Murder in House

by Veronica Heley

‘It was murder, anyway,’ said the girl. ‘He was murdered.’

  ‘Was he, now?’ said Ellie, startled. ‘Well, you’ll have two more deaths on your hands if we don’t clear out of here and get warm. So let’s get back to civilization.’

  The girl didn’t move until Thomas switched off the electric fire.

  ‘My name’s Ursula. That’s all you need to know.’ After two helpings of everything, the girl was relaxed enough to give her name, but no more.

  ‘Coffee? Tea?’

  She shook her head. ‘Thank you for lunch. Shall I help you stack the dishwasher? Then I’d best be getting back to the church.’

  Thomas grumbled. ‘You led me to believe you’d talk to Ellie, if I got her along to the church.’

  Ellie sent Thomas a wifely look, question and reproach nicely blended.

  The girl looked at Ellie with a dozen doubts showing. ‘That was before I’d met her. I’m sure she’s a very good cook and means well, but . . . well, this is not exactly the usual sort of parish problem. It was nice of you both to give me lunch, and I must say I feel better for it, but it isn’t helping me get through this. I’ll phone for a cab. If you’ll let me borrow the key to the church, I’ll pop it back to you first thing tomorrow.’

  Thomas gave a giant sigh, and blew his nose. ‘You know very well I can’t let that key out of my possession and I really don’t want to go out again, with this cold on me, but—’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Ellie. ‘You’ll catch your death. Ursula, I understand that you’ve decided to perform some sort of penance. Only you know if that’s sensible or not, but it is not sensible to put other people at risk of catching pneumonia, is it? Is it right for you to take Thomas out into this dreadful weather when he’s so unwell?’

  The girl thrust out her lower lip. ‘You’re twisting everything. You dragged me here. I didn’t ask to come.’ She was stubborn, but retained her good manners. She’d been well brought up.

  Ellie reflected that you could sometimes press the buttons on a well-brought-up girl by asking her to help you. ‘Well, before you go, could you just help me get Rose up the stairs to her bedroom? She was my aunt’s housekeeper – more of a friend, really – who stayed on to look after Thomas and me after my aunt died. She used to be such a bustling little person, but she’s not well at the moment and I’m not sure I can get her upstairs by myself. Thomas would help me, but she really doesn’t want a man doing things for her.’

  Thomas gave her a Look, but heroically refrained from challenging the lie, and began to stack dishes.

  The girl stiffened. ‘She doesn’t want men around her? Well, I suppose I can understand that. Of course I’ll help if I can. But then I must go.’

  Ellie led the girl into Rose’s sitting room next door. Rose had fallen asleep in her big chair again, her plate of food almost untouched. Ellie suffered a jolt of anxiety, as she often did nowadays when she came upon Rose asleep. So frail, so tiny.

  Ellie touched Rose’s shoulder and the faded blue eyes opened. ‘The potatoes were quite nice, dear, but I must let you have my recipe for them sometime. Miss Quicke always says I make the tastiest of roast potatoes.’

  ‘Yes, dear. Shall I help you up to your bedroom for your afternoon nap?’

  ‘No, no. Quite happy where I am. But perhaps a cup of tea when you’re making one? In a cup, not a mug. Don’t bother just for me, though.’

  Ellie led Ursula back to the kitchen. ‘That’s the first time Rose hasn’t gone upstairs for her afternoon nap. I think perhaps we ought to make up a bed for her downstairs. And don’t say she ought to be in a home. She looked after my aunt beautifully, and made her last years very happy. Now it’s our turn to look after her till she picks up again.’ Back in the kitchen, she put the kettle on. ‘So, what’s all this about a murder?’

  Ursula tossed back her hair. ‘It wasn’t murder. Of course not. He fell, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll take some tea in to Thomas and Rose, then we can sit down comfortably and you can tell me all about it.’ Ellie was rather afraid the girl would take herself off as soon as Ellie left the room but no, she had seated herself at the kitchen table when Ellie returned.

  ‘Who was it who died?’ said Ellie, putting sugar and milk into her coffee. ‘Not a boyfriend, you said?’ At first she thought the girl was going to maintain her silence, but a noisy burst of sleet hit the window, making both women look up. Perhaps this reminder of the horrible weather made up the girl’s mind.

  ‘Not a boyfriend, no. One of the crowd. A party in the new year. He had too much to drink, got into a quarrel, took a swing at someone, toppled over a balcony and that was that.’

  ‘You used the word “murder”.’

  Silence. Long eyelashes were lowered, eyelashes the same colour as her hair, both true honey blonde. ‘I was stupid, thinking I’d get some sort of message from God if I stayed on alone in the church. I suppose if the usual vicar had been there, he might have had something nice to say about my friend and that would have made me feel better. If you hadn’t interfered . . . well, it’s done now, and I’ll be off.’

  She shook back her hair, making up her mind to some new course of action. ‘Of course it wasn’t murder. The police said it wasn’t and they should know, shouldn’t they?’

  ‘You disagree?’

  Ursula treated Ellie to a look in which calculation overlaid doubt. ‘Your husband said you were good at solving mysteries. How about investigating a disappearance, a broken engagement and an accidental death which was really a murder? All in one neat little package.’

  Ellie felt like slapping the girl. Her manner was almost – but not quite – insolent. ‘Accidental death: the non-boyfriend? A broken engagement: you’re not wearing a ring. A disappearance: the boyfriend to whom you were engaged?’

  Ursula pulled a thin gold chain out from under her sweater. She undid the clasp and slid a gold ring from it on to the table. It wasn’t a modern ring by any means. Perhaps Edwardian? A lovers’ knot was the only decoration, and there was no jewel on it. ‘Perhaps you’d like to return it to him for me.’

  Ellie blinked. ‘What . . .? Who . . .? No, I—’

  ‘Daniel Collins. Park Gardens. He’ll understand. No message.’

  Ellie stared at the ring. She picked it up. It was warm from contact with the girl’s skin. The front doorbell rang, and someone used keys on both locks to let themself in. Ellie’s attention switched from the ring and she rose from her seat. ‘What . . .?’ Only Thomas, Ellie and Rose had both keys to the front door.

  ‘Yoohoo!’ Yes, that was her daughter Diana calling from the hall. Could Diana and little Frank be arriving so early? But how could Diana have got hold of keys? Ellie glanced at the clock, and realized they were on time. It was she who was running late. The dishwasher hadn’t been started, Thomas was probably having a nap in his study, and there was no cake made for tea.

  Diana, fashionably gaunt and trendy, appeared in the doorway, unbuttoning her coat. She was followed by six-year-old Frank who made a dash for Ellie, knocking her back into her chair. ‘Is it going to snow? I like it when it snows. Can I have a sledge for when it snows?’

  Ellie laughed and kissed him, saying it didn’t often snow in London. Remembering her visitor, she tried to disentangle herself from Frank as Diana said, in her sharpest voice, ‘Watch it!’

  ‘Don’t go, Ursula!’ Ellie got to her feet. Too late. The girl was no longer in her seat, and Diana was staring out into the hall.

  ‘She pushed past me. How rude!’

  ‘Stop her!’

  Too late. Ellie reached the hall only to see the front door close behind the girl.

  ‘Ursula’s back. Saw her in the Broadway yesterday.’

  ‘She’s not going to make trouble, is she?’

  ‘She tried that, Dumbo. Got nowhere, did she! She won’t try it again. And if she does, we’ll deal with it. We can’t have her muddying the water when things are so critical. The Man’s in a right state with so much money tied
up in the flats and buyers dropping out all over the place. We’ve got to keep things calm.’

  ‘The architect’s still on board, isn’t he? And don’t call me “Dumbo”.’

  ‘He’s trying to wriggle out of it, but The Man’s got him nailed. Don’t tell me you fancied her.’

  ‘Great legs.’

  ‘Legs come and go. There’s always a good supply of legs.’

  ‘She’d brains too.’

  ‘Not enough to shut up when we told her to. Don’t look so alarmed. The police have closed the case, and she’s going back to Uni. End of story.’

  ‘And Mia?’

  ‘She knows better than to talk, wherever she is.’

  ‘What we did to her—’

  ‘Ah, shut up. She was asking for it. She was never really one of the family, anyway, was she?’

  TWO

  Sunday afternoon

  ‘Who on earth was that?’ Diana was annoyed and suspicious.

  ‘Someone in trouble.’

  ‘Gran, what do you mean, it doesn’t snow in London? Of course it does. When I got up this morning everything was white all over—’

  ‘Quiet, Frank,’ said his mother. ‘I’m speaking.’

  Thomas appeared from his study, rubbing his eyes. ‘Hello, hello? What’s all this then?’

  Frank launched himself at Thomas, was caught up in the air, screaming with laughter, and whirled round. Frank approved of Thomas.

  ‘Mother, you were expecting us, weren’t you?’ Diana shed her expensive black coat that was rather too fussy around the collar. ‘I did say four o’clock.’

  ‘We got held up. Diana, I didn’t know you had keys to the front door. Have you had a set specially made? They cost a bomb.’

  ‘Oh, I’m using Rose’s keys. She never goes out now, so it seems—’

  ‘What?’ Ellie felt her temper rising. ‘You had no right. I know she hasn’t been up to much lately, but she’ll pick up again soon and . . . Diana, you’ll let me have her keys right now. She’ll need them again soon, and I need them this minute because you forgot to turn the mortise lock.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘The girl let herself out, which she couldn’t have done if you’d remembered to use the second key after you came in.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a fusspot. You know perfectly well that Rose is well past doing the shopping and running this house. If she’s even stirred herself to make you a cup of tea this last week, I’d be surprised. No one but you thinks she’s going to see out the winter and—’

  Thomas took Frank’s hand and led him to the stairs. ‘Let’s go on a cat hunt, shall we, Frank? Midge hasn’t shown up for his lunch yet. Do you think he’s gone on the prowl in the attics?’

  Frank trod the steps beside Thomas but looked stricken. ‘Rose isn’t going to die, is she? Everyone dies around here.’

  Frank lived with his father and his father’s second family during the week, where he led a stable, structured life enlivened by two little half-sisters whom he adored and who adored him. At weekends Diana was supposed to have him, but often didn’t, and at least twice a week Frank found himself dumped on Ellie and Thomas. All three of them enjoyed these visits, but Ellie fancied that Diana’s restlessness and unreliable behaviour were beginning to undermine the little boy’s sense of security.

  The death of his great-great-aunt, Miss Drusilla Quicke, was the first time Frank had experienced such a loss, and he’d taken it harder than anyone had expected. It wasn’t surprising that he was also anxious about Rose, who had cuddled and spoilt him from babyhood.

  ‘Rose is all right, but she’s not feeling too good at the moment. This cold, you know. You haven’t had it yet, have you?’ Thomas’s voice faded as he led Frank through the door on the landing that led to the top storey of unused and unheated attic rooms.

  Ellie opened her mouth to call after them that it was no good looking for Midge the cat up there. Midge could open any door that could be pushed open, or that had a handle that could be pulled down, but the door to the attic rooms was a knob and, so far at least, Midge had failed to master it. Thomas knew that, of course. He must be taking Frank out of the way so that the two women could talk in peace.

  So Ellie shut her mouth and followed Diana into the big sitting room at the back of the house, where she set about drawing long velvet curtains to shut out the darkness outside. She hated these early dark nights. The calendar said the nights were getting shorter, but no one seemed to have told the sun about it.

  Diana ran a finger across the mantelpiece to check for dust, but there wasn’t any. Rose might not be up to running the house at the moment, but there were a couple of efficient Polish girls who came twice a week to take care of the cleaning.

  Frowning, Diana subsided into Ellie’s high-backed chair by the fireplace. ‘Aren’t we to have any tea, after I’ve taken the trouble to visit you?’

  ‘We were delayed by our visitor. I’ll make it in a minute.’ Ellie switched on sidelights and removed the layer of Sunday papers which Thomas had strewn on the floor around his big reclining chair.

  Ellie was worried about Ursula. Would the girl have tried to go back to the church? But she had no key to get in. No, she’d have gone home, wherever that might be. Or back to university, perhaps?

  Diana sniffed. ‘Some waif and stray demanding a handout, I suppose. How much did she con you out of?’

  ‘Nothing. May I have Rose’s keys, please?’

  ‘In a minute. Now, Mother, before the others come back, we really must have a talk.’

  ‘Keys first. Talk afterwards.’

  With some reluctance Diana handed over two keys on a ribbon; a ribbon which usually hung around Rose’s neck. Ellie was annoyed with herself because she hadn’t spotted they were missing. She laid them down on the occasional table beside her. ‘I’ll make some tea now, shall I?’

  ‘Won’t Rose . . .?’

  ‘She’s having a little nap.’

  ‘She should be in a home.’

  Ellie hated arguments. ‘Rose stays as long as she wants to. She’s looked after us for years, and now it’s our turn to look after her. Besides, she’s bound to pick up as the weather improves. So, what do you want to talk about? Money? I thought you and Denis were doing well with your estate agency.’

  ‘Of course we were, but nothing’s moving at the moment, and how we’re going to manage long term if this recession continues . . .’

  ‘I suppose you’ll go in for renting out properties nobody can afford to buy.’

  ‘Renting – especially short term – is a lot of work and Denis says we’ve got to think outside the box in case this recession lasts much longer.’ Her hands twisted in her lap. Was she nervous? ‘To put it mildly, we have a cash flow problem, especially since Denis put his boys into private schools last term.’

  Ellie tried to work out how much that would be costing him. While she would be the first to admit that mental arithmetic was hardly her strong point, she didn’t like the total that popped into her mind.

  Diana’s partner in the 2Ds Agency was a steely-smiling, ambitious and ruthless individual. Harder than Diana. Denis must be getting anxious. Even desperate.

  ‘So what is Denis proposing to do? Put the boys back into state schools? Surely that would be the sensible thing to do.’ Denis would hate the loss of face involved in taking such a step. Denis was pushing Diana to find another solution to his problem. So what would that be? Ellie had a horrid feeling that somehow or other she was going to be involved in sorting out Denis’s problems.

  Diana got to her feet and prowled, not meeting her mother’s eye. ‘He thought – well, I thought, actually, that we should talk about my future. I have someone wanting to move into my flat so I wondered when you’d be able to let me have our old house. You did promise you’d transfer it to me when you moved into Great Aunt Drusilla’s place, and after all it will be mine when you die. I know the fire damage last year made it uninhabitable, but the redecorat
ions must be nearly finished by now, and if they aren’t, I’m sure I could get them done more quickly and cheaply than you.’

  Ellie considered what had been said, what had been twisted in Diana’s mind and what had been left unsaid. Ellie’s first husband had actually left the old house to her for life. After her death, half was hers to dispose of as she thought fit, and the other half would go to Diana. This was not precisely what Diana had said, but Ellie supposed it was near enough.

  As to the matter of getting the house finished on time and within budget, Diana had cut corners when Aunt Drusilla had allowed her a trial period in which to manage some of her properties. If there was one thing Ellie had, sorrowfully, to admit, it was that Diana never seemed to learn by her mistakes, but went on her way regardless. Ellie hated to cross Diana twice in an afternoon, but it had to be done.

  She steeled herself to give unwelcome news. ‘I did say that I would let you have the house, and I stand by my word. The redecorations are well under way. The work was put out to tender, and the insurance people agreed which quotes to accept. I’m not sure how long it will be before I can let you have the keys. Perhaps some weeks? I’ll enquire. Surely the buyer for your flat will wait? If not, perhaps you could move into a furnished flat somewhere for the time being?’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘Three or four weeks, at a guess.’

  Diana pulled a face. ‘While you’ve got the builders in, you might as well tell them to install a loft conversion.’

  ‘It’s a three-bedroomed semi, Diana. That’s what it was insured for, and that’s what you’ll get. Now, tea?’

  Some time back she’d heard Thomas and Frank clattering down the polished wooden stairs, laughing and saying ‘Shush!’ to one another. Had they found Midge? Unlikely. So what had they been up to?

  Diana said, ‘Well, don’t blame me if I’m forced to move in here with you.’

  Ellie told herself not to scream. She took a deep breath, held it, let it out. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea, Diana.’

  ‘Why not? You’ve masses of room. I could move into your guest bedroom, which has a bathroom en suite. You’ve already allocated Frank a bedroom, a nice big one, for the odd nights he spends here. I won’t need a kitchen because I can use yours. Or, how about my moving into Rose’s part of the house? That’s self-contained, isn’t it, with its own door to the courtyard? She’s not exactly pulling her weight now, is she? Great Aunt left her well off. She can afford to go into a home, and the sooner the better. Or, if the worst comes to the worst, I could take over the attic floor. Plenty of space there.’