‘So, you know this was his house?’ The voice was now heavy with suspicion.
Yet again, Thelma nodded. ‘I do,’ she said.
Zippy Doodah fixed her with an uncompromising look and Thelma realised that here was no fool and that this was one of those situations where evasions and half-truths were going to cut very little ice. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘there’s a couple of us – myself, Liz – who are a little concerned about Neville’s death and were wondering what it was that really happened that night.’
Zippy Doodah said nothing but regarded her searchingly for a long moment, as if coming to some decision. Finally, she spoke. ‘As you’ve no doubt heard, a row is what happened,’ she said. ‘How Judy Bestall was walking her dog right here and heard everything?’
Thelma nodded. ‘Is there any chance that I could speak to this Judy Bestall?’
Zippy Doodah gave a grim snort of laughter. ‘You’d have a job,’ she said. ‘She’s gone to her daughter’s in Malaga, not back for at least three weeks. I said: “Judy, love, you’re wasting your money; it’s hotter here than it is there.”’
Three weeks?Thelma sighed inwardly. Was she going to have to wait three weeks before finding anything else out?
‘But she told you about the row?’ she said to Zippy.
Zippy nodded. ‘A load of shouting, according to Judy. Fair bellowing, she was.’
‘And this was his wife?’
‘Who else would it be?’ There was a restrained note in Zippy’s voice that made Thelma wonder what she was thinking.
‘And did they often argue – Neville and Ffion?’ she asked.
Zippy considered. ‘Not that I heard,’ she said grudgingly. ‘But she’s a sullen madame, is Ffion Hilton. Not that I ever have much to do with her. And she’s someone who does herself no favours. A few of us locals went round after Nev’s death – to see how she was doing – she all but told us where to go.’ She shook her head and it suddenly struck Thelma that despite the gruff exterior here was someone who was rather isolated in this non-community of holiday lets and second homes.
‘Why do you think she was shouting at him?’ she asked. Zippy gave Thelma a look heavy with significance.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she said eventually. ‘If, of course, itwasher.’
‘You think it might have been someone else shouting at him?’
Yet again Zippy shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. I wasn’t there,’ she said dampeningly. ‘Oh, and if you’re wondering about this here gate’ –she nodded at the black door set into the hedge – ‘I can tell you Neville keeps it locked. Used to tell anyone who’d listen how it’s fastened with two padlocks and three bolts.’ To demonstrate her point she grabbed the latch and gave a dismissive shove.
With a gentle whine the door swung inwards, giving a perfect view of a blank wall of the Old Barn and that small, squat building with wide windows that was the Snuggery.
Chapter Six
Sunday 13th July
From the Hambleton Amblers Not Ramblers Facebook Page:
Please be aware that because of today’s extreme heat our Abbey-to-Abbey Saunter is being postponed until next week. Stay cool, Amblers!
‘Liz Newsome – just because the woman clocked you from her horse, it does not mean she’s out to get you.’ Pat sounded weary as she fanned her shining face with her floppy white sun hat. Once again, the patio doors of the garden centre were wide open, but today this only served to make the interior almost as hot as outside. The young lad stacking trays of dirty crockery from people’s Sunday brunches was bright pink under his apron and black T-shirt.
‘You didn’t see the way she looked at me,’ said Liz, fumbling for a tissue. The pollen count seemed to have gone up a notch overnight and her itchy eyes felt like they must be bulging from her head.
‘According to Jean and Donald, she’s like that with everyone. Both Sidrah and your pal Zippy Doodah said how she wasturning people away when they were calling to see how she was. Anyway—’ Pat fished the coral-pink fan from her handbag and leaned back in her chair, allowing the cool draught to play over her face and neck. ‘So we’re thinking Mrs Neville Hilton the Second snuck into the garden via this back door? Then let rip at Neville and …’ She let her words tail off as she made a discreet but graphic gesture with the fan.
Liz emitted two worried sneezes. ‘And then lied to the police about being there,’ she concluded, blowing her nose.
Pat looked across at Thelma who was writing in her old green mark book. ‘You’re being very quiet,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Thelma. ‘I was just jotting down everything I saw, I didn’t get the chance before church. Now—’ She looked up ‘What was it you heard again?’
‘There was some argy-bargy in the garden, and Ffion shouted have pity or for pity’s sake or some such at Neville,’ said Pat a trifle impatiently. It was so hot she had neither energy nor appetite to eat her Melmerby slice, which wasn’t like her at all. Thelma nodded, and considered a moment. ‘Does none of that strike you as odd?’ she said eventually.
‘Not particularly,’ said Pat. ‘Why should it? People say all sorts when they’re upset.’
