The Spring Cleaning Murders (3 page)

“Yes, we did.” Abbey added a couple of skips to her walk. “It was a real fairy and her was sitting on a frog stool.”

“Toadstool,” I corrected automatically, pushing open the kitchen door to find Jonas already seated at the table. The room was still in a state of disorder, with the step-ladder blocking the pantry door, the mop resting by the sink, and the china and glassware I had removed from the cupboards for their annual bath taking up every inch of working surface. I should have been ashamed at how little progress I had made, but it was Jonas who occupied my thoughts. I felt a twinge of alarm, realizing how much he had aged over the course of the winter. Today the impression was heightened by a tall, gaunt figure who strongly resembled the Grim Reaper looming over his shoulder.

“Hi, Ellie.” My cousin Freddy’s cheerful grin broke through his scraggly beard, which along with his lank ponytail and skull-and-crossbones earring bespoke the free spirit. “I’m being a boy scout, cheering up my old mate here.” He patted Jonas’s balding head and received a growl for his trouble.

“You came looking for breakfast, Freddy,” I retorted as the twins raced across the floor whooping with delight.

“How you do wrong me, dear coz.” He swooped up both children and tousled their hair. “Thoughts of mooching a plate of bacon and eggs never crossed my mind. I merely ambled over to see how you all were. And lucky I did, because what do I find but dear old Jonas sunk in gloom at the prospect of some woman by the name of Mrs. Large having the cheek to think she can come here and fill the hallowed void left by our beloved Mrs. Malloy.”

“We must adjust to change.” Feeling righteous, I heated water for boiled eggs and popped bread in the toaster. “We’re going to love having Mrs. Large here.” I bustled the twins into their seats at the table. “Isn’t that so, my darlings?”

“Aren’t Mrs. Malloy never coming back?” Abbey dug her knuckles into her eyes, whereupon Tam piped up knowledgeably: “I s’pect she’s dead.”

“Of course she isn’t,” I said. “She’s up in London looking after her baby granddaughter. Most people don’t die until they are really, really old.”

“Is you very old, Jonas?” Abbey scrambled off her chair to climb on his lap, putting her arms around his neck and pressing her rosy cheek to his lined one.

“I’ve seen a good many springs, my fairy.” His moustache twitched and his gnarled hand trembled as he stroked her bright hair. He was looking towards the kitchen window, through which it was possible to catch a glimpse of the copper beech. Our favorite tree in the garden was also beginning to show its age; Ben had begun to talk regretfully of having it cut down.

“Jonas, I don’t want you to go to that place where the dead people live.” Tam scowled fiercely, his way of trying to hide that he was close to tears. “‘Least not till you’re two hundred. You’ve got to show me more stuff that Mummy”—a condescending glance at me as I took the top off his egg and set his plate in front of him—”and even Daddy don’t know. Like how to put the wheels back on my train when it gets broke.”

“Sounds to me, Jonas, as though some toys of your own might help you feel young again.” Freddy lounged over to the table and flopped onto a chair. “How about getting one of those exercise bikes manufactured by Mrs. Malloy’s son? Do you a world of good. And George, poor blighter, is bound to need every penny coming his way. Marriage to Vanessa has to mean bills mounting like the Empire State Building.”

“Exercise!” Jonas sucked in his already-hollow cheeks. “Next thing, young fellow, you’ll be after me to become one of them bloomin’ daft vegetarians!”

“I don’t think so.” Freddy caught my eye and it occurred to me that perhaps he hadn’t forced himself into a two-minute trudge from the cottage motivated only by the hope of cadging breakfast. Did he want to discuss the drop-off in business at Abigail’s? Feckless though he might be in many ways, Freddy was sincerely appreciative of all Ben had done for him.

This, however, was not an opportune moment for discussing the fate of the restaurant. The twins’ ears were flapping like sheets on a line and the clock on the wall indicated that Mrs. Large was due to arrive at any moment.

I passed Jonas a boiled egg and several slices of buttered toast. “I want you to eat every morsel. Freddy will show you how it’s done.”

“Ellie, you do spoil us.” My cousin gave his egg a mighty whack with the back of his spoon and began chipping away at the shell.

“Reckon as I should keep my strength up,” Jonas growled. “A woman by the name of Large is n’owt to tackle on an empty stomach.”

“She’ll be lovely, and I’m sure very professional, as befits a leading light of the C.F.C.W.A.” I wiped Abbey’s eggy face, poured the orange juice, and while making a pot of tea, provided what little information I knew of the elite organization.

“I hope the rules don’t prohibit gossip,” said Freddy.

“Probably.”

“But not strictly enforced perhaps.” He topped off his juice glass. “After all, you say Mrs. Malloy was a member, and she was never backwards in coming forward with a juicy tidbit about this person or that.”

“I’m not bothered about other folks’ lives.” Jonas was nibbling the edge of a piece of toast.

“What! You don’t want the scoop on those two women with the dogs who moved into Tall Chimneys? Something dodgy about them.” Freddy shook his head. “One looks as though her parents tried to drown her at birth and other is too hearty by half. Vienna and Madrid Miller, supposedly sisters. Although my guess is they’re bank robbers on the lam.”

“Perfectly respectable women,” I asserted. “They’re having the next meeting of the Hearthside Guild.”

“And then there’s that woman who looks as though she just left the nunnery and is afraid to cross the road without getting permission from Rome.” Freddy was in full flood. “You know the one I mean, Ellie. She bought that cottage on Hawthorn Lane, just around the corner from the vicarage.”

“Clarice Whitcombe, and she’s doing wonderful things with the garden. Some flowers but mostly vegetables. All very organic.”

“Wonder what she uses for fertilizer?” Freddy smirked. “The body of the bishop who refused her request to be allowed to hitch her habit above her knees while weeding? And what about that odd little man? The one who bought the house a couple of miles down The Cliff Road toward Bellkiek?”

“Tom Tingle,” I said, “recently retired from the family shipping firm in London.”

“Probably a pirate.” Freddy helped himself to more toast.

“He looks more like a gnome.”

“A real one, Mummy?” Abbey bounced in her seat.

“No, dear, just an ordinary man with a big head on a small body.”

“It strikes me”—my cousin settled back in his chair-- that there is something decidedly sinister  about this influx of newcomers. Could they be members of some gang? I ask myself. Bent on setting up bingo halls or ice cream parlors as a cover for their illicit operations.”

“Why not make them white slavers?” I suggested, putting a cup of tea in front of Jonas, who blinked his eyes and looked abashed at having nodded off. “Please, Freddy, do not hound Mrs. Large for information. She may not work for any of the new people. Mrs. Malloy told me the Misses Miller had hired Trina McKinnley. Anyway, Mrs. Large is going to have her hands full helping to get me organized, without feeding your fantasies.”

Unwilling to be ignored any longer, Tam turned his eggshell upside down in its cup, stuck out his chin, and said, “I wefuse to eat my egg.” This was a favourite game, and having invented it, I knew my lines.

“Oh, you naughty boy!” I scolded, face solemn, hands on hips. “Whatever would Daddy say if he knew I had gone to all the trouble of making you a nice breakfast and you haven’t taken a tiny bite? Well, no mid-morning snack for you. Only good little boys get a chocolate biscuit.”

“Tricked you, Mummy!” Tam triumphantly turned the eggshell back over to display the empty inside. “I fool you every time, don’t I?”

Assuring him he was a master trickster, I gave him a hug, which he returned along with a smacking kiss on my cheek before bounding off to join his sister, who was busily engaged in emptying the toy box. Again my eyes went to the clock. It was now almost ten past nine. Mrs. Large was late. Something surely against the rules of the Magna Char. I was just pouring myself a cup of tea when there was a knock at the garden door and in she walked.

“Morning, all.” Her voice was deep and gruff and—as might be expected—she was definitely a big woman. A good six feet tall, with a long, lugubrious face and a plodding walk. Abbey and Tam scampered behind the rocking chair as if she were a member of the household police, Jonas vouchsafed a mumbled greeting before burying his face in his cup, and Freddy was trying not to laugh.

“Mrs. Large!” The twins had now attached themselves to my legs so that I was able to take only minuscule steps, in the manner of someone auditioning for a part in The Mikado. “I’m so pleased you’re here.”

“Sorry to be late.” Her deep-set eyes took in the chaotic kitchen without batting a lash. “Had one of my bad nights.” She set her bag of supplies down on the floor with a thump. I distinctly heard the clink of bottles, and obviously she did, too. “No, it wasn’t drink that done it, Mrs. Haskell. I’m not one for booze, never have been. I just come down with one of my bad heads. Suffer with them cruel at times. Doctor calls them tension headaches.”

“Oh, dear!” I was about to suggest that she go home to bed and come another day. But it became clear she was a woman made of sterner stuff. Peeling off her grey flannel coat as if it were a banana skin, she hung it on a peg in the alcove by the garden door and rolled up her sleeves before I could clear my throat.

“How about a cup of tea?” I offered.

“Thank you kindly, Mrs. Haskell.” The words rumbled off her tongue, causing Abbey to leap for safety in Freddy’s arms. “But I’ve not come here on my holidays. ‘Hard work keeps a body strong’ has always been my motto.” Appearing to wrap her arms around the length and breadth of the kitchen table, she gathered up the breakfast dishes in one mighty swoop. A couple of cups chattered in alarm, but the whole was safely transported over to the sink.

“The woman’s a human forklift.” Freddy may have thought he was whispering, but his voice came at me like a ball, bouncing against my head.

“A bloody marvel, but I don’t want n’owt in my room touched,” Jonas growled, every hair of his moustache twitching.

“Did you hear that, Mrs. Large?” I caroled cheerily. “There’s no need for you to bother with Mr. Phipps’s room. He likes to do it himself.”

“He’s afraid you’ll find his girlie pictures,” Freddy piped up again.

“You get to see a lot of stuff likely to make your eyeballs pop in my line of work,” Mrs. Large pronounced mournfully over the water running into the sink. “And most of the time it’s easy enough to keep your mouth shut.”

“Oh, but you’re here among friends.” Freddy handed Abbey over to me and stationed himself at the woman’s elbow, the better to dazzle her with his ingratiating smile. “Pour your heart out, fill us in on what happens in Chitterton Fells behind closed doors.”

There came a sharp crack. But unfortunately it did not result from Mrs. Large bashing my cousin over the head with a breakfast dish. She had trodden on the base of the floor mop, sending it staggering backwards before hitting the turf.

“Freddy’s a terrible tease. Please ignore him,” I begged.

:
’That’s all right, Mrs. Haskell, takes all sorts to make a world is what I say. Now don’t you go feeling you have to show me the ropes.” The mournful voice droned on. “I can work me way round any house blindfold. So on you go about your business. I’m sure you don’t have much time for standing looking out the window with them little ones to keep you hopping.” She gave Abbey and Tam what passed for a smile, and after apologizing half a dozen times for the chaos, I accepted Freddy’s offer to take the children down to his cottage until lunchtime. Jonas put on a jacket and cap and shuffled out into the garden, which left me to get out from under Mrs. Large’s feet.

Heading into the hall, I felt a little bereft. There was plenty for me to do, but in all likelihood as soon as I got settled into a job Mrs. Large would want to get started on the room I was occupying. Luckily I remembered my decision to look for bedroom furniture for the twins’ new rooms.

“If I’m not back in a hour, send someone to find me,” I instructed one of the suits of armor as I mounted the stairs to the attic. I was always halfway afraid that a faceless form would sidle out of the darkness and smother my cries of alarm with its clammy paws. A second staircase, far narrower than the main one, led from an alcove beside the bathroom to a round-topped door. This opened with a creaking sound verging on a wail as I turned the big iron knob. As I hesitated, something soft brushed against my leg.

“Thanks a lot.” I picked Tobias up and in return for a discouraging meow kissed his nose before stepping through the black rectangle of the attic doorway. After floundering for a moment I found the cord dangling from the ceiling. When pulled, it produced a watery light that did little more than illuminate the spot on which I was standing. Tobias clearly found the effect delightful. Scratching at my dress front in his impatience to be down, he leaped from my arms and darted behind a stack of boxes and trunks.

I wasn’t sure what was in the attic, other than a couple of boxes of my maternity clothes. It would have been sensible, as well as kind, to have given these to a thrift shop. But I remembered my friend Frizzy Taffer. The week after she had worked up the courage to give away the outfits amassed during three pregnancies, she discovered the stork was planning another delivery. At the time, I hadn’t known whether to feel sorry for her or envious.

Sometimes I really longed for another child. Edging around the boxes behind which Tobias had disappeared, I now made out the shadowy shapes of the twins’ high chairs, wedged between an old wardrobe and a chest of drawers. Suddenly I ached to hold a baby against my heart, to feel again that soft, sweet warmth and breathe in that wonderful newborn smell. Perhaps it was this spring business. All that stuff about green things growing and buds a’budding. And mother birds fitting out their nests. Whatever, I told myself sternly, this was not the time to start picturing myself as the great Earth Mother.