Murder My Neighbour

by Veronica Heley

  She turned back. The house was now showing definite signs of neglect. The front garden was a tatty version of a hayfield, and the windows looked grubby. Of course, windows quickly became grubby in a dry spell of weather. On the other hand, it did look as if there were a light on in the hall, and another in the television room immediately to the right of the front door.

  She started up the drive, expecting to confirm that they were merely seeing a reflection of sunlight from the windows of the house opposite.

  The porch was deep and dark. The front door was solid, but on either side were panels of stained glass, purple and green in a diamond pattern. The glass was old, thick and bubbly, difficult to see through, but when Ellie pressed her nose to a paler green diamond, it was obvious that the light they had seen came from the ceiling in the hall.

  She stepped out of the porch to check on the television room. ‘There’s a light on in this room, too. Do you think that the young lovers have returned now the police have finished here? I wouldn’t put it past them.’

  ‘They wouldn’t leave lights on downstairs, would they? And do they still have a key?’

  She stepped back. ‘I didn’t bring my handbag, and I haven’t got my mobile with me.’

  He patted his pockets. ‘I’ve got mine.’ He pressed the doorbell. A resounding silence. A rustle inside the hall, and something scratched on the inside of the door. Thomas pulled up the flap of the letterbox.

  ‘It’s a cat. It looks like the one which was trying to get into our house.’

  The cat mewed, and a tiny white paw appeared, reaching up towards them. Thomas released the flap and stood upright. ‘Didn’t you say Mrs Pryce had two cats, which were rehoused when she left? I’ve heard that cats dislike change and will make their way back over vast distances to their old homes.’

  ‘How on earth did it get into the house? Someone must have let it in, but . . . I don’t like this, Thomas.’

  ‘I expect there’s a cat flap somewhere, and it can get in and out as it pleases. Now that the house is empty, it’s probably going round the houses to beg for food. Rose has been feeding it on the sly, remember.’

  Ellie tried to remember if there was a cat flap in the Pryce house, but couldn’t. ‘We should ring the police, anyway, tell them that lights have been left on.’

  He nodded, took out his mobile. Ellie wandered round to the garage. A fresh padlock had been put on the door which led into the courtyard. No one had recently got into the house that way, which meant that whoever had turned the lights on must have had a key to the front door. Surely the police wouldn’t have left lights on when they departed?

  Thomas was still on the phone when she got back. He grimaced at her, shut it off. ‘They said they’d get a patrol car to drop by some time. I’m not sure they believe me.’ He put his eye to a piece of pale green glass and froze.

  Ellie waited, feeling prickles up and down her spine.

  He stood back. ‘Tell me I’m imagining things. It looks as if someone’s lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs. Perhaps one of the young visitors?’

  ‘Another dead body?’ Ellie applied her eye to the same place, her heartbeat going into overdrive. What she saw – or thought she saw, because it was hard to see clearly through stained glass – was shocking. ‘I think you’re right, though it’s hard to tell. Oh!’ She started back. ‘Did she move? Perhaps she’s still alive.’

  He knelt down to look through the cat flap. ‘Out of the way, puss. That’s it. Just let me have a good look at . . . Yes, there is someone there.’ He raised his voice. ‘Hello, are you all right?’

  Ellie was still glued to her piece of clearish glass. ‘I think – I’m not sure – did she move her hand? Thomas, if a starving cat is locked up with a dead body, there’s no knowing what will happen . . . or rather, I’ve heard that a hungry cat can attack a—’

  ‘I’d better phone for an ambulance.’ He got his mobile out again and this time asked for an ambulance. Ending the call, he wondered: ‘How can we get in?’

  Ellie spotted the discarded ‘For Sale’ sign in the long grass and retrieved it, careful of splinters. ‘It’s your turn to break a window, Thomas. I did it last time.’

  He grunted. ‘Haven’t broken a window since I was eight. A new experience every day, what?’

  He selected a suitable section of coloured glass and bashed at it until it broke into shards and fell, tinkling, inside the door. Pulling his jacket over his hand, he thrust through the hole he’d made until he could find and release the catch on the door. The cat shot out and wound round their legs, but they ignored her to rush to the side of the girl on the floor.

  Ellie was horribly afraid it was Vera lying there, for this girl was also big-boned and had fair hair. She’d been punched and kicked around, to judge by the damage and the boot prints on her jeans. Blood spatter showed where she’d been tossed against the walls and stairs. Her nose had been broken, and blood had pooled under her head. Bruises marked both arms and her throat. Her left arm lay at an odd angle from her body.

  She’d been wearing a sleeveless white cropped top, no bra, over low-cut jeans; very low-cut jeans. Was she wearing a thong beneath the jeans? Hm. Possibly not. Both top and jeans were bloodstained and torn. She’d been wearing flip-flops, which had come to rest some distance away from her body. Her finger and toenails were painted black.

  Ellie didn’t think the girl had been raped, for the jeans were still fully zipped up. It wasn’t Vera, because this girl’s ears had been pierced not once but several times, and she wore a number of rings and studs in her earlobes: five each side.

  Ignoring the blood on the floor, Ellie knelt beside the girl. ‘Hold on. Help is coming.’ Ellie took the girl’s right hand and stroked it. One of the girl’s eyes was fast shut, but the other gazed upwards.

  ‘What is it?’ Ellie asked. ‘Who did this to you?’

  The hand she was holding felt cold and clammy. The girl’s eye didn’t move.

  Thomas knelt on the girl’s other side and felt for her pulse, muttering, ‘Hold on, hold on. Don’t give up.’ He looked across to Ellie and shook his head. ‘It’s no good. She’s gone.’

  A backstreet jewellers

  ‘What’ll you give us for these bits and pieces. Worth a bit, aren’t they?’

  ‘They’re only glass, gold settings, rather dated. Women want something classier nowadays. Fifty quid do you?’

  ‘They are diamonds, I tell you.’

  ‘Take it or leave it.’

  ‘Give us fifty, then.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Saturday evening

  Ellie released the girl’s hand, which fell back on to the floor. She’d been dead for some time. Ellie had been deceived into thinking the girl had moved, by the distortion of looking through stained glass. There was a piece of string tied round the girl’s wrist with a couple of keys on it, one with a sparkly tag attached. The front door key to this house, and one to her own place?

  Thomas began to say the prayers for the dead.

  Faintly at first, becoming louder, Ellie heard the whine and bleep of a paramedic’s car.

  She got to her feet. The little cat pressed against Ellie’s legs, mewing. Ellie picked her up and stroked her. The cat nibbled Ellie’s ear by way of thanks. An affectionate animal, unlike their own Midge.

  The paramedic’s car turned into the drive. Thomas would not interrupt his prayers, so it would be up to Ellie to explain the situation. What exactly had happened here? Still holding the cat, Ellie took a good look around.

  Dried blood streaked down the inside of the front door. The girl had tried to get out and been hauled back, her hands clutching in despair at the wood. Kicked into the corner behind the door was an empty gym bag . . . intended for carting away whatever was in the safe?

  There was dried blood on the newel post of the stairs and on the bottom three steps . . . and a smear descending. The girl had been thrown against the newel post, had rebounded on to the stairs and slipped down aga
in.

  More blood, dried, was on the doorknob and the panelled door that led to the television room. She’d been thrown against the doorknob, and had slid down the door.

  There was no blood on the doors leading to the sitting room and study, so she hadn’t tried to get out that way, but there were dark streaks on the floor leading to the garden room . . . the room where the cats had been kept, the room which led out on to the garden. The girl had tried to flee that way and been brought down, dragged back again, not allowed to escape.

  In the corner by the door to the television room lay a torch, one of the wind-up kind. Pristine, no blood on it. The girl’s, presumably? She’d come prepared with a torch, which meant she’d expected the electricity to have been turned off . . . which meant someone else had turned it on?

  She’d had a key with her. Had someone followed her in, someone who’d been watching her or the house? Or had someone got there earlier, turned the lights on and been looking for something when the girl arrived? And if so, how had he got in?

  ‘Hello there? Someone called for an ambulance?’ A woman’s voice at the front door. The paramedic.

  ‘In here,’ said Ellie, not moving. ‘She’s already dead, though.’

  The paramedic looked at the body and then at Thomas, whose lips were moving in prayer. The woman knelt beside the body, felt for a pulse, found none and sighed. ‘Any idea who she might be?’

  ‘I’m not certain because I’ve never met her, but I think she’s Evangeline Pryce, granddaughter of the Mrs Pryce who used to live here.’

  The paramedic said she didn’t remove dead bodies and left, saying she’d report what she’d found to a doctor and the police.

  A patrol car arrived containing two large policemen, who knew only that they’d been asked to drop around by the Pryce house to investigate a possible break-in. The police phoned for reinforcements. One of the patrolmen took an initial statement from Ellie and warned her not to leave.

  The policemen strung incident tape around and spoke, low-voiced, into their radios, not touching anything or making eye contact with Thomas or Ellie.

  Thomas sighed and stood up. He fished out his mobile again; this time to phone Rose and tell her they’d been delayed but to keep supper for them.

  Ellie was nursing the little cat. ‘Thomas, do you think you could check to see if there’s a cat flap in the garden room under the stairs? I suspect that’s how the cat got in.’

  He investigated and came back to report: ‘Yes, and it was open both ways. I’ve locked it now.’ It wouldn’t be a good idea for the little cat to get in and out as she pleased in future. She had no collar on, but the Cats Protection League would know where she belonged.

  Ears arrived, in a towering rage. Of course. There was a detective constable with him, but it was another man and not the pleasant DC Milburn.

  Ears barked at Thomas and Ellie to stay where they were, not to move, not one inch. And then proceeded to ignore them.

  Thomas raised his eyebrows, but obeyed by folding his arms and finding an unstained piece of wall to lean against. The men from the patrol car left, and Ears’ constable took up his position by the door . . . to prevent Ellie and Thomas from leaving, or to prevent other people from coming in?

  Ellie needed to sit down, and the cat needed to be nursed. It was very young; still a kitten, really. Ellie climbed up the stairs till she was well above the bloodstains and sat down. The little cat turned round and round on Ellie’s lap until she had her head tucked under one paw. And was quiet.

  Two men in disposable white clothes arrived and donned white slippers. One set to work photographing the scene, while the other dusted for fingerprints.

  ‘Well, Mrs Quicke; so we meet again,’ said Ears, condescending to acknowledge her presence at last. ‘Over yet another body. Things were nice and quiet while you were away, and as soon as you get back . . . ! So what’s your excuse this time, and who is it you have so conveniently found?’

  ‘At a guess it’s Evangeline Pryce, granddaughter of the elderly Mrs Pryce who used to live in this house.’

  ‘The lady whose body you just happened to discover a fortnight ago? You’re making quite a habit of discovering your neighbours dead, aren’t you? So, do tell me how you managed to come across this one?’

  Ellie sighed. How long was this going to take? She was getting hungry, and Rose would be getting anxious, trying to keep supper warm for them.

  A female doctor arrived, carrying a large bag. She greeted Ears without enthusiasm and went straight to examine the body.

  Thomas explained, ‘We went for a walk, saw there were lights on inside the house – just as you see them now. We thought it odd, so I phoned in a report. I was told a patrol car would be along to investigate. Then we heard a cat – the one Ellie’s holding – scrabbling around inside the hall here. I looked through the letterbox and saw someone lying inside. I broke the window and released the catch to get in because—’

  ‘You should have left it to the police to investigate. Don’t you know it’s against the law to go around breaking and entering houses?’

  ‘We thought we saw the girl move. It’s difficult to be sure through stained glass. And the cat—’

  ‘So you broke into a house you knew was empty, in order to rescue a cat?’

  Thomas kept his temper, just. ‘We thought the girl might still be alive and in need of urgent medical attention. Also, we wanted to save her from being attacked by a hungry cat.’

  The doctor stood up. ‘She’s been dead for some hours.’

  ‘How many?’ barked Ears.

  The doctor refrained from rolling her eyes, just. She didn’t seem to like Ears much either, did she? ‘It’s hard to be sure, in this heat. It was a brutal attack, and she lost a lot of blood. She was probably knocked unconscious by one of the many blows to her head, but didn’t die straight away. She might have lived for some considerable time after she was injured.’

  The doctor indicated a dark patch some way away from where the body had finally come to rest. ‘You can see that she lay over here for a while.’ Blood had been spilt there, and it had soaked into the floorboards. ‘After some time, either she moved of her own accord, or more likely someone shifted her to lie nearer the stairs, where there is this second pool of blood. The body is cold, but rigor mortis hasn’t yet set in. At a guess, she died some time in the early hours of this morning. I’ll know more when I do the autopsy.’

  Ears turned on Ellie. ‘Admit it; you moved the body.’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘I lifted the girl’s hand for a moment, then laid it down again.’

  Thomas said, ‘I touched her neck to see if there was a pulse. There wasn’t. Neither of us moved her head.’

  The photographer commented in a cheerful voice: ‘She put up a good fight, didn’t she? There’s blood everywhere.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I’m tired, and I want to go home.’

  Ears put his hands on his hips, almost hissing: ‘And what else have you to tell me before you go? Have you any more advice for me on how to conduct an investigation? More tips for beginners? Tell me. I’m all ears.’

  An unfortunate thing to say, since his ears were bright scarlet at that very moment. Of course, he would be in a state, since his boss had hauled him over the coals over his earlier conduct of the Pryce case.

  Thomas flexed his muscles and opened his mouth, but Ellie shook her head at him. She could handle this. She gave Ears a limpid stare. ‘One and one makes two. Would three be a better number, or four? And which came first; the chicken or the egg?’

  He reared up, flushing to his forehead. ‘What?’

  Ellie said, ‘The lights were also left on in the television room, remember. Don’t let anyone go in there till they’ve dusted for prints, will you?’

  Ears swung round wildly. ‘Which room?’

  Ellie pointed to the door. ‘I’ve been told Mrs Pryce had a safe in that room, but that it’s well concealed. It’s probably behind the panelling somew
here. Why don’t you take a look?’

  The man who’d been dusting for fingerprints approached the door to the television room and dusted it for prints.

  Everyone waited.

  The technician shook his head. ‘Smudged. Useless.’

  Ears sent Ellie a look of pure acid, threw open the door and recoiled. Ellie climbed down the stairs with the cat in her arms and followed Thomas as he went to peer over Ears’ shoulders.

  It looked as if someone had taken a crowbar to every piece of panelling in the room, starting from the door. Plastered wall showed through each shattered panel until, nearly in the opposite corner, the steel door of a safe stood revealed. Still locked, but dented.

  Ears’ voice shook. ‘Mrs Quicke, you were watching through the window.’

  ‘No. I used my eyes and my ears.’ She concluded artlessly: ‘People are always anxious to tell me things, you see. I’m sure you’re going to be busy for a while, and we’ve had a long and tiring day, so I think we’d better go home now. Supper’s waiting, and this little cat needs to be fed, poor thing.’

  She walked past Ears’ constable, who was supposed to be guarding the front door, but who, as she approached, stepped aside to look over their heads, grinning widely. Out she went into the fading light of the evening, the cat awake but not struggling in her arms. Thomas followed her, making clucking sounds.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked when they were safely away from the house.

  He doubled over, gurgling with laughter. ‘Ellie . . . Ears!’

  She was conscious of irritation. ‘He deserved it!’

  ‘You made him look like an incompetent oaf. His team took it all in and will no doubt be repeating what you said in the canteen.’

  ‘Oh. Was I very rude?’

  ‘Magnificently. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Ellie Quicke, you are not only the light of my life, but my delight. But what did you mean when you said “which came first, the chicken or the egg”?’

  ‘I haven’t the slightest idea,’ said Ellie, quickening her pace. ‘The words came into my head and I let them out. And, I need the loo.’