What a weepie-wailie she was. And she didn’t seem to have a hankie with her. Bother. She sniffed and considered wiping her nose on her sleeve, as children do. No, she wouldn’t do that.
Just by the steps up to the bridge there was a tiny newsagent’s and tobacconist’s. They would sell her some paper tissues, wouldn’t they? She must hurry, though. She was wasting time …
She turned on her heel and bumped into the fat man. He tried to sidestep as she rebounded off his chest. Caught off balance and burdened by the uneven weight of the scaffolding pole he was clutching, he fell across a wooden barrier, bringing it smashing to the ground with him.
He screamed. A horrible, animal scream that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She saw that he had one thick leg doubled up under him.
Frightened, both hands to her face, she cried, ‘Oh, you startled me!’ He tried to get up, his face twisting. Grunting, furious.
She was worried about him. ‘Don’t try to move!’ She looked around for
someone to help him. Incredibly, he tried to inch his way along towards her, still dragging the scaffolding pole … obviously he wanted her to help him get up. But she knew that with his weight, she would not be able to manage it.
A youth came cycling slowly along the bridge. He wasn’t supposed to cycle on the bridge, but Ellie was not about to tell him off for that.
The fat man groaned and fell back, releasing his grasp on the scaffolding bar which had so treacherously let him down.
Ellie stopped the cyclist. ‘Please, we need help. This poor man slipped and fell. He may have broken his ankle.’
‘Got no mobile, have I!’ said the youth, barely curious enough to get off his bike.
‘Oi!’ Two workmen, returning from lunch. ‘What you lot doing?’
Ellie explained again. The workmen and the youth argued as to who should go to the nearest phone and call for an ambulance.
In the end the fat man produced his own mobile phone and with an angry flourish punched in the code to fetch an ambulance. Ellie hovered, so did the cyclist. The workmen were angry that the fat man had disturbed their scaffolding.
The fat man declared, ‘It’s all her fault.’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ said Ellie. ‘Or partly so.’ She turned on the workmen. ‘I want to know why you left the scaffolding so carelessly stacked that an innocent passer-by could fall and hurt himself. Don’t you realize that he could claim against the council for your carelessness, if he ends up in hospital with a broken leg?’
The workmen tried to justify themselves. They had left everything perfectly safe, properly tidied away. There were enough notices around, for heaven’s sake. The fat man said nothing at all. He hadn’t spoken except to ask for an ambulance on the phone.
The ambulancemen arrived and, after considering how best to remove such a large, heavy man from the middle of a footbridge, they piled him into a chair and bore him away. Ellie didn’t envy him being bumped down the stairs at the end. She walked off the bridge with the cyclist, explaining how she’d first noticed that poor man outside the charity shop. She was angry with herself for having forgotten to ask him if there was anyone he would like her to contact about the accident.
The youth chewed gum and shrugged. She wondered if he were playing truant, or if he were old enough to be out on the streets doing nothing in particular. Well, that was none of her business.
But she did feel concerned about the fat man.
‘I’ll phone the hospital later, see how he’s doing.’
It was almost enough to put her off the original purpose of her visit to this part of the world. But she remembered that the department store had a pleasant coffee shop and restaurant on the top floor and that she hadn’t had any lunch. After some fish and chips and a good cup of tea, she’d feel able to choose a bed.
It was rather exciting to think of having a new bed after all these years. Something with a soft, comfortable mattress. And new bedlinen, too. On the way back, she’d pop into the incident room in the church hall, just to confirm her statement … and then home.
Smiling, she hastened towards the department store.
Ellie walked out of the church hall wishing that she had never gone there in the first place. She did not understand what was going on. She put up her umbrella, and then put it down again. It really wasn’t raining enough to justify having it up. Schoolchildren crowded around the bus stop, chattering, pushing and shoving, lively, bright … noisy. She looked to see if Tod were among them, but couldn’t spot him.
She was so close to the Avenue, she wondered if she ought to pop along to the shops and buy some food, but recollected the joint defrosting in the fridge.
She really did not want to think about Kate. Or murder.
As she crossed the Green she met the vicar, striding along with his head in the air, no coat on, in a hurry as usual. She would have passed him with a wave but he stopped.
‘Everything all right, Ellie?’
She made herself smile. ‘Yes, of course. Well …’ seeing that he was not to be put off with a cliché, ‘Just the usual. You know.’
He stooped to peer into her eyes. ‘You look tired.’
‘I’ve just come from the incident room.’ She hadn’t meant to mention it, but it was hard to keep quiet when he was showing an interest. ‘The police suspect Kate of having murdered Ferdy.’
‘Really?’ He looked thoughtful but not surprised.
‘Well, I for one don’t believe she did it.’
The vicar raised his eyebrows.
Ellie felt tears threaten. ‘I like her so much, and … oh, I know that doesn’t mean anything, but … that husband of hers strikes me as … take no notice! I’m making no sense at all.’
He pressed her arm, his eyes warm and bright.
‘Take it easy. It’s early days yet, Ellie.’
‘I’m all right, really. Just a little tired.’
‘Good girl.’
If anyone else calls me ‘girl’, Ellie thought, I’ll … I’ll swear!
The Reverend Adams made as if to move off, then veered back to her side.
‘Look, I’m late for a meeting, but … did you get to see Mrs Hanna? I called there just now but she wasn’t answering the door. I looked in the bakery but she wasn’t there, either. I’m a little worried about her, to tell the truth.’
Ellie shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen her since last Friday. I’ll pop around to see her tomorrow if you like. I expect she needs some time off.’
‘I’d like you – or someone – to go to the inquest with her. She shouldn’t have to go by herself. Then when the police release the body, we’ll have to think about the funeral arrangements.’
Ellie nodded, and he started off again. Only to hit his head with the heel of his hand and return to her.
‘I’ll forget my own head next. Have you had any luck getting the minutes off the computer?’
‘No, not yet. Kate promised to help me but that may not work out now …’
He pursed his lips as if to say something, shook his head, and steamed off towards the vicarage. Ellie went past the church, down to the alley and up through her garden to the back door. She needed to be quiet. And to think.
6
The errand boy was enjoying himself. ‘You blew it, didn’t you!’ The fat man flicked his eyes up to the hospital ceiling. He had been lying on a trolley in the corridor for four hours, waiting to go down to the operating theatre.
‘A nice little fracture!’ the doctor had said.
The fat man didn’t think there was anything nice about it at all. The errand boy tapped out a cigarette. The fat man pointed to a ‘No
Smoking’ notice.
‘That’s all right,’ said the errand boy. ‘I’m not staying. I just came to
give you the bad news. She says you’re out of it, and I’m taking your
place. So give me the back door key. She said you’d got it on you. Oh yes,
and the mobile phone. You won’t need
that in here.’
The fat man’s eyes almost disappeared in a poisonous stare. ‘I’ll be
outa here in a tick. They’ll set and plaster it. No problem. Tell her I’ll be
back on the job tomorrow.’
‘You ain’t listening, mate,’ said the errand boy, smugly cheerful. ‘You
blew it and she don’t give no second chances. Fancy having the target
helpless on a bridge, and she walks away without a scratch while you
end up in hospital. What a laugh! Wait till I tell them down the pub!’ The fat man’s blood pressure climbed to danger point. ‘She bumped
into me just as I was about to do the job!’
‘She bumped into you!’ mocked the errand boy. ‘That’s what comes of
employing labour what’s thick in the head. Now me, I’m a technician.
What I don’t know about electricity and gas and plumbing, you can forget.
I fancy a nice little accident with the gas. It’s always happening. Just
read the papers in a couple days time, right?’
He held out his hand. ‘Key, please.’
The fat man made a grab for his jacket but the errand boy got there first. Delving into one pocket after another he fished out bunches of
keys, a single old-fashioned key and the mobile phone.
The fat man knew he couldn’t argue with Herself while he was flat on
his back in the hospital but in a few hours’ time … a day or two at most,
he’d be out of here, and then he’d give them a good sorting out. ‘Tarra, then!’ said the errand boy. Whistling, he made his way out of
the ward. He thought he might as well pick up the fat man’s car while he
was about it. He knew where he could stash it away for a few days,
maybe take the girlfriend out in it at the weekend, big car, would impress
her … and then he’d flog it. And the fat man wouldn’t be able to do
nothing about it.
Ellie sat in the kitchen, drinking cup after cup of tea. The joint was sizzling quietly in the oven, together with roast potatoes and parsnips. She was determined to eat properly. She knew by the looseness of her skirts that she’d lost weight recently. The next thing she knew, she’d be ill down the hospital, like that poor man on the bridge today.
The problem was that there were too many problems and she didn’t know how to cope with any of them.
There’d been a horrible message from Aunt Drusilla on the answerphone when Ellie returned. She kept replaying it in her mind. Perhaps what Aunt Drusilla had said was true and Ellie really was selfish, only thinking of herself and never considering for a minute what her husband would have wanted her to do.
It was partly true. Ellie was thinking for herself, and gut reaction to Aunt Drusilla’s demands was that for the moment at least, Ellie could not cope.
She thought that if she even tried to cope, she’d break down and cry. And in any case – said a nasty snide voice deep inside her head – why should she walk twenty minutes just to help a spry old woman summon a taxi to take her to the dentist, sit in the waiting room for her to have her bridge seen to, and ditto back again?
As for those barbed remarks about Frank’s not being sound of mind when he made his will and it being clear that Ellie had exacted undue influence … Ellie did not understand what the old – dear – was talking about.
For the umpteenth time she went to the front window and looked out. Kate’s car was still there. Ellie could tell, by the drift of leaves on the windscreen and roof, that it hadn’t moved since that morning.
Armand had come back, very quiet. Within the hour he’d gone out again. Ellie hoped he’d gone across to the incident room to support his wife. Well, you could always hope. She didn’t really think he had. She was beginning to get a nasty feeling about that marriage.
She went back over her own interview with the police again. They had been pleased she’d gone in. They’d even offered her a cup of tea. The inspector whom she’d met before – his name was Clay, she discovered
– had listened while she told them about seeing Kate run down the alley towards the park in the dusk. It must have been about teatime. She couldn’t place it any closer. She really hadn’t been attending to the time.
But surely, they said. Any movement up at the church must have caught your eye?
No, she couldn’t remember having seen anything else, though she’d thought about it a lot. No, she couldn’t remember having seen Ferdy, nor the confrontation with the vicar, nor Ferdy’s quarrel with Kate.
She hadn’t seen any activity at all, but then she’d hardly been looking for it. It sounded silly, she knew, but she’d had her mind on other things. She was sorry she couldn’t help them more.
No, of course she hadn’t been standing there all the time. Yes, she supposed she had gone to the bathroom. Had she gone to get herself a cuppa? Make a meal? No, she didn’t think so. She hadn’t felt like it.
At what time had she drawn the curtains? She didn’t think she had that evening.
But she’d turned on the lights inside when it got dark? Well, no. She hadn’t bothered. There was a side lamp which came on at dusk, on a time switch. She supposed that had been on. She really hadn’t noticed.
So she had been standing at the window, looking out, all that time? Yes, she thought she had. And hadn’t seen anyone else but Kate?
At that point, Ellie became aware of where this was leading. If she hadn’t seen anyone but Kate then far from confirming Kate’s alibi, she was putting Kate firmly on the spot as murderer.
She’d hastily reviewed everything she’d said. And was appalled.
‘I don’t believe Kate did it!’
The inspector smiled, forgivingly. Asked her to sign her statement. Well, she had to sign it. It was the truth, and nothing but the truth.
But she wasn’t happy about it.
Suppose Kate was even now being charged with Ferdy’s murder? It seemed more than likely.
With an abrupt movement, Ellie went to check on Kate’s car. Still there. Still no sound from next door. Put it out of your mind, girl, she thought. If Kate did it – though I still don’t think she did – then you shouldn’t interfere. If she didn’t do it, then I’m sure she’ll be cleared.
Although perfect in its way, this line of reasoning failed to soothe. So Ellie decided to tackle some of the difficult jobs still hanging around the house. First she would phone the hospital and find out how that poor man was doing. She rang and explained that even though she was not a relative and therefore perhaps not entitled to news of the patient, she had been on the bridge when it happened … in fact, she was afraid she’d almost caused the accident. The nurse was sympathetic and found out for her that the leg had been set, was now in plaster, and that the patient would probably be discharged that evening. Ellie sent him her best.
She was glad he would be released today. She supposed he would take a cab home from the hospital, to be cosseted by his wife …
With that job out of the way, Ellie sat at the computer and switched on, remembering to give the buttons a firm push.
The screen came alight with a brightly coloured sort of flag advertising Microsoft Windows 98. She’d seen this bit before. Then came a threatening message about not having turned the computer off properly before. She had to wait like a chidden child while it went through the motions of checking that everything was OK before it proceeded. Now she got some clouds before Paddington station arrived with a whirring propeller in the middle. The propeller settled down and transformed itself into an orange arrow, rather a pleasant apricot colour. Some pretty pictures appeared on the screen on the left. She knew enough now to ignore nearly all of these.
Ellie concentrated on positioning the arrow on the Microsoft Word picture. Two clicks, she remembered. Nothing happened.
Another click. Nothing.
A double click, rather faster. A blank screen, waiting to be written on.
The manual said she should go through the button START. That seemed appropriate. She winced as a flag-like box jumped up from the bottom of the screen. Just like a Jack-in-the-box. Ellie stared at a number of options that appeared on this pop-up screen. What on earth did they all mean? And what about all those little pictures now spread across the top of the screen?
She remembered seeing Frank using the mouse, zizzing around the screen up and down, left and right, clicking away. Modern-day magic, she’d thought. She’d never wanted anything to do with it, herself.
She started playing around with the mouse – ‘mouse’ indeed! She watched the arrow zoom up the screen, then sent it left and right, making zigzags. Fun, if spectacularly unhelpful. Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone?
She reached for the manual and must have brushed against some important key, for the flag disappeared.
She centred the arrow on one of the pretty little pictures at the top of the screen, and another flag dropped down. Help, what did it all mean?
The telephone rang. Reaching across for it, by accident she hit the key marked Esc, and found that the new flag disappeared. Was this the key she’d hit before?
Archie Benjamin, the plump little steward. ‘My dear Ellie, how are you getting on? I know what it’s like to be on your own when you’re used to having someone around. So how about I pick up a bottle of something and bring it round to keep you company?’
Engrossed in the screen, Ellie got the mouse to hit another pretty picture, made another flag drop down, and then hit the Esc button. To her delight, it disappeared.
She said, ‘Thanks, Archie, but really I’m perfectly all right.’
‘Oh. Well, would it be in order to ask gracious madam if she’s had time to find the minutes for the PCC meeting yet?’
She replied with perfect truth, ‘As a matter of fact, I’m working on it at the moment. Thanks for ringing. I do appreciate it. Perhaps some other time …’
She put the phone down and repeated her previous actions. Bravo! She could make something happen on the computer, all by herself! She did it again, just to make sure she had got the hang of it.
Murder at the Altar Page 8