Tragedy at Two by Ann Purser Page A

MOTHER MARCHING DOWN THE STREET, AND opened the door to greet her, but Lois spoke first.
    “Is he here? No, don’t answer that question. I can see he’s not. His car’s not here.”
    “Well, actually, I am here,” said Cowgill, appearing from the dilapidated car park round the back of the shop. “I thought it might be better to park away from prying eyes.”
    “No need for that!” Lois said sharply. “This is a purely official visit from a police detective to the victim of a family tragedy. Nothing else.”
    Josie stared at her mother. “Am I permitted to offer the officer a cup of coffee, then, Mum?” she said. Cowgill smiled. Young Josie was a chip off the old block.
    “Of course you are,” he said, “and I’d be very happy to accept. Shall we go in, Lois?”
    It was on the tip of Lois’s tongue to say her name was Mrs. Meade, and would he kindly not forget it. But then she realised she was being ridiculous, and meekly followed the other two into the shop. They climbed the stairs up to the tiny flat, and Lois said she would make the coffee while the other two chatted. She would be able to hear from the galley kitchen.
    “And you can begin by explaining what’s going on with those kids in the paper,” she said to Cowgill.
    Cowgill explained that there had been a complaint from Farnden about a gang of no-goods meeting every night at the back of the village hall on the playing fields. Substances had been mentioned. They had threatened the vicar, who had tried to clear them off the premises, and he had reported the incident to the police.
    “So the newspaper put two and two together and made five, as is their custom,” he said, patting Josie’s hand. “Only possibly connected to the sad demise of your Rob,” he added.
    “If that was all it was,” Lois said crossly, handing round mugs of coffee, “your lot wouldn’t have moved in and bundled them off to the police station. A warning to them and their parents would have been a first step, surely. Are you keeping something from us, Hunter?” she added, using his name to annoy him. Well, if he could use hers. . . .
    “A violent threat to an innocent citizen is a police matter, Lois,” he answered.
    “I think we’ll have to accept that, Mum, for the moment,” said Josie. “It is nice of you, Inspector, to come and explain. I did want to ask if you’ve had any other leads?” She smiled at him winningly, and Lois scowled. Surely Josie wasn’t taken in by his switched-on charm?
    Cowgill looked at Lois. “Well, yes,” he said reluctantly. “There have been the usual anonymous messages to us in Tresham.”
    “Like this one?” Josie said, producing the creased note she had shown Hazel.
    “What’s that?” Lois said, taking it from her, reading it and then passing it on to Cowgill.
    He sighed. “I am afraid we have had one or two like this. Looks like the same handwriting. Would you mind if I kept this, Josie?”
    “No, of course not,” Josie said.
    At the same time, Lois chipped in firmly. “And we’d like a copy, please. Here,” she added, taking it from Cowgill and giving it back to Josie. “Go and photocopy it on your machine.” Josie obediently left the room, and Cowgill’s face dropped the official expression.
    “You look lovely when you’re angry,” he said, and Lois practically spat at him.
    “Do you want my help or not?” she said.
    He reached out and touched her shoulder. “What do you think, Lois?” he said, serious now. “I’ll get the villain who murdered Rob if it’s the last thing I do. And it may be exactly that,” he added. “Don’t think I underrate the possible dangers.”
    Lois shivered. The sight of Cowgill’s calm, confident face smashed into a pulp flashed in front of her eyes, and she gulped. “Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s be friends, if only for Josie’s sake.”
    “What’s for my sake?” Josie said, returning with the letter and its copy.
    “Everything we can possibly do to help,”