Six
“Morning, Sergeant.”
Sgt. Bethan Morgan looked up from her desk and smiled at her superior officer.
“Morning, sir.”
“Good to have you back,” Davies replied, as he hung his coat on the hook behind the door. Then, turning to face her, he pointed at the papers covering her desk. “Leave those for now,” he said, “and come into my office. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. But before we get into it, why don’t we go and grab a coffee?”
After a trip to the canteen, they settled in Davies’ office, and he pulled out his notebook as Bethan did the same.
“Now, Sergeant,” he began, “as you know, Penny’s moved into Emma Teasdale’s old cottage, and something has happened. She’s discovered that a close friend of the woman she inherited the cottage from was killed in 1970. Hit-and-run accident. Took place just behind the cottage. The person who did it was never caught.”
Bethan felt a stirring of professional excitement. In her early thirties, she was intuitive and ambitious. Her willingness to put in long hours, combined with her solid, reliable work, was attracting attention in all the right places.
“What would you like me do?”
“Well,” Davies replied, “as you might have expected, Penny’s decided she’s going to look into this accident. At first, I wasn’t too keen, but now that I’ve had a chance to think it over, I’m starting to warm to the idea. Sometimes, stirring things up helps uncover new evidence that can breathe new life into a cold case.” He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. “People remember things that didn’t seem important at the time and come forward. The phone call. The unlocked door. Something that went missing just a few days before. The car that drove past. Or maybe something’s been niggling away at them for years, and realizing they’re not getting any younger, they decide to do the right thing and get things off their chest. We had that case a few years back, before your time, when a man in his forties dropped into the station out of the blue one day to tell us he’d seen his uncle murder his aunt. He was about eight at the time, and after all these years, he didn’t want to keep his uncle’s dirty little secret any longer.”
“I did hear something about that,” Bethan said. “Do you really think Penny will be able to dig up anything?”
“She’s got a knack for seeing the significance in the small details most of us overlook, and I expect she’ll bring her friends in on it, so who knows? They might even have resources we don’t. Besides, how much trouble can a little group of well-meaning, middle-aged ladies get into?”
As a knowing smile filled with the promise of irony began to form at the corners of Bethan’s lips, he groaned.
“Oh, God, don’t tell me. Famous last words.
“Anyway, what I’d like you to do is go through the files and pull everything you can on this case. The victim’s name was Alys Jones.” He spelled the first name.
“Then, put together a proper briefing for them at Penny’s cottage. Call Penny and see what time would suit her. Bring a large map, a whiteboard, and some photos and go over everything, so they know as much as we can tell them. Make it look official, but keep it informal, if you know what I mean.” He thought for a moment and then added, “and make sure the photos aren’t too graphic. We don’t want to be upsetting anybody.”
He tapped his desk with his finger.
“Let me know who’s there and how you get on.”
“That’ll be fine, Mrs. Lloyd,” said Victoria. “Right, we’ll see you then.” She put the phone down and walked over to the worktable where Penny was applying the topcoat to a client’s manicure.
“Penny, that was Mrs. Lloyd. She wanted to know if she could come in earlier tomorrow. I checked the book and switched her for a morning appointment.”
Penny nodded as she helped her client gather up her handbag and shopping.
“There you go,” she said. “Do be careful, as your nails will be a bit tacky for the next hour or so.” With a professional smile, she opened the door, watched as the woman stepped out onto the pavement and turned toward the town square, and only then gently closed the door.
She turned toward Victoria.
“Right. How about a coffee? I’ll put the kettle on.”
“We have a few minutes,” said Victoria, “and there’s something I wanted to discuss with you. Let’s sit over here.”
They sat side by side in the client waiting chairs, and Victoria turned to Penny.
“I’m really excited about the new spa,” she said, “and I think this would be a great time to make a few changes,” she began.
“Oh, right,” said Penny, turning her head slightly. “Here we go!”
“No.” Victoria laughed. “It’s not bad. I just think that we might be a bit too old here, and we’re not tapping into that youth market you hear so much about these days.”
She paused.
“Go on,” Penny prompted. “I’m interested and I’m listening.”
“Well, I was thinking, what if we took on a young person to help out? And especially when we expand the operation, we’re going to need someone. I thought someone who’s just left school, maybe.”
“Have you got somebody special in mind?”
“Well, Eirlys, the daughter of the family I stayed with when I came back to Llanelen, asked me if there might be something here for her. I thought she could perhaps come in on busy days, and then, if she likes it, she could take a training course in Conwy in manicures and pedicures and be available to help you. And once word got round that she was here, maybe more younger girls would want to come here.”
Penny thought for a moment.
“She doesn’t have any tattoos or body piercings, does she? I can tell you that our older, preferred clientele, like Mrs. Lloyd, say, wouldn’t want someone here with bits of metal hanging off their eyebrows.”
Victoria shook her head.
“And she won’t want to bring in tanning, will she? Absolutely no tanning. I don’t want to hear one word about it, and I mean that. It’s unhealthy.”
“No, there’ll never be tanning,” agreed Victoria.
“Well, I suppose we could invite her in for a chat,” said Penny. “No harm in that, is there?”
“No harm at all.”
“And we’ll have to make it clear that making tea and coffee will be part of her duties. For some reason, young people today seem to think making the tea is beneath them. You don’t think she’d mind doing that, do you?”
Victoria shook her head.
“If she’d been here now we could have had that coffee ten minutes ago. And we’ll have to show her how to make it properly. I don’t want her thinking she can get away with using hot water out of the tap. That’s why we have a kettle. And speaking of which . . .”
Victoria laughed and was about to reply when the phone rang. She answered it.
“Oh, hello, Bethan, yes, she’s right here.”
“Hello!” said Penny, taking up the phone. “Glad you’re back.” She listened for a few moments and then clutched Victoria by the arm and gently pulled her over to her.
“Just let me ask Victoria. I’m sure she’d want to be there.”
“Friday night,” said Penny. “Can you come over for dinner with Bethan? She’s going to talk to us about the case.”
“Absolutely,” said Victoria. “Is she coming for dinner?”
Penny nodded and returned to the phone.
“Victoria’s going to make dinner. Right. Come about six,” she said. “Great, see you then.”
Penny hung up the phone and then looked at her friend.
“What?”
“Why did you say I was going to make dinner?”
“Aren’t you? I thought you were offering!”
“No, I was just asking!”
“Well”—Penny shrugged—“if you don’t want to, that’s all right. Not a problem. We’ll just get some take-away. Maybe Thai. Bethan likes that.”
“I suppose I could do my tarragon chicken,” muttered Victoria, “but I must say, you really should have asked me first.”
“I’m sorry,” said Penny. “Tell you what. I’ll make a really nice salad to go with it.”
Victoria let out a small snort.
“You’ll buy a bag of shredded lettuce from the supermarket, more like. Anyway, it’ll be good to see Bethan again. She’s a sweetheart.”
Penny nodded. “She said she’s found the old evidence boxes and that the files even contain photographs. Oh, and speaking of photographs, Alwynne is coming over, too, to bring whatever she’s found at the museum. It should be an interesting evening. Is there anyone else we should invite?”
“Not sure. Let me think about it.”
The door opened and the next client arrived.
Looking at her tightly permed grey hair, sensible shoes, pleated skirt, and worn leather handbag, Penny realized Victoria was right. We do need some young energy around here. Practically everybody who comes in here is middle aged or older, and it’s starting to get very dreary. Not only that, when this lot are no longer able to come to the salon, there’ll be no customers left. And looking ahead to the new spa business, these elderly women are definitely not the sort to pay up for a day’s pampering. We’re going to need a whole new clientele.
She smiled at her client and invited her to sit down.
“I’ll be right with you,” she said. “Just got to get your soaking bowl.”
And then an awful thought occurred to her.
“Sorry,” she added, “just need a quick word with Victoria.”
Victoria looked up from the small desk where she was starting to sort receipts into three small piles.
“Hmm?”
“About the new young person who’s coming here. Be sure to tell her there isn’t a hope in hell that we’ll give house room to those hideous fake acrylic nails!”
She thought for a moment.
“What did you say her name is again?”
“Eirlys. Here, let me write it down for you.” Victoria handed Penny a slip of paper. “That’s the correct spelling of it, but phonetically, it would be Ire-less.” She smiled as Penny repeated the name softly to herself. “You know what Welsh spelling is like! But it’s a rather pretty girl’s name, actually. It’s Welsh for ‘snowdrop.’ ”