Seven
Evelyn Lloyd, the town’s former postmistress, had been one of Penny’s steadiest customers for years. She always came in for her manicure on a Thursday, her bridge night, as she liked her nails to look their best as she dealt cards or reached across the table to play the dummy’s hand.
“Oh, good morning, Penny,” she said as she pushed her way through the door. “So good of you to take me earlier. I have a friend of mine from the old post office days coming for lunch today and wanted to get my manicure out of the way so we could spend the afternoon together.”
Mrs. Lloyd put down her shopping and looked around, taking in the nail polishes neatly arranged by colour, ranging from pale pinks to vivid reds and brilliant burgundies.
“Well, what’s this I hear about you and Victoria going into business together? I do hope this expansion won’t mean higher prices. And as I’ve suggested many times, you really ought to offer senior discounts. Think of all the new customers that would bring in!”
“Yes, Mrs. Lloyd, you might be right,” said Penny diplomatically as she sat down opposite her client. She picked up Mrs. Lloyd’s left hand, unwrapped a new emery board, and started shaping her nails.
Victoria and Penny had discussed whether they should ask Mrs. Lloyd if she remembered anything about the Jones hit-and-run accident. Victoria had figured she would remember plenty and thought it would be a good idea; Penny wouldn’t hear of it.
“You know what she’s like,” Penny had said. “She’ll try to take this over. Emma was my friend and I want to do this my way.”
So they’d left it at that, with Penny finally agreeing that if they needed Mrs. Lloyd’s local knowledge later, they’d consult her then. In the meantime, they knew there was little hope that she wouldn’t get wind that they were looking into the case.
When she had finished shaping Mrs. Lloyd’s nails, Penny brought out a small basin of steaming soaking water, which she set down on her worktable. “Right, Mrs. Lloyd, let’s be having you.”
Mrs. Lloyd gingerly dipped the tips of her fingers in the basin and then quickly withdrew them.
“Oh, why does the water always have to be so hot?” she complained, making an elaborate display of curling up her fingers.
“So it will soften up your cuticles,” replied Penny. “Is it really too hot? If so, I can cool it down.”
“Oh, I guess I can tolerate it,” grumbled Mrs. Lloyd as she placed her fingers in the bowl once more. “It seems to have cooled off a bit.” She brightened. “What colour should we have today? Do you know, I fancy something with a little drama!”
“So tell me about your friend from the post office,” Penny asked conversationally. “What will the two of you be getting up to, then?”
“We’re going to Llandudno to shop and have a nice tea at Badgers,” Mrs. Lloyd replied. “And then, as tonight is my regular bridge game, she’ll make up the table, since one of our players has not been very well of late.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. I hope she’ll be better soon. Still, it’s nice that your friend can stand in.”
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Lloyd agreed. “And independent women like you have a lot to thank my friend for.”
“We do?”
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Lloyd nodded. “Bunny, well, we call her Bunny because she was always so quick on her rounds, but her real name is Mavis. Anyway, Bunny was one of the first lady post office van drivers in this area. All over the valley in her van, she was, with the deliveries. And always right on time, too. Had to be, see. Had to show the powers that be that women could do the job just as well as the men. So it was women like her, in all kinds of jobs, that made it possible for your generation to do the things you’ve done.”
Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes slid over to the rack of nail polishes. “What colour did we decide on today? Or did we? I’d like something with some depth to it.” She pointed to a bright red. “How about that one?”
“I don’t think you want that one,” Penny said. “It’s got that shimmer in it that you don’t like.”
“Oh, right. Well, something else then, but the same kind of colour.”
Penny got up, selected three from the shelf, and offered them to Mrs. Lloyd. “How about one of these?” She held one up. “This one will look very nice on you.”
Mrs. Lloyd turned the bottle over and read the name.
“Deer Valley Spice. Well, I have no idea what that means, but it’s just what I had in mind!”
Just before six on Friday evening an unmarked police car drove slowly along the lane leading to Penny’s cottage. It pulled up outside the front door and Bethan got out. She walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and pulled out a large whiteboard. Carrying it to one side, she picked her way carefully along the path that led to the front door. Leaning the board up against the building, she returned to the car and a few moments later set down an oversized envelope beside the whiteboard. Then she rang the doorbell.
Her face broke into a wide grin when Penny, one hand outstretched, opened the door to her.
“Come in, come in,” Penny greeted her. “Here, let me give you a hand with those things.” She put her hand on the envelope. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in here. I haven’t been able to think of anything else all day!”
She led Bethan into the sitting room and invited her to sit down.
“Victoria’s making us something really special for our tea, and it shouldn’t be long.”
Bethan smiled as she looked around the room. Much of the clutter was gone, and Penny had rearranged the furniture to open up the space. Penny pointed to a blank wall where two large easels had been set up.
“I thought you couid put your whiteboard on them, if they’re sturdy enough,” she said. “What do you think?”
“Hmm. I think that arrangement will work for tonight,” Bethan said, “but if you want to keep the board up and we really start working with it, we might need to make it more secure so we can write on it and tape things to it.”
Penny nodded eagerly and then turned as Victoria emerged from the kitchen, wearing a large white apron with a tea towel draped over her shoulder.
“Hi, Bethan, love,” she said warmly. “It’s so nice to see you again. Has Penny offered you a drink yet?”
“No, not yet,” replied Bethan, “but I’m sure she was just about to. I’ll just have a tonic water or a ginger ale, please.”
“Right you are,” said Penny. “Are you on duty?”
“We couldn’t really decide that. I don’t think so, but it feels like it. Anyway, I have to drive back to Llandudno tonight, so from that point of view, have to give the wine a miss. This time.”
Penny nodded and headed off to the kitchen to fetch Bethan’s drink.
“Here you go,” she said a few moments later, handing her a frosty glass of tonic water. “There was even a slice of lemon going spare.” She looked eagerly at the whiteboard.
“Are you going to set it up now and show us what you have?” she asked.
“No, I am not! We’ll do that after dinner, which smells delicious, by the way. I haven’t seen you and Victoria in ages, and I’ve been looking forward to this meal all day, so we’re going to save the business part until after!”
Penny gave a little whimper of disappointment.
“You two can sit down,” Victoria called from the kitchen. “I’ll just bring things through.”
A few minutes later they were enjoying their meal of tarragon chicken with rice and steamed vegetables.
“This looks wonderful,” exclaimed Bethan as she reached across the table to take the bowl of vegetables from Penny.
“It would have been even better,” said Victoria with a pointed look in Penny’s direction, “with a salad. But someone seems to have forgotten it.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” said Penny, jumping up. “You’re right, I did forget the salad, but I picked up fresh bread rolls at the bakery. I’ll just pop them in the oven for a few minutes. Be right back.”
“Alywnne is coming over for dessert and coffee and to hear your presentation,” Victoria told Bethan. “She’s also meant to be bringing what she’s dug up on Alys Jones.” She lowered her voice. “Penny is going to be totally obsessed with this until she finds out what happened. She’ll be like a terrier with her head down a rabbit hole.”
Bethan nodded.
“What were you saying?” asked Penny as she slid back into her seat and set down a basket of warm rolls.
“Victoria was just saying Alywnne’s coming over,” Bethan replied and, with a sharp nod in Penny’s direction, added, “let’s leave it there for now. Let me enjoy my dinner in peace. Now then, tell me about your plans for the new spa. I hope you’ll be offering massages.”
“Massages, possibly,” said Penny. “Tanning, absolutely not.”
Victoria nodded.
“We’ll be going over the building in a few days. It’s been empty so long it’s going to need masses of work, but from the outside it has wonderful potential. I’m not sure about all the uses it’s been put to over the years, but when I was a girl and used to visit Llanelen, it was a men’s hostel. I heard somewhere that in the old days it was a coaching inn. Anyway, it’s a beautiful stone building and I’m really looking forward to seeing the inside of it.”
Bethan laid down her fork and sighed.
“Would you like seconds?” Victoria asked. “There’s lots more.”
“No, thanks,” said Bethan, holding up a hand. “But it was delicious. I don’t get home-cooked meals very often, so I really enjoyed it. It was a treat.” She smiled at Victoria in a satisfied way that made her look like a teenager.
They sat for a moment contemplating the remains of the meal. When Victoria stood up and reached for the platter of leftover chicken, Penny and Bethan exchanged quick glances.
“I’ll clear this away,” said Victoria, catching their meaning, “while the two of you get on with it. Penny’s dying to see what you’ve got.”
“Right,” said Penny, jumping up. “What would you like me to do?”
“Help me make sure the whiteboard is steady,” said Bethan, “and then I’ll put up a few photos.”
As they lifted the board onto the easels, a knock on the front door brought Victoria from the kitchen. “I’ll get it,” she said, setting a teapot on the table as she walked by. “It’ll be Alwynne, no doubt.”
It was, but she wasn’t alone.
“Hello, we met out front and thought we’d come in together,” Davies said as he and Alwynne entered. “Hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d just listen in. Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit quietly at the back and not get in anyone’s way. It’s Bethan’s show.”
“Actually, you can help us move the furniture, if you would,” said Penny, when the greetings were over. “Let’s push the sofa against this wall and put the display here so we can all see it properly.”
“Tea and chocolate cake on the table for those who want it!” called Victoria.
“I’d love a cup,” said Davies. “Shall I be mother?”
“Yes, do.” Victoria laughed. “Here are the spoons.”
A few minutes later Bethan took her place in front of the whiteboard. Penny sat on the sofa, with her notebook open on her lap. Victoria and Alwynne sat to one side, on chairs taken from the dining room, and Davies leaned against the wall, balancing a cup of tea in one hand on a saucer he held in the other.
“Right,” said Bethan, glancing at the papers she was holding. “Let me begin by explaining what happened to Alys Jones in the early morning hours of Saturday, December 5, 1970.
“Sometime not long before daybreak, Alys Jones was apparently on her way to her vehicle, an MG, which had been parked just here,” she said, pointing to a map. “In those days the road was unpaved, and the surrounding area was mainly fields, but now, of course, the area has been built up and includes the housing estate just behind the cottage where we are now.”
She pointed toward Penny’s back door.
“The police received a distress call about six thirty A.M. from a local resident, who had discovered the victim lying in the road. When emergency services reached her, her vital signs were very weak and she died en route to hospital.
“She was the victim of a hit-and-run accident, and the perpetrator was never caught. We don’t know if it was an accident or if she had been deliberately targeted. However, while there was nothing in her past to indicate this was anything other than a tragic accident, the investigation revealed that the driver had made no effort to avoid her. There was no indication of braking or swerving, and for that reason, the accident was regarded as suspicious.”
She paused and looked from one still, focused face to the next. Davies took a slow sip of tea. The clink of china as he set the cup back on its saucer seemed magnified in the silence.
“Of course, forensics weren’t as good then as they are today,” Bethan continued, “and evidence might have been available that, looked at today, could reveal something. But measurements were taken at the time, and it was determined that the point of impact was here.” She pointed to an X on the map. “However, the body was found lying some ten metres farther along the road. We aren’t sure if the victim managed to somehow make her way that distance, or”—she paused for effect and to allow her small audience to prepare themselves—“if the body had been caught and carried along on the car and then fell off. From her injuries, it didn’t look as if the body had been dragged.”
“What about the car or vehicle that hit her?” Victoria asked. “Was it ever located?”
“No. The local garages were notified and asked to be on the lookout for someone bringing in a damaged car for repairs, but nothing turned up.”
After a moment’s silence, she continued.
“House-to-house inquiries were also conducted, including, of course, this one. No one heard or saw anything.”
She looked at Penny.
“Would you like to come up and take a closer look at the photos?”
The others watched respectfully as Penny approached the board. She peered at the grainy black-and-white photos for a moment, and then Bethan pointed at one.
“Start with this one, Penny,” she said. “This photo is a general look at the scene and will give you an idea of where everything was in relation to everything else. So you can see her car still parked just here.” She pointed to the MG. “And the body was found farther along, about here.” Bethan’s finger slid along the photo and stopped.
Penny scanned all the photos, then looked inquiringly at Bethan, who shook her head.
“No, no photos of her here. She was found alive and the priority was to get her to casualty.
“Now many questions remain unanswered,” Bethan continued when the group had settled back in their chairs. “We know the victim had a family connection to this town, but we don’t know what she was doing here at that time. Why she was where she was at that time of day, if you know what I mean.”
Penny rubbed her hands together as if she were experiencing a slight chill and glanced at Davies.
“I think I can answer that,” she said. “Alys had spent the night here, in this cottage, with Emma.”
No one said anything.
“And even though their relationship was not platonic, I’m having a hard time trying to understand why Emma didn’t tell the police that Alys had stopped here that night. That piece of information might have helped with the inquiry. And surely, she would have wanted to know who did this.”
Alwynne looked startled, as if she had just realized the implications of what Penny had said.
“Not platonic? Are you telling me that Emma was a lesbian?” she asked. Penny nodded.
“Well, Penny, that’s why she couldn’t say anything to the police! Even now, there’d probably be lots of folks in this town who wouldn’t want a lesbian teaching their children. But back then?” She gave a little snort and shook her head. “The poor thing. What must it have been like for her, all these years?” And then, as a new thought came to her, she sighed.
“She wouldn’t be too happy even today, knowing that her secret is out. I don’t suppose we could keep this quiet, could we? Just amongst ourselves, like?” She looked from one to the other and, when no one answered, reached into her large, overstuffed purse.
“Is it my turn, now? I managed to dig up some family history and found an interesting photo for you, Penny.”
Bethan and Alwynne changed places. Alwynne turned her back on her small audience while she taped a black-and-white photo to the whiteboard.
“Now then,” she began and pointed at the photo. “This is the Jones family, taken at a picnic, oh, sometime in the 1940s, best we can tell. I do so wish people would write the date on the back of their photos. Anyway, the parents here are Elywn and Myfanwy and you can see the three children. There’s the twins, Alys and Richard, probably about ten, and the baby is their younger brother, Alun.”
“Twins!” exclaimed Penny. “Alys and Richard were twins?”
Alywnne looked confused.
“Yes, of course they were. I am so sorry—I thought you knew. Richard was absolutely lost when she was killed. Took it very hard, he did. They always say twins have that very special bond.”
Penny settled back in the sofa with a small sigh. She exchanged a quick glance with Gareth and then turned her attention back to Alwynne.
“Anyway, the family had a little farm just outside Llanelen and made a fairly reasonable living. But the mother was a great one for education, even back then, and insisted that her children would be educated, and so they were. And they all made something of themselves. Alys went away to art school and had a good teaching job when she died and, by all accounts, was coming into her own as an artist. Richard became a solicitor, as you know, and the baby, Alun, became a vet. I think he really would have preferred to take up farming like his dad, but he did the next best thing, in his mind. He loves lambing time, does Alun. Practically lives in the fields with the farmers when all that’s going on.”
“That would be our local vet, then?” said Victoria. “Jones the vet.”
“That’s right.” Alwynne nodded. “He would have been in his early twenties when his sister was killed.”
She looked from one to the other.
“That’s all I have so far, but I’m sure I can find out more, if you want me to, Penny. I’d like to help.”
Penny stood up and went over to her.
“There are so many unanswered questions, and every bit helps.” She smiled in Gareth’s direction. “We need to find out everything about how she lived.”
Soon after the group broke up and began to drift toward the front door. Bethan offered Victoria and Alwynne a ride home, which they gladly accepted, and she steered them toward the car. Davies stayed behind and put his arm around Penny’s waist, pulling her to him.
“Do I have to go, too? Please don’t send me out into that cold, dark night.”
Penny laughed. “It’s barely September and it’s not that cold or that dark, and yes, you do. I’m not ready yet for that kind of entertaining, but when I am, you’ll be the first to know.”
Davies kissed her and then reluctantly released her.
“Make it soon.”
And then, spotting the large envelope Bethan had left on the floor, propped up against the legs of an easel, he asked rhetorically, “Now have we got everything?”
Following his gaze, Penny started to say something, but Davies held up his hand.
“Yes, we do,” he said with a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Night, love.”
And like the others, he disappeared into the late summer night knowing that Penny would be devouring every word in the file before he’d turned the corner.