A Small Hill to Die On: A Penny Brannigan Mystery by Elizabeth J. Duncan Page B

silence he left in his wake, and then Eirlys asked the receptionist, “Could I have a price list, please?”
    The woman handed her a photocopied list of services. After thanking her, Eirlys added, “I was wondering, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you Chinese?”
    The receptionist shook her head but didn’t look up. “Vietnamese.”
    The two young women in the pink smocks nodded and smiled and began talking excitedly to each other.
    *   *   *
    “Well?” said Penny when Eirlys returned.
    “I don’t think we have to worry too much about Handz and Tanz, Penny,” said Eirlys, handing her the price list. “They don’t charge as much as we do, but there were no customers and the atmosphere is terrible.” She described the argument between the man and woman and then added, “I think anyone who would go there would not be someone who would come to us, so I don’t think we’ll lose any of our customers to them.” And then: “In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t know who they’re in business to serve. Older women like Mrs. Lloyd wouldn’t dream of going there, and everyone my age likes coming to us.”
    “They may cater to women who like artificial nails and tanning, so you might be right about them not appealing to our clients,” said Penny. “But tell me about the crying woman. What did she look like?”
    She listened and then nodded. “That must have been Mai, the woman who came here that day to tell us the nail bar was opening. I wonder who the man is, though. Gareth told me her husband is English.” Eirlys shrugged.
    “What should I do about the manicure I booked for tomorrow?”
    “Cancel it. We’re not giving them any of our money, and if you want a manicure, I’ll give you one after work tonight.” She picked up the ends of Eirlys’s fingers and looked at her nails. “Yes, you could do with one.
    “Right. Now, can you take over from Rhian while she goes to lunch? I need a word with Gwennie.”
    *   *   *
    “Oh, her.” Gwennie bent over and tossed a few more towels into the washing machine in the laundry area on the ground floor behind the kitchen. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. Dilys Hughes. She must be in her seventies now. Daft as a brush, folk used to say about her. All that nonsense with her twigs and berries.”
    She set the controls on the machine and straightened up as the wash cycle began.
    “If you’re ill, see a doctor, is what I say. That’s what they’re for and they know a sight more than she does. That’s what they go to school for. And for a long time, too.”
    She reached into the dryer, pulled out an armful of towels and set them on her wooden folding table.
    “Why are you asking about her?”
    “Because Mrs. Lloyd told me this morning she’s returned to the area. Apparently she’s been gone for years. Says she thinks Dilys is living in a tied cottage up at Ty Brith Hall with her brother.”
    Gwennie rested her small hands on the soft pile of white towels.
    “So she’s back, is she? Well, that is interesting.”
    “Why is it interesting, Gwennie?”
    “Well, her brother, Pawl, who was the head gardener at Ty Brith for years, he was courting that woman Juliette Sanderson, who turned up dead in the ductwork of our Spa. And Dilys disappeared or left the area about the same time as Juliette went missing. I hadn’t thought about that for years. It was hearing her name again that reminded me of that connection, I guess.”
    “Gwennie, tell me. Exactly where is this cottage? I want to talk to them.”
    “You can try, I suppose, Miss Penny, but you might not get much sense out of either of them.”
    “Well, look, can you draw me a little map of where I would find their cottage? Ty Brith is a big place.”
    “Go on the bus, will you?”
    “Yes, I’ll have to. Victoria’s not here to come with me and she’s the one who drives.”
    “Right, well, you want to get off at the stop after the one at the bottom of the road