Episode 8 - The Threesome

Wednesday

Armed with a bagful of croissants and other delights from the only genuine French baker in Oxfordshire (or so Jean-Claude the proprietor claimed), Jim and Colin drove to the Hurley cottage and were heartily received by Gary, who had just arrived from shopping at the genuine English bakery in Upper Grumpsfield, run appropriately by a Mr Crumb supported by a wide-ranging assortment of relatives.

Mr Crumb liked to be treated with due respect. His sister, Flo Crumb, had married Mr Browne, the Gazette editor and taken on her full name of Florence when she wasn’t Mrs Browne, and Mr Crumb had been impressed by the respectful use of a title in days when first names were normally exchanged, even in high places.

“You’d better get Dorothy here, Cleo,” said Gary. “We seem to have a lot of breakfast lined up.”

“She’s on her way,” said Cleo after hugging the two sleuths. “I didn’t want her to miss your report, Guys.”

“Who is Dorothy?” said Jim.

“Queen of music in Upper Grumpsfield,” said Gary, “and an extremely enthusiastic sleuth.”

“And a good one, if I remember rightly,” added Colin.

“I suppose she is,” said Gary.

“Age is not a defect, Gary,” said Cleo. “It’s what happens to you if you survive.”

“How old is she then,” Jim asked.

“In her seventies, but quick-witted,” said Colin.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” said Jim, who immediately hit it off with Dorothy, though he thought her offering of two currant loaves and a tray of quiche was going a bit over the top.

“You’ll have to stay till we’ve eaten most of this, you guys,” said Cleo, who was amused by the effect Jim’s charm had on Dorothy.

“With a break, Cleo. I want Jim to apply for Dr Mitchell’s job,” said Colin.

“Are you sure you want to be bothered with eighty percent hypochondriacs round here?” said Cleo.

“Valetudinarians are my speciality,” said Jim. “I know how to deal with them.”

“How?”

“I agree with all the symptoms they complain about and gradually they start to backtrack: The 3-day-flat-out migraine becomes a slight headache from reading in the dark; the dizziness only occurs after consumption half a bottle of vodka; that kind of thing.”

“That’s a bit like the complaints we receive at HQ,” said Gary.” “Of course, we have to follow up all of them, but a fair number are actually false alarms or so trivial that the callers should not waste police time. Incidents like one a while back: The woman got herself put through to me, and announced that she had had four geranium pots and now only had three. Someone had stolen one. ‘Can you please put a police guard on my garden’ she begged.”

“You’d better tell the story of what happened after that, Gary. It’s really quite a gem.”

“A patrol car went there and the team explained that we could not watch out for geranium thieves, and that’s when it turned nasty. That complainant shouted at the team and the next door neighbour joined the fray denying that he had the missing geranium, but insisting that the complainant’s mother-in-law had not been seen for weeks and could they investigate that instead?”

“Neighbourhood stress,” said Jim, nodding as if he had had similar experiences. “So you were in the patrol car, were you?”

“Well...”

“I digitalized that report, Gary,” said Colin. “You were suspicious of the way those neighbours went for one another, so you obtained a search warrant and a forensic team went into the complainant’s house. The mother-in-law was found embalmed in the box room. A book on DIY embalming was found on the bedside table.”

“That was really gruesome,” said Gary. “I had to pretend I did not mind viewing the corpse, but it turned my stomach.”

“It took watching the birth of all your twins to cure you of your corpse phobia, Gary.”

“The midwife praised me for not fainting. Apparently, lots of fathers overestimate their courage.”

“How many?” Jim asked.

“How many what?”

“Kids.”

“These days it’s 3 pairs and two singles,” said Gary.

“Where are they all?”

“The tiny ones are asleep and all the others are in the day nursery except for my eldest. She’s at school. My mother and the au pair took the little ones there,” said Gary. “Here they are now.”

“Anything left for me?” Grit called as she hung her coat up in the vestibule before entering the living-room and seeing the new face. “Introduce me!”

“What happened to Toni?” Cleo asked.

“Gone to phone home, I expect. She’s still homesick.”

***

“So how did that embalming story end?” Jim asked when everyone had been seated and got round to actually having breakfast.

“The death proved to have been from natural causes and I don’t think the relatives were even charged for embalming the old lady. But you can summons people for not burying the dead in a respectful way and cheating the state by claiming the pension of the deceased, so in the end they settled for paying up.”

“Embalming?” said Grit. “I thought you were into cannibalism.”

“I am now, mother. I’ll fill in the rest later.”

“A happily embalmed ending then,” said Jim.

“I was a witness at the trial and the judge was sympathetic so the corpse’s son-in-law got off with a fine after promising to give the dead ladya decent burial.”

“I’m surprised you never told me that story,” said Dorothy. “You should be proud of yourself for having the instinct to go for that complainant.”

“Not instinct, Dorothy. I just did not want to bother with the geraniums. It was my team partner who insisted on pursuing the missing person case. Later he said the trivial complaint was in reality a call for help.”

“So it really was you who went to that house, wasn’t it?” said Colin. “The superintendent on a house-call. Unusual.”

“I wasn’t a super then, Colin and there was no one else available. Roger was still the superintendent. I’d moved to homicide by then but was usually out on traffic patrol. When the head of homicide was injured on a case a short time later I moved up. No one else wanted the job. I jumped the non-existent queue.”

“What case was that?” Colin asked. “I don’t remember a record of it.”

“Cops don’t like talking their failures or failings, Colin. My predecessor in homicide thought he was cleverer than the gangsters, and that is a dangerous assumption.”

“So there’s no record of the shooting?” said Cleo.

“He was stabbed, Cleo.”

***

After a long silence while those present digested the idea that being a cop was a dangerous business, Cleo tried to rescue the breakfast that was now brunch. She was frustrated that she did not know about all the dark corners in Gary’s past. Was it survival of the fittest at HQ, too?

***

“Of course, the geranium pot disappearance fits in with the notion that people can’t say or don’t even know what’s really wrong,” Cleo lectured. “They develop mechanisms to deal with it. Crying out to the police about a geranium pot is typical of how a trivial incident can be blown up out of all proportion, thus being a justification for crying ‘help’. And the complainant’s neighbour needed help, since it was certainly a problem how to dispose of the embalmed corpse and not give up the deceased’s pension.

The guy might not even have realized that he wanted the mother-in-law to be found so that he could be free of the pressure on him. And altogether people do things with ulterior motives all the time. It’s probable that he confided in the woman with the geraniums and she had interpreted the man’s tale or been alarmed by it”

“I’m impressed!” said Jim.

“This sleuth has a PhD in sociology, Jim. I have to watch out for such pearls of wisdom all the time.”

“Here’s another one,” retorted Cleo. “It’s your turn to keep the coffee-pot filled, Sweetheart.”

“See what I mean?”

“I’ll get it,” said Grit. “I love this game of happy families.”

***

“So you are telling me that there are cannibals at Paddy’s farm, are you? Gary said after Colin and Jim had finally got round to describing their visit to the bar in Abbott Street.

“There may only be one,” said Jim. “Or it may all be a fantasy. Dan and Ian volunteered the information as if they were insiders.”

“I never thought of it that way,” said Colin.

“You should try working in A and E. It’s often hard to know what to believe when the patients start shifting the blame around.”

“What blame?” Dorothy asked. Up to now she had just listened.

“Who was driving at the time of the accident? Who wasn’t belted in? Who didn’t warm about the polished floor? That sort of thing.”

***

“Getting back to what’s bothering us now: We have it on Chris Winter’s authority – and he is a reliable forensic scientist – that cannibalism cannot be ruled out.”

“Isn’t it possible that those two guys who talked about it at the pub were actually involved at one time and had left the group?” said Cleo.

“I think that’s possible,” said Jim. “They talked about how it all worked as if they had witnessed it.”

“So they will have to be grilled,” said Gary. “Do you know their surnames?”

“No. We did not commit ourselves that far,” said Colin.

“Fortunately,” said Cleo.

“Would you recognize them again?”

“The light was poor, but good enough to see them. I’m sure we would, Gary,” said Jim.

“OK. I’ll send Mia Curlew as your girlfriend, Colin,” Gary proposed. “I want you to go with her tonight and make the excuse that your partner wanted to go with you on what might be Jim’s last night in Middlethumpton.”

“OK.”

“We’ll park an unmarked car with a team outside the bar and Mia will have an alarm she can sound unobtrusively to get them in. We can also guard the rear entrance to stop anyone getting out that way.”

“Wow,” said Cleo. “You sure mean business!”

“I want those two men to open up about what and who they know in the anthropophagy business,” said Gary. “How long were they with the group, and so on.”

***

Another round of coffee sealed the plan. Almost like a diversion, Cleo phoned Dr Mitchell on Jim’s behalf and a meeting was arranged for after surgery at noon.

“Then you can come back and eat some casserole for lunch,” said Grit. “I want to know who’ll be the next doctor in this house.”

“I’ll go to HQ, Jim,” said Colin. “I’ll be back for some of that stew too if there’s enough, Grit.”

“There’s always enough, Colin. My mother measures by the gallon,” said Gary. “I’ll cadge a lift with you. I should look at my mail and talk to Nigel. Then we could drive back for that casserole.”

“It’s nearly eleven now,” said Jim. “I’ll take a walking tour of the village and find Dr Mitchell in good time.”

“Go past Paddy’s farm. That’s straight on at the roundabout and on your right,” said Gary.

“What do you want me to look out for? Smoke signals?”

“Perhaps not,” said Gary. “Though it might be their new way of getting rid of body parts.”

“I thought discretion was all the rage among cannibals,” said Cleo caustically. “They would hardly dispose of a corpse in broad daylight!”

“Just joking!”

“What a pity Hilda is no more. She could have watched events through her lace drapes.”

“Gary explained that poor Hilda had lived across the road from Paddy’s estate and had been caught in a fire at a local villa.”

“Dr Mitchell’s house is up for sale near Marble Villa,” said Dorothy.

“I owned the villa when the fired occurred,” said Gary. “But I fortunately got the money back. They’ll have to knock it down. It’s uninhabitable.”

“I hope you get Dr Mitchell’s job, Jim.”

“So do I,” said Jim “If I get the job I’ll go for the house.”

***

Two hours later, Jim was back at the cottage with the news that he would start as a partner of Dr Mitchell as soon as he could leave his job in London, which would be soon, since they were always glad to have one less salary to find. He could also buy the doctor’s house.

“Isn’t you London hospital National Health?” said Cleo.

“Not that national, Cleo, but they are trying to keep the hospital open to patients who can’t afford whopping private insurance.”

“Awesome in a negative way,” said Cleo. “Who will pay you here, then?”

“National Health when I take over the surgery altogether.”

“So you’ll start by working for free?” said Cleo.

“Only for a week or two, Cleo. I’ve worked it all out with Dr Mitchell,” said Jim. “Think of it as an internship.”

“On the other hand, I could put you on my agency books and pay you a fee for investigating,” said Cleo.

“What am I supposed to investigate?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“I’m meeting the house agent at 4,” said Jim.

“You don’t waste time, Mister!”

“No, Cleo. I can’t wait to get started.”

***

At HQ, Gary’s talk with Nigel had taken an unexpected turn.

“How did Colin get on?” was Nigel’s initial concern. “I hope no one recognized him.”

“He didn’t say anything about being recognized, but he did find out about possible cannibalism in Upper Grumpsfield.”

“You’re kidding.”

“He and Jim were sent into the pub’s snug with their ale. Two chatty guys there told them about Paddy’s Farm being the meeting place for like-minded, whatever that entails.”

“It’s been converted into a gym. Inspectors went there to look over the place, Gary. It was OK. They got their licence and are doing good business.”

“Have you been there?” said Gary.

“I don’t really mix with muscle men,” said Nigel.

“Those bones and skull found buried at the priory might have belonged to one of those guys,” said Gary.

“What evidence is there of that?” said Nigel.

“None, except that the gym attracts single men and the two guys at the bar thought that guys who were alone in the world might be ideal victims.”

“I can’t believe that. You don’t go to a gym unless you want to keep fit or stay fit.”

“Or are lonely and grateful to find a friend.”

“So who persuades you that you’d like nothing better than to be eaten? Come off it, Gary.”

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I’m just telling you what Jim and Colin heard.”

“I’ve half a mind to go there and see what’s going on at that farmhouse.”

“Would you want to go into a den of iniquity?”

“Especially if it’s a den of iniquity, Gary. I’m a cop aspiring to become a detective.”

“But you don’t need to sacrifice yourself. There’s a chance that the victim was drugged and then killed.”

“I won’t touch any victuals and it wouldn’t be a sacrifice. I’m warming to the idea by the minute,” said Nigel. “If you don’t want me to go I could ask Cleo to send me from her agency.”

***

As he knew he would, Nigel had opened a can of worms. Cleo would take the credit if Nigel found out something, and Gary did not want that. It was his case, after all. That was where family unity came apart, though things were improving slowly as Gary became less competitive.

“OK. You win,” he conceded.

“Tomorrow?”

“The sooner the better.”

“Mia could help you out here,” Nigel suggested.

“I can manage, Nigel, but we should wait for Colin’s second report on tonight’s pub visit. And I should interview the two guys they talked to. You can’t go before we know they weren’t making it up as they went along.”

”OK. I’ll come here in the morning, then, shall I?”

“Yes.”

***

It was Gary’s suggestion, and Mia was quite happy to go along to the pub that evening with Colin and Jim. Gary wanted the full identities of Dan and Ian. They could not tell stories about cannibalism without having inside information.

Colin and Mia made a big play of their togetherness and the barman was suitably impressed. Jim made out that was sorry he wasn’t the supposed partner. To the guys in the snug it looked like a threesome.

It wasn’t difficult to get the two men’s full names. Mia used the old trick of asking which one of the two of them was Mr Blake.

“Neither,” they said in astonishment. “I’m Dan Scot and this is Ian Bailey. John Blake is not here this evening. Were you looking for him?”

“Not really,” Mia improvised. “In fact, I’m glad he isn’t here. He’s a friend of my husband’s and I’m getting a divorce. I’d hate him to think I’m out on the tiles and game for anything.”

“Aren’t you?” said Colin, to everyone’s surprise.

“I’m your game, Darling,” said Mia.

That made everyone laugh. Mia’s authenticity had been confirmed through that little domestic scene. The evening went well for an hour or two, after which Mia declared that she and Colin had to catch up on some intimacy and Jim would please stay outside later. A round of applause followed, especially when Jim declared that he had enjoyed himself the previous night so why was he being deprived tonight.

***

Outside the pub, Jim could not resist asking Mia if something was going on between her and Colin because if she was free, he could imagine going on a date with her.

“You have my blessing,” said Colin.

“Why not?” said Mia. ”I really am a free agent now.”

“I’m going up to London tomorrow to fix things with my job. but I’ll be back at the weekend, Mia. Colin will explain all that. Can I phone you?”

Mia handed him her business card. The two sleuths walked her home to the little flat she had found for herself and her son.

“I’ll be waiting for your call,” she said. “I have to get in now. The babysitter will want to go home.”

“Babysitter?” said Jim.

“Yes. My little boy is only three. Do you mind?”

“Why should I mind?”

“Men don’t like going on dates with women who have children by previous partners.”

“I’m an exception.”

“That’s a relief,” said Mia as she opened the house door. “It was a great outing. I’ll give Gary the names of those guys, shall I?”

“Do that,” said Colin, but I’ll write a report tomorrow.”

“So will I,” said Mia. “Good night, gentlemen.”

“No rough and tumble tonight, Mia?” said Colin.

“Good night, Colin. ! My love for you was purely in the course of duty.”

"What about me?" said Jim.

"Let's talk about it, shall we?"said Mia.