, but George was already pushing his way through the tables and football fans.

“C’mon,” urged Lawrence.

Outside he turned right; George followed.  The smoke was streaming out round the edges of the doors now.  No words were needed: the doors were locked shut, they needed to get in.

Both turned side on to a door. George instinctively waited.

“Three, two, one!” called Lawrence and they shouldered the doors in perfect synchronisation.  They felt a bounce, but the doors didn’t open.

“Again!” shouted Lawrence.

There was a splintering of wood just above the lock on George’s side.

“A bit lower,” he urged Lawrence.

The lock burst on the third attempt.

The second pair of doors only took two shoulder charges.

Now in the main area of the changing rooms, the smoke was thick and they coughed reflexively.  They lifted their shirts up over their mouths and noses.  A banging reached them from the cupboard.

Lawrence trained the fire extinguisher on the boxes nearest the door as George edged as close as he could.  “Lucy?  Is that you?”

The loud hiss of the white foam drowned out any reply, but the fire by the door was dying quickly.  George could get his ear closer.

“Lucy?  It’s George.”

A muffled reply resonated through the wood.

“Lawrence is here too, putting out the fire.  The brigade is on its way.”

Lawrence stopped fighting the fire to shout, “I saw her.  It was the blonde.  She disappeared through a fire door into the building.”  Then he continued to damp down the flames.

A short stocky man appeared with another fire extinguisher.

Lawrence nodded to where he should aim the foam.  “Thanks.”

As soon as his extinguisher ran out, Lawrence threw it to the ground, turning for the exit.  “George!  Look after Lucy.  I’m going to find Blondie.”

She’s not getting away this time!

As he shot back outside, he was surprised to see several people standing about.  To his left, he saw the barman bounding along carrying another fire extinguisher.

“We need the key for the cupboard in there.  Lucy’s locked in!  I’m off to get who did this.  I saw her.”

The barman’s reply didn’t quite reach Lawrence as he sped round the corner and to the car park.  

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 36

Two Go to The Hospital

 

Peter absently jiggled his leg as he phoned Jennifer again.  “Any luck?”

“Sir, we can’t find Idle or Betty.  I think he’s taken her somewhere.”

“Or the whole thing’s a red herring maybe.”  Peter slid his hand over his hair and frowned.  “Can you see Patrick?”

“No, he’s gone across the foot bridge.  Do you want me to phone him?”

“No, you keep looking, I’ll ring him.”

Peter paced his office as he called Patrick.  “What can you tell me?”

“I’ve come across to the soggy side.  Nobody remembers seeing Betty, or Jason Idle, as best I’ve described them.  I’m running out of places to look.  Do you think this is a wild goose chase, sir?”

“I think it could well be.  I’m suspecting it’s Betty who’s thrown us off the scent.  But we don’t know.  I want you to direct a car to the Idle’s house.  If he’s in, ask him what he’s been doing, if he’s seen Betty, if he’s been out.  She may need rescuing.  But even if it seems he’s been in all afternoon, bring him in.”

“I’m on it.”  Patrick started to jog towards the bridge as he ended the call, waving an arm for the uniformed officer to follow.

Still pacing, Peter rang Lucy’s number.  No reply.  He phoned Ben.

“She should be at the Leisure Centre by now.  She’s been out with friends – I took her.  She said they would take her to do a Jungle Gym party, or she’d phone me for a lift.  I told her not to go anywhere alone…  You don’t think…”

“We had a mysterious call from Betty.  We just want to check Lucy’s whereabouts.  I’m sure she’ll be fine, but we’ll check on her.”

Next Peter phoned Jennifer again and told her to go straight to the Centre with some uniformed officers to find Lucy.

Then he went to speak to the mother and daughters trio of suspects in their separate interview rooms.

 

***

 

Betty waddled across the main hall, where some people were playing badminton.  They were only using half the courts, and she easily passed unnoticed, but she knew she would be on camera.  She needed to be on film.  She wasn’t Betty, she was her blonde alter ego.  She just hoped no one who’d seen this persona recorded at the time of Karen’s attack would spot her.

She made it out into the corridor by the café.  It appeared to be closed.  She tottered along, passing the Creche, and out into the reception area.  This could be the riskiest part, but a small group dressed for the party in the Jungle Gym blocked a clear view from the reception desk. 

Betty moved about, glancing at the posters of activities on site, making sure the CCTV cameras filmed her, then she turned back towards the corridor.  A man in a black uniform rushed out through the fire doors in the direction of the office.  She recognised him and remembered in time not to say hello.

She entered the corridor leading back to the café, her heart hammering as she forced herself to keep up her slow pregnant gait.  She really wanted to be out of there.

The barman in his black uniform sped past her again carrying a bunch of keys.

She turned into the café.  It was deserted apart from a man with curly, light brown hair and a strong physique, who had just entered from the patio.

Betty continued to play it cool and not rush.  Head down, she kept an eye on the man through her fake hair.  He was heading straight for her.

“Excuse me madam,” said Lawrence.  “I really need your help.  Can you come with me to the office, please?”

“I’m in a dreadful hurry,” Betty said in her native Scottish accent.

The man grasped her arm

 

***

 

The fire in the changing rooms was almost out, and having unlocked it with the key, George found the metal handle of the cupboard door cool enough to use.

Lucy stood stock still on the other side for a moment, eyes wide, breathing laboured, before she dashed into George’s arms.  She tried to say thank you, but she just coughed.

George held onto her while she regained control of herself.  “It’s all going to be okay now Lucy.  I’ve got you.  Lawrence is chasing after the blonde woman.  Do you think you can walk to the office?”

Lucy nodded, and George held her away from him to look at her.

“Let’s give it a try,” he said.  “If you’re too full of smoke, I can always carry you.”

Lucy tried to laugh, causing her to cough again.

George kept a long arm around her, steadying her as they walked slowly into the building and passed the bar.  He only glanced at the TV screen to check the score.  It was more important to get Lucy to safety.

By the time they reached Reception, there were sirens blaring.  A police car spun into the car park and to the entrance.   Jennifer Sterling directed one uniformed officer towards the car park at the end of the café, and another around the side of the building, past the gym and the children’s indoor play area.

Lucy watched, coming to a halt.

“Looks like someone else has been worried about you,” said George.

Lucy wanted to stay where she was, waiting for Jennifer to come in.

Jennifer caught sight of Lucy through the glass doors and spoke into her radio as she rushed inside.

“Lucy!  Are you alright?”

Lucy nodded, afraid to talk for fear of the coughing starting again.  She looked up at George.

He understood, and said, “Lawrence and I have just rescued her.  We’re going to the office.”  He kept a secure hold on Lucy and helped her towards the office door.  “The woman with the blonde hair had locked her in the cupboard in the outside changing rooms and set fire to some boxes.”

Lucy tugged at his t-shirt and tried to speak, but she could only cough.

“Oh hell.  Just Lucy?” asked Jennifer.

“Yes,” said George as he helped Lucy through the open office door.

Lucy was almost disappointed that Steve wasn’t there to see the result of his failing to discipline Betty.

The receptionist rushed through from behind the counter and helped George get Lucy into the nearest chair.  “The bar manager said there’d been a fire.  Were you caught in it Lucy?”

Lucy nodded.

“Let me get you some water,” the woman said, just as another siren sounded outside.  The fire brigade this time.  Jennifer went out to direct them.

The receptionist came back with a glass of water from the office fridge.  Lucy sipped it and managed a smile and a croaky, “thanks.”  She sipped more, then asked the receptionist to fetch her bag from the Jungle Gym, coughing as she spoke.

She drew deeply on the water.

“Careful not to glug too much too quickly,” said George.  “Don’t want to make yourself sick on top of all you’ve been through.”

Lucy tried to smile and beckoned to George to bend down.  “Phone Ben.”  She coughed.  “It was Betty.”

George’s eyebrows shot up.  “Betty?  Are you sure?”

Lucy nodded.

A third siren blared, and this time it was an ambulance.

Two paramedics jumped out and rushed through the main doors, but only one came into the office to Lucy - a woman in a dark green uniform and a heavy bag slung across her shoulders.  She came and knelt down next to Lucy, speaking to her reassuringly and clipping an oximeter onto her finger.

“We must get you to the hospital for a good check over.  But first you need this mask on.  It’ll give you extra oxygen.”

Just as Lucy got the mask comfortable, the receptionist reappeared with her bag from the Jungle Gym.  “Ayesha’s down there.  She’s got it all in hand and sends her love.”

Lucy tried to smile and say, “Thanks.”  She unzipped the front pocket of the bag and pulled out her phone.  Unlocking it, she set it to ring Ben’s number and passed it to George.

He looked at the screen and nodded, then calmly explained to Ben, what had happened.

George looked at Lucy.  “Should Ben come here or to the hospital?”

Lucy pointed outside and mouthed, “hospital”.

George relayed the message and handed Lucy the phone.

“Are you ready to go?” asked the paramedic.

Lucy nodded and smiled at George.

“I’ll go and look for Lawrence.  No doubt they’re combing the place trying to find Blondie.”

The paramedic encouraged Lucy to walk if she could, and George held the door open for them.  Ambling across Reception, the other paramedic came from the direction of the bar.  He had Lawrence in a wheelchair.

“Mate!” called George.  “What happened to you?  Did you find Blondie?”

“I did,” said Lawrence.  “I grabbed her in the café and then it all went dark.  She bashed me with a glass ketchup bottle!”

“Oh, man!  At least she didn’t crack your skull open,” said George.

The two paramedics slowly herded their charges towards the main doors.  George loped ahead to open them.

“Are you alright, Lucy?” asked Lawrence.

Lucy managed a muffled, “Yes,” and nodded again.

“Can I hitch a ride with you?” asked Lawrence.

“That’s the plan,” said the woman in green.  “I called in to say we’d manage with just the one van.”

George waited while the paramedics loaded his two friends into the ambulance.

“I’ll go and speak to the cops, then I’ll see you guys down there.” He waved as the doors were shut.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 37

The Final Countdown

 

While the scenes of crime people got to work in the outside changing rooms and the cafe, an officer scrutinized yet more CCTV footage.  The pregnant blonde woman wasn’t seen near the outside rooms, but she was spotted on the footage about the Centre, and going into the Cafe, meeting Lawrence, and bashing him over the head with a ketchup bottle.

Again she disappeared out of the gate to the car park.

Police officers searched inside and out, but didn’t find her, even after George told them she was Betty.

The children who had partied in the Jungle Gym had their tea there too.  The birthday girl was quite pleased.  None of her friends had done that when they had parties there.  Her parents were not so pleased, especially with no decorations.  But once they had been told there would be no charge, they were content.

After speaking to Jennifer about what happened, George took a cab to the hospital to visit Lawrence and Lucy.  He passed Peter Van Niessan kicking a vending machine in a corridor.  He’d come to speak to Lucy, and was happy Betty had confessed to all the crimes he had been investigating, if only to Lucy.  But he didn’t have her locked up, and he was starving and couldn’t get any chocolate bars to come out.

Officers searched a wide area near the Leisure Centre, in person and via camera footage, but didn’t find Betty.

They went to her home address, where they found her car, but not her.

Nobody from the Creche, the Bridge Club, the Bowls Club, or neighbours or the unhappy ex-husband knew her whereabouts.

Maya Way appeared very surprised, Barbara Mordant and Ellen Earth a little less so, and Eva Idle burst into tears when told.

A warrant was signed to search Betty’s flat.  Her passport and some clothes were still there.  They found no other information that might help find her.

It seemed that even now they knew the identity of the pregnant blonde woman, she had vanished into thin air once again.

George messaged the Centre Investigators.

George:     

IT WAS BETTY!  Police hunting for her.  She nearly got Lucy.  Knocked out Lawrence.  Both in hospital being checked.

Carlos:       

What happened?

George:       

It was a fire in outside changing rooms at LC.  Check local news.

Pablo:         

Surprised it was Betty.

Carl:            

Could have sworn it would be Helen.

Wendy:       

Going to be even more short staffed this week.

Carl:            

I’m going in to work first thing to get all the goss!

Pablo:         

Carl be very careful.  If they can’t find Betty, she may be there dressed as someone else.  Suspect everyone!

Carlos:         

Excuse my husband.  He’s a fantasist.

Wendy:       

I bet she’s dressed as a visiting Spanish man at the Centre.

Pablo:         

Maybe she look just like Carlos, and I see her and kiss her.  (several screaming emojis)

 

The Creche closed for the time being, with a sign declaring it was “due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Lucy was signed off work for three weeks and ordered to rest and relax.

Eva, Barbara and Maya resigned.

Patrick took Angela out to celebrate on the Saturday night after the Leisure Centre fire.  They went to the Frog and Toad, a cosy micro pub in a local shopping parade.

 

Carl kept the Centre Investigators up to date with any gossip from work.

Carl:      

More change at the Centre.

William is to be here every day for the foreseeable.

Advertising for senior and junior managers.

Lucy:          

Anybody looking for a job working with children?

Carlos:         

I have to live with a big kid.

Pablo:          

I am like Peter Pan, but better looking.

Wendy:        

If you’re Peter Pan then I’m Wendy

George:       

This matter needs discussion, over a few pints.

Lawrence:   

How about the Cartwheel Friday evening?

Lucy:          

Sounds good.  Also, I want to ask you all about this group my neighbour Polly suggested I try, after all the trauma.  I think they sound like a cult.  Might need investigating

Carl:             

Well, we’re still an action group, the Investigators.

Betty was still wanted and missing a few weeks later when the Creche reopened with Lucy at the helm, Ayesha and Pam still on regular shifts, and several new staff.

Pablo sporadically posted photos of people he declared could be Betty in disguise.  Gender, colouring and age varied, as Betty was a master of disguise, according to Pablo.

 

***

 

A middle-aged lady moved into a rented cottage in a village not far from Loch Ness where she had just bagged herself a job in the local pre-school.  She had black hair that looked a little dark for her complexion, but she seemed polite enough and knew how to play with children and encourage them to learn, and enjoyed chatting to the other staff members.  She was a widow, she said, and moved back to the land of her childhood for a fresh start.