Dotty Dreads a Disaster Page 10

  Chapter 21

  Dotty needed some thinking time. She knew she should probably apologise to Wayne but after his behaviour in the bedroom, she wasn’t intending to. She took out Winnie’s lead.

  “Come on girl, walkies.” Winnie was at her ankles in a jiffy, wagging her tail. Provided the weather kept dry, they would go on a longer walk than usual. Dotty had a lot on her mind. Thankfully, her stomach felt fine now but the events of last night had left their mark and had disturbed her. She walked with her dog along the pavement then veered off into the fields at the back of their house. They jogged along, Winnie eager to chase rabbits and squirrels. Dotty knew how fortunate she was having the countryside on her doorstep and she made good use of it.

  She looked across at the view. It was like something out of a Constable painting. The vast expanse of landscape went on for miles. Each of the paths intertwined with one another yet they all had something different to discover. Dotty related that to her life. She must be careful which path she took. Making the wrong choice now could impact on her future. She had been through enough disasters so far and she didn’t want to make any more mistakes.

  Picking up a stick, she hurled it into the distance for Winnie. Her mind turned to the previous evening, and she shuddered. She should have listened to her instincts sooner. It had been a lucky escape with Wayne. It wasn’t just his penchant for kinky sex that concerned her. He had become quite controlling and aggressive. The warning signs had been there from the first time they went out. He was short-tempered with her then. He apologised and blamed work but if he behaved that way when they first met then it didn’t bode well for the future. No, she had made her mind up. She would give Wayne a wide berth and give Dave a chance. He seemed a more homely sort, the type of person you could bring home to meet your parents.

  By the time she reached her front door, she knew what she had to do, and that was to dump Wayne. In some ways, it was a shame. For one, he could have been a good source for information but that was no reason to continue seeing him. Dotty took off her muddy boots and bathed Winnie. She got down on her knees and rubbed her dog down with a towel.

  “Come on, Winnie. Let’s get a drink.” Winnie followed Dotty into the kitchen, and she sat at the breakfast bar after making herself a cup of tea. She couldn’t meet up with her friends at the café this Saturday as she had a fair booked. Instead, they arranged to go over to Rachel’s house for a pamper evening — just what Dotty needed right now.

  They all agreed to bring something with them. Dotty prepared some home-made sausage rolls, and she bought a foot spa soak for them to try. She also threw in a few chocolates to sample. Since starting up her chocolate business her diet had gone out the window. She couldn’t help but give in to temptation. She hoped more exercise and taking Winnie for longer walks would do the trick and keep off the extra pounds. So far, there was only one way the scales were going, and that was up. She resolved to start again in earnest next Monday.

  “So come on, what happened with Wayne?” Kylie couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of what Dotty hinted had been an awkward evening. She watched as Rachel poured out wine for them.

  “It was awful.” Dotty relived the previous evening as she went through the events. Her friends found it amusing.

  “It was an omen when you broke down that time and Dave turned up to save the day. What did Delphinia say again about your love life?”

  “She said I hadn’t met the love of my life yet.”

  “She may have meant you hadn’t been out with him. You should give Dave a try.”

  “Perhaps I’m meant to end up on the shelf, a spinster.”

  “Oh, shut up, Dotty. The right man is out there for you somewhere.”

  “Well, he’s keeping well-hidden right now. It’s okay for you two. You both have partners.”

  “Well, you had Wayne until last night, or at least you almost had Wayne.” Kylie laughed at her own remark.

  “Let’s change the subject. Is there any news on our murder investigation?” Dotty sat with her feet wearing plastic socks that contained luxury cream to bathe them. All three girls now had face packs and their dressing gowns on and looked like something from the Mikado.

  “I’ve made an interesting discovery,” Kylie said.

  “What’s that?” It looked strange, the girls talking about serious matters with their faces caked in white clay. It became difficult for Kylie to speak properly as the cream set on her face. She sounded more like a ventriloquist.

  “It’s about Nigel’s friend and associate, Julian Cranford, who we know is also a member of the White Brethren Society.”

  “Oh, you mean the lawyer?” Rachel mumbled.

  “That’s right. Well, before he joined that organisation, he was in a group called the Great British Harmony Club.”

  “What was that, some sort of music group?” Dotty asked.

  “No, they claimed to be a patriotic organisation promoting a cleaner healthier greener Britain.”

  “There doesn’t sound a lot wrong with that.” Rachel nodded. She thought of herself as a champion for a greener environment and was even considering turning vegan.

  “Ah, here’s the thing. When I investigated it a bit deeper, it turns out they are a right-wing radical group who practice hateful extremism. Their website and Facebook page were closed down as there was cause for significant concern. They were thought to be spreading hate in their propaganda.”

  “Really.” Dotty started wiping off her face pack. The others did the same. “You’re clever how you find out all this stuff, Kylie.” Dotty took a face wipe and cleared away the last of the caked gunge off her face. She patted her skin. “Gosh, that feels better.”

  “My skin’s tingling. Is it supposed to do that?” Kylie asked.

  “Yes, the minerals will have woken up some dormant cells. They’ll be having a good old stretch and pushing onto the layers of your skin.”

  “You do come up with some barmy statements, Dotty.” Kylie shook her head.

  “Dotty by name, dotty by nature.” Her friend smiled.

  “Anyway, to get back to Julian Cranford, once it became public knowledge that he was in the Great British Harmony Club, he resigned. Apparently, he was photographed at one of their protests and I have it on good authority that he almost got the sack from his job over it.”

  “So, it would be worth speaking to him about the White Brethren Society.” Rachel picked up the moisturiser, put a dollop on her skin and passed the jar to the others.

  “It may have nothing to do with Nigel’s death.” Kylie massaged the cream into her neck.

  “No, but it would be good to check out his involvement. We may discover why Nigel poured so much money into their funds,” Rachel said.

  “I’ll do it.” Dotty checked her skin in the mirror. It looked red, but it glowed. She felt the smoothness of her cheek. “I could pretend to be a reporter and say I’d found out about his membership of the society.”

  “You be careful, Dotty. We don’t know what we’re messing with here. We know how he wormed his way out of trouble after making some racist comments.” Rachel’s brow wrinkled.

  “I’m surprised his colleagues put up with him if that’s the way he is.” Dotty looked down at her phone. A message pinged through.

  “Oh, look, guys, it’s from Dave. He must have ESP.”

  “What does it say?” Kylie’s head bobbed about.

  “He’s invited me to attend an art exhibition with him.”

  “I’d rather run a marathon with no clothes on.” Kylie stuck a finger down her throat and made a gagging noise.

  “I might enjoy it.” Dotty smiled.

  Chapter 22

  Kylie’s findings proved to be very interesting. Dotty arranged an appointment to see Julian Cranford. Although he kept his membership of the White Brethren Society low key, him being a member of the Great British Harmony Club was common knowledge and he couldn’t deny it. According to Kylie’s research, they had radical views on immig
ration, and they spread hate. He didn’t sound like a very nice man if those were his views.

  Dotty wore her black pleated V-neckline dress with a white jacket that was tucked in at the waist. She knew she looked smart because her mum thought she was going for an interview. Thinking of which, if she didn’t find work to supplement her income soon, her holiday with the girls was off.

  When she arrived at the offices of Boodle and Banstead her heart fluttered wildly. The attractive Grade II listed exterior of the building gave no indication to its modern interior as Dotty walked through the door. Chandeliers hung from the suspended ceiling and modern desks and other furniture were attractively placed on the laminate floor. The small petite receptionist with her blonde hair tied back in a chignon bun asked if she had an appointment. Dotty had given a made-up name but hadn’t detailed the nature of her business. She had to remember she was now Paula Pickford. She was asked to sit on the hard, brown leather sofa while she waited for Julian.

  Ten minutes later, the tall man walked into the reception area. Julian Cranford had the look of a man who had grown up too fast in his youth. His long spindly legs reminded Dotty of the stick man. If he didn’t play basketball, then he had missed a trick. From his lofty height, he could easily have tapped the ball in the net. Dotty watched as he walked towards her. His tailor, if he had one, hadn’t done a good job because the arms of his jacket were too short. His trousers were also at half-mast, not a great look for someone claiming to be a professional lawyer. He wore the dull grey pinstripe suit made synonymous by lawyers and he had an expression to match. His crisp white shirt had been freshly laundered and showed off the navy and white striped tie. His look was finished off with rimless glasses.

  They shook hands and when he smiled at Dotty, he showed off an uneven set off incisors.

  “Please, come this way, Miss Pickford.” Julian led Dotty into one of the offices. The design inside was more traditional than the outer offices with wooden panelled walls. Julian sat behind a large mahogany desk and signalled for Dotty to sit on the black swivel chair in front of him. The room was huge, spanning the corner of the building. There was a dark wood bookcase bursting with books and several sets of drawers and cabinets. When they were both seated, he spoke.

  “How can I help you today?” He took the top off a fountain pen out and sat poised ready to take notes.

  “I believe you were a friend of Nigel Hastings?” Julian frowned. A muscle on his temple quivered. Slowly, he replaced the top of his pen and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

  “What is the nature of your business, Miss Pickford?” He sat back with his arms folded. Julian was only in his mid-forties but looked much older. His receding hairline didn’t help. He waited for Dotty’s response. She scanned the corporate artwork around the room with expensive-looking pieces, tastefully framed and considered her words carefully.

  “I’m a freelance reporter and I wanted to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Nigel and the association you were part of.” The palms of Julian’s hands went down on the desk as he leaned forward.

  “I thought you were a client. You’ve come here under false pretences. I wouldn’t have seen you if I’d known you were a reporter. Good day, Miss Pickford.” Julian pressed on the intercom, frowning.

  “I know about your involvement in the White Brethren Society and also the Great British Harmony Club.” Julian sneered at Dotty. His mouth was pinched.

  “I’ve nothing to say to you. Don’t you go around printing lies about me. I’ll have you for libel, young lady. Now get out of my office.” He rose from the chair and pointed to the door.

  “You have some rather radical views from what I’ve been reading. Are your employers aware of the extreme philosophies you believe in? The last organisation you were part of has been banned, I hear.” There was a knock on the door and the young receptionist entered. If she was supposed to be the bouncer, her tiny appearance was hardly threatening.

  “Miss Pickford is leaving. Please escort her out of the building and get her as far away from me as you possibly can. I have no wish to exchange opinions with her. She has come here spreading lies about me.” He turned to Dotty and sneered. “If you publish any of this nonsense, mark my words you will live to regret it.”

  “It’s a free country and I’ll print what I want.” Dotty now wished she were a genuine reporter who could tell the world about Julian Cranford. She rose from the chair and made her way to the door. Julian pushed her out. Another lawyer arrived to see what all the raised voices were about. Dotty addressed him.

  “This man will bring your company down with his radical opinions. I’d be very careful if you’re considering continuing his employment with this law firm.” Dotty didn’t know where that outburst came from. All she knew was she was angry with the way Julian treated her. She was pushed towards the front door and jostled onto the pavement.

  Irrespective of Julian’s views, she had taken an instant dislike to the man. As she walked up the High Street, she wondered what she had expected to achieve from meeting him. She wasn’t sure. It was obvious he was guilty of being involved in the organisations. He hadn’t tried to worm his way out or make up some notion that they advocated a greener Britain. Whether any of this had any significance to Nigel’s death was another story.

  Dotty wondered if she would have the same reaction if she contacted Nigel’s friend Fred Peterson. So far, they hadn’t found a connection between Fred and the White Brethren Society, but Dotty’s hunch was that he was a member too. After speaking to the others, they agreed that the best course of action may be to tackle his wife, Sandra. They found out she had her hair done every Friday at The Hair Studio, so Dotty made an appointment there as well.

  Considering she had poo-pooed the idea of being a detective when her dad worked for the police, Dotty now enjoyed all this intrigue and investigating. It made her boring life come alive. The appointment at the hairdresser’s the following morning had worked out perfectly as she was meeting up with Dave to go to the art exhibition later that day.

  Chapter 23

  Dotty was looking forward to meeting Dave, later that afternoon. She was also glad to get her hair done. It was ready for a trim. Her usual stylist, Chantelle might be miffed if she knew Dotty was taking her custom elsewhere. The next time she made an appointment with Chantelle, she would explain the reasons for having to visit another hair salon. Hairdressers got very territorial about their customers, but this was necessary if Dotty were to find out more about Fred’s involvement with the organisation.

  She walked into the salon and was greeted by a smiling receptionist dressed in black. All the stylists wore black. It was the staple uniform for hairdressers. Each of them had put their own stamp on their style. The receptionist had her hair pulled back in a tight bun and she wore a black T-shirt with chains dangling off it and leather trousers. Her black Doc Martens completed her butch look. She took Dotty’s jacket and offered her a seat and a drink.

  “Your stylist will be Marie today. She should be with you pronto. Make yourself comfy.” Dotty did just that and looked around the salon for Sandra Peterson. Kylie had found out her appointment time by phoning up pretending to be her, saying she had forgotten the time she was due to attend. Dotty had seen a picture of Sandra and unless she had changed her hair colour, no one in the large open-plan bright modern salon looked like her. Dotty flicked through a magazine while she waited, glancing up every so often if she caught any movement in her peripheral vision. There was still no sign of Sandra.

  Marie came over and showed Dotty to the leather chair nearest the door. Dotty sat down and swung the chair around 360 degrees. It reminded her of being at the fair and her mind took off, remembering times spent on the waltzers as a teenager. Her, Kylie and Rachel would giggle and scream, and the scruffy young attendant would swing them harder and faster. She was always sick when she came off, but she loved it. Sometimes, they would hang around with the fairground lads afterwards, mainly be
cause their parents disapproved. She recalled the time one of them offered her a ride on the back of his motorbike. She had never seen such a gleaming example of sturdy metal. With endorphins popping and her heartbeat thumping, she got on the back as they drove off into the night. Fear gripped her as the wind hit her cheeks. The guy had no regard for the speed limit as he opened the throttle wide. The ride was exhilarating, yet it was the loss of control over her own destiny that filled Dotty with the most angst.

  Suddenly, the front door opened. A breeze blew in and hit Dotty’s cheeks. That brought her back into the present and she watched as a middle-aged dark-haired petite lady walking in. Dotty recognised Sandra immediately. Within a matter of minutes, Sandra was shown to a station a few chairs down from Dotty. The black cape was put on Dotty, and she was taken to the sinks for her hair to be washed. She wondered how she could get closer to Sandra. When she was led back to the seat near the door, she came up with her plan.

  “Do you mind if we move inside the room more, only I have a crick in my neck. It’s very stiff and the draught from the door opening is likely to exacerbate it.” Dotty smiled at Marie. Her suggestion worked and she was moved over to sit next to Sandra. They started up a conversation.

  “I recognise you, aren’t you Sandra Peterson, Fred’s wife?”

  “That’s right. Sorry, should I know you?”

  “Probably not. I’m Julian Cranford’s niece. I’ve seen your picture with Fred.” Telling lies was becoming too easy for Dotty.

  “Oh, I see. I didn’t know Julian had a niece, certainly not one who lives in the area. He’s never mentioned you.”

  “I don’t see much of him.”

  “What did you say your name was?” Sandra frowned.

  “I didn’t.” Dotty had to think quickly. When she made the appointment, she gave her real name, but she didn’t want Sandra to know that for fear of reprisals. “I’m known by my nickname, Dimples.” That was the first thing that came into Dotty’s head. What a stupid name, she thought. Her friends would be sure to make fun of her over this but at least she had dimples in her cheeks, so it wasn’t so far-fetched.