Murder at the Altar

by Veronica Heley

  Tod’s mother was an anorexic-looking bottle blonde. She caught Kate’s arm. ‘Come away! Petrol … the car might explode! Tod, what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Ellie, soothing the instant jealousy in the eyes of the boy’s mother. ‘He thinks of me as a sort of grandmother, I think …’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Tod’s mother accepted the explanation at face value, burying the knowledge that Ellie was dearer to Tod than herself.

  Without a word, without seeming to see or hear them, Kate retrieved her handbag and limped past them, down the pathway to her front door.

  ‘Kate!’ cried Ellie.

  Kate took no notice, but let herself into the house.

  The car was burning fiercely and it took little urging for Tod and his mother to get Ellie to retreat. Mercifully her own front door had not blown shut and locked her out of the house.

  Tod’s mother said, ‘I’ve phoned for the police. Tod, what are you doing here? You ought to be getting ready for school.’

  Tod shook his head. He helped Ellie over her doorstep and into the kitchen.

  He said, ‘You’re bleeding.’

  ‘Tod!’ screeched his mother. ‘You’ve got blood on your sweater! Go back home and change at once and put that sweater in cold water, do you hear?’ Then to Ellie, ‘The police and the ambulance will be here in a minute. Tod, go home! What was it, a bomb? You hear of these things, but never expect … ohmigod, will you look at the time! I ought to be … Tod, go back to the house this instant, and get your things ready for school.’

  Ellie agreed that Tod ought not to be on the scene, but his grip on her arm was as strong as ever and he showed no sign of hearing what his mother was saying. She tried to say that she was all right, but in fact she was very far from all right. She thought, ‘Does Armand hate her that much?’

  Another neighbour came in. They had left the front door open, of course. The house was desperately chilly. Ellie ground her teeth together in an effort to stop them clattering.

  ‘Tea! Hot, sweet tea!’ said the newcomer.

  Ellie began to laugh. Her kettle lay smashed to pieces on the road, together with Kate’s laptop and briefcase.

  ‘Hysteria, poor thing!’ said the newcomer in an undertone to Tod’s mother. ‘Who’d have thought of such a thing, in this neighbourhood. First that boy was found in the church, then his mother gets dragged out of the river, and now this!’

  Ellie made a gigantic effort to still the shakes. ‘Would someone make me a cup of tea, please? My kettle’s broken.’

  Tod’s mother said she had to get off to work and took Tod away, but the newcomer – a friendly, busty plain Jane who lived a couple of doors away with her sickly brother – said she’d make a pot of tea in her own house and bring it over. Never fear, she said, she’d look after Ellie.

  Ellie would have liked to object, knowing that plain Jane’s middle name was Gossip, but she hadn’t the energy. Plain Jane left to fetch the tea and no doubt to regale all the neighbours en route about how well Ellie was taking it, and what a thing to happen, my dear!

  Left to herself, Ellie saw that she was dripping blood on to her clothes and the lino. Painfully she made her way to the sink and ran water over her hands. A movement outside made her look up.

  Through the screening hedge next door she could see a tall dark figure walking rapidly down the garden path. A woman in a long black coat and large, enveloping headscarf, also black. Kate, carrying a suitcase and with her handbag over her shoulder. Ellie tapped on the window, but Kate didn’t turn.

  Out into the alley, across into the churchyard, and up … over the church grounds to the main road, where a loaded bus took on just a few extra passengers – including Kate.

  Dressed like that, Kate could easily be taken for a Muslim woman. Nothing could be seen of her except gloved hands and face.

  Making her escape?

  Probably.

  She wasn’t waiting around to see if Armand would be blamed for the explosion. Ellie didn’t blame her in the least. She decided that unless directly asked – and even if directly asked, come to think of it – she would not tell anyone what she’d seen.

  She might well have been mistaken, anyway. Some movement of branches, seen through the wintry hedge …

  She knew she was in shock. She dabbed at her grazed legs with a wet kitchen towel, and heard sirens outside. She went on dabbing. Plain Jane returned, breathless with haste, plus a large pot of tea. This was making her day. Police, firemen, the car being sprayed … didn’t Ellie want to see?

  Then the ambulancemen, cheery and kind but firm.

  ‘Got your handbag, dear? And a nice warm coat? That’s it, let’s just strap you into this chair and get you looked over in the hospital.’

  The police didn’t get a look-in on this one. Ellie closed her eyes as she was wheeled up the drive to the ambulance ramp. A policewoman did try to question her, but the ambulancemen waved them aside.

  Ellie rather wished she hadn’t woken up so early that morning. In which case, she wouldn’t have been out in the road when the car exploded. But then, Kate might have got into the car to turn on the ignition, instead of just leaning in as she talked to Ellie. And in that case, Kate would now very probably be dead.

  Ellie turned her mind away from all of that. Her hands hurt, and so did her legs. And her head. She decided that she would rather like to take a short nap, till matters improved …

  The errand boy watched proceedings from the other side of the road. He was the very picture of a workman on his way to mend a leaking pipe, taking time out to gawp at fire engine, police and ambulance. After a while he retreated up the driveway of a house whose occupants had driven off to work earlier. He got out the mobile phone.

  ‘Bingo!’ he announced. ‘She’s just been loaded into the ambulance. Unconscious. They wouldn’t even let the police talk to her. And the car’s totalled.’

  The phone quacked at him. He shifted from one foot to the other, uneasily.

  ‘I don’t give a damn who left by the back door. I tell you I got a good look at her, and she’s no longer with us, period!’

  ‘No, she wasn’t stretchered out in a body bag. I could see her face clearly. Yeah, OK. I’ll check with the hospital later. And yeah, yeah. I’ll move the van away. I’m bored with it, anyway. I’ve got another car I can drive for a bit. See ya.’

  He snapped off the phone and walked away.

  The fat man lowered his binoculars to answer the phone. His plastered leg was propped up on a gaping hassock he’d found in the same cupboard that had provided the table. The chair sagged and creaked under his weight.

  His new mobile was trickier to operate than the previous one; but cheaper. Emergency calls only. And this was an emergency.

  ‘I told you. I saw that tall bint, the one that used to go around with Ferdy, come out of her own house, dressed like the black widow and carrying a case. She goes across the Green and catches a bus. Where does the bus go? To the tube station first and then on to Shepherd’s Bush. No, she didn’t look like she’d been in an accident. Walked down the path cool as you please, and got on the bus. Off to work, I suppose.’

  9

  Ellie alighted from the minicab with due care for her cuts and bruises. Walking down the path to her front door felt like descending a mountain. She was relieved to see that the burned-out remains of Kate’s car had been removed.

  Once in, Ellie dropped her coat and bag and surveyed herself in the hall mirror. She thought she looked ancient. Her hair was all over the place, she had a bruise on her chin and the blood was never going to wash out of that jumper and skirt.

  She gave only a passing glance at the winking light on the answerphone, ignored the post lying on the floor and went into the kitchen. No kettle. That was a major disaster. She ought to have got the minicab driver to stop on the way from the hospital, to buy another kettle. How did you cope in an emergency without a kettle?

  The answer came slickly
to mind. You bought a microwave. Well, she would do so as soon as she could get around to it. In the meantime she simply had to have a cup of tea … if not three. And some carbohydrates. Biscuits, cake, anything. She’d just have to boil water in a saucepan, that was all.

  You could always improvise … as she had done when the police had interviewed her at the hospital. Waiting in a corridor, waiting to be assessed, waiting for the doctor … for the nurse … for the all clear …

  Waiting, as she’d waited for Frank to die.

  Don’t be morbid.

  You’ve got to get a grip on yourself, girl, or you’ll go under.

  So some bad things have been happening to you, and to Kate … to Ferdy and Mrs Hanna … but there was no point sitting down under it. You had to get moving again. Do something to solve the mysteries. Clear Kate of suspicion of murder.

  The water boiled, and Ellie inhaled the aroma of strong Darjeeling as she poured the water into the teapot.

  Fetched milk and a mug. Sat at the kitchen table.

  Thought about things.

  The policewoman had been – more or less – sympathetic. Could Ellie tell them what had happened that morning?

  Ellie had told them. Clearly. Calmly. The shakes had left her. She supposed one of the injections she’d been given was responsible for that. She’d been given a tetanus injection, too. What for? Did they think the kettle had been lethal?

  Anyway, she could tell the police about the explosion without having to pick and choose her words.

  Did Ellie have any idea why the car had exploded?

  Ellie was silent for a while, wondering if it were right to point the finger at Armand. She decided it was. ‘All I can say is that Armand was very jealous of his wife’s successful business career and the friends she had made prior to their marriage. And I know he used to hit her.’

  The policewoman blinked. She hadn’t expected this. She asked Ellie to substantiate her theory and Ellie gave her chapter and verse. Ellie then had a rather brilliant idea; at least, she thought at the time it was brilliant. In order to deflect questioning about Kate’s escape, she asked the policewoman if Kate had been brought into the hospital, too. Was she all right?

  Again the policewoman blinked.

  Ellie repeated the question.

  The policewoman said, with reluctance, that Kate seemed to have disappeared.

  Ellie thought she’d registered astonishment rather well. In any event, the policewoman left her alone after that. They’d probably drag Armand away from school to grill him. A good job, too! thought Ellie.

  A second and third cup of tea. All the biscuits remaining in the packet. Half a bar of chocolate. The phone rang. Ellie ignored it.

  She dragged herself upstairs, divested herself of her bloodstained clothing and fell into bed.

  She awoke to hear someone leaning on the doorbell. Twilight had settled on the room, and street lamps glowed cherry red outside. She pulled on her dressing-gown and made her way downstairs, hoping the caller would give up and go away. But they didn’t.

  To her immense surprise, it was Madam from the shop on the doorstep. ‘I’ve been ringing for hours!’ she complained, stepping past Ellie into the hall. ‘Really, Ellie, have you no consideration for others? If you were not well today, you ought to have telephoned. How do you expect me to keep the shop running and meet our targets if the helpers don’t turn up?’

  This is unreal, thought Ellie.

  Madam marched into the sitting-room and seated herself in Frank’s big armchair. She looked around with disfavour, not caring for Ellie’s colour scheme and furniture. She frowned at the coffee table. She’s actually going to run her finger along the surface to see if there is any dust there, Ellie thought.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t phone,’ said Ellie, thinking that in a moment Madam would notice Ellie’s cuts and bruises and express sympathy.

  ‘I dare say.’ Madam put out a forefinger and ran it along the surface of the coffee table. Ellie stifled hysteria.

  Ellie said, ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea, but the kettle’s broken.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Madam was not interested. She gave the impression that Ellie was a feckless sort of person who broke kettles every day of the week. ‘Well, I’m not here on a social call. I was going to have a word with you at the shop today but since you didn’t bother to come in, I thought I’d call on my way home. Head office have asked me to tighten up the rules where volunteers have been taking advantage of us, taking time off without good reason. They want doctor’s notes if anyone phones in sick in future …’

  Would forced attendance at the hospital count? thought Ellie. But she didn’t say it. She was also thinking, The nerve of the woman! After all the time she missed this year, and all the extra hours I put in to cover for her …

  ‘… and I’ve noticed that you’ve been very slack just lately. Oh, I know your husband was ill and then you took time off afterwards. But today you didn’t even bother to phone in! You must appreciate my position. I can’t possibly run the shop with volunteers who don’t turn up. Now as it happens, a very dear old friend of mine has volunteered to come in and help on Tuesdays and Thursdays in future. Naturally I have accepted her offer. I know that I can rely on her …’

  This can’t be happening! thought Ellie. The woman’s actually giving me the push!

  ‘… and I expect you will like some time to reorganize your life now that your husband is gone. So perhaps it would be best – in fact I’m sure it will be best – if you don’t bother to come in again. I’ll get someone to pack up any belongings that you may have left at the shop, and drop them in to you. Naturally we appreciate all the hard work you have put into the shop in the past, but well … we all have to move on, don’t we?’

  And she looked down at the dust on the coffee table.

  Ellie just gazed at her. It would sink in, soon.

  Rejection, she thought. And then, No, this is not about my not being up to the job, but about her never having liked me, and possibly being jealous of me because the other workers in the shop preferred me to her … and maybe she’s even got wind of the idea that they wanted me to take her place. And that’s why she’s making an opportunity to get rid of me.

  And then, I wonder what John and the others will say to this …

  But then, she is the boss, and volunteers do tend to come and go.

  Ouch.

  I never really liked Madam, did I? It will be a relief not to have to be polite to her any longer.

  HOW DARE SHE!

  Madam stood up, spotted her reflection in the mirror and put her hand to her hair, smirking.

  Ellie got to her feet, too, her aches and pains catching up with her. She showed the woman to the front door.

  Madam held out her hand, smiling in triumph. ‘No hard feelings?’

  Ellie shook her head, but ignored the proffered hand. She was tempted to bang the door after Madam’s back, but refrained. Instead she put her own back to the door and closed her eyes. What a thing!

  After all those years.

  What would Frank have said …?

  She was not going to cry. A clean break with the past, that was it. It was what she needed. The past was gone and she had to get on with her new life. She looked at the phone. She’d rather like to talk to Bill Weatherspoon about this. Such a nice man. She’d known him for years. He’d been so sympathetic.

  But no. She must stand on her own two feet … even if she did feel rather rocky at the moment. She must take a grip. Cook something. A pity she hadn’t got a microwave yet. That would be marvellous for the odd frozen meal.

  She stooped – with surprising difficulty – to pick up the letters from the mat. Bills. Circulars. Two more letters of condolence. A letter from Frank’s firm, confirming that she would be in receipt of a good pension … another nice lot of noughts. She’d need a financial adviser soon. A pity that Kate had disappeared. She’d have been able to help, advise …

  A letter from the insurance company, e
nclosing a cheque. More noughts. Ellie thought, I’m getting blasé about all these noughts.

  But it does take the sting out of having been sacked!

  Of course, I could send Madam a nice fat cheque for the charity shop. That would show her … no, I wouldn’t do that. That would be cheap. If I do send the charity a cheque, then it will be anonymously. I wonder how you send a cheque anonymously.

  The doorbell rang again. As did the telephone.

  Ellie opened the door to face a complete stranger, a woman with a flushed, excited expression. Behind her was a man holding what looked like a large blue cat on a stick.

  ‘We’re from the Gazette …’

  ‘She’s in!’

  Another man joined the first. ‘Mrs Quicke, I represent the—’

  ‘Evening news bulletin—’

  She gave them one unbelieving stare and shut the door on them. Whatever next!

  She began to giggle. What a turn-up … Getting the sack one minute and then on the front page of the Sun the next. Well, not the Sun, precisely. She wasn’t exactly page three material.

  They continued to bang on the door and ring the doorbell. Over that noise Ellie could hear someone on the telephone, trying to leave a message for her. It was Diana. But was it Diana? Diana never rang her. It was always Ellie who rang Diana. But it was Diana’s voice.

  Ellie tried to concentrate. The voice was threatening, saying something about being with Ellie at half past six, latest. Then came ‘I’ve still—’ and the voice was cut off in mid-word.

  The answerphone tape must be full. Ellie eyed it with dread. Then fetched a pencil and paper and sat down to play back her messages.

  The first two messages were calm enough. Mrs Dawes had rung to ask why Ellie had not been at the flower-arranging class. The vicar had rung to ask how Ellie was and to enquire if she’d located the PCC minutes yet. The third message was from Aunt Drusilla. Peremptory, to say the least.

  ‘… I am amazed not to have heard from you. I need to see you at once. I shall expect you at four p.m. prompt. Don’t be late. Oh, and you can bring me a couple of chocolate buns from that new café in the Avenue while you’re at it.’