Dishing the Dirt

Agatha took the lid off the box again. “Hurry up. I’ll phone Bill.”


Simon carefully examined the items, his thoughts always on Ruby. He wanted the old Ruby back, the one he had been in love with. He had tried to call her that morning, but his calls went straight to her voice answering message. He knew if he left her a message about this discovery she would call him back, and he wanted to find out that the hard woman he had encountered the night before had changed back into the Ruby he wanted to marry.

“I really don’t feel like waiting for the police, Agatha,” said Simon. “I’m still upset about Ruby. Do you mind if I clear off?”





Chapter Seven

Simon walked down through the village to where he had left his car outside Agatha’s cottage. He took out his mobile phone and dialled Ruby’s number. It went straight to voice mail. “We’ve made a big discovery at Jill’s cottage,” said Simon. “If you want to hear about it, call me back.”

He leaned against his car and waited. A sudden brisk breeze rustled through the leaves of the lilac tree outside Agatha’s garden.

Simon felt a sudden frisson of fear. It was as if the leaves were whispering a warning. He looked along the lane. Nothing and nobody, except a discarded sweet wrapper that skittered along and stuck to his trousers.

His phone rang, making him jump. “Hullo, darling boy,” cooed Ruby. “What have you got for me?”

“It’s a terrific find,” said Simon. “I’d rather see you in person.”

“Come over. It’s my day off,” said Ruby.

When she rang off, she turned to her children. “I’m taking you to Granny.”

“Wicked!” cried her son, Jonathan.

And Pearl said, “We love Granny more’n you.”

Ruby shrugged and phoned her mother, who lived a few streets away. She fought down a small twinge of guilt. Her children spent more time with their grandmother than they ever did with her.

*

Simon drove to Oxford, praying that his dream of a warm and loving Ruby could be restored. He was about to ring the doorbell when he heard a man’s voice through the open window of the living room, saying, “Don’t you think I should stay? We’re desperate for a break in this case.”

“No, run along,” came Ruby’s voice. “The little sap is spoony about me and he might get jealous if he saw you and clam up.”

“I might get jealous,” said the man with a laugh.

“Don’t be an idiot. He’s just a rather boring little boy.”

Simon backed off and crouched down behind a bush. The door opened and a thickset man came out. He kissed Ruby and walked off down the path.

The door closed and there was only the sound of the strengthening wind rustling through the leaves.

Simon suddenly felt immeasurably tired, silly and depressed. He crept out from behind the bush, making sure he was not observed from the windows of Ruby’s house and made his way to his car and drove off. By the time he got back to Mircester, his phone had rung several times. Each time he recognised Ruby’s number and finally switched his phone off.

Ruby paced angrily up and down her living room, wondering what to do. She tried to remind herself that if there was anything pertaining to the murder of Tremund, it would surely come through to Thames Valley Police and all she had to do was wait.

But she was ambitious and impatient. Simon had given her his address. She decided to drive to Mircester and challenge him.

The night was very dark. The air was sticky and humid and from far away came a rumble of thunder.

Her old car did not have air-conditioning and she was tired and sweating by the time she reached Simon’s flat. Ruby rang the bell. But Simon, looking through the spy hole in his door, decided not to answer it. “The hell with her,” he muttered, and went back to bed.