“So you told the police?” Lois said.
Derek shook his head. “No point in getting them this late,” he said. “We agreed I’d phone them in the morning and report it. In fact,” he added, with a look at Lois, “I thought our own village sleuth might like to talk to her cop. You can’t beat going right to the top, as I told the rest.”
There was silence for a minute or two, and then Lois said quietly that she would be pleased to give Inspector Cowgill a ring, especially as she knew the police were aware of the previous attempt on the village hall.
“Did the others have any idea who might have done it?” she asked Derek.
“Well, Gavin Adstone was full of possible suspects, mostly gypsies and passing tramps, but mainly the others seemed to think it was the kids who meet up round the back of the hall. Tony Dibson said he reckoned the new woman in Pickerings’ house has a teenage tearaway who’s been in trouble before.”
“Jack Jr.,” said Lois, with a sigh. “Young Jack Hickson. His mum, Paula, is coming to work for me. She’s joining the team. And yes, I’ve heard she’s had one or two problems with her son Jack.”
Derek groaned, and Gran nodded in sympathy. “So we’re right in it, Lois, once more,” he said.
“Trust you, Lois,” Gran added. “All the nice women there are around needing jobs, and you have to take on a single mother with four sons, living on Social Services, abandoned by a violent no-good husband who could turn up any minute. Great. Well done, Lois.”
Lois stood up. “Have you finished, both of you?” she said coldly. “Then I’m off to bed. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning, Derek. And for your information, Paula Hickson is a very good, responsible mother, desperate to earn a bit of extra and not be a total drag on the state. And, unless I’m a lousy judge, she’ll be a reliable, honest member of my team. Don’t wake me up when you come to bed,” she added, barely suppressing her anger. She left the room, leaving Derek and Gran looking at each other in dismay.
“The end of a perfect day,” Derek said gloomily.
“She’ll come round. She always does.” Gran knew she was on thin ice here. Living with your daughter’s family was not always a cushy billet.
THIRTEEN
DON’T FORGET,” DEREK SAID NEXT MORNING, AS HE PULLED on his boots ready to go up to the allotment.
“I don’t need reminding,” Lois said. “I reckon something very nasty is going on, and I don’t mean gypsies and passing tramps. You go, and I’ll tell you what Cowgill says at lunchtime. He may not be in his office yet, but I can get hold of him anyway. Cheerio, love. See you later.” She smiled sweetly at him, and he went off to start his van, pretty sure he was forgiven.
Around nine o’clock, Lois dialled Cowgill’s number, and he answered with a brisk, “Good morning, Lois. How are you and the family?”
Must have someone with him, thought Lois. His opening words were usually something silly, like “how’s the light of my life.” She always snapped at him, but now missed the affection in his voice.
“There’s been another go at firing the village hall,” she said, and told him what had happened.
“Why weren’t we told straightaway?” he said, and then obviously turned away from the phone to say goodbye to someone. After a pause, he said, “But before we start, how’s the love of my life?” he added, his voice softened in the daft way that immediately triggered a sharp reply from Lois.
“Why don’t we just start again, instead of all that rubbish?” she said. “It was Derek’s decision to leave it ’til today, and the others backed him up. They made sure the hall was safe, then went home. Derek said they agreed it should be me phoning you. Can’t think why.”
“I can,” he said. “I am taking this seriously, Lois. Arson is a very nasty thing. It doesn’t necessarily stop at destroying a building. People can be involved, too. Remember the fire in the gypsies camp? A miracle nobody was hurt. No, I’ll get the best men for the job to look further into it. One attempt may well be a kids’ prank, but this second go at it nearly succeeded. If Derek and friends hadn’t noticed the smell of smoke, the fire could have taken hold and then God knows where it might have spread. Can you meet me down there at ten o’clock. I’ll have Chris with me.”
“Chris? Who’s he?”
“She,” Cowgill said. “Chris Botham is my new assistant. You’ll like her. She’s not unlike a certain dear girl who runs a cleaning business. Bright and quick. Not bad looking. Doesn’t tolerate fools gladly. Sharp tongue at times…”
“Ah, you can’t mean she’s like me, then,” said Lois. “I’m known for being a soft touch.”
“Ha!”
Lois could hear Cowgill chuckling, and then he said, “See you in a while, then.”
THE ANONYMOUS-LOOKING CAR DROVE INTO THE VILLAGE HALL car park, and Lois watched the tall figure of Cowgill get out, then a slim, dark woman wearing a grey jacket and skirt that revealed a pair of well-shaped legs and sensible shoes. The two of them headed across to join Lois in the hall porch, and after the introductions were made, she showed them the charred beam where the smoldering stick had been shoved in behind.
A burst of loud, jolly music came from inside the hall. “Aerobics,” said Lois.
“Very good for you,” said Chris Bowler.
“Not for me,” Lois said. “Tried it once an’ it nearly killed me. Anyway, I get exercise enough in my job. Scrubbin’ and cleanin’ and-”
“-washing and ironing, not to mention gardening and cooking,” finished Cowgill, and he put his hand on Lois’s shoulder. “She’s a wonder,” he said, turning to his new assistant. “I couldn’t do without her,” he added, and to Lois’s embarrassment, his voice was husky.
She changed the subject, said they should go inside. She added that Inspector Cowgill might like to see aerobics in action. He’d certainly get an eyeful of the female form, she said innocently.
Once inside, Lois was interested to see Kate Adstone with a sleeping baby in a pushchair. And there was Floss, waving to Lois from behind the rest, a surprised look on her face.
Cowgill walked up to the instructor, a trim-looking woman, blonde hair tied back and not an ounce of fat on her. Lois could see the old charm working its magic on her, and then a break was announced. Cowgill signalled Lois and Chris to go around the edges of the hall with him.
“How’s your sense of smell, Lois?” Chris said.
“Good, more’s the pity sometimes.”
“Great. Any whiffs of smoke or petrol, call me over.”
“I’ll go into the kitchen,” Lois said. “That’s where the villain would be most likely to break in, if he wanted. Mind you, I reckon they planned to set the fire going from outside, without bothering to come in. Quick getaway, an’ that. After all, this old wooden building would go up like bonfire night, once the fire took hold.”
Chris nodded. “Still, worth checking,” she said.
Lois stood in the kitchen and sniffed. Instant coffee. Damp. Mice. Drains. Nothing unexpected. She walked into the toilet, which was old but clean. Disinfectant and air freshener. And then, yes, petrol…
She looked up and saw that the small window was unlatched. She followed the sniff to the corner of the cubicle behind the lavatory brush, where it became strong. Oh no, was that a small puddle on the floor? Pee? She couldn’t smell pee. A small wad of toilet paper was enough to dip into it. Petrol. Through the open door she called out to Cowgill, and he came quickly, with Chris at his side.
“Here! Smell this.” She held out the toilet tissue, and he took it gingerly.
“If this is some kind of a joke, Lois, I shall be forced to…” He sniffed, then held it out to Chris. She nodded. “So we need to lock up the place and get the chaps down.”