She heard Diana say, ‘What a bad loser you are, Stewart!’ before Roy closed the door from the living room into the conservatory. Ellie jiggled the toddler up and down. Midge the cat exited by the cat flap. He didn’t like Diana any more than Diana liked him.
‘Leave them to sort it out between them,’ said Roy, speaking for the first time since they got back to Ellie’s.
‘Words of wisdom. But they still think Aunt Drusilla’s dead.’
Roy sank into a chair and sipped sherry. ‘It may be reprehensible of me, but I take a certain amount of satisfaction from that thought. Just pray that we’re both there to enjoy the moment when she finds out. Here, give me little Frank. He likes me. Shall we walk out and leave them to it? Go for a meal somewhere?’
‘I’m too wound up to sit still. Besides, what would we do with little Frank? Suppose I make us an omelette or a sandwich or something. That all right with you?’
He couldn’t bring his mind back to mundane things like food. ‘Where’s my mother gone to, do you think? I’d suggest going back to her house to wait for her there, but the police said they’d sealed off her bedroom …’
‘Is that where it happened?’
‘Apparently, yes. They were putting a man out front so nobody could contaminate the crime scene. She might have returned at any time and been refused admission to her own house.’
Ellie tried to laugh. ‘If so, I don’t envy the policeman on duty outside.’
Roy almost managed to smile at that. ‘But where has she gone? Why hasn’t she rung us? Perhaps she’s been kidnapped or knocked over in the street.’
‘I pity anyone who tried to kidnap her. She’d give them short shrift. I expect she’s gone shopping. Or to have an argument with her bank manager – which I’m sure she’d win. To her solicitor’s, to sue someone? To inspect the work which Diana ought to have done at the flats? Ten to one she’s out with Rose, because I tried ringing Rose and she wasn’t at home.’
Roy checked his mobile. ‘No messages on it. I’ll see if she left any on the phone at my flat.’ He pressed keys. ‘No, nothing. Has she left any messages on your mobile?’
Ellie tossed him her mobile. ‘You can check. I can’t work out how to access the messages. If there were any messages on my answerphone, Diana will have wiped them. For a woman who deals with computers all day, she’s remarkably clumsy with my answerphone. Try ringing Rose again. The number’s in the mobile.’
Yes, where was Rose, anyway? Dear Lord, if anything’s happened to her, too …
‘No reply.’
Frank was getting fractious, so Roy took him to look at the fish in the water tank while Ellie escaped to the kitchen. There were raised voices in the sitting room. ‘You said …’
‘No, I didn’t!’
Roy was right, let them get on with it.
Roy followed her out into the kitchen as she threw the ingredients for a Spanish omelette onto the table. Cold potatoes, tomatoes, onions and eggs. Half a pepper, and some leftover ham. Defrost some bread from the freezer. The butter’s too hard to use straight away. Leave it out on the boiler and pray Midge doesn’t get back to investigate it before it’s softened.
Roy had finished his second sherry and was loosening up nicely. He popped little Frank into his high chair at the table and found a spoon for him to play with. Ellie hewed a crust off the loaf, put it under the grill to defrost and gave it to little Frank to keep him quiet. Roy asked for a slice as well. Roy probably hadn’t had any breakfast, certainly hadn’t had any lunch.
Ellie got out the pans, sliced onions into some oil and set them to soften.
Roy became ponderous. ‘My mother told me last night that she was going to sack Diana. Something about invoices not adding up. Stupid girl. Doesn’t she know my mother always checks invoices? I wonder if she actually got round to telling the girl she was fired?’
‘Yes,’ said Ellie. ‘Diana rang this morning. She wanted me to get Aunt Drusilla to change her mind. As if I could.’
‘Right. Did Diana know that my mother was also about to sack Stewart? She may well have done. In which case, she didn’t waste much time finding herself another meal ticket, did she? Do you know anything about this man Jolley? He makes my skin creep.’
‘Mm. Nasty piece of work. Not above shading the truth if it suits him.’
‘My mother said we’d use a nationally known estate agent to sell the town houses we’re building on the Green. She said something about having used a local man in the past and got rid of him. Would this be the man, do you think?’
‘Probably. She has a short loyalty span, though in this case I think she was right to discard him.’ Ellie used a wooden spoon to stir the onions. Little Frank had thrown his crust on the floor. He was pretending to count as he worked over Roy’s bunch of keys.
Roy’s car! She’d forgotten it completely, and he had, too. How was she to get it back to him, or would it matter if it were out there all night?
A chair overturned in the sitting room and someone screamed. Diana, of course. Perhaps Stewart was not taking things as quietly as she’d expected? He did come from a Scottish family and though slow to rouse, he might possibly throw off a tantrum if circumstances were right. Good.
Mushrooms and pepper. Chop them. Mix little Frank a drink in his cup, and find him a biscuit. Leave the biscuit tin out for Roy to dip into.
She said, ‘Diana thinks Aunt Drusilla has left her the house but she hasn’t, because it was Frank’s house and he left it to me. Diana doesn’t know that. She probably thinks she can demolish it and redevelop the site rather as you are doing with that terrible old wreck of a place on the Green. Diana also seems to think she’s her great-aunt’s sole heir. Derek Jolley must see pound signs whenever he looks her way.’
‘Two thirds of her estate to you, and one third to me? That’s what my mother said. And you’re the executor.’
‘Yes. Academic, now. And I’m remarkably pleased that it is so.’
‘By God. So am I.’ He meant it, too.
She broke eggs into a bowl and started whisking them up with some seasoning. ‘If she’d died, would you have been able to go on with the development on the Green, or would you have had to sell?’
‘Oh no, we could carry on. My mother made me take out a special insurance to cover all eventualities – such as the death of one of us. If she’d died, I’d have been able to pick up the insurance money to finish the development. But no amount of insurance money would compensate for her input. What a clear mind she has. She says, Why did you do this and why are you planning to do that? And do you know what? When I’ve thought it through, she’s always right. I wouldn’t mind going into partnership with her any day. She’d actually said that if she was pleased with this development, she might perhaps consider doing another one with me in future.’
‘That’s brilliant, Roy. I’m so pleased for you.’
It was brilliant in another way, too. It meant Roy would have lost more than he’d have gained if he’d murdered his mother. Therefore, it wouldn’t have been in his interest to harm her. Though of course Ellie hadn’t thought him guilty for a minute.
Ellie got out her biggest frying pan, tipped the egg mix into it, and topped half of it with all the other things she’d found in the fridge, plus the cooked onions. ‘Can you set the table? We’ll eat in here, I think.’
Frank screamed, ‘Me, too!’ He was hungry and it was nearly time for bath and bed. Next door the battle royal raged, with accusations flying around like boomerangs. ‘How dare you … You drove me to it!’
Ellie carved chunks of bread, rescued the butter from the top of the stove and sought for a bottle of wine in the bottom of her larder. ‘Red wine do you?’
‘Anything. Ellie, you are a miracle worker.’
She flipped one half of the omelette over the other, while Roy disinterred knives and forks from the drawer and fished out a couple of glasses. Frank yelled ‘Me, me, me!’ which meant he was serious about wanting some food as well
. What could she provide for him? Roy retrieved his keys from the floor, where Frank had thrown them. It was a very domestic scene.
The front door slammed. Was reopened. And slammed again. Frank jumped in his high chair. There was silence next door. ‘Momma?’ said Frank in a small voice. ‘Where Momma gone?’
‘Ouch,’ said Ellie. ‘They must each have thought that the other had taken Frank. Never mind, my little love. You can have supper with Uncle Roy and Granny, and then we’ll pop you in the bath and then your nice little bed upstairs.’
‘Sleep at Ganny’s,’ said Frank, quite accustomed to being dumped on his grandmother. Ellie put two thirds of the omelette on a plate for Roy and kept a third for herself, cutting off a large corner for Frank, who loved scrambled eggs.
Roy tied a bib around little Frank’s neck and then lifted his glass.‘Here’s to your blue eyes, Ellie.’
‘And yours.’ Frank opened his mouth to yell. ‘Wait a minute, Frank. Here’s your own special spoon.’
‘This is good,’ commented Roy, getting on with his food. ‘Marry me, Ellie?’
‘No, thank you, Roy. How many times is that you’ve asked me? Three, or four? Move your glass or Frank will have it over.’
‘I shall go on asking, you know.’
‘Give over, do. You need someone much younger, who’ll give you a batch of kids of your own.’
He shook his head. He’d had one failed marriage with a much younger woman. ‘I’m not going through that again.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I knew where my mother was.’
It was past seven o’clock. It was still raining, Frank had only just settled down to sleep and both Roy and Ellie were tired out, mentally and physically. Messages had been left for both Stewart and Diana on their phones, but neither was picking them up.
Roy was searching the channels on TV, looking for some football. He had the sound turned up just a trifle too loud, which was reason number six why Ellie wouldn’t marry him. Reasons numbers one to five tended to wax and wane in importance at any given moment, but included: it was too close to her husband’s death, Roy was too like her dear departed but autocratic husband, who had always assumed she would be happy to fall in with all his wishes without complaint or query, Roy was just too charming to be trusted, and she liked her independence.
Oh yes, and he wasn’t averse to playing the sex card and she’d had enough of that. For the time being, at any rate.
Ellie was leafing through some paperwork. Part of her inheritance was being put into a trust fund to be used for charitable purposes and there was a lot of paperwork for her to look at every week. The other trustees were Armand’s wife, her best friend Kate – the financial whizz kid from next door – and their recently departed vicar from St Thomas’ who was now in a larger parish on the other side of London. They joked that Kate was the brains of the organization, Ellie the heart and dear Gilbert – a lean man with a large appetite – was the stomach.
Ellie would have liked peace and quiet to concentrate on the paperwork, but she quite understood that Roy – being a man – needed the distraction of a football match. They’d been ringing Rose and Aunt Drusilla every half hour without result and both were beginning to talk about informing the police.
The only person who had rung them that evening had been Joyce McNally, wanting to know if the police would allow her to hold her wedding reception as planned. She’d rung three times, getting in more of a panic each time. Joyce didn’t know where her mother was, either. Ellie felt sorry for her. A little. Joyce was a bit of a bully, but she didn’t deserve this.
Ellie’s eyes were on the paper in front of her, but her mind was elsewhere. She was trying to work out exactly what must have happened at Aunt Drusilla’s that morning. According to the evidence in the sitting room, the two women had been quietly sitting there; Aunt Drusilla had been reading the papers – the Financial Times, of course – and Rose had been making out a list of food to buy. That list had been in Rose’s handwriting. The cleaner had presumably arrived and been admitted before the two women had sat down in the sitting room? Or had the cleaner let herself in later? Presumably the agency kept the keys because Aunt Drusilla changed cleaners frequently. Note: better check that.
What was the name of the cleaning agency?
No, she couldn’t bring it to mind.
And the cleaner’s name? Copper? Ellie half laughed and shook her head at herself. ‘Copper’ as in policeman? Cocker? Forget it. It would come back to her presently. Probably when she was in the bath.
Jimbo had arrived at about ten and by that time the two women had gone and the cleaner was dead upstairs. It was a fairly short time span. What could have caused the women to up and go so quickly, without leaving any message behind?
Ellie couldn’t think what it might be. Now, if she could have prowled around, perhaps visited the kitchen, she might be able to work out what had happened. But that was not likely to happen with Ms Willis in charge.
Down at the local, the man met up with his girlfriend. He bought her a pint, and she munched crisps.
‘You done good,’ she said. ‘Comin’ back tonight?’
‘Might. Or you come round my place? It’s quieter.’
She gave him a nudge and giggled.
He caught her round the shoulders and gave her a smacking great kiss.
Rose McNally had a two-bedroom council flat high up in a tower block about half a mile from the Avenue. Her husband had died some years before and since her daughter Joyce had moved out last year, Rose had lived there alone and lonely. That is, until Miss Quicke had invited her to stay for a few weeks.
Two floors down and in another block on the same site there was an identical flat occupied by the geriatric Mr Tucker – whose lifelong heavy smoking had led to the loss of his left leg. He was looked after by his daughter Mo, who not only claimed all the allowances to which she was entitled, but earned money on the side by cleaning.
Mo Tucker and Rose McNally had never spoken, although they knew one another by sight.
‘Mrs’ Tucker had never bothered to marry but had had several live-in partners. The present recipient of her favours was a large slug of a man, a beer-bellied soft-porn watcher, out of work for many a year and content to have his meals and pocket money provided for him by Mo.
Mr Tucker sniped at Norm, and Norm ignored Mr Tucker. They were, however, united in their dislike of Mo Tucker’s seventeen-year-old son, who’d never had a job and was usually in trouble with the police over thefts from cars and joy-riding.
The lad’s nickname was Jogger, because he never stood still. Technically, he lived with his girlfriend and their baby, but he often visited his mum for a handout.
For the umpteenth time Mr Tucker said, ‘I want my tea. Where’s Mo with my tea?’
Norm flicked ash. He too smoked. Even the curtains in the flat were stained with nicotine. ‘Get it yourself, old man.’
Jogger said, ‘I gotta have some cash … where is she?’
Someone knocked on the front door. Jogger slid out of sight. He could smell police even through the door.
Mrs Tucker’s death would affect all three of their lives. And Rose McNally’s as well.
Ellie put down her paperwork. ‘Is that a taxi?’
She rushed to the window overlooking the road and yes, there was a
taxi. Two figures were sitting in the back. ‘Roy, they’re here!’ Roy was glued to the television set. ‘Go for it, man! You can do it! Aaah!
You idiot!’
Ellie reached for the remote control and turned the television down.
‘They’re here. Both of them.’
Suddenly sober, they opened the front door.
Dear Rose twittered down the path to the front door, hung about with
various parcels.‘Oh, my dears, what a day! I’ve never known anything like it.’ Rose was noted for her good heart and poor dress sense but this
evening she was transformed, wearing a smart new camel-hair coat and
ma
tching beret. Where had she got those from?
The taxi driver was actually descending from his cab to help Aunt
Drusilla out – unheard of! She was gesturing with her umbrella, ordering
him to come to the other side of the cab, did he think she was a teenager
to hop out all by herself? And don’t forget those other parcels! It was still raining.
Ellie kissed Rose warmly. ‘Where have you been? We’ve been so
worried about you!’
Roy had grown very tense at Ellie’s side. Ellie expected him to rush up
the path to help his mother, but he didn’t. He stared up at her, looking
shocked rather than thrilled to see her again. Or overcome by shyness? Rose flumped down on the hall chair. ‘Didn’t you get my message? Is
that the time? Sorry we’re a bit late, but we’ve been all over the place and
I confess I’m dead beat though dear Miss Quicke is indefatigable.’ Miss Quicke made her majestic way down the path, prodding the
unfortunate taxi driver, now burdened with more parcels, down the slope
ahead of her.
Roy let out a long-held breath and moved to take the parcels from the
taxi driver and pay him. ‘We’ve been worried sick about you. Where have
you been?’
‘Mind that package, it’s got china in it. I can’t be doing with Ellie’s idea
of china. Might as well drink tea out of a thick pottery mug.’ Wordlessly Ellie helped stack parcels at the foot of the stairs, while
Roy helped his mother out of her coat. She was wearing her usual duncoloured but expensive Wetherall clothes.
‘A cup of tea would be welcome,’ said Aunt Drusilla, making her way
into the sitting room. ‘Earl Grey, no milk, a slice of lemon. And please turn
the television off. It’s been a tiring enough day without having to listen to
schoolboys doing a war dance over a simple ball game.’
Rose followed Aunt Drusilla. ‘If I sit in a comfortable chair, I’ll fall asleep.
Murder By Accident Page 4