‘Well she certainly has the gift, doesn’t she,’ I said.
‘I can introduce you if you like. She was quite taken with me, she was. Said I was one of the best hostesses of a meeting she’d ever come across. Said I should be managing a theatre or something, she did.’
‘Did she, indeed? Well, well, well. Have you seen much of her?’
‘No, she keeps herself very much to herself, she does. Sensitive, see? Gots to rest. Takes it out of you, talking to t’other side.’
‘I dare say it does,’ I said.
Mr Spratt reappeared with my joint of meat neatly wrapped. ‘There you go, m’dear. What have you got planned for that?’
‘I was thinking of a nice Bengali curry, Mr Spratt. A recipe I brought back from our travels.’
‘I could never get on with curries,’ he said. ‘We did try ’em, didn’t we, Dais?’
Daisy nodded.
‘The missus is a lovely cook, but I never quite liked the taste. I prefers my food plain and simple, like my women.’ He laughed, but then looked worried. ‘Don’t tell Mrs Spratt I said that. She’d skin me.’
‘Your secret is safe with me, Mr Spratt,’ I said with a wink.
‘You too, Dais,’ he said, looking over at his daughter.
‘Right you are, Dad. I won’t tell Our Ma you said she was simple and plain.’
Amid more teasing and laughter, I paid for the meat and bade my farewells.
To my delight, the dairy did have some yoghurt and after a few more stops I had everything we needed for our Bengali supper. As I came out of the greengrocer’s I saw Lady Hardcastle on the far side of the green, on her way home from visiting Dr Fitzsimmons. I waved but she didn’t see me so I trotted round the green to meet her.
‘What ho, Flo,’ she said when she finally noticed me hurrying towards her. ‘All done?’
‘As much as I could manage without seeming odd,’ I said.
‘You, pet? Odd? Never.’
‘You’re most kind, my lady. I wanted to keep it natural and casual, and not at all as though I were quizzing her.’
‘Tell all, tiny servant. What did you learn?’
I recounted my conversation with Daisy as closely as I could.
‘Birmingham is plenty to be getting on with,’ she said when I had finished. ‘I’d wager the spiritualist community is a small one, even in a city that large. She should be easy enough to track down now. Good work.’
‘Thank you, my lady. And what did the doctor have to say?’
‘The good doctor was a tad shaken up, I feel,’ she said.
‘Oh?’ I said. ‘How so?’
‘He had never spoken to Madame Eugénie before and yet, he said, she knew his late wife’s name. Even against all his better judgement he’s convinced that he really has had a message from her from the Great Beyond.’
‘He’s convinced, then?’
‘He very much is,’ she said. ‘And I think it’s comforted him as much as unnerving him. She died in childbirth, you know. Over thirty years ago. He said that not a day passes that he doesn’t think of her and feel at least a twinge of guilt for having brought her death upon her.’
‘I’m pleased,’ I said. ‘I’ve always liked Dr Fitzsimmons.’
‘Indeed,’ said Lady Hardcastle, distractedly.
‘So what’s next, my lady?’ I said.
‘Lunch, I think, pet, don’t you?’
‘No, silly, I meant with our investigations. We’ve a murderer in our midst.’
‘So they say,’ she said, still rather distracted. ‘I wish that blessed telephone had been installed. I should rather like to speak to Inspector Sunderland. I’m sure he’d be able to find out all about Mr Snelson in a jiffy.’
‘Perhaps we could send a telegram,’ I said, helpfully.
‘I really rather think we should,’ she said. ‘He’s bound to have all the particulars. The police are good at that. They always take down a chap’s particulars.’
‘I say!’ I said. ‘How very forward of them.’
We walked home, chuckling.
We were settling down to elevenses in the kitchen the next day, about to tuck in to freshly brewed coffee and some ever-so-slightly stale cake, when the doorbell rang.
‘Well that’s just rude,’ said Lady Hardcastle, putting down her cup.
‘It is, my lady,’ I said as I got up. ‘People should be aware by now that you always settle down for coffee and a bun at eleven o’clock. Except on the days when it’s a quarter to eleven. Or half past ten. Or on the days when we don’t bother at all. It’s frightfully ill-mannered of them not to know.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m well enough to wield a carpet beater, Flo dear. Answer the door.’
It was Sergeant Dobson again.
‘Mornin’, miss,’ he said. ‘Is Lady Hardcastle at home?’
‘Of course, Sergeant. Please come in.’
He stepped inside and I placed his helmet on the hall table as usual. ‘We were in the kitchen,’ I said, showing him through.
‘Good morning, Sergeant,’ said Lady Hardcastle as we came in. ‘Please sit down. Would you care to join us for coffee?’
‘That would be most welcome, m’lady,’ he said, making himself comfortable on a kitchen chair. He looked around at the cake tins. ‘Are you planning a party, m’lady?’
She laughed. ‘We probably should,’ she said. ‘But no. Being cooped up here by the foul weather has driven poor Armstrong to a frenzy of baking. You must take some back to the station with you. I’m sure constable Hancock would enjoy a cake with his afternoon tea.’
‘That’s very kind, m’lady. The lad could do with a bit of fattening up. All skin and bones he is.’
She smiled. As I poured the him a cup of coffee, she said, ‘How may we help you this morning, Sergeant?’
‘I was just wondering if you’d made any progress with your enquiries,’ he said. ‘Only there’s been more goings-on at the pub.’
‘More?’ she said, incredulously.
‘More, m’lady,’ he said with a nod. ‘Nothing new, mind. Just stuff moved about and a fresh message on the scoreboard.’
‘And what did this fresh message say?’ she asked.
‘Similar to t’other one. Let me see…’ He produced a small notebook from the breast pocket of his tunic and leafed through it. ‘“Nelson – murderer” it said. And then that signature that everyone reckons says Mummy Bear.’
‘And no one saw or heard anything, I suppose,’ she said.
‘No, m’lady. Joe and his missus sleeps the sleep of the just by all accounts and Madame Eugénie hasn’t been seen ’cept to open the door a crack and take her meals, so no one knows what she might have seen.’
‘Hmmm,’ she said. ‘And are we any closer to finding out what it might mean?’
‘No one has been able to speak to Mr Nelson hisself,’ he said. ‘But young Hancock telephoned the Gloucester police yesterday to see if they knows anything about him. We’re expecting their reply today.’
‘Then we shall have to be patient. Do you think Joe would mind us dropping in to the pub to have a nosy?’
‘Matter of fact, he asked if you wouldn’t mind doing just that, m’lady. He’s all of a pother; given him quite a turn, all this has. And he knows you’re a lady of science and all, he’d welcome a rational point of view, I reckons.’