Murder By Committee

by Veronica Heley

‘Is the wee one feeling better now? My sister gives her girls sugared water to drink, if they're sick. Or flat Coca Cola.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Tum-Tum, using the spray to clean round the bath. ‘Can you get some for him? The kitchen's at the bottom of the stairs, through the passage to the back and turn left.’

  The policeman nodded. ‘Don't you go away, Mrs Quicke. Right?’

  Roy added to the blockage in the doorway. ‘Have you got any clothes at home for him, Ellie? Yes? Felicity's gone to help in the kitchens, and I had a word with Rose, who agreed to lend a hand there as well. Rose didn't want to leave my mother, but seeing as she's deep in gossip with some crony of hers, I said I'd see her safely home in a little while.’

  ‘Ellie, find another clean towel to wrap him in till the clothes situation has been sorted out. I'll have to get back, show my face around,’ said Tum-Tum, efficiently stowing Frank's dirty clothing in a large plastic bag.

  Ellie found another large towel, and wrapped a now docile Frank up in it.

  Tum-Tum handed her the bag of dirty clothes. ‘You take this, and let me carry the boy downstairs for you. Use my study for as long as you like, but remember that I'll need a full explanation later as to why the police are chasing you.’

  ‘I'll get some food organized, shall I?’ said Roy. ‘Soup and a sandwich do you, Ellie?’

  Following Tum-Tum down the stairs, Ellie reflected on how easy it was for men to say they'd only do a couple of hours on a stall, and then be free to go ahead with their own lives, while women felt obliged to work on till the bitter end, and then clear up the mess. Rose would tire herself out … how did Jean keep going? Mrs Dawes' bad leg would play up tomorrow. How was Maggie coping on her first exposure to the sweatshop atmosphere in the kitchens?

  Tum-Tum dropped little Frank on to Ellie's lap when she got herself settled in the big leather armchair with its worn arms. Frank was still shivering, but not much. His eyes were closing on him. Worn out with fighting the world.

  The policewoman was on her mobile again, taking more notes. Ellie fished out her own mobile and tried Diana. For once, Diana's mobile was turned off. Ellie left a message. ‘Diana, little Frank is in a bit of a state, missing you. If you could ring him, have a chat? It might help. He'll probably be staying overnight with me, as Stewart and Maria are not available.’

  She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. Dear Lord, help. I'm so tired of all this. I don't know what to say to little Frank. Maria's so much better at this than I am, but if Frank has attacked little Yasmin, I'm not sure Maria'll be able to cope in future.

  DS Robertson came back with a mug. ‘Sugared water from the kitchen. Amazing place, this. Like something out of a museum. Get it down him or he'll be dehydrated.’

  The policewoman turned her back on them, still on the phone, still taking notes.

  Ellie managed to get Frank to drink most of the water, while the DS watched her with what looked like sympathy. She gave him a wan smile. ‘His mother's off somewhere this weekend, chasing business, and he's one very angry little boy. Now, what is it you want to know?’

  The door banged open and in hobbled Miss Drusilla Quicke, leaning heavily on her stick. ‘There's nowhere to sit down out there, and the vicar kindly said I could rest in his study till Roy can take me home. It's a fine thing if I have to learn what's going on from complete strangers. Where is Roy, anyway? Why didn't you stop him making a fool of himself, Ellie? And what's all this about you getting all your windows smashed in?

  ‘And,’ to the policeman, ‘who are you? Hold your badge up so that I can see it. Higher. That's better. And your partner? Too busy to turn round? Well, I suppose I have to assume that she's a genuine policewoman. I'm Miss Quicke, by the way, and it looks as if my son and my niece have been mixing in bad company. No, no,’ as he offered her a low, cushioned chair, ‘I can't possibly sit on that. I'd never get up again.’

  Roy thrust open the door as it was about to close again, propelling himself and a tray full of goodies into the room. ‘Ellie, this is all I could … Mother, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for you, Roy. Is that food for me? Good.’ She subsided into the chair behind Tum-Tum's desk and settled the tray on top of his papers. ‘Now, sit down, all of you, and tell me exactly what's been going on.’

  ‘Well …’ said Roy, looking embarrassed.

  DS Robertson showed a modicum of intelligence. ‘I'm DS Robertson, investigating a complaint placed against Mrs Quicke here.’

  Miss Quicke said, ‘Really? You surprise me.’ Without further ado, she started on the bowl of soup Roy had brought in for Ellie.

  Roy looked anguished. ‘I'll go and get some more food, shall I?’

  His mother pointed with her soup spoon to the low chair. ‘Sit down, Roy, and explain to me how you came to be embroiled in this affair.’ Roy sat.

  DS Robertson flicked a glance at Ellie in which - she was almost sure - there was a gleam of humour. ‘We need a word with Mrs Quicke - in private.’

  ‘I'm not going anywhere,’ said Ellie. ‘But everyone here knows what's been happening, so why don't you just get on with it?’ She settled little Frank more comfortably on her lap, hoping he'd drop off to sleep for a while.

  ‘I suppose it all started with me,’ said Roy. Even his ears had gone red. ‘But it all seemed so straightforward at first. Just another job. I'm an architect, you see, and I met this man - Sir Arthur Kingsley - at the golf club, and …’

  ‘You haven't the sense you were born with,’ said Miss Quicke. ‘Roy, this soup lacks seasoning.’ But she finished every drop.

  Roy fidgeted. ‘I know I ought to have consulted you, but I thought I knew what I was doing. He wined and dined me, and somehow, I don't know exactly how …’

  He told the sorry story up to the meeting in the church hall. ‘… and then it all came out - thanks to Ellie, who stood up in front of everybody and asked the right questions - and I was naïve enough to think that would be the end of it, but of course Sir Arthur still wants his pound of flesh.’

  ‘And,’ said his mother, looking around her, ‘the vicarage still needs rebuilding. It's a disgrace. How far have they got with planning permission? You may bring round your plans to show me later on, Roy. Perhaps you and I together can come up with an acceptable solution to the problem.’

  Roy's relief was tangible. ‘Mother, you're an angel, but you don't want to tangle with Sir Arthur.’

  ‘I'm no angel, but I can see there's money to be made on a sympathetic development on this site. Sir Arthur doesn't frighten me. Now, Ellie. Where do you come in?’

  While Roy had been talking, Ellie had wondered how much or how little she should mention about her dealings with Chris Talbot, but came to the conclusion that if she kept it short and sweet, all she need say was that Sir Arthur and Mr Talbot had been enemies for ever, and leave the tangled relationship with Felicity out of it.

  The policewoman switched off her mobile and paid attention.

  Ellie said, ‘I'll have to go back a bit. A couple of days ago I called with my neighbour to visit Sir Arthur and his wife. It was a sympathy call, because their dog had been poisoned. Nasty. I met Marco - Sir Arthur's handyman - and thought him extremely rude. He didn't like me much either. Sir Arthur sent Marco to the meeting in the church hall. He heard me rubbish their plans, and he must have taken the bad news back to his master.

  ‘I think the poisoning of his dog must have pushed Sir Arthur over the edge, because he accused Mr Talbot - a longtime rival of his - of trying to kill him and of poisoning the dog instead. He did this before witnesses in a board meeting! Mr Talbot hadn't had anything to do with the poisoning, of course.’

  Ellie had been concentrating on saying enough to satisfy the police, but not too much, and hadn't noticed that Felicity had returned to the room. But there she was now, sitting on the arm of Roy's chair.

  She looked flushed and almost pretty. ‘You're talking about my husband? He wouldn't get mixed up with anything under
hand!’

  ‘Wouldn't he?’ Ellie felt sorry for Felicity, but continued, ‘When I got back yesterday afternoon, I found that my conservatory windows had been smashed in. My neighbours had called in the police. I'm sorry if it distresses you, Felicity, but I think it was Marco, getting back at me. My neighbour caught sight of the man who did it, and she thinks it was him too. We told the local police what we thought, but I'm not sure they took it seriously. I'm not sure that I would have taken it seriously either, if I hadn't heard other stories about Sir Arthur's business methods, and met the man myself.’

  The policeman looked at Felicity, who said, ‘Absolute nonsense!’ and pushed her hands up the sleeves of her sweater.

  Ellie concluded, ‘Later yesterday evening I phoned Mr Talbot to tell him what had happened at my place. That's when he told me his son had been attacked on his way home from school. He was distressed, of course. He suspected it might be Sir Arthur striking back at him, but of course there was no proof. I believe he took his family to a hotel for the night for safety's sake.’

  Felicity turned her head to look directly at Ellie. Yes, this is your father and your half-brother we're talking about.

  ‘My builder boarded over the broken windows and I went to bed. I had a couple of silent phone calls in the night, but I turned the volume down on the bell, so I could get some sleep. I think that's about it.’

  ‘You mean,’ said the policeman, ‘that this lady's husband-?’

  Felicity attempted a laugh. ‘As if he would! She's making it all up.’

  The policewoman consulted her partner in an undertone, and showed him various entries she'd made in her notebook. He read off a telephone number. ‘Mrs Kingsley-’

  ‘Lady Kingsley,’ Roy corrected him.

  ‘-is that your home telephone number?’

  Felicity went pale. She nodded. ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Where can I find your husband now?’

  For the first time Felicity looked nervous. ‘He went down to the manor yesterday evening as usual. But he couldn't possibly be linked to-’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘I'm not sure. Six? Half past? He has a housekeeper down there who gives him supper on Friday nights.’

  ‘You don't go with him?’

  Felicity reddened. ‘He has other company down there.’

  ‘Did this man Marco go with him?’

  ‘No, Marco had the weekend off.’

  ‘So, at eight in the evening, your husband couldn't have been using the phone at home? What about this Marco, or his PA?’

  Felicity was paler than ever. ‘I don't know. Marco was home last night, yes. He has a flat over the garage.’

  ‘Could he have used your phone?’

  She shrugged. ‘He comes and goes as he pleases.’

  ‘You didn't use the phone yourself, by any chance?’

  Felicity's skin looked transparent. ‘I went out after my husband left. I got back in time to watch the sitcom at half past eight.’

  ‘Seeing someone?’ There was almost a leer in the policeman's voice.

  Felicity frowned. ‘My mother. In a home on the Common.’

  ‘What about the PA, Martinez?’

  ‘I didn't see him last night, but that's not unusual. He doesn't live in our house. He's got a flat overlooking the park.’

  Ellie remembered something. ‘I ought to have said before, but the man who broke my windows upset my cat, who bit and scratched him. I wiped what looked like blood off my cat and kept the tissues.’

  ‘What have you done with them?’ The policeman looked interested.

  ‘I bagged them up and gave them to Mr Talbot's driver, to see if he could find some DNA on them.’ She faltered. ‘It was probably the wrong thing to do. I suppose I ought to have given them to the police, but they'd gone by then and … well, Mr Talbot offered. So he has them now.’

  The policeman was not amused. ‘You do realize you've compromised the evidence by giving it to Mr Talbot, if indeed there was any?’

  Miss Quicke had finished up everything on the tray. ‘Lady Kingsley, did Marco look as if he'd been scratched or bitten when you saw him last night?’

  Felicity nodded. She looked as if she were going to cry. ‘I had to clean him up. He said he'd disturbed a feral cat.’

  Miss Quicke dabbed her lips with a paper serviette, and summed up for the police. ‘Well, Detective Sergeant Robertson, you'd better be on your way, find this Marco, check if he's had a tetanus injection, ask him why he broke my niece's windows and then accused her of dangerous driving. Someone senior to you had better tie the two cases together and then you can find this man Kingsley and tell him to stop it. If you need a statement from Ellie …?’

  ‘We'd like her to accompany us down to-’

  ‘As she couldn't possibly have committed the crime, taking a statement from her can be deferred to a more suitable time, don't you think? As you can see, she's got her hands full at the moment. In the meantime, Roy, you may take me home. It's time for my afternoon nap. And rescue Rose from the kitchens. I don't want her being worn out. I think that's all. Someone hand me my stick and I'll be off.’

  Sir Arthur was showing off the view from his terrace. ‘As far as you can see,’ he said, gesturing widely. ‘Been in the family for generations. What do you think?’

  Diana smiled. ‘I've always been attracted to powerful men. Men who know what they want.’ He wanted her, she knew that.

  He was enjoying himself too. His enemy had been taught a muchneeded lesson, the interfering Quicker woman punished, Martinez was working on a plan to bring the architect to heel, and his wife was actually pulling her weight for once. It was a pleasant change to play the game with a stylish career woman instead of pretty girls with nothing between their ears.

  She said, ‘I haven't seen your dog around. I thought you always brought him down to the manor at weekends?’

  His mood darkened. ‘He died. I'm getting another.’

  ‘I like men who own dogs. It gives them an air of respectability.’

  That made him laugh. ‘You don't think I'm respectable?’

  ‘That's what I like about you. Also, you never say your wife doesn't understand you.’

  His mood was genial again. ‘I have a wife, yes. But she knows her place.’

  Diana looked back at the house. An anorexic fortyish blonde was hovering in the doorway, watching them. ‘Your housekeeper tells me she's been with you for years. Lucky you.’

  ‘She knows her place, too.’

  ‘Really?’ Diana wasn't so sure about that. The woman had intimated a very close relationship with Sir Arthur.

  ‘Now and again I have to remind her.’

  Diana suppressed a delighted shiver. The man could be frightening. She liked that about him too.

  He caught her arm. ‘You said you had a proposition for me.’

  She dropped her eyelids, looked demure. ‘I'd do anything for my son. You know that.’

  ‘I know you'd do anything for money.’

  ‘Only if it pleases me as much as it pleases you.’

  He laughed. Tucked her arm within his. ‘Let's discuss this proposition of yours, shall we?’

  Eleven

  The Autumn Fair was winding down. Girl Guides and Brownies were beginning to pick up litter and stack furniture. It hadn't rained, which was a blessing. Tum-Tum said the takings on the door appeared to have been satisfactory, and Mrs Dawes was triumphant because she'd sold nearly all her flower arrangements.

  Felicity had tied back her hair and disappeared - on a bicycle, if you please! Didn't her husband allow her the use of a car?

  Miss Quicke had been chauffeured back home by Roy, with Rose holding a clutch of things she'd bought at various stalls. Miss Quicke had said she hadn't seen anything worth spending her hard-earned money on, but had given Tum-Tum a cheque to swell his funds.

  DS Robertson carried the sleeping Frank back to Ellie's place for her. As Ellie let them into her house, she was relieved to see that
her conservatory was once more glazed, even if the panes now needed cleaning; the floor, too. There didn't seem to be any more glass shards twinkling from corners. Good. Presumably the insurance would pay. She must remember to report it to them.

  The policeman deposited Frank on the settee in the living room. ‘Cuppa?’ said Ellie. He shook his head. ‘I'd best get back.’

  She saw him off, double-locked the front door, and sat down with a deep sigh, easing off her shoes …

  … and the next thing she knew, someone was ringing the doorbell.

  She struggled awake, glanced at the clock - it had stopped, drat it. Her watch said it was after six o'clock. Little Frank was beginning to stir. She must find him some clothes to wear and oh, heavens! She'd no decent food in the house. What could she give him for supper?

  The doorbell was insistent. As she made her way into the hall, she noticed the light was flashing on her answerphone. It could wait.

  Surprise! It was Felicity on the doorstep, still wearing her black clothes, but without the pink overblouse. Hair tied back, no makeup. She was retreating up the path to the road with her bicycle even as Ellie opened the door.

  Ellie had the odd fancy that whatever she did or said in the next few minutes was going to affect the reconstruction of a national corporation and the jobs of countless men and women across the UK. Which was, of course, ridiculous.

  ‘Come on in,’ said Ellie, opening her door wide. A cold wind, spattering with rain, blew in on her. There was a wail from Frank in the living room. Well, he could wait.

  Felicity dithered. ‘No, I wouldn't want to … I was just … I expect you're busy.’

  ‘Bring your bike through to the conservatory, or it'll get pinched.’

  Felicity obeyed. ‘Yes, I … my car's in the garage, and anyway, it saves petrol to use the bike.’ Her colour was coming and going. She looked like a white rabbit, nose twitching, not sure whether to advance into the big wide world, or to scamper back to its warren. But there was some determination there. The girl had a chin. She also had the remains of a bruise on the side of her face which Ellie hadn't noticed in the general gloom of the vicarage study.