Murder By Accident

by Veronica Heley

  Suddenly she remembered something he’d said. ‘Stewart, did you say that there were lights on in the sitting room when you called at my house? I turned them off when I left. The only lights I left on were the ones in the conservatory, so that we could see our way down the garden path.’

  Stewart thought about it. ‘I went to the front door, rather than try to drag the pushchair up your garden path. Yes, there was a light on in the sitting room, and in the hall.That’s why I spent a few minutes ringing your doorbell, thinking you must be in. Then that flower-lady woman came past, and saw me.You think someone has broken in?’ He squared those broad shoulders of his. ‘I’m coming back with you, see you in safely, right?’

  She looked around at the mess in the room. There would be all hell to pay in the morning if the place was left like this, but her anxiety was mounting. Aunt Drusilla and Rose had left some time ago and would have gone back into the house without seeing anything wrong in lights having been switched on where they ought not to have been. She grabbed her jacket and handbag, switched off the lights. If she had time in the morning, she’d come in and tidy up. Jean ought never to have left Ellie alone to clear up in here and in the kitchen. Under normal circumstances, Rose would have stayed to help her. But Rose had her mind set on looking after Aunt Drusilla and it would never have crossed her mind that Jean would dump it all on Ellie.

  They rushed across the Green, into the alley, and through the gate into Ellie’s back garden. Ellie seized one end of the pushchair and Stewart the other, and they carried Frank up the garden path between them.

  All seemed quiet. As normal. The conservatory lights were on, as they should be. The house showed no other lights at all.

  Thirteen

  E

  llie touched Stewart’s arm, indicating that they stand still for a moment and listen. Armand had the radio on next door. A classical concert of some kind? The music was hardly loud enough to identify. Ellie unlocked the door into the conservatory and they carried the pushchair up into the house. All was quiet, very still. No Midge. No Aunt Drusilla or Rose

  Ellie preceded Stewart into the kitchen. The light wasn’t on there, nor in the hall, nor in the sitting room. The place seemed to be just as she had left it. No burglars. No intruders. Television and VCR still where she’d left them.

  Stewart hovered. ‘I could have sworn there were lights on in the hall and the sitting room. If there hadn’t been, I’d not have spent so long ringing the doorbell.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellie, throat constricting. The sitting room felt all right, and so did the hall. But the kitchen. What was it about the kitchen that felt wrong?

  There was a sharp ring at the front door bell and Rose entered, flushed and rosy, using her key. Aunt Drusilla came after her, leaning on her stick.

  ‘Did you give us up for lost, then?’ asked Rose, all bright and cheerful. ‘Your kind neighbour Kate asked us in for a chat as you hadn’t finished up yet.’ Then, on seeing Ellie’s face, ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly,’ said Ellie. ‘Stewart called round when we were out and said there were lights on in the sitting room and hall. Only, I didn’t leave any lights on there when we went out.’

  Aunt Drusilla seated herself on the hall chair. She looked tired. ‘I expect it was Diana. She has her own key. I’m going up to bed now. I like that Kate of yours – she said she’d pop into work tomorrow and check one or two things out for me. Bring me a cup of tea up, will you, Rose?’

  Ellie barred the way. ‘Wait a minute. I don’t think Diana was here. She always disturbs the furniture in the sitting room when she comes in, and the furniture looks fine to me. If you don’t mind, I’ll just check around upstairs.’

  She looked in all three of the bedrooms, and the bathroom. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. Midge was asleep on her bed. Fine.

  She told herself that there was absolutely nothing wrong. Stewart had been in a bit of a state. He’d been mistaken about seeing lights on downstairs.

  Only, Stewart wasn’t the sort to make mistakes like that. So, someone had been in the house this evening and it hadn’t been Diana.

  ‘False alarm,’ she said, in a bright voice as she went downstairs. ‘Off you go to bed, you two.’

  Aunt Drusilla glared at Ellie. ‘You’d pack us off to bed like children, would you? Is anything missing?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Something’s worrying me about the kitchen.’

  ‘Not the kettle again,’ said Rose, trying to make a joke of it.

  Stewart peered into the kitchen. ‘Looks all right to me.’

  Ellie went past him and stood by the table, looking at every unit, every piece of equipment. Thinking that wires could be tampered with more than once, thinking that maybe she ought to ring the police.

  In the cold weather Midge either slept on a folded tea towel on top of the boiler, or on Ellie’s bed. His tea towel was now on the floor. Why? Had he started off the evening there and been disturbed?

  The tea caddy and sugar bowl were now on the far side of the microwave. Why? They were usually kept next to the kettle, for obvious reasons. ‘Rose, did you move the tea caddy and sugar bowl for some reason?’

  ‘No,’ said Rose, looking worried.

  ‘There!’ said Stewart, pointing to something which had drifted into a corner by the back door. ‘Don’t touch it!’

  ‘It looks like a screwed-up cellophane wrapping from something. A packet of cigarettes, perhaps?’ It hadn’t been there when she went out. No one Ellie knew smoked any longer. So someone else had definitely been in the kitchen. She felt quite light-headed. ‘So what’s been tampered with? Electric kettle or microwave?’

  Stewart exclaimed, ‘Ellie, don’t touch anything. Step back here. At once!’

  Ellie stepped.

  ‘What is it? Let me see.’ cried Rose.

  ‘It’s the kettle. I can see it from here,’ said Stewart. ‘The wiring into the plug has been frayed. Anyone who switched that on would get a nasty shock.’

  ‘That kettle’s not new,’ said Ellie, keeping her voice steady. ‘But the wiring wasn’t frayed when I left here this evening.’

  ‘What we need is an electrician’s screwdriver,’ said Stewart. ‘You know the sort? It’s rubberized, protects you from electric shocks.’

  Ellie shook her head. She’d never seen one.

  ‘Very well. We’ll find something else to use for insulation. You’ve got a rubber bath mat, haven’t you?’ asked Stewart. ‘I don’t want to touch that plug till I’m standing on something made of rubber. And your rubber washing-up gloves will help, too.’

  Rose fetched the bath mat. Stewart donned the rubber gloves, stood on the mat, leaned across and switched the kettle off at the mains. He unplugged it and carried it out into the conservatory. Ellie sank onto a chair. ‘But who … and how?’

  ‘It’s Diana, of course. But why?’ added Aunt Drusilla. ‘She can’t expect to frighten me again now. It doesn’t make sense. Well, I vote it’s too late to ring the police tonight. They’ll keep us up till all hours, if we do. I’m going to bed, with or without my late-night cup of tea.’

  Ellie passed her hands distractedly back through her hair.‘I can’t believe it’s Diana, but … it’s too late, I can’t think straight. Aunt Drusilla, I believe I may have an old kettle somewhere that I can put on the gas to make you a cuppa. Stewart, you can’t walk back through the streets at this time of night. Could you bear to sleep on the settee down here, and we’ll leave little Frank in his pushchair? It won’t hurt him this once.’

  When Ellie finally got into bed, she couldn’t sleep. Diana and Stewart. The mess she’d left at the church hall. How could she look after little Frank with all that she had going on? She wasn’t at all sure of the soprano part in the anthem for the wedding, and Bill would expect her to be at his side at the reception tomorrow.

  Who had got into the house? How had they got into the house? And above all, why?

  Rousting out the old kettle an
d giving it a clean in order to make her aunt a cup of tea, Ellie had come across an envelope addressed in biro to Miss Quicke. It had been torn across and thrown away. It had missed the bin and fallen to the floor. Ellie checked inside the envelope. Naturally. There was nothing inside.

  Why would someone be writing – by hand – to Aunt Drusilla at Ellie’s? How many people knew she was now living there? Ellie might have expected bills to be forwarded here, perhaps. But this? The handwriting was minute, painstaking.

  It was an oddity, and Ellie was suspicious of oddities.

  Dear Lord, see us through this. Please?

  It was the morning of the wedding, and chaos ruled in Ellie’s house. Rose had to return to her flat to collect her wedding outfit, before going

  on to Joyce’s to get her ready for the wedding. So Rose wasn’t around to

  help with Aunt Drusilla.

  Frank woke early and screamed to be let out of his pushchair. Ellie

  rushed down to rescue him. Stewart was still asleep on the sitting-room

  settee. She thought it best to let him sleep, while getting Frank an early

  breakfast. She then brought down some of the toys she always kept

  handy for her grandson and let him play in the conservatory, while keeping

  an eye out for him. Which didn’t leave her any time to shower or dress

  before Aunt Drusilla called out that she would take her breakfast in bed,

  and where was the Financial Times?

  Stewart, bleary-eyed but more or less in command of his senses, used

  the bathroom – reporting that the loo wouldn’t flush properly – wolfed

  down some breakfast and volunteered to go out and fetch a Financial

  Times before setting off to work.

  Before Ellie had finished all three breakfasts, she was called to the

  door to face DS Willis plus the ‘Dearie’ constable. DS Willis was as usual

  in a belligerent mood.

  ‘For heavens’ sake, not now!’ Ellie exclaimed, running her fingers

  back through her hair and noticing that she was still wearing her old

  dressing gown and slippers. Now, if she’d only been wearing one of her

  brand-new outfits, she’d have been able to cope better. ‘What is it this

  time?’

  ‘We’ve had a report of another attempt on Miss Quicke’s life. Your

  kettle, I believe?’

  ‘What?’ Ellie clutched her head. ‘But I haven’t rung in to report it yet.

  There’s so much to do this morning that I forgot. We only discovered late

  last night that … who told you?’

  Frank, who’d been happily engaged piling toys into his pushchair and

  shoving it around the conservatory, now set up a tremendous howling.

  No doubt he’d got a wheel stuck under a chair and hadn’t the wit to pull

  backwards to extricate himself.

  Ms Willis clamped her lips in a ‘torture wouldn’t get it out of me’ gesture.

  She stepped into the hall, followed by ‘Dearie’, though Ellie had not

  really intended to let them in. ‘Information received. So why didn’t you

  inform us?’

  ‘I give up,’ said Ellie. ‘We didn’t tell you, but someone else did? Only,

  you’re not going to tell us who it was, when it was probably the person

  who tampered with the kettle? Has the world gone totally mad?’ Ms Willis frowned at the row which Frank was making. Aunt Drusilla

  limped out into the landing above and called down, ‘Ellie, can’t you hear

  that Frank’s in trouble? And where’s my Financial Times?’ ‘It’s Detective Sergeant Willis again, Aunt Drusilla. About the kettle.’ ‘I suppose Stewart rang them. Well, you can tell her I’m not available

  for interview. I am about to have my shower, if you will put out some clean towels for me. Also some better soap. I don’t like the one you have out at

  the moment. It’s too harsh for my skin.’

  Frank had reached the dry-throated screaming point. Ellie darted into

  the conservatory, rescued his pushchair and pulled him on to her lap to

  calm him down. Ms Willis followed her. ‘Dearie’ hovered. At the same

  moment Stewart thrust his head round the door to the garden. ‘Here’s

  the paper. See you about half eleven.’ The paper flopped on to the

  conservatory floor and he vanished. Of course, he’d need to get back to

  the flat and shave before he went about his business.

  ‘Who was that?’ ‘Dearie’ joined them in the conservatory. Too late. ‘That was Stewart,’ said Ellie. ‘Helping out.’

  ‘What,’ demanded Ms Willis, ‘is going on here? Don’t you realize how

  serious this all is? I came here expecting to find you all distraught, while

  you seem to have decided that these attempts on Ms Quicke’s life are

  totally unimportant. If you’ve been wasting police time …’ ‘Do sit down,’ said Ellie, ‘I’ll just run up with the paper to Aunt Drusilla,

  and then I’ll do my best to put you in the picture.’

  When she returned, she did so, finishing, ‘… and of course you may

  think we’re not taking this seriously, but we are. Indeed we are. Aunt

  Drusilla is very worried, though she appears to be taking the matter

  lightly. She’s been turning over in her mind every contact of hers who

  might wish her harm, and she has come up with two. She has asked a

  financial expert, a friend of mine, to investigate one of these possibilities

  and the other she has already mentioned to you, I believe.’ ‘The builder, yes. Someone is interviewing him at this moment.’ ‘What I think, is that it’s a question of access. Who’s got access both to

  Miss Quicke’s house, and here. The list looks quite manageable at first;

  members of the family …’

  ‘Including her great-niece, Diana, who had an excellent motive …’ ‘But has none now, since her great-aunt has informed her that she will

  not gain a fortune in the event of her death …’

  ‘Diana might have engineered this latest development after she heard

  that she’d been cut out of the will, in an attempt to persuade us she

  wasn’t responsible for the first effort.’

  ‘It is possible but not likely, don’t you think?’

  Frank wriggled out of her arms and flumped to the floor, where he

  made for his pushchair again.

  Ellie said, ‘I think we ought to look at who else might have keys … and

  there are a good many possibilities there, aren’t there?’

  ‘Not for your house, surely.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve had quite a lot of work

  done here since my husband died. I’ve given keys to my builders – who are currently working next door now – to Jimbo, the central-heating engineer. I’m not sure but I think I gave one to my electrician, as well. I’m not a complete fool and I’ve always asked for my keys back at the end of a job, but last week I gave a key back to the builders because I’ve got a piece of guttering that needs fixing and the loo isn’t flushing properly and they promised to fit me in as soon as possible. Now I’d stake my life on my builder and his two mates, but he does get contract workers in now and then, and one of them could easily have pinched a key. As for Aunt

  Drusilla’s house, who knows how many keys there are floating around?’ ‘Each and every one of which might have been copied at some time?’ Ellie winced. ‘Yes. It presumes that someone we’ve employed is a

  criminal intent on a future burglary. But yes, it could be.’

  Ms Willis didn’t like this line of thought, either. ‘Which takes the heat off

  your family.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I don’t think an
y of them did it.’

  ‘Not even your daughter?’

  ‘No,’ said Ellie, firmly. ‘I don’t see it.’

  Ms Willis got up and started to prowl around, looking at everything.

  ‘Dearie’ leaned against the doors leading to the sitting room and cleared

  his throat. Ms Willis ignored him. Little Frank frowned at her because she

  was standing just where he wanted to drive his pushchair. ‘Well, let me have a look at this famous kettle of yours. You’ve been

  unlucky with kettles, haven’t you?’

  Ellie showed her where the kettle with its frayed cord sat on the

  conservatory table. ‘I suppose we can be grateful that the kettle at my

  aunt’s was faulty, as it got her and Mrs McNally out of the house before

  the cleaner received her fatal shock.’

  Ms Willis put on protective gloves and lifted the kettle into a large bag. ‘I don’t know whose prints are on the handle. Probably not Stewart’s,

  since he used my rubber gloves to handle it when he made it safe. He

  very kindly disposed of it for us last night. In fact, it was he who pointed

  out the problem.’

  ‘Having first caused it himself?’

  ‘No,’ said Ellie, trying to be patient. ‘Stewart wouldn’t, didn’t and anyway

  doesn’t have a key to this house.’

  ‘He was here first thing this morning?’

  ‘He slept here because … oh, never mind that. It’s a long and

  complicated story. He and Diana have split up, so he brought little Frank

  over for me to look after for a couple of hours while he gets some work

  done.’

  ‘Stewart is the person best able to tamper with electrics around here?’ ‘Yes.’

  There was a grinding crash from the sitting room, followed by a horrible

  two-second silence before Frank filled his lungs with air and bellowed.

  He had a very loud voice. Ellie leapt back into the sitting room to find