8. The Cleaning Lady

The woman who found the body is interviewed...

The DI Sheila McFyffe stared at the Reverend Philip Stoker. “You mean, you were with her all night?” she asked

He opened his eyes so wide it seemed to Dave that they were at risk of popping out.

“What kind of wretched man do you think I am?” I barked, “I’m a man of our Lord and I believe in the ten commandments! And last night it was my belief that Mr Daniels was still in the land of the living and as such was the sole loving partner of his good wife, whih made her untouchable! No, we sat until past midnight enjoying a bottle of sherry and when she retired for the night without me I remained intending to have it out with her husband, who was beginning to anger me by being late, until I returned to the vicarage well after one, and having encroached on a second bottle of sherry, well on my way to praising the Lord in a loud and joyful voice.”

“I see,” murmured Sheila, “I must apologise if I misinterpreted your words earlier, but I dared say your faith will forgive me.”

“Of course,” he boomed in his best pulpit voice, “we are all capable of making mistakes. So this key… does it in any way assist you in your investigation into the tragic demise of her husband?”

“That is to be decided,” replied Sheila, “and the only way I can do that is if I try it in one of the school locks. Have you any idea how it came into your husband’s possession, Mrs Daniels?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said, “though my Joe had a sort of fetish for keys and the like, didn’t he, Ian?” she asked of the boy standing quietly just behind her.

“That’s right, mum,” he replied.

“It’s not like my lad to be so quiet and finely spoken,” smiled his mother, “he’s usually up to all manner of tricks.”

“It can’t be easy for him, what with the news about his dad…” put in Dave.

“Well, we’ll be off now we’ve brought you that key,” sniffed Mrs Daniels, “and I does hope as it helps.”

“Okay. Then thanks, Mrs Daniels and thanks Ian, and you, Reverend Stoker.” smiled Sheila as the three visitors shuffled their way out of the office and past Constable Stowelli to the main police station entrance.

“What do you make of that then sergeant?” asked the DI.

“I can’t see how it helps if the key fits the Bloxham door,” came his considered reply, “because if it’s the key to the Bloxham Street entrance then it shouldn’t have been in the dead man’s jeans pocket when he wasn’t wearing jeans when he was killed, but he was wearing what looks like his best suit.”

“Good point, well made,” sighed Sheila, “but due diligence says we’d better try it anyway.” she held the key up and peered closed to at. It looks very much the right kind of key,” she sighed, “come along, Dave, let’s go and check it out. Then I want to have a few words with the cleaning lady, what’s her name? Miss Scooch…?

“Yes ma’am. It struck me as being an odd name,” he replied, and they made their way to the police car park.

“Does your enlightened daughter have anything to say about Miss Scooch, then?”

“No, ma’am, not really,” he replied, “I shouldn’t think the kids have much to do with cleaners. As I remember it from when I was a kid, the cleaners arrived when we were leaving so there wasn’t much interaction.”

“Logical,” smiled Sheila, “come on then. Here’s the key,” she handed him the key give to her by Mrs Daniels, carefully protected in a clear plastic bag, “You take it and try it, then we’ll beetle off to find the emotional Miss Scooch. Any idea what her Christian name might be? Some people are put to their ease if addressed in a more familiar way…?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am, nobody ever said.”

He made his way up the steps to the door on Bloxham Street, tried to insert it in the lock, but it wouldn’t fit. It may have looked similar to the right key, but it wasn’t.

“Sorry ma’am,” he said, “better luck trying it in the bank at midnight!”

“Mmm. Quite an idea,” she grinned.

“Not seriously, ma’am,” he smiled back.

“That’s what I thought. But at least I’ve got a scrap of paper with Miss Scooch’s address on. Look: here it is and, by golly, it’s not at all far!”

She pulled up and the two climbed out of the car, and she took the lead as they walked up to the front door, and she knocked it.

The door was opened and Miss Scooch, dressed in an overall as if she was at work opened it.

“I was expecting you lot,” she said, “it’s about poor Mr Daniels I suppose.”

Sheila nodded.

“Better come in, then. I’ve just put the kettle on. Would you fancy a cuppa while you ask your questions.

Dave grabbed the opportunity before his boss refused. “That’d be nice,” he said, “it’s one of those days, you know.”

“You don’t need to tell me!” she replied.

“I can’t keep calling you Miss Scooch. Do you have a first name I can use? It sounds more friendly. By the way, I’m Sheila,” the DI said with a huge smile whilst invisibly digging her sergeant in the ribs. “and yes, I’d love a cuppa!”

“Come on through.” she led them into a neat and tidy kitchen. “I’m Maureen,” she said, “though most people call me Mo.”

“Mo,” smiled Sheila, “I do like that, though Maureen’s a fine name too.”

They sat down round a clean and polished kitchen table while a black and white cat frowned at them from it’s own bed in a clean and almost antiseptic looking wooden crate with cosy blankets piled in it.

“That’s Rosie,” said Mo as she started pouring water from her kettle into a teapot. “She’s my company, and more considerate than any fella would be. You see, I’m a single lady and don’t really want a man in my life.”

“They can be a hindrance,” agreed Sheila, grinning at Dave.

“Excuse me! I’ll tell my Joanne!” he replied, and he looked at Mo, “she’s my daughter,” he said proudly.

“Is that Joanne Wright?” asked Mo, “from school?”

He nodded. “You know her?” he asked.

“She’s a sweet and polite lass,” nodded Mo, “and I’m proud to meet her dad! But when you knocked I was half afraid it would be the fellow who’s trying to get in my knickers!”

“Really?” Sheila was genuinely shocked when Mo said that.

“Yes. He’s the local vicar and he reckons all singe women were put o this Earth for him to choose from and I reckon he’s chosen me! He even takes that dog collar off because he reckons he might stand more of a chance with me if he’s not so obviously a God-botherer!”

© Peter Rogerson, 11.01.25

xxx

Reviews

[Angelina]

I have read your story, and I am deeply impressed by it. I am curious to read more and would like to help you with my skills as an artist. I have some ideas that I want to share with you and would like to work with you for your next story.If it's possible for you to connect on another channel so we can chat there freely.

[Peter Rogerson]

Thank you for your kind words. Should I want to take this yarn any further and need an illustrator, we have n artist in the family.

[Angelina]

Alright I understand