The Donaldson Case (3 page)

“It’s a lovely
night,” Joan said.

“It is,” Janet
agreed.
 
“It feels far too warm to
be early November.
 
Are you going to
sit in the garden for a while?”

“I thought I
might,” Joan replied.
 
“Michael said
he might stop over, and I thought I might just wait for him outside.
 
We won’t have many more warm nights.”

Michael
Donaldson lived in the other half of the semi-detached property across the
street from
Doveby
House.
 
He was widower in his sixties, and both
sisters had been surprised when he’d begun courting Joan.
 
While Janet had dated extensively in her
youth, Joan had been content to focus on her career as a primary schoolteacher,
so this was her first experience with dating.
 

Janet was
enjoying watching the relationship between her sister and their handsome
neighbour
develop
slowly.
 
Michael was
a retired chemist, and just lately he’d been filling in at the local chemist’s
shop for a sick colleague.
 
Janet
knew that Joan had missed the man when he’d been too busy to stop by and
visit.
  

“He’s done
working in
Doveby
Dale, then?” Janet asked.

“He worked
until midday today and then a proper substitute arrived to cover until Owen is
back on his feet.”

Janet
nodded.
 
She’d only met Owen Carter
a few times when she’d called into the small local chemists for plasters or
headache tablets, but he seemed like a nice man.
 
She’d been shocked to hear that he’d needed
a rather serious operation at the young age of forty-seven.

“You enjoy the
weather, then,” Janet said.
 
“I’ll
just check the carriage house and the back gate.”

Joan settled
on a bench while Janet made her way towards the carriage house.
 
It really was an unseasonably warm night
and Janet decided that she’d join her sister on the bench once she’d tried the
key.
 
They’d be stuck indoors soon
enough when the winter weather arrived.

The carriage
house was locked up tightly.
 
Janet
had already compared the key she’d found in Piggy with the actual carriage
house key and she knew they were nothing alike, but she tried the mystery key
in the lock anyway, mostly to satisfy Joan.
 
It didn’t fit.
 

It wasn’t far
from there to the back gate, but Janet took her time, enjoying wandering
through their gardens.
 
Stuart did
an excellent job maintaining the many flowerbeds and grassy areas and keeping
the paths neat and tidy.
 
Janet
didn’t like to think what they’d have to pay someone else if he ever decided he
didn’t want to help them anymore.

The lock on
the gate was rusty and Janet wondered if she’d manage to get the key to fit,
even if it was the right key.
 
When
she tried the key in the lock, though, it was quickly apparent that the key was
much too small for the lock on the gate, rusty or otherwise.
 
She sighed and then turned and headed
back towards the house.

As she walked,
she saw something over the low fence that had her quickening her pace.
 
When she reached Joan she took a deep
breath before she spoke.

“I’m not sure
what’s going on,” she told her sister.
 
“But there are two police cars at Michael’s door.”

Chapter
Three

“I didn’t know
we had two police cars in
Doveby
Dale,” Joan said
after a moment.

“No, I didn’t
either,”
Janet
agreed.
 
“But what could they want with Michael?”

“Are you sure
they’re at Michael’s?
 
Maybe they
are visiting Stuart and Mary,” Joan suggested.

“I suppose
they could be,” Janet admitted.
 
“Although the cars are parked at Michael’s end of the street.
 
I couldn’t see anyone in either house,
though.”

“I’d much
rather think they’re talking to Stuart and Mary than Michael.”

“Yes, me,
too.
 
And if someone is in trouble,
I do hope
it’s
Mary and not Stuart.”

Joan
nodded.
 
The sisters didn’t dislike
Stuart’s wife, Mary, but they didn’t exactly like her either.
 
This was a second marriage for both
Stuart and Mary, and Mary seemed to spend a great deal of her time visiting one
or another of her three children from her first marriage who were scattered
around England.
 
From what they
could gather from Stuart, her children appreciated the frequent visits, but their
various spouses were less enthusiastic.
 

Joan and Janet
often felt like they’d done little more than say the odd “hello” to the
woman.
 
Her regular absences allowed
Stuart more time to work in the
Doveby
House gardens,
for which the sisters were grateful, but they also meant that the sisters ended
up giving Stuart breakfast, tea breaks and sometimes even evening meals while
she was away.

“Perhaps we
should take a short stroll around the
neighbourhood
,”
Joan suggested now.
 
She stood up
from the bench and stretched.
 
“We
really haven’t been taking nearly enough exercise, have we?”

Janet hid a
grin.
 
Joan was trying not to appear
nosy, but Janet knew her sister was burning up with curiosity.
 
As that exactly mirrored Janet’s own
feelings, she didn’t argue.

“I was just
thinking we should be doing more walking around our lovely
neighbourhood
,”
she replied.
 
“Especially on these
last few nice nights of autumn.”

The sisters
linked arms and walked slowly around
Doveby
House.
 
Although it was highly
unlikely that anyone was paying any attention to
them
,
they deliberately strolled the long way around, as if they weren’t the least
bit interested in what was happening across the road.
 
They walked slowly down the path at the
front of their property, trying hard to not to stare at the two police cars
that were still in place.
 

“Where to
now?” Janet whispered as they reached the corner where their short cul-de-sac
met a slightly busier road.

“I suppose we
could walk up towards the main road,” Joan suggested.
 
“There’s a pavement.”

And that path
would take them behind the semi-detached properties, perhaps affording them a
look in their back windows.
 

They’d only
just crossed the road when they heard a door opening.
 
Janet gasped as she
realised
it was Michael’s front door that they’d heard.
 
She and Joan stood still and watched as
their local
neighbourhood
constable, Robert Parsons,
walked out of Michael’s house.
 
There were two other men with him, one in a police uniform and the other
in normal clothes, like Robert.
 
The
trio stopped next to the two cars and chatted for a moment before the two
strangers got into one car and drove slowly away.
 

Robert climbed
into his own car and followed them slowly back towards the main road.
 
At the corner, he stopped suddenly and
put down his window.

“Good evening,
ladies,” he called.
 
“Out enjoying
the last of the warm weather?”

“We were,”
Janet agreed.
 
“I do hope everything
is okay,” she added, earning a stern look from her sister.

“Everything is
fine,” Robert told her.
 
“I’ll stop
by to see you both tomorrow.
 
I
haven’t done that for a while.”

“I’ll bake
something special,” Joan told him.
 

“I’ll stop by
around two,” the policeman replied before putting up his window and driving
away.

“He thinks we
were being nosy,” Joan said in a cross voice.

“We were,
rather,” Janet replied.

“It’s worrying
when there are police cars in our
neighbourhood
,”
Joan said.
 
“Of course we wanted to
know what was going on.”

“Maybe we
should just ask Michael,” Janet suggested.

“Oh, no, we
can’t do that,” Joan said, clearly shocked by the suggestion.

“Why on earth
not?” Janet demanded.
 

“It would be,
well, nosy,” Joan told her.
 
“If he
wants us to know what’s going on, he’ll come and talk to us about it.”

“I was
thinking I might stop over and ask him if he
recognises
our mystery key,” Janet said.
 
“Stuart didn’t, but maybe we should ask Mary as well.”

“Is Mary
here?” Joan asked.

“There’s only
one way to find out,” Janet said in a determined voice.
 
Before Joan could stop her, Janet turned
and made her way to Stuart and Mary’s door.
 
She knocked loudly, ignoring the
disapproval that was radiating off of her sister when Joan joined her on the
doorstep.

“Good evening,
ladies.
 
This is a pleasant
surprise,” Stuart said when he opened the door.
 
“What can I do for you?”

“We’re still
trying to work out what the key we found in the piggy bank might open,” Janet
told him.
 
“I know you took a look
and didn’t have any ideas, but I wondered if Mary might
recognise
it.”

“She’s
visiting her youngest this week,” Stuart told her.
 
“His wife is away for work, so it seemed
like the best time for Mary to visit.”

“Oh, well, we
can ask her when she gets back,” Janet said, eager to have a chance to talk to
Michael.
 
“Thanks anyway.”

“Did you want
to come in for a
cuppa
?” Stuart asked.

Janet
exchanged glances with Joan.
 
It was
clear from Stuart’s voice that he was hoping they’d agree.
 
The man must have been lonely with his
wife away.
 
The ringing of a
telephone saved Janet from answering.

“Oh, that’ll
be Mary,” Stuart said brightly.
 
“I’d better go and answer it.
 
See you soon.”

He very nearly
shut the door on Janet’s nose in his haste.
 
She stepped back quickly and then shook
her head.
 
“It’s just as well we
didn’t want to have that
cuppa
,” she muttered as she
turned away from the door.

“We shouldn’t
bother Michael,” Joan said now.
 

“Nonsense,”
Janet replied.
 
“We’ll just ask
about the key.
 
It won’t take more
than a minute or two.”
 
She could
tell her sister was going to protest more, so Janet hurried across the small
space between the two front doors and knocked on Michael’s door.
 

A moment later
the door slowly swung open and Janet gasped.
 
“Michael, what’s wrong?” she asked,
staring at the man, all thoughts of the odd key gone as she took in his
appearance.

Michael
blinked back at her and then shook his head.
 
“You should come in,” he said, stepping
backwards to let the sisters into the house.
 
They followed him down the short
corridor into the kitchen, where Michael fell heavily into a chair.

“Please, sit,”
he said, waving a hand.
 

Janet sat down
across from him while Joan took a seat next to him.
 
As she shifted in her chair, Janet took
a good look at the man.
 
She’d
always considered him rather handsome, but tonight he was pale and looked
several years older than normal.
 
He
looked like a man who had had just been given some shocking and bad news.
 
Janet began to feel guilty about their
suddenly dropping in.
 
Sometimes
being nosy wasn’t a good thing, she thought.

Michael sighed
deeply and then took Joan’s hand in his.
 
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said.
 

“I could make
some tea,” Janet suggested.

“That would be
perfect,” he replied.

No one spoke while
Janet filled the kettle and switched it on.
 
Michael answered her queries with
monosyllables as she searched the cupboards for cups and teabags.
 
Eventually, Janet managed to assemble
everything and serve the tea.

“Have extra
milk and sugar,” Joan told the man.
 
“You seem to have had a shock.”

“I have,
rather,” Michael agreed, spooning sugar into his cup with grim
determination.
 
Joan finally took
the spoon away from him after he’d added a seventh spoonful.
 

“Did you come
over because you saw the police were here?” he asked after a few sips of tea.

“Not at all,”
Janet replied with forced cheer.
 
“We found this key, hidden in a piggy bank, and we were hoping you might
know what it’s for.”
 
She held up
the key.
 

Michael barely
glanced at it.
 
“I’ve no idea,” he
said.

“What’s going
on?” Joan asked in a quiet voice.

Michael
sighed.
 
“I assume you saw the
police cars,” he said.

“We did,” Joan
confirmed.

“They wanted
to ask me a few questions,” Michael said.
 
“Questions about, well, my work.”

“Has something
happened at the shop?” Joan asked.

“When the man
from the head office arrived, the first thing he did was an inventory.
 
Apparently there is a somewhat large
discrepancy between his inventory and what the shop’s records show should be
there.”

“And he contacted
the police about it?”
 
Janet thought
that seemed like an overreaction to what might be a simple accounting error.

“When it comes
to controlled substances, it’s wise to involve the police at the earliest
possible moment,” Michael told her.

“Even if someone
just hasn’t been keeping very good records?” Janet asked.

“It’s more
than just bad record keeping,” Michael told her.
 
“As chemists, we’re trained to keep very
detailed records, anyway.
 
Bad
record keeping is almost as much of a crime as stealing drugs.”

“Really?” Joan
asked.

Michael
shrugged and shook his head.
 
“No,
not really, but it is very serious.
 
The items we dispense are carefully controlled for a reason, or rather
many reasons.
 
It’s vital that we
always know exactly what we have and what we’re giving to our customers.”

“I assume
something is missing, rather than
there
being too much
of something,” Janet said, earning a “hush” look from her sister.

“Actually,
it’s a bit of both,” Michael said with a frown.

“That suggests
it really is bad record keeping,” Janet said, ignoring yet another look from
her sister.
 
“Like maybe someone
isn’t tracking the incomings or the outgoings properly.”

“Yes, that’s
what worries me,” Michael said with a sigh.

“I thought
Owen always seemed incredibly professional,” Janet said.
 
“I can’t imagine he’d make mistakes.”

“Everyone
makes mistakes now and again,” Michael replied.
 
“And Owen hasn’t been feeling quite
right in the last few months.
 
It’s
easier to make mistakes when you aren’t one hundred per cent.”

“So the police
think Owen is behind the problem?” Joan asked.

“The police
are investigating,” Michael replied.
 
“Which means they are looking at Owen, but they are also talking to
everyone who has worked in that shop in the last couple of months.”

“Which includes
you,” Janet said.

“Indeed, I’ve
covered for Owen several times due to his poor health,” Michael agreed.

“But you
aren’t the only one,” Janet said.
 
“There was some strange little bald man in there one day when I was
there.”

Michael
chuckled.
 
“George Hawkins, though
he won’t thank you for describing him that way.”

“He was
rather, um, different,” Joan said.
 
“He kept humming and talking to himself the whole time we were there.”

“George is a
lovely man, but he’s quite eccentric.
 
He had his own little shop on the outskirts of Derby and his regular
customers loved him.
 
Unfortunately,
his wife became quite ill and he ended up selling the shop and looking after
her full-time until she passed away.
 
Now he fills in at various shops around the area when people are ill or
on holiday, although there are a few shops that won’t have him back because of
his, well, oddness.”