Murder by Suicide

by Veronica Heley

  ‘I see Sue at the creative writing classes. We were having lunch together afterwards one day at the Sunflower Café when, quite by chance, Harriet joined us at our table because there were no other seats free. I knew her, of course, because we both belong to the National Trust locally. We found we had similar views on matters of concern to the community, and continued to meet. We decided that where the law could not or would not act, then we would.’

  One question to Chloe, thought Ellie, and I’d have had the answer. She said aloud, ‘You formed yourself into a vigilante group? But what you’ve done is terrible. You drove Nora to her death!’

  ‘And you, my dear Ellie. And you! You’re going to be found unconscious tomorrow with a load of drugs inside you. Poor dear Ellie, still pining for her husband! We’ll all be so sorry, and ask ourselves if we couldn’t have done more to help you through your depression …’

  ‘I’m not depressed!’

  ‘Oh yes, you are. Your notes say you are. I’ve seen to that. There was a locum doctor here last week and he saw you. You said you were so depressed you didn’t know how to cope. The records will show that you were prescribed antidepressants. That was Harriet using your name, by the way. Haven’t I arranged it all beautifully?’

  ‘You’ll find it difficult to get me to take any drugs.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. A little prick with this needle, and you’ll be like wax in my hands.’

  Gwyneth reached out a hand and switched off the light. ‘I’ve always been able to see in the dark, Ellie. Can you?’

  From things that go bump in the night, Good Lord, deliver us … Turn the lights off, and the name of the game changes to Danger. The click of the light switch sounded unnaturally loud. Darkness

  enclosed them. Ellie could hear her own breathing. And another sound.

  A whistling. Gwyneth was whistling through her nose.

  Then came the whoosh of heavy coat over trousers. Ellie thought:

  I must move, or I’ll be trapped. She tried to move sideways, away from

  her chair, but was brought up short by the wall behind her. She blinked to accustom her eyes to the dark. A dim light seeped

  around the edges of the blind at the window. Something – someone –

  was standing between Ellie and the window.

  Ellie slid to her knees, trying not to make any noise. She told herself

  not to panic. But which way was the front door?

  A key snicked. She was locked in.

  The shape was moving around the desk. Feeling the way. Arm raised. Light caught the edge of a weapon, the hypodermic that would render

  Ellie ‘like wax’ in Gwyneth’s hands. Ellie would have screamed, if there

  had been anyone to hear.

  The heavy arm fell, stabbing. The cloth of Ellie’s new coat caught the

  needle and held it. Gwyneth swore and tried to withdraw her weapon,

  which was stuck in the thick fabric. Ellie undid the button with her left

  hand and slid out of the coat.

  She felt her way along the wall of the waiting room. Chairs against the

  wall. Whoops. She banged into one and heard the other woman snort

  with satisfaction.

  Ellie lunged for the inner door, the one that led to the doctor’s room.

  That door was locked, too. Of course, Gwyneth had locked it behind her

  when she came out. All the doors in a surgery should be locked at night. Her eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness, which was not

  quite as black as she had thought at first. A weapon. But what? Gwyneth

  whistled through her nose and lashed out, as Ellie ducked and fell

  sideways across a chair. Kicking out with her feet, Ellie heard Gwyneth

  grunt in pain.

  The hat stand! Ellie found herself bumping into it and, twirling it around,

  she brought it down where she thought Gwyneth’s head might be. ‘Bitch!’ Something had struck home.

  The stand was wrenched from her grasp and gone. Was this the

  receptionist’s desk? Yes. A phone. She could dial 999 for help. If she

  had time.

  No time. Gwyneth was up and after her again, whistling through her

  nose as she came. Was this the end? Someone banged on the front

  door. ‘Hello, there! I’ve come to collect my prescription!’

  Ellie froze. So did Gwyneth.

  ‘Not a peep out of you!’ whispered Gwyneth. ‘The surgery’s shut for

  the night. It’s after hours. They’ll go away in a minute!’

  Someone banged on the door again. A man. A large, heavy man.

  ‘Come on, come on! Open up!’

  A woman’s anxious-sounding voice. ‘Fred, they’re closed for the night.

  You can get it in the morning!’

  ‘I need it tonight, woman! The doctor knows I’m coming for it tonight.

  If it hadn’t been for that effing hold-up on the tubes, we’d have been here

  hours ago!’

  ‘But you can see no one’s there.’

  Ellie felt around behind her, moving back … back … back to the wall. ‘Don’t tell me what I can see and what I can’t see! There’s someone

  in there. I saw her as we got off the bus on the corner. The doctor was in

  her room, and she didn’t switch off her light till we were nearly here. If

  you hadn’t been wearing those stupid high heels, we’d have been here

  before now!’

  Ellie found one of the chairs that lined the walls and lifted it with both

  hands. She could no longer hear Gwyneth’s breath whistling. Ellie hoped

  Gwyneth was now on the other side of the room, but she would have to

  risk it. There was no alternative. Brrring! Brrring! The man had found the

  bell, and was leaning on it.

  Using the chair like a battering ram, Ellie lunged with all her weight at

  the window. The glass shattered with a horrifying crash. Pain spat at her

  hands, cut by the glass. She dropped the chair with a gasp. Gwyneth

  shrieked.

  So did Ellie. ‘Help, help! Get me out of here!’

  The man said, sounding uncertain. ‘There you are! There is someone in there! Who’s that?’

  ‘Help! Don’t go away. I’m trapped in here!’ Panting, holding a hand on

  fire, Ellie darted away from the window. The phone rang.

  ‘Leave it!’ hissed Gwyneth.

  Ellie had no intention of touching it. She fell over another chair. Picking

  it up, she pounded with it on the outer door … and again … and again.

  Any minute now, Gwyneth would be upon her and …

  ‘Christ, Fred! What do we do?’

  ‘Don’t leave me!’ cried Ellie. ‘Get the police!’

  ‘How can I fetch the police without leaving you?’

  ‘Use your mobile, you fool!’ the woman said.

  The light came on. Gwyneth stood there, looking as calm as if she

  had just arrived for a day’s work. She went over to the front door, produced a key and opened it. There was no sign of the hypodermic. A large

  man, seriously overweight, and a sparrow-thin, bottle-blonde woman

  on stiletto heels peered in. Uncertain. Ready to flee.

  Gwyneth said in her best receptionist’s voice, ‘I’m sorry you’ve been

  troubled. A false alarm. This woman came in at the end of surgery,

  turned off the lights and proceeded to make a nuisance of herself.

  I expect she’s forgotten to take her medication again. I’ll ring the hospital

  to come and collect her. She’ll have to be sectioned again, I suppose. I’ll

  report the incident to the police myself; it’s a case of criminal damage,

  as you can see.’

  Ellie realized that she herself looked far from calm, with her coat

 
discarded and her clothing disarranged from her tumbles over the floor.

  There were cuts on both her hands from the glass.

  The large man and the tiny woman craned their necks to see inside

  the surgery, but didn’t enter. They looked with apprehension at the

  mess Ellie had made of the window. Both avoided meeting her eyes.

  Gwyneth was indeed calling the police. ‘I only came for my prescription,’ said the man, now apologetic and anxious to be gone. ‘Fowler’s

  the name.’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Fowler.’ Gwyneth sought in a file and produced the prescription for him. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been put to all this trouble to collect

  it. This woman locked the door on me, you see. Quite alarming for a

  moment or two.’

  ‘It must have been,’ said the woman. ‘Come on, Fred. We must be on

  our way.’

  ‘Don’t go!’ said Ellie, trying to speak as calmly as Gwyneth, and failing.

  ‘The police will want to know exactly what you heard and saw.’ ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘We don’t need to detain you any longer, I’m sure,’ said Gwyneth. ‘Oh yes we do,’ said Ellie. ‘I’m not being left alone with you again,

  even if I have to commit another act of criminal damage to make sure

  they remain!’

  Gwyneth’s eyes rolled upwards and she shrugged. ‘You see how it

  is,’ she said to the Fowlers, who were now edging towards the door.

  ‘Mad as a hatter.’

  ‘We should be going, really,’ said the woman.

  Too late. The police car had arrived.

  ‘I wish to file a complaint against this woman,’ said Gwyneth. ‘She

  suddenly went mad and smashed a window.’

  ‘My name is Ellie Quicke. That woman there threatened me with a

  hypodermic syringe. She said she was going to stupefy me, and then fill

  me with drugs to make it appear I had committed suicide.’ ‘Fred …!’ Mrs Fowler whispered piercingly to her husband. ‘Let’s get

  out of here!’

  The two policemen, one male and one female, looked at Ellie and

  then looked at the massively calm Gwyneth. Ellie could see who they

  were going to believe and prepared herself to be arrested and carted off

  to the police station.

  ‘Hang about!’ said the woman officer to Ellie. ‘I know that name. My

  mate Bob told me all about you. Nosy old … er … elderly lady with a nose

  for crime, he said. Didn’t you bring in some poison-pen letters recently?’ Gwyneth protested, ‘She threatened me!’

  ‘She had a hypodermic in her hand a moment ago,’ said Ellie. ‘See if

  she’s still got it on her. Or she may have hidden it somewhere in this

  room. She hasn’t had time to dispose of it.’

  Gwyneth lunged for her desk drawer and yanked it open just as the

  male policeman got her in a bear hug from behind. There was a sharp

  scuffle which Gwyneth gradually lost. As the policeman reached for his

  handcuffs, Gwyneth toppled slowly over onto her desk and lay there,

  inert. The policeman took out his handkerchief and gingerly withdrew

  the shining hypodermic from Gwyneth’s thigh, where she’d accidentally

  stabbed herself in the struggle.

  ‘I say, Fred!’ said the sparrow-like woman. ‘Who’d have thought it?’ ‘I rest my case,’ said Ellie. ‘Now I’ll phone for my solicitor, who I think

  may be able to give you all the evidence you need.’

  *** The house lay calm and quiet around her. It was the morning after. Diana had taken her family off to inspect the new flat. No doubt she would find fault with it, but there was also no doubt that she would accept free accommodation in the long run.

  Stewart was still looking hangdog. Ellie wondered how long it would be before he had to give up his job in the north and come down south to be a house husband. Unless Aunt Drusilla rescued him, that is.

  I must go shopping this afternoon, thought Ellie. Three new coats in two days is a bit much – but worth it, to clear up that mess. Midge jumped up to sit on her lap, purring. He smelt of chicken this time. Where on earth had he got chicken from? Which neighbour had he conned into feeding him?

  Ellie thought about the word processor. She really didn’t like being beaten by a mere machine. She might or might not start her driving lessons again, because she feared Frank had been right in saying she had no road sense. Yet a competent secretary ought to be able to master the word processor sufficiently to produce the church notices. Also, she would need some sort of professional-looking machine for her correspondence if she were to set herself up as a landscape gardener.

  She looked up the number of the typing agency, and enquired if they knew someone who could give her some private tuition on her computer. Then she made herself some strong coffee, broke open a box of Belgian chocolates, and settled down with her notes to plot out a design for the garden next door.