Murder in the Garden

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Tod!’ his friend protested, laughing.

  ‘Oh, go on with you!’ said Ellie, also laughing. She wondered if it was all right to laugh, when someone had just been found dead. But of course it was. It often happened after a funeral, too. People found release in laughter. And why ever shouldn't they?

  Armand arrived back from school at six o'clock, and came straight in to see Ellie.

  ‘I rang Kate and told her the police said we could go back in. I'm dreading it. Strangers treading all over our house, looking at our things. I keep wondering, in which room was that poor creature murdered? In our bedroom?’ He shuddered. ‘Kate won't be back till about eight. Ellie, would you do me a favour? Come in with me? I don't want to go in alone, imagining ghosts in every room.’

  ‘It might not have been murder. It might have been an accidental death, and the others just buried her in the garden because they didn't know what to do.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ He revived. ‘Well, that would make it a lot better. Although sad, of course. But, will you come in with me still?’

  She went in with him.

  The police had moved one or two pieces of furniture about - which he put back into place. Otherwise, the place was as they had left it. Only, their newly built extension and the garden had been cordoned off.

  Armand turned his back on the garden. ‘I'm all right now, Ellie. Thanks for coming in with me. And thanks for putting up with us last night. We owe you for that. Don't let me forget.’

  ‘Join us for supper?’

  ‘No. I've got to get used to it. Mountains of marking to do, anyway. I'll be all right.’

  She was doubtful, but left him to it.

  The businessman parked his car on the main road, near the public library. Daylight was beginning to fade, but there were still plenty of people about. There seemed to be something on at the primary school next door to the library. An open evening, perhaps? There were no free parking spaces around the church, and the church hall also seemed to be open for a meeting.

  It was good that this was such a multicultural, multi-national area. His appearance didn't cause anyone a thought.

  He walked across the Green, admiring the new houses which were going up where there had once been a tumbledown old mansion, very large and inconvenient. He thought they'd have no difficulty selling the new houses.

  He turned into the alley that ran along the back of the gardens, and tried to remember how far along …

  He saw it at once.

  Incident tape was stretched across the gateway into a steepish garden, which had been scraped clean of its all-concealing undergrowth. A mechanical digger had been removed to one side of the site, and a large white tent erected over the spot where, long ago, they'd buried the body.

  A policeman was on duty, but currently occupied with an elderly couple who were walking their dog along the alley, and asking questions about the body. There were lights on in the house, which boasted an extension which was new since his day.

  The man hesitated, and then walked on, along the alley away from the incident tape and the tent and the policeman. Nobody thought anything of it. People walked that way all the time.

  So it was all true, and the whole horrible business was going to be opened up again. They were all in danger.

  He flicked open his mobile and phoned his brother.

  Five

  Stewart and Maria arrived on the dot of half past six. Ellie liked people who arrived exactly when they said they would, as it saved so much anxiety about getting meals ready to serve on time. She was all ready for them, with the table laid in the big bay window at the front of the house. She'd even had time to change into one of the pretty blue dresses Kate had urged her to buy - hideously expensive but rather becoming, she had to admit.

  ‘Stewart! Maria!’ She went on tiptoe to kiss both of them. ‘Lovely to see you. And little Frank is all right?’

  ‘He's learned two swear words this week,’ said Stewart, with mingled pride and annoyance. ‘Betty, the childminder, thinks he picked them up at the supermarket. The more I tell him not to, the more he says them.’ Stewart was looking relaxed and healthy.

  Maria was wearing a soft cream-coloured two-piece in some silky fabric which suited her. She'd always been a handsome girl, but now there was a glow about her which made Ellie wonder if … Was Maria pregnant, too? No, no. She was imagining things, as usual.

  ‘Your conservatory is a picture,’ said Maria. ‘And your garden, too.’

  Ellie suggested, ‘A sherry?’

  ‘Not for me. I'm driving,’ said Stewart.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Maria.

  The idea that Maria might be pregnant strengthened in Ellie's mind. ‘Then let's eat before we talk, shall we?’

  She suddenly thought how much her husband would have disapproved of her inviting their daughter's discarded husband and his new girlfriend to supper. When Frank was alive, this meeting would never have happened. But now it seemed absolutely right.

  The food disappeared fast. After the fish pie and beans, Ellie produced a home-made fruit salad with the banana sliced into it at the last minute, plus cheese and biscuits. Stewart cleared the table while Maria tried to start on the washing-up, but Ellie would have none of it.

  ‘Dump everything on the kitchen table, I'll make us some coffee, we can take it into the conservatory and you can tell me all your news.’

  Stewart sighed, sinking on to a cushioned bamboo chair, and passing a hand across his eyes. ‘It's not bad news, exactly.’

  Maria said gently, ‘Ellie might think so.’

  Stewart held out his hand and Maria put hers into it. He said, ‘We've got a date for the divorce hearing. Neither Diana nor I want to hang about, so that's good news from our point of view. But I'm sorry, Ellie. I know you don't approve of divorce.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I was brought up to believe that marriage was for life. That's what the Bible says, too. Stewart, I know you stuck by Diana even after she'd broken her marriage vows. I know you struggled to think the best of her, even after she'd left you. I know you love little Frank, and are a good father to him. I know that you love Maria …’ She sniffed and reached for her handkerchief. She blew her nose. ‘I'm sorry. So stupid. I wish you well. And Diana, too, of course.’

  With one part of her mind she could hear her husband shouting, ‘Tell them they are breaking God's laws. Tell them what you really think!’ But she had. Of course she deplored the break. It was not right to break vows made before God. But this was a far from perfect world, and people had somehow to struggle through it as best they could. Ellie really did wish them well.

  Stewart tightened his clasp of Maria's hand. ‘There's more. Diana wants custody and care of little Frank. Obviously, so do we. We have him from Monday morning till Friday evening, and he's settled down nicely. He loves Maria and Maria loves him.’ Maria smiled at him. Yes, she did.

  ‘Of course,’ said Stewart. ‘We can't offer him a live-in nanny and foreign holidays, as Diana can …’

  Ellie's attention sharpened. How could Diana afford such things? Had she got Derek Jolley to provide them?

  ‘… and Diana's right in pointing out that our flat is rented and we haven't even got a garden, though we're hoping to do something about that. But we can provide Frank with love and a quiet, regular routine. Of course, we both work during the week, but little Frank's very fond of his childminder, and she's excellent with him. You know yourself that he's growing fast, and sleeping well. Next week he's starting at a toddlers' group. Diana's convinced the court will give him to her. She says …’ He nerved himself to say this. ‘She's going to call you as a witness to speak for her.’

  Ellie felt as if she were about to be crushed between two enormous stones. On the one side, her daughter, who surely had first right on her loyalty, and on the other, two people who were not even her own flesh and blood.

  ‘I'll speak up for you,’ she heard herself say. ‘I trust him with you.’

  Stewart and
Maria relaxed. Maria said, ‘We're looking for a small house to buy, somewhere near here. Or even a ground floor flat with a garden. Twice we've found something suitable, and twice been gazumped. We've visited every estate agent in the neighbourhood and left our details, but house prices keep rising and we don't want a complete wreck which needs a lot spending on it, because we're both working. We've enough for a deposit, with half the money Stewart has from the sale of their house, plus the sale of my little flat. My father will help us, if necessary …’

  ‘So will I,’ said Ellie, banishing her husband's furious face from her mind. ‘I don't suppose one of Roy's development of town houses on the Green would be suitable for you, would they? They've no garden, only a patio. And they're hideously expensive, too.’

  ‘We might have to go further out of London,’ said Stewart. ‘We don't want to, because Frank's childminder is here, and the toddlers' group, and both our jobs. Maria did suggest asking Miss Quicke if she had anything suitable to let …’

  Ellie started. It was supposed to be a secret that her Aunt Drusilla owned a lot of property in that part of London. Miss Quicke had taken on Stewart to manage some of the properties for her, on condition that he didn't know who owned them. So how had he found out? Ah, but Maria had dealt with Aunt Drusilla for many years, as had her father, who had founded the Trulyclean agency. Maria must have put two and two together and told Stewart who really employed him.

  ‘… but,’ said Stewart, ‘I don't like to ask her. She's been good to me, giving me a job and letting me keep it even when Diana and I split up. I can't ask her.’

  ‘You may not be able to ask her,’ said Ellie, ‘but I can. If she thinks it a good idea, she'll say so. If she doesn't, she won't. She doesn't usually sell any of her properties, but she might let you have a long lease on something. I'm seeing her tomorrow, and I'll ask her then.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Maria. ‘But won't that make Diana angry with you?’

  ‘That's my worry, not yours. Now precisely what is it you're looking for?’

  Only when they were ready to leave did Ellie think to ask Maria if her firm had handled the cleansing of the house next door.

  Maria shook her head. ‘No, it wasn't us. There's a firm up by the supermarket who do that sort of thing. You could try them. It must be horrible for your neighbours. I don't think I could face living in a house where a murder had taken place.’

  ‘Armand almost didn't go back in there, and I don't know how Kate will cope.’ Kate's car was there now, nudging up to the back of Armand's, as usual. There were lights on in their house now, but they'd drawn the curtains at the front. They'd probably drawn them at the back, too, because they wouldn't want to look out on their desolate garden any more.

  As Maria and Stewart were leaving, one of Ellie's neighbours stormed down the path.

  Mrs Coppola, on her high horse and extremely high heels, bottle-blonde curls bobbing.

  ‘You! Ms Quicke! I want a word with you!’

  Ellie blew a kiss to Stewart and Maria and invited Mrs Coppola into her house.

  Mrs Coppola's colour was high, even through her makeup. ‘I'm not coming in, you needn't think I will, because I wouldn't dream of it!’

  Ellie drew Mrs Coppola into the hall and closed the door behind her. ‘Has something happened to Tod?’

  ‘What? No, of course not! He's completely grown out of that silly phase of his, when he always wanted to hang around with you, and I blame you for that, too! It was quite ridiculous, a woman of your age, enticing a boy in to-’

  Ellie flushed. ‘I don't think you really mean that, Mrs Coppola.’

  ‘I won't stand for you gossiping behind my back, making out I consort with criminals and murderers …’

  ‘What on earth are you talking-?’

  ‘Can you deny you sent the police round to ask me about my friends? No, of course you can't!’

  ‘Oh, you mean that they asked you about-?’

  ‘My friends are absolutely innocent! How you dared to throw suspicion on them! Fancy suggesting that either Shirley or Donald could have been guilty of-!’

  ‘Do come in and sit down for a moment. All I said was that-’ ‘I know what you said! You told them-’

  The phone rang.

  Ellie lowered rather than raised her voice, thinking that might calm Mrs Coppola. In the background she could hear that Diana was leaving yet another message on the answerphone. Tough! ‘Mrs Coppola, there's a body in the garden next door. It didn't get there by accident. Someone was killed and the body left there, ages ago. If it were someone you knew …’

  ‘How ridiculous! Are you accusing Shirley of having killed Donald? Is that it?’

  ‘No, the police said it was a woman out there.’

  ‘So you think Donald killed Shirley? Well, that's even more ridiculous! Won't she laugh when I ring her and tell her that …’

  ‘So she's still alive?’

  ‘And kicking. Of course she is. It was Donald who turned up his toes. I blame the doctors, myself. He should have got a liver transplant, but there, Shirley says he was too far gone, poor beggar, only lasted a couple of years. I thought she'd take to the bottle herself, but no, she's made of sterner stuff, as I told her when I went out there for the funeral. “You've still got your looks,” I said, “and a nice little pension to keep you warm.”

  ‘It wasn't long after that she met her second husband, who's another Don, would you believe? A fine, generous man, and they suit one another down to the ground, as I should know, having been invited out there every year since. Not that I take the boy with me. That wouldn't be at all suitable. But there's always times when he's going away with school parties and such.’ Mrs Coppola had run herself down a bit, but now geared herself up again. ‘So I think you'd better apologize, don't you?’

  ‘I'm really glad to hear Shirley is doing so well. Give her my regards when next you speak to her.’

  ‘Yes. Well. No thanks to you, if the Spanish police are set upon them.’

  ‘I shouldn't think that will happen if you told Ms Willis what you've told me.’

  Mrs Coppola huffed and puffed herself away while Ellie went to feed Midge, who'd sneaked in the front door as Mrs Coppola eased herself out.

  So, it wasn't poor noisy Shirley in the garden. Ellie discovered that she was rather pleased than otherwise. They'd never had anything in common, but Ellie didn't like to think of anyone she knew lying out there, lifeless … perhaps with open eyes staring up at the sky.

  Best not to think about it. She set to work on the washing-up, wondering if dear Rose were right and she ought to think about buying a dishwasher, not for herself but for the times when she was catering for others.

  There was a soft tap on the front door and a tentative ring on the doorbell.

  Kate and Armand, both looking subdued. ‘For looking after us,’ said Kate, handing over a bouquet of flowers.

  ‘You were great,’ said Armand, delivering a bottle of wine.

  They weren't immediately taking themselves off, so Ellie invited them in. She said she'd open the bottle and they could all relax and have a drink. Once they were seated in the living room, she asked, ‘Was there much mess?’

  Kate eased off her high-heeled shoes and settled herself back with a sigh, closing her eyes.

  Armand ruffled his ginger hair. ‘No, not really. You could see they'd been all over, looked into all the cupboards, even. They said they were coming back tomorrow, with some heat-seeking equipment, to run it over the garden …’

  ‘… and possibly dig up the extension floor,’ said Kate, still with her eyes closed.

  What? Dig up all those beautiful tiles, and the underfloor heating? Ellie could understand they must be feeling shattered. She poured wine for them all in silence.

  Armand rubbed his eyes. ‘Kate tells me I'm imagining things, and I suppose I am, but it's as though there's a dirty grey mist hanging around the house …’

  ‘You're imagining things,’ said Kate, still with h
er eyes closed.

  ‘‘Yes, I expect I am,’ said Armand. He stared out into the conservatory. Dusk was upon them, and the street lights were beginning to turn cherry-red. Ellie switched on a couple of low lights and drew the curtains to shield them from curious eyes in the road outside.

  Kate made an effort to sit upright and sip her wine. ‘Tell us about the people who lived there, Ellie. I never wanted to know before. It seemed to me that whatever the house was like before, Armand and I could make it a happy home. I don't believe in atmospheres and all that nonsense.’

  ‘I still think there's something,’ said Armand.

  ‘You never mentioned it before.’

  ‘I did, when we first moved in. That back bedroom had a-’

  ‘That was the damp patch,’ said Kate. ‘Tell us the worst, Ellie.’ Ellie sipped her wine. ‘If you don't believe in atmospheres - by which I suppose you mean ghosts - then why do you want to know?’

  Kate shivered. ‘Armand's been letting his imagination run away with him, thinking of bodies hidden under the floorboards.’

  Armand groaned. ‘They want to dig up where the patio was. I told them, no one could bury a body in our garden without someone noticing. Could they, Ellie?’

  ‘I wouldn't have thought so, no.’ But now he'd raised the point, Ellie wondered if they could have done, given that next door's garden had been so heavily overgrown. At the top, for instance, unpruned hedges had almost met over the place where the patio had been, and the lower part of the slope near the alley had been a thicket of shrubs and sapling trees.

  ‘It's a nice little house,’ said Kate, evidently trying to convince herself of the fact. ‘Armand says that if people are happy in a place, you can feel it. Like you, Ellie, in this house; I come in here and feel, well, serene. I think we make our own atmosphere, but just to satisfy him, Ellie, tell us about the people who lived here before.’

  Ellie thought about the Shrieker and Aymo, and the animals dying on the patio. Had one or more been buried there, perhaps? Under what was now Kate and Armand's extension, built with such high hopes?