said Lois.
Dot shook her head. Lois left quickly and headed for the police station and the newspaper offices.
T WENTY- F OUR
“C owgill first,” Lois said to herself, as she drove into the car park at the back of the police station. She went quickly through to reception and came face-to-face with her son-in-law, Matthew.
“Lois!” he said. “Hello, Mother-in-Law. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. How’s Josie?”
“Very well, and looking forward to seeing you when you next call in to the shop. Are you here to see me, or the inspector?”
“Inspector Cowgill,” said Lois, “who is coming down the stairs at this very moment. Nice to see you, Matthew.”
After a few more pleasantries were exchanged, Lois followed Cowgill to his office. “I don’t have much time,” she said, as he held a chair for her. She had done some rapid thinking in her car, and decided to consider further whether she should tell him the sensitive information Dot had produced. Aurora had never hinted at such goings-on. It certainly increased the possibility of Donald having strangled his mistress in the hotel. He wouldn’t have been the first man to find it necessary to get rid of an embarrassing association.
“Lovely as it is to see you, my Lois, do you have anything new and relevant to tell me? You’re looking puzzled this morning.”
Oh hell, she thought. “Well, I have just been to see Dot Nimmo, and she has told me the most extraordinary story about that woman who was strangled. She was apparently called Sylvia Fountain, which I’m sure you already know, but also she was a longtime mistress of Donald Black. Do you want the details?”
He nodded slowly. “That confirms it, then. We know she was selling his jewellery on the side, but could not trace any evidence that she had held parties. Not that sort, anyway.”
A silence fell, whilst he looked at her, smiling fondly.
“Go on, then,” she said.
“Tell me more,” he said. “I have every respect for Dot Nimmo as a source of information, and you are much more likely to receive her confidences than I am. The Nimmos and the police are at permanent loggerheads.”
“I can’t believe it is as bad as that,” Lois said. “Surely Tresham is a gang-free town? And from what I hear, the great days of the fearsome Nimmo gang are almost over.”
“Almost,” agreed Cowgill. “But there is a resurgence. A female whose name is Prentise. A cousin and big pal of Sylvia Fountain, and, I suspect, is behind several quite serious operations lately.”
“Prentise? Sounds familiar. Does she have a Christian name?”
“Gloria. Flaming red hair. Some say glorious, but experts say it is all out of a bottle. She keeps a low profile, and so far we have not managed to pin anything on her. But we bide our time, Lois. As you know.”
“Not any further forward, then, in the case of Donald Black? Could it be a revenge killing? Avenging the death of Sylvia? Hey, there could be a connection here!”
Cowgill raised his eyebrows. “Where?”
“Water,” said Lois. “Sylvia
Fountain
and, in Donald’s case, death by
drowning
.”
Another silence. Then Cowgill frowned. “Are you serious, Lois?”
She stood up, laughing. “Of course not,” she said. “Now, I must be going. Keep in touch.”
Then she was gone, and he sat shaking his head and smiling. She was like a ray of sunshine in his somber day. How wonderful it would be if she brought sunlight to him every day of the week!
T WENTY- F IVE
L ois was in her office, facing a small heap of paper to be gone through before coffee time. She had for many months now handed over the New Brooms wages, and other items of administration which did not need her, to Hazel in the office in Tresham.
The papers in front of her were confidential reports from her cleaning staff, and others from herself on potential clients who might need a follow-up. She began on the former, and was pleased with how smoothly everything seemed to be running. She
Dot shook her head. Lois left quickly and headed for the police station and the newspaper offices.
T WENTY- F OUR
“C owgill first,” Lois said to herself, as she drove into the car park at the back of the police station. She went quickly through to reception and came face-to-face with her son-in-law, Matthew.
“Lois!” he said. “Hello, Mother-in-Law. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks. How’s Josie?”
“Very well, and looking forward to seeing you when you next call in to the shop. Are you here to see me, or the inspector?”
“Inspector Cowgill,” said Lois, “who is coming down the stairs at this very moment. Nice to see you, Matthew.”
After a few more pleasantries were exchanged, Lois followed Cowgill to his office. “I don’t have much time,” she said, as he held a chair for her. She had done some rapid thinking in her car, and decided to consider further whether she should tell him the sensitive information Dot had produced. Aurora had never hinted at such goings-on. It certainly increased the possibility of Donald having strangled his mistress in the hotel. He wouldn’t have been the first man to find it necessary to get rid of an embarrassing association.
“Lovely as it is to see you, my Lois, do you have anything new and relevant to tell me? You’re looking puzzled this morning.”
Oh hell, she thought. “Well, I have just been to see Dot Nimmo, and she has told me the most extraordinary story about that woman who was strangled. She was apparently called Sylvia Fountain, which I’m sure you already know, but also she was a longtime mistress of Donald Black. Do you want the details?”
He nodded slowly. “That confirms it, then. We know she was selling his jewellery on the side, but could not trace any evidence that she had held parties. Not that sort, anyway.”
A silence fell, whilst he looked at her, smiling fondly.
“Go on, then,” she said.
“Tell me more,” he said. “I have every respect for Dot Nimmo as a source of information, and you are much more likely to receive her confidences than I am. The Nimmos and the police are at permanent loggerheads.”
“I can’t believe it is as bad as that,” Lois said. “Surely Tresham is a gang-free town? And from what I hear, the great days of the fearsome Nimmo gang are almost over.”
“Almost,” agreed Cowgill. “But there is a resurgence. A female whose name is Prentise. A cousin and big pal of Sylvia Fountain, and, I suspect, is behind several quite serious operations lately.”
“Prentise? Sounds familiar. Does she have a Christian name?”
“Gloria. Flaming red hair. Some say glorious, but experts say it is all out of a bottle. She keeps a low profile, and so far we have not managed to pin anything on her. But we bide our time, Lois. As you know.”
“Not any further forward, then, in the case of Donald Black? Could it be a revenge killing? Avenging the death of Sylvia? Hey, there could be a connection here!”
Cowgill raised his eyebrows. “Where?”
“Water,” said Lois. “Sylvia
Fountain
and, in Donald’s case, death by
drowning
.”
Another silence. Then Cowgill frowned. “Are you serious, Lois?”
She stood up, laughing. “Of course not,” she said. “Now, I must be going. Keep in touch.”
Then she was gone, and he sat shaking his head and smiling. She was like a ray of sunshine in his somber day. How wonderful it would be if she brought sunlight to him every day of the week!
T WENTY- F IVE
L ois was in her office, facing a small heap of paper to be gone through before coffee time. She had for many months now handed over the New Brooms wages, and other items of administration which did not need her, to Hazel in the office in Tresham.
The papers in front of her were confidential reports from her cleaning staff, and others from herself on potential clients who might need a follow-up. She began on the former, and was pleased with how smoothly everything seemed to be running. She
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