‘Her daughter lived not far away. I know that, because she used to walk over to see her mother. The daughter worked fulltime. Now, where …?’ She pondered, shook her head. ‘No, I don't know where she worked. Maybe I never heard. There were grandchildren, two girls, both great big lumps, neither of them very kind to their poor old gran. That's what old Mrs Cullen used to call herself. “Poor old gran”.
‘Her daughter forbade her to go out of the house in the winter, in case she fell again. Either the daughter or one of the grandchildren used to come round every day to see if the old dear were all right, bring her food, that sort of thing. But there was nothing for the old lady to live for really. I mean, she'd worked all her life, and had had other people depending on her. And then … woof! She was the dependent one. She didn't like it one little bit. She lasted maybe one year, maybe eighteen months after her husband. Then she went the same way. Not pneumonia, no. She wasn't hospitalized. I think she just died in her sleep.’
‘Which is when Greg and Lilian Browning came in - the man who got cancer and had to wear a wig and died?’
‘That's right. I really don't think either of the grandchildren can be your corpse in the garden. Big, strapping girls. Besides, if one of them had gone missing, there'd have been a manhunt to end all manhunts.’
‘I agree. So before the Cullens …?’
Ellie sighed. ‘A couple with two children, both boys. It can't be them.’
DI Willis stopped making notes, leaned back and looked at Ellie. ‘Tell us about them. Come on, Ellie, you can do it, I know you can!’
‘You call me “Ellie” again and I won't be answerable for the consequences. Your ten minutes are up and I've had enough. So if you don't mind …?’
‘We'll need more.’ But the woman did rise to her feet. ‘I'll have to come back again.’
Ellie said, ‘Is that a threat?’
DI Willis didn't answer.
Twelve
It was getting late. Ellie listened to the messages which had been left on the answerphone. Two were from Diana, asking plaintively where her mother was. One from dear Tum-Tum at the church, asking if Ellie were all right, and did she want to cancel giving everyone coffee after their gardening at church tomorrow?
One message was from Stewart, asking if Ellie would like to babysit on Thursday, as he and Maria had to go out. One from Roy, wondering if she'd like supper with him on Thursday, and asking when the plants for the gardens at the new development would be put in. Everything was for Thursday evening, when the Women's Guild had an invited speaker at the church. Ellie had been looking forward to that.
It annoyed her that she'd nothing else in her diary all week, and now there were three things on the Thursday. Oh, and she supposed she'd have to make time to go out with Bill, too.
She scolded herself. How come she'd got so spoilt that she resented being asked out by two pleasant men? She decided it was she herself who was at fault, rather than them. All this looking back over her own marriage had made her wary of any more involvement with the opposite sex.
She rang Diana, and got an earful of complaints. Why hadn't Ellie been round to see her that day? Ellie could at least have rung to see if her only daughter were all right, and not fainting away on the floor. Ellie could have helped by taking Diana to the doctor's, though, as it happened, they hadn't got a slot for her and she'd had to go down to Accident and Emergency at Ealing Hospital, and they'd wanted to keep her in, but of course Diana hadn't agreed to that. And the least Ellie could do was to bring her round some nicely cooked supper. Oh, and while she was at it, Diana was out of butter and … oh, yes, some bread. And perhaps some of that thinly sliced ham from the deli …
Ellie listened with part of her mind on the mystery of the girl in the garden. Now that DI Willis had pointed out the agony of a mother not knowing what had happened to her daughter, Ellie found it hard to put it out of her mind.
She pulled herself back to the present. There would be no fresh bread left in the bakery at this time of day, but she promised Diana she would do what she could. She reminded Diana that Monday evening was choir practice but she'd pop in to see her after that. Predictably, Diana exploded. Couldn't her mother cancel choir practice for once?
‘No, I couldn't. I'll be round after that.’ She put the phone down. Midge was sitting on the hall chair. Her hand found his head and stroked it. He liked that. Within reason. Presently he nudged her hand away and leaped down to make for the kitchen. She fed him and then went out into the garden, secateurs and trug in hand, for half an hour of self-indulgence.
The early evening was a wonderful time in the garden. She deadheaded a prolific Compassion rose near the house, and went down the herbaceous border, tidying up, snipping deadheads here and there, filling the trug and emptying it into the big compost bin by the shed at the bottom of the garden.
Tod and his friend went past, and waved to her. She watched them out of sight, wondering what her life would have been like if just one of those miscarriages had failed to happen, wondering if she'd have produced another child as demanding as Diana, or whether he or she would have been as lively and good-tempered as Tod.
Not that Tod was perfect, of course. He'd taken advantage of her just as much, at times, as Diana had done. The difference was that Tod had been generous in his affection in return for the little she'd been able to do for him.
A bleak thought: was little Frank going to be as self-centred as his mother, demanding everything and returning nothing?
Had it been her fault that Diana had turned out this way?
Or indeed that Frank had become a bit of a domestic tyrant?
She went down into the alley and turned left to stand at the bottom of Kate's garden. The tape was still there but there was no policeman on duty and no tent. The skip had been removed, as had the earth-mover. The earth had been scraped bare of vegetation and reminded her unpleasantly of pictures she'd seen of no-man's-land in Flanders during the First World War. All bumps and craters and nothing green in sight.
Ah, a couple of nettles had survived over there, and at her feet was a root of creeping buttercup, dratted thing. But it was good to see that life survived, somehow, even in that desolation. Her plans for the garden makeover lay in a drawer in the study, and there, presumably, they'd stay. If she were Kate and Armand, she wouldn't want to stay in that house, knowing what had happened here.
She shook these thoughts away and took off for the Avenue with a list of things Diana wanted. The baker had a couple of rather tired-looking loaves left. She bought one. Some flowers for the flat to cheer Diana up. Ham and a selection of the salads Diana liked from the deli. A selection of frozen meals from the old-fashioned grocery, and some milk, of course.
This was the place where she'd once seen the assistant chatting in a foreign language to one of the Bosnians. For once the shop was empty, and Ellie took advantage of the fact to talk to the assistant. ‘Another For Sale sign going up in our road. People never seem to stay long nowadays, do they?’
The assistant shook her head. ‘Some do. Some don't. It's sad to see the old people losing their grip, going into a home.’
‘Yes, but they're still in the community. We can still go to visit them. I worry sometimes about the refugees. They seem to get moved around so much. There were some living next to me for a while.’
The assistant nodded. ‘From my country, yes. They had relatives in my home town. I'd almost forgotten my own language, think of it! But they were happy to move to a bigger house, which allowed them to take in the old people. At least they do look after their old folk, not like us, shoving them into homes all the time.’ She rang up the total.
Ellie fumbled in her purse. ‘Was that why they moved? I did wonder. Only, not being able to talk to them …’
‘The children learn quickly and translate for them. The men find it more difficult, they are professional men in their own country, and now …’ She shrugged. ‘But the old people are happier, sitting in their little huts
on the allotment …’
‘Allotment?’ There were some allotments on the other side of the park, but Ellie hadn't been that way for ages.
‘There is this woman, very nice, helps those who want to, to get an allotment. The grandparents were usually farmers. So the whole family, or maybe two families together, go down to clear an allotment, all working together. They build a little hut, and the grandparents can sit outside in the sun and cook their meals, just as if they were back in the old country. Then they can grow the things they like to eat. It is a good way, yes?’
Ellie handed over a couple of notes. ‘So they are all happy and well? I'm glad. However many of them were there in that house next to us? I was never quite sure.’
The assistant smiled. ‘Plenty. All healthy except for one grandma who has bad eyesight, but they look after her well.’
‘Do you think they'll ever go back to their own country?’
‘This is their country now. I never think of going back, not since my parents died and my sister came over here too.’
Another customer was now waiting to be served, so Ellie had to move on.
At least she'd cleared that point up. None of the Bosnians had gone missing. Not that she'd really thought it had been one of them.
The man knew exactly what to do this time. He chose a different library, one even further away from his home. He gave a different false name and address, and took his place at one of a row of identical computers. Because of the nature of his business interests, he'd the email addresses of many people in his notepad. It was even easier to send a message to the police a second time.
He'd thought about the words to use already. He tapped them in, sent the email and surrendered his seat within ten minutes of entering the library.
No one took the slightest notice of him.
Why should they?
He walked back to the side street where he'd left the Mercedes, and used his mobile to ring his wife. He was anxious, very anxious about his father, but what he'd just done would point the police in a new direction. His brother had been right. They couldn't risk anyone connecting them with the girl.
On the way home, he'd stop at the new development on the Green, to monitor the comings and goings at the place where they'd buried her.
Monday evening was choir practice, and Ellie had to face the members of the Inquisition - otherwise known as the choir - at church before she could go to Diana's. Naturally they all wanted to know how Diana was, and avoided the subject of the police enquiries about Ellie's husband. Though that leaked out around the corners of their speech, so to speak.
Had Diana really had a miscarriage, had she had to go to hospital? What a terrible thing. And of course they didn't believe that stupid rumour about dear Frank; really, what the police were coming to, they didn't know! They'd called just at the most inconvenient moment, just as she was turning out the sitting room … when she'd just sat down for coffee … just as she was about to go out to collect her daughter from school … and so on.
The kinder members of the choir expressed their condolences that Ellie had lost another grandchild, and assured her they'd told the police there was nothing in the stories about Frank.
The less kind exchanged catty remarks about Diana to one another, reported what they'd said to the police about Frank, and avoided eye contact with Ellie.
In some ways, Ellie agreed with the catty ones. About Diana, anyway. On the whole, the choir was composed of people who valued children and stable family relationships. Even the young ones did. They knew that Diana had broken her marriage vows - vows made in that very church not so many years ago. Some of the older ones even used the word ‘adultery', which was not a word that tripped off people's lips easily today.
There was a slight air of Well, it's better she lost the baby than had an abortion. And an almost equally strong, Ellie ought to have made sure her mobile was switched off and didn't disrupt the service. With both of which sentiments Ellie agreed.
There was also an undercurrent of, Well, I never actually caught her husband doing anything he shouldn't, but he did used to look at my legs in a way that made me most uncomfortable! Ellie set her jaw and said to herself, He looked but didn't touch. Several times.
She thanked Mrs Dawes and the alto who'd volunteered to take on Ellie's duties making coffee the previous day, and they both said, ‘Think nothing of it.’
It was coming up to Harvest Festival time, so there were some new hymns to learn and some old ones to resurrect. When the rehearsal was over - and Ellie was hard put to it to concentrate, with everything that was going on - Mrs Dawes suggested she see Ellie back home. It was clear to Ellie that this meant Mrs Dawes needed paying in information for her kindness to Ellie. But Ellie had promised Diana she would deliver her some groceries, so she made her excuses, suggesting that Mrs Dawes call in after the gardening session in the church grounds tomorrow, and perhaps have a sandwich lunch with her?
To which Mrs Dawes agreed, while leaving Ellie with the impression that she'd somehow not played fair.
After an evening spent administering to Diana and listening patiently to her grumbles, Tuesday morning was bound to be a breath of fresh air in every sense of the word. Tuesday morning was gardening-at-the-church time, when whoever happened to be available would turn up to mow the grass, tend the herbaceous borders which Turn-Turn had created, and gently chatter the morning away.
At twelve, everyone would down tools and make their way to Ellie's for some good coffee and biscuits. This kept the area around the church looking good, kept neighbours in touch with one another - finding out who was poorly, who needed a visit, who needed cheering up - and it gave people a chance to chat to Tum-Tum about their problems if they wished to do so.
Mrs Dawes usually brought her collapsible stool and sat, directing operations. She was always the first to come and the last to leave.
Ellie's speciality was deadheading and light pruning, so she'd brought her secateurs and trug. The morning was overcast and rather humid for the time of the year, so she wasn't surprised to find more people standing and chatting to one another than actually getting down to the job in hand. That didn't matter. If one person had to leave after half an hour, someone else would probably finish their weeding or whatever.
It was unusual to have someone from outside the area join them. Even more unusual when he started working next to Ellie. ‘Constable Honey? Is that right?’ Ellie was surprised. He was in casual gear, looking quite at home as he dealt with a nasty piece of couch grass which had got itself tangled up with a potentilla. ‘What are you doing here?’
He grinned. ‘Honeywell's the name, actually. Day off. Well, actually, the boss has got an abscess and is spending the morning at the dentist's, waiting for a cancellation, and she asked me to keep an eye on you. Said you needed to be addressed as Madam, and if I had ever learned any Ps and Qs from my granny, I should brush them up before I saw you.’
Ellie laughed. He really was a most engaging young man. ‘I suppose I was a bit sharp with her, but sometimes … no, I won't say it.’
Now it was his turn to laugh. It seemed they shared a similar opinion of DI Willis.
‘I think you're something of a rogue,’ said Ellie, amused. Also thinking that this was a very clever young man, who could probably wheedle his way into the graces of anyone foolish enough to take him at face value.
He stood, stretching. ‘Aaaah. My back's not what it was. The wife's always telling me to bend my knees, rather than bend right over. She's a physio.’
Ellie guessed he'd now tell her all about his family in order to put her at her ease and convince her she could trust him.
‘Shall I dump those for you?’ he asked, taking her trug. ‘My youngest daughter can't be doing with gardening. All for football. But the eldest wants to know all about it. Gone Green, she has.’
Ellie awarded herself a bonus point. ‘I've got the picture. You're a settled family man and understand how an ancient woman like myself likes t
o be treated.’
He flicked her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Not so ancient. And still plucking heart strings, or so I've heard.’
She revised her opinion yet again. This was an extremely clever young man. ‘Did DI Willis send you to mend fences with me?’
‘Partly. May I treat you to a coffee in the Avenue?’
‘Unfortunately, no. I hold open house for the gardeners on Tuesday mornings. But if you like to come across with me now, I can get the kettle on and we can have a chat before the others join us.’
As soon as he'd got himself seated in the big armchair - the one that had once been her husband's favourite - Midge leaped on to his lap. Midge was supposed to be a good judge of character. Hmmm.
He'd taken the room in at a glance. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘A proper home. Kids' toys, library books, daily papers, telly and radio … but you prefer plants to people, I think.’
She blinked. She'd never thought of comparing them. Surely she didn't, did she? Though it was true that she often sought consolation by working in the garden, rather than ringing up a friend for a chat. What a very acute young man this young man was turning out to be.
She handed him a mug of coffee. ‘Flattery will get you some of the way. Truth might get you what you want.’
‘Right. Yes.’ He put his cup down. His face sharpened, letting his keen intelligence show. ‘I'm going to tell you a couple of things we haven't released to the press, for obvious reasons. You can keep your mouth shut, can't you? Yes. Now, this body. Very odd. No clothing at all. Might have decomposed, but no jewellery, no purse, no belt, no handbag, no shoes. There's always something to be found, no matter how far decomposition has advanced. Some fragments of metal from a belt or a purse, usually. Nothing. So, the body had been stripped. That's the first odd thing.’
Murder in the Garden Page 15