Two women and their dog stepped out into the bright late-January sun. It was chilly despite the clear sky. As soon as the light hit Peggy’s eyes, she flinched. ‘Ugh.’
Carole touched her elbow. ‘Is it the Etruscans again? I told Tony Blair – that prick – that if he showed up here again with that lot, I’d be ready for him. Where’s my knitting needle?’
Peggy raised a hand. ‘We’re safe. From both ancient superpowers and former Prime Ministers. At least for the time being.’
‘Thank heavens for small mercies,’ Carole replied. ‘What’s got a dachshund in your boxers then, love?’
Peggy opened her handbag and retrieved what she needed. She smiled as she flashed the case at Carole. ‘Sun’s out. Need my shades.’ She popped the small round lenses on before slipping the case back into her bag. ‘Ready?’
‘Like a tiger.’ Carole nodded.
The short walk took a ridiculously long time because Cookie insisted on stopping to sniff every blade of grass, every fence post, and every bit of rubbish along the way. But eventually, they arrived. Baz’s scooter was already parked out front.
Just as Peggy was about to push the door open, a voice called from her left. ‘Yoo-hoo! Wagwan, ladies?’
Peggy turned to find Clive racing down the street towards them, running with his chest out and elbows aloft.
‘Clive,’ Peggy said through gritted teeth.
Carole held out a hand, holding it up like she expected him to kiss her ring. ‘Good morning. I’m Alice Morgan, a research scientist whose parents were brutally murdered.’
Clive waved her away melodramatically. ‘Yeah, yeah. And I’m the queen of England.’
Carole stopped and stared at him. Peggy assumed she was about to call him an idiot.
But then Carole did something that surprised her. A broad grin spread across her face and she punched Clive on the shoulder. ‘That’s right – you are.’
Clive rubbed at his shoulder. ‘Ow! What’d you do that for?’
Peggy shook her head. There was no winning with some people. ‘You two can stand out here and quarrel all you like. Cookie and I are going inside where it’s warm.’ She pushed open the door and made her way in. Unsurprisingly, Carole and Clive followed.
Peggy grunted a greeting at Olena before heading into the second room – where she found that tedious man sitting in her seat yet again. ‘Arthur.’ She thumped the leg of her chair with her cane. She might agree with his aims in keeping the council’s hands off that nature reserve, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a wearisome bore. When he made no move to vacate her place, she added, ‘Come on. Off you pop.’
Arthur pulled himself to his feet. Peggy waved away the proffered papers before he could open his mouth. ‘Yes, yes, you can leave some leaflets or petitions or what have you.’ She made a shooing motion. ‘Now off you go. Lovely to see you and all that. Goodbye.’
Peggy lowered herself onto the finally vacant chair.
Arthur nodded repeatedly, almost to himself. ‘I bid you ladies, ah, good morning.’ He turned and shuffled through the doorway to the main room. When he was gone, Baz looked up from her embroidery and smiled. ‘Morning, Peggy. Lovely day, don’t you think?’
Peggy pulled her bag onto her lap and retrieved her computer. ‘What in heaven’s name has you so cheerful?’
Baz’s ruddy skin flushed easily, but it was Madge who answered. ‘Apparently young Barbara here is relieved to discover her paramour is innocent.’
Peggy screwed up her face. ‘What? That funny little man we visited yesterday?’ Baz’s face grew even redder – though the Lord alone knew how that was possible. Peggy rested the computer on her knees and folded her arms. ‘Explain.’
‘I rang him last night.’ Baz touched a finger to her hair, sweeping it behind her ear.
Peggy cocked an eyebrow. ‘After we accused him of being a serial killer?’ She dropped her voice on the last two words. Even she didn’t want anyone to overhear their suspicions.
‘After.’ Baz pressed her lips together, smearing her lipstick. ‘We had a good long chat. He apologised for not telling us about Pius. And I apologised for … for, well … you know.’
‘And?’ Peggy didn’t understand the appeal of men. Obviously, she couldn’t write the stories she did without at least some hypothetical understanding. But to her, the attractiveness of men had always been a sort of distant, theoretical knowledge. Fictional men could be attractive – at least to other fictional men. But real men? No, thank you.
‘Don’t turn your nose up like that, Peggy.’ Madge shook her head.
‘And what?’ asked Baz.
Peggy lifted the lid of her laptop to wake the device. ‘And are you going to see him again?’
‘Oh.’ Baz grinned as she looked down at the floor. ‘Yes, actually.’
Peggy looked at her friend. ‘You’re not going to cook for him, though, are you?’
Baz’s mouth fell open. An indignant look flashed across her face before she burst out laughing.
‘Wagwan, ladies? What’s so funny?’ Clive’s return interrupted their laughter. ‘Sorry it took so long to get my coffee but the girl asked me to wait until your drinks were ready.’ He set the tray down.
Peggy took a deep breath. ‘Clive.’
Clive distributed the pots and mugs before dragging a chair over so he could sit with them. ‘Also that lovely friend of yours was there to chat with while we waited to place our orders.’
Peggy scowled. ‘What friend? What on earth are you on about, man?’
Clive lifted his coffee to his mouth but didn’t drink. ‘Why Arthur, of course. He said you’d been helping him with his campaign to save the nature reserve. He’s even offered to take me up there tonight. It’s not open to the public, you know. But he’s the caretaker, so he’s got the keys, of course. We’re going to make a little evening of it.’
Madge’s face fell slack. She lifted a hand to her mouth, swallowing as she did so. The colour drained from her face, leaving her washed out and ashen.
Peggy didn’t know what was going on in Madge’s head, but she’d put money on the idea that something had just clicked into place. ‘Clive. It’s been lovely seeing you. Thanks for stopping by. Now take your cue and – not to put too fine a point on it – get out.’
Baz, too, seemed to have noticed something was up with Madge. ‘Erm, yes. Thank you, Clive. We’ll be in touch as soon as we have more info about your missing friend.’
Clive screwed up his face and kissed his teeth. ‘All right, all right! A girl can take a hint. There’s no need to be so rude.’ He stood up, grabbed his coat, and flounced out of the room. A moment later, the bell on the front door jangled more harshly than necessary and the door slammed shut.
‘Well,’ Baz said.
Peggy nodded. ‘Madge, what is it?’
‘Keys.’
Peggy exchanged a glance with Baz. Apparently she didn’t understand the reference either.
Peggy studied Madge. ‘Madge, what keys? What do you mean?’
‘I’ve just…’ Madge stood up, dropped her knitting summarily into her carpet bag, and bustled out of the café. A moment later, she could be spied outside the window practically running up the road.
Peggy shrugged, palms upwards. Baz looked back at her and shrugged. ‘I suppose we ought to follow her?’
Peggy slammed her computer shut. ‘I suppose we must.’
The women set about gathering up their things. Peggy picked up her coffee and gave it a quick swirl. She swallowed the shot, barely noticing the notes of cherry or demerara sugar. ‘All right, let’s be off.’
Peggy pulled open the front door. After collecting Baz’s scooter, the three women and Cookie headed up the hill. They could see Madge’s rotund shape in the distance. She was nearly at her building.
It didn’t take long to get to Madge’s place. Although climbing the stairs to the first floor was a challenge for both Peggy and Baz, they made it with a minimum of fuss.
Madge’s red front door hung wide open. Peggy stopped on the threshold and knocked anyway.
‘Through here,’ Madge called. Peggy followed her voice to the living room. Cookie wagged his tail and smiled as he approached Madge. She was standing at the dining table, a banker’s box in front of her.
Madge stopped to give Cookie a cuddle before returning her attention to the box. She lifted the lid off and began retrieving items. Greeting cards, letters, children’s drawings. Madge pointed a finger in the air, vaguely indicating the kitchen. ‘Go and fetch some tea – would you?’
Peggy shook her head and huffed. She pointed Carole at the sofa and left Cookie with her. Of course, Cookie knew where the treat jar was and was instantly fussing at Carole to give him one.
Peggy beckoned for Baz to follow her to Madge’s kitchen. ‘We’ll put the kettle on.’
‘There’s cake in the cupboard,’ Madge called from the other room. ‘May as well bring us all some of that while you’re at it.’
Peggy stepped into Madge’s small kitchen and got to work.
‘Oh my!’ Baz hovered in the doorway. ‘Madge does all her cooking and baking in here? How on earth does she manage it? There’s no counter space.’
Peggy wagged a finger at her friend. ‘Careful. Your privilege is showing.’
She didn’t need to turn around – she could envision Baz’s face flushing with embarrassment. ‘Oh, yes. I suppose it is.’
Peggy pulled down the teabags, instant coffee, and cake from one cupboard. ‘The kitchens on this estate are all this size. People make do.’ She pointed. ‘Teapot and cups are just there if you would. And the little plates, too.’
As she removed spoons from the drawer, she heard Baz open the cupboard. ‘You used to live upstairs, didn’t you?’
Peggy pulled the serving tray from its place between the oven and the fridge. ‘Straight above. Carole and I were there from 2015 to 2020, when my body decided a ground-floor flat was crucial.’
Baz put the dishes on the tray on the hob, then handed Peggy the teapot and one mug. ‘So you never knew this Pius character?’
Peggy poured water into the teapot and the mug with the instant coffee. ‘No. We weren’t far away before that time but I didn’t meet Madge until after we moved in. Right, have we got everything?’
Baz nodded. ‘I think so.’
Peggy bobbed her head. ‘Well, then. I guess we’d better see what’s got this bee in Madge’s bonnet.’
When they crossed the hall to the living room, they found Madge and Carole seated together at the dining table. The banker’s box had been relocated to the floor, but Madge held a single sheet of torn paper. Peggy set the tray down on the dining table and Baz followed with the teapot.
Peggy and Baz took their seats.
Baz gestured at the teapot. ‘Shall I be mother?’
Madge nodded, so Baz poured three cups of tea as Peggy served up plates of Madge’s homemade rum cake.
Madge wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, but there was a hint of a tremble in her friend’s normally rock-steady hands.
Peggy drew her mug of coffee towards herself. ‘All right, then. Spit it out. Whatever you’ve got to say, you know we can deal with it.’
Drawing in a breath, Madge sat up straight. ‘I know who the killer is.’
Peggy made a go on gesture. ‘Don’t keep us waiting.’
Smoothing the paper out in front of her, Madge kept silent for a moment. Peggy could see faint pencil marks on the paper, but couldn’t read the words.
‘Something Clive said this morning jolted my memory,’ Madge said.
‘You think Clive is the killer?’ Baz’s words were little more than a whisper but they still stopped Madge in her tracks. She glared at Baz.
Baz winced. ‘Sorry, sorry. Please go on.’
Madge pursed her lips. ‘He mentioned keys. It triggered something in my memory – a man jostling a set of keys as we spoke.’ She touched a finger to her temple. ‘I needed to find this note.’
Peggy bit her lip to stop herself from shouting at Madge to get to the point.
‘In April 2014, I was working at Lewisham Hospital,’ Madge said quietly. ‘When I arrived home one evening, I found a note from Pius.’ She caressed the paper in front of her. ‘He said Arthur was going to show him the nature reserve.’
‘Arthur!’ Baz’s hand shot to cover her mouth. ‘Sorry, please go on.’
Madge held the paper up to her nose. ‘Dear Mrs Dixon. I’ll be home late tonight. Arthur has promised to show me the nature reserve. It’s not open to the public, but he has the keys. He needs my help with some maintenance. Yours in Christ, Pius.’
She set the note in the centre of the table. The women sat silently for a few moments, digesting what they’d just heard.
Peggy eyed Madge suspiciously. There had to be more than this.
Baz raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly. ‘And this is what made you think Arthur was the killer?’
Madge’s head snapped to look at Baz. ‘This? By itself? No. But a few days later I spoke to Arthur. You know he lives in this building, right?’
Peggy nodded and Baz shook her head. Carole studied her spoon.
‘He does,’ Madge said. ‘Just a few doors along. Anyhow, I hadn’t seen Pius since the day he’d left that note. I told Arthur I was worried.’ She paused. ‘I remember he was holding those keys of his. He has one of those keyrings: the kind with a thousand keys and no way to differentiate them. He was toying with it – spinning it around on his index finger, then tossing and catching it.’
Madge paused and the room was perfectly still. ‘When Clive mentioned going to the nature reserve, I just…’ She shook her head. ‘That image came back to me with crystal clarity. Over and over in my head, I can see him tossing those keys and catching them. I remember what the air felt like that day, the noise the keys made. I can’t tell you what I was wearing or where I was going. But those keys, I can see and hear them clear as day.’
‘What did he say?’ Baz’s voice was soft but urgent, like she didn’t want to interrupt Madge’s reverie but had to know the rest.
Madge held herself still for a moment, then looked at Baz. ‘I asked Arthur if he’d seen Pius. And he apologised, told me this was the first chance he had to pass along a message. He looked me in the eye and said, “I ran into him on the stairwell on Tuesday morning on his way to the station. He said he’d been offered some under-the-table work in Liverpool. He asked me to tell you he was sorry for leaving so abruptly but he didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity.”’
Peggy waited to be sure Madge was finished speaking. ‘On Tuesday. He definitely said on Tuesday?’
Madge nodded.
Baz tapped the note on the table. ‘What day did Pius leave his note?’
Madge looked down. ‘It’s dated 15 April 2014. Because I worked such unsociable hours, we always dated our notes. Sometimes we went a few days without seeing one another.’
‘What day of the week was that?’ Baz asked.
Peggy pulled her computer out. It took only a moment to determine that the fifteenth had been a Tuesday. ‘Madge, do you remember anything about that day? I know it was a decade ago, but the more detail you can remember, the more certain we can be.’
Madge stood up. ‘Let me get my diary.’ Because of course Madge would keep a decade-old paper diary of all her daily activities. Of course she would.
She left the room, returning a moment later with a coil-bound notebook, thumbing through the pages as she walked. ‘Yes, here we go – 15 April 2014. I worked the overnight shift. Got home at nine. Pius made breakfast for us both. When I got up later, that’s when I found his note.’
Madge waved the diary. ‘How did I never put this together? Pius couldn’t have left on Tuesday morning – I was with him on Tuesday morning.’ She paced the room.
Baz screwed up her face. ‘Maybe you misremembered. Or he misspoke. It doesn’t mean…’
Peggy tutted. ‘Oh, come on. Pius didn’t go to Liverpool for work. Just like the others didn’t. The only possible reason for Arthur to make up such a cockamamie tale is because he knew Pius wasn’t coming back.’
Madge resumed her seat and caressed the note. ‘He’s taking people to that nature reserve and killing them there. It’s the only explanation.’
Peggy sighed. ‘Someone needs to ring Clive.’
Baz furrowed her brow. ‘Clive?’ She gasped. ‘Oh!’
Madge nodded. ‘Oh. We need to get Clive away from that man. But also, we have no idea how long Arthur spends grooming his prospective victims or preparing for them. Will he simply find another victim or will he try to persuade Clive to meet with him at a later date?’
Frowning, Peggy rubbed her nose. ‘We’re going to have to act quickly.’