Murder for Good

by Veronica Heley

  ‘I’m not sure I do. Except in moments of difficulty when I find out that I really, really do believe in them. Pray, Ellie. Pray.’

  Good advice. Dear Lord, dear Lord, dear Lord. Look after him.

  The traffic was heavy. They slowed to a crawl. Rafael was a good driver, and patient. She wanted to urge him to find an alternative route to the hospital but stopped herself just in time. Rafael knew all the shortcuts. She must sit tight. And pray.

  Thomas is in danger. I can feel it in my bones. Dear Lord, look after him, please!

  The traffic had come to a standstill. There was no way they could have moved off the motorway even if they had wanted to do so. They were completely boxed in.

  Rafael said, ‘Let talk about cabbages and kings. Who would have told the police that Thomas had been involved in something criminal?’

  Ellie tried to keep calm. Rafael wanted to distract her by talking. It was probably a good idea to go along with his idea. It might keep her from going mad with frustration, locked into traffic with no way out.

  ‘I don’t know who would have it in for him to such an extent. Someone who’s jealous of him? Someone who wanted more money than they themselves got from a will? Someone who’s heard that Thomas has been given more than they have?’

  ‘To what purpose? Envy isn’t a strong enough reason to accuse him of theft, is it?’

  ‘It might be. Someone might think he had far too easy a life, married to a woman who owns a big house. It might be just spite. They’d think that an anonymous phone call to the police would cause them to give Thomas a hard time. You know how mud sticks. Thomas had been thinking of taking the matter to the police, but they wouldn’t know that. If the police get involved, his finances and the finances of the magazine will be scrutinized up hill and down dale. Every scrap of paper, all his bills, will be referred to auditors and if they find one bill unpaid or overpaid … He works so hard! He does so much good!’

  He’s in hospital, in pain, and I’m stuck in a traffic jam.

  Rafael said, ‘He’s squeaky clean. No one who knows him could possibly think he’d done anything wrong.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Once the word gets out, even if the police can’t find anything wrong, his name will be mud. You know the way it goes; they’ll start by saying that Thomas could never, ever have killed anyone for a few pounds here and there. But unless they have more luck than I did, the police won’t discover any good reason for so many people giving money to a man they hardly knew, if indeed they ever did know him. Public opinion will begin to change.

  ‘They will start to say there’s no smoke without a fire, that they always knew there was something dicey about a man of the cloth whose acquaintances died off in droves. They’ll bring up the business of that doctor who got his patients to make a will in his favour, and then killed them with lethal doses of medicine. The rumours will mount and gain strength. People will start to remember that Thomas “boasted” about having money to visit his family in Canada, and about living in a big house. He will not be asked to take any more services. People will fail to recognize him in the street, and finally the church authorities will suggest he resign as editor of the magazine and ask him to account for every penny he’s spent on it for the last umpteen years. It will break him.’

  Rafael edged the car forward. ‘It won’t break him, Ellie. He’s a good man, and a strong one.’

  ‘No, perhaps it wouldn’t break him, but it would hurt him. If his friends were to desert him, he’d feel it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t. Nor would Susan.’

  Ellie thought that Rafael probably meant that, but he didn’t know how hard it could be to stand against public opinion. Rafael was a businessman but he had never had the pressure of public opinion brought against him, and neither had Susan. If their families turned against Thomas, if his business contacts did too, then Rafael might well … bend. He meant well now, but it might be another matter some months down the line.

  Ellie started to laugh. Then stopped abruptly. That way, hysteria lay. She said, ‘There’s worse. Monique has left me almost her entire estate, or rather, she’s left it to the trust with a couple of strings attached. Diana thought it would mean I’d bale her out of her spot of financial problems, but I refused so she’s going to accuse me of causing Monique’s death.’

  Rafael gave a short bark of laughter. ‘You’re joking! Just wait till I tell Susan!’

  Ellie clung to common sense. ‘No one would believe it of me, would they? I mean, how could I ever …? Of course, the same thing applies to me as to Thomas. If Diana does go ahead and accuse me of murdering Monique, there’ll be someone who will believe her, and then … and then … Oh, the trust would have to get rid of me, or rather, I’d have to resign. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry!’

  ‘Why not both? Except … would you mind waiting to have hysterics until we start moving forward again? Sitting here in traffic, someone’s bound to see you throwing a wobbly, and then they’ll think it’s me who’s made you cry. They’ll call the police, and I’ll be had up for making off with you against your will and end up in a prison cell.’

  Ellie sought for a hankie, because she was indeed both laughing and crying. ‘Oh, you! Anyway, the grey man who’s the executor said that Monique has been cremated, so they can’t prove I killed her, as if I would! I liked Monique.’

  There was a small movement in the traffic ahead, and they inched forward a few feet. Rafael said, ‘I liked her, too. Didn’t she ever hint that she wanted to leave her money to you?’

  Ellie corrected him. ‘To the trust. No, I’m trying to think when we last met, but … well, she’d had an op which hadn’t gone well, and then there was that horrid affair when Diana and her friends were accused of killing off their husbands, and Monique helped us to sort that out. After that we sort of lost touch. I sent her a Christmas card with a note asking when she might like to have lunch with me, and she sent one back saying she wasn’t feeling too bright but hoping some new treatment might help and that was the last I heard from her. I wish we’d managed to meet up again, but we didn’t.’

  He grinned. ‘Is Diana going to say you sent Monique a Christmas card soaked in poison? I don’t see how else you could have killed her.’

  ‘Silly! She fell and broke her thigh, was taken to hospital, deteriorated and died. Diana told me that herself. It seems to have happened very quickly at the end. I’m glad for her. I mean, I’m glad it was quick, but I’m not glad that she died. If you see what I mean.’

  ‘Then you’re in the clear.’

  ‘Mud sticks. If she says I was there when Monique fell … oh, I know it’s ridiculous. I don’t even know exactly when it happened.’ She saw Rafael glance at his watch. She looked at hers. However long was this journey going to take?

  She picked up her phone and tried Thomas’s mobile number. It had been turned off. Of course, they asked you to turn off your phones in hospital, didn’t they?

  She made herself relax, muscle by muscle. The bubble of fear she’d been repressing rose up and hit her. She gasped, closed her eyes tightly.

  ‘Mrs Quicke, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, digging her nails into her palms. ‘Take no notice. I’m just rather frightened. Not for me, but for Thomas. For me, too, I suppose. I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  He looked around at the stationary traffic. ‘If there were a pub in sight, I’d let you out of the car so that you could get yourself a stiff drink. See how gridlocked we are. I’d probably be sitting in the same place by the time you got back. I’ll have to remember to keep something in the glove box for medicinal purposes in future. Why, may I ask, do they still call it a glove box? Who wears gloves nowadays?’

  He was burbling away, trying to distract her. She gave him full marks for it. She took some deep breaths. He waited for her to regain her equilibrium. At length she said, ‘I’m all right now. Sorry for making such an exhibition of myself.’

  They moved forward a few fee
t. The traffic eased ahead of them, and they almost managed thirty miles an hour before they slowed down and stopped again.

  He said, ‘You’ll be all right when you get back to Thomas. He’s a rock, isn’t he?’

  She nodded. Yes, Thomas was a rock, but he was a rock which was about to be blown up by person or persons unknown. If he survived this attack of whatever it was, if they let him out of hospital, hopefully cured, then he’d have to face a police investigation. He’d come down again in one piece, but perhaps with some bits chipped off him. She struggled to think in a positive fashion.

  Rafael said, ‘Changing the subject: I wasn’t going to mention it so soon, but would you like me to suggest myself for … no, it’s too early. Isn’t it?’

  ‘What is? Oh. Ah.’ Ellie almost managed a smile. ‘Why, Rafael! I’ve thought for some time how good it would be to have you join us in the trust. That is, if you could find the time to do so, what with the baby coming and your having to find a permanent place to live. I’ve already sounded out the other members of the trust about it and they liked the idea. I’m thrilled that you should think of doing it. But you mustn’t join us yet.’

  ‘You need me more than ever now you’ve got all that extra money coming in. Susan suggested it first, by the way. You know me; if left to myself, I’d only think of making money. Heaven only knows what would have become of me if I hadn’t met Susan, who introduced me to you and Thomas and taught me that there were better ways of getting through the day than that. Susan tells me I need to spend more time thinking about others, and I’m beginning to think she’s right.’

  Rafael always paints himself worse than he is, doesn’t he?

  She tried for the light touch. ‘It warms the cockles of my heart that you should offer but you don’t realize how difficult life would become for you if your family and friends heard you were sticking up for a man accused of murder.’

  ‘Let me tell you something about my family, Mrs Quicke. My mother may have been born in Italy, given me her father’s name and passed on his genes, but she would never oppose my father in any way. He’s a throwback to the Victorian age: upright, conscientious, and rigidly Puritan in his thinking. He regarded my buccaneering days with dismay. He found it hardly believable that he could have produced someone who dillied and dallied with girls, he was horrified when I rejected a career in academia and turned to making money by developing a rundown block of flats. I am not what he thought a son of his ought to be. Don’t get me wrong; he’s fond of me in a way, and I of him. I respect his values, on the whole. We’re always polite to one another, but I won’t melt if he tries to blast me with a flame-thrower.’

  ‘You inherited the money to buy the flats from an uncle?’

  ‘My father’s brother. Another buccaneer. Made his money in some Get Rich Quick Scheme, got out just before the police moved in on him, narrowly avoided spending some time in jail and drank himself to death. Yes, he left me what was left of his money, with a recommendation to buy the best wines and never to listen to my father’s advice.’

  Ellie began to smile, and then to laugh out loud. ‘Does Susan know all this?’

  ‘Of course she does. She knows she’s got her work cut out to make a human being of me, to which I say that I’m a work in progress. So, Mrs Quicke, you’ll present me to your trust as soon as you like. Next week, perhaps? I know you usually meet on a Thursday morning. Are you going to have to call an extra meeting, or shall we make a date for it now?’

  ‘You’re quite mad. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Mm-hm. I’ll take that as a “yes”.’

  Ellie was silent. Her stomach was playing up. Fear was doing horrid things to her digestion. As it had done to Thomas’s? He’d been suffering from indigestion for some time, hadn’t he? They’d put it down to Hetty’s cooking and it was true that her pastry did lie heavily on the stomach, but the sort of pain which would have driven the stoical Thomas to hospital was something else, wasn’t it?

  Something was very wrong. Ellie didn’t believe in omens and superstitions. Of course not. But there was a nasty pressure, not exactly in her lungs, but thereabouts. Something thudding away, telling her that all was not well. She said, ‘Is there any way we can get off this motorway, Rafael? I’m so sorry, I don’t drive, and you know what you’re doing, far better than me, but … I’m really worried about Thomas, which is quite stupid, I know that. He’s in the best of hands.’

  ‘Nearly there. Approaching the turn off to Ealing now. When Susan hears what’s happened, she’ll be blaming herself, thinking it was her cooking giving him a tummy ache.’

  ‘It’s probably the black coffee he drinks before he goes to bed at night. I’ve never understood how he can do that and sleep soundly.’

  Rafael said, ‘Do you want to see if you can contact Lesley, tell her what’s happened to Thomas and that you don’t know how long you’ll be at the hospital?’

  Of course. That was the sensible thing to do. She didn’t do it. Her hands were shaking too much. She said, ‘I’ll do it in a minute.’

  Finally they reached the hospital. Ellie shot inside while Rafael parked the car, and they chased one another through the different sections till they found Thomas in a bed in Accident and Emergency. He was wearing a hospital gown, with a bouquet of needles in the back of one of his hands. He looked tired but pleased to see them.

  ‘Sorry about this. The pain got too bad to ignore. It’s never been as bad as this before. They suspect a stomach ulcer. They’ve done some tests and are awaiting the results.’

  Ellie had hold of his hand as if she were afraid he’d slip away if she didn’t hold on to him. ‘It’s Friday afternoon. Will they do anything over the weekend?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Thomas. He closed his eyes for a moment and it looked as if he’d drifted off to sleep. Then he struggled awake. ‘How stupid of me. If they keep me in, there’s a couple of things that need seeing to. Ellie, don’t wait around. Hospitals are such depressing places. I’ll ring you when there’s any news. Can you get hold of my secretary, tell her what’s happened? I was going to go through everything one more time before I sent it off to the printers on Monday. So, just in case I don’t get back in time, tell her to have a quick shufti if she will, and send it all off.’

  Something was wrong with Ellie’s throat. She tried to speak. Failed. Coughed. Managed it. ‘Don’t you dare die on me!’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ His eyes went beyond Ellie to Rafael. ‘Look after her for me.’

  Rafael said, ‘I’ll ask what’s happening at the desk.’

  Ellie kept hold of Thomas’s hand. His eyes closed again, but he said, ‘How was the funeral?’

  ‘Fine. Evan made a bit of a scene. Par for the course, I suppose.’ She didn’t tell him about being left Monique’s money. Time for that later, when he was feeling better. A stomach ulcer was painful but not life-threatening, right? They’d give him some jalop and send him home. Hopefully.

  He looked ill. He hadn’t eaten anything which would have brought this attack about, had he? It must have been brought on by anxiety about the money … and he didn’t know someone had been to the police about it.

  She wasn’t going to tell him.

  Rafael returned with a porter. Thomas was being whisked off for more tests. No, Ellie couldn’t go with him. She was told to ring later, much later. They’d probably be keeping Thomas in overnight. Yes, yes. Ring later. Now, off we go …

  Rafael put his arm round Ellie as Thomas was borne away. Rafael’s arm was strong.

  Ellie said, ‘I am not going to break down and weep. No. That would be totally counter-productive. Stomach ulcers are quite common. Doctors know how to treat them. They do it all the time.’

  Rafael said, ‘Good girl. That’s the ticket. Let’s get out of here and ring Susan. Look at the time! She’ll want to know what you’ve been doing with me.’

  ‘Lesley! I’d forgotten that Lesley wanted to come round. What on earth am I going to say to he
r? Will she think Thomas is malingering, that he’s managed to get himself admitted to hospital to avoid being questioned by the police?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ echoed Ellie. ‘Pull yourself together, girl!’ And then tried to laugh at herself. ‘Hark at me. Going senile.’

  ‘Not you, Ellie. Let me reassure Susan that I’ve not met with a fatal accident on the way back from the funeral, and then I’ll take you home. By that time, they may well have some news for you from the hospital.’

  ‘They’ll let me come back this evening for visiting time, won’t they?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’ll hang around for a bit, anyway, in case you need ferrying to and fro again.’

  ‘You talk as if I’m two years old,’ said Ellie, hanging on to her dignity. ‘I’m perfectly able to cope. I can’t afford to give way to the vapours, or whatever it was that Victorian ladies were always doing in moments of stress—’

  ‘It was the corsets that did for them, wasn’t it? If they tried to take a deep breath, they passed out.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to do that!’ She crossed her fingers.

  Rafael made his phone call and drove them both back to Ellie’s place.

  She let them into the hall. All was quiet and peaceful. The grandfather clock ticked. Midge the cat was curled up on the hall chair, asleep.

  Her police friend, Lesley, appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, saying, ‘Hello, there. Your housekeeper let me in!’

  And it was at that point Ellie gave way to a flood of tears.

  TWELVE

  Late Friday afternoon

  Lesley hastened to Ellie’s side. ‘My dear, whatever is the matter?’

  Ellie tried to speak and failed. Found a hankie and used it. ‘Sorry, sorry. Such a cry-baby. Lesley, Thomas is in hospital, and they don’t know why and they’re doing tests and they’ve sent us home. It’s probably just a stomach ulcer, but he looks dreadful and I’m so afraid!’

  ‘There, there. Thomas is strong. I’m sure he’ll be all right.’