Murder by Mistake (11 page)

Ellie’s eyebrows were almost up to her hairline. ‘It must be. And to think of your dear husband and those handsome boys of his in jail. Devastating. I assume you visit?’

‘Well, no. My solicitor advises . . . and they’ve been moved around a bit. The boys, I mean. Some trouble. I really don’t wish to know the details. A quarrelsome pair. I knew the eldest had a short fuse, but really . . . No, I really can’t subject myself to . . . And I’ve divorced Mr Prior, naturally.’

‘Naturally. So where do you plan to go when you leave here?’

‘A kind friend has offered me sanctuary in a flat in the Barbican. Do you know it? Very fine views, I believe.’

‘Close to his office, no doubt.’

The woman stared at Ellie. ‘I trust you aren’t hinting at anything untoward? I’m sure my friend would take that badly.’ The mask was off; Adelina shed the ‘poor me’ role to reveal the strong personality beneath.

‘So, how may I help you?’ asked Ellie.

‘I need to know how my daughter is doing, what medication she’s on, what therapy she’s taking.’

Ah. The woman wanted to know this so that she could build a case against Mia, prove the girl didn’t know what she was doing or saying when she accused her family of rape? Above all, prove she was unfit to give evidence against her mother?

‘She’s taking her time,’ said Ellie, ‘recovering. I don’t think you’d guess what she’s been through, to look at her now.’

This was not what the woman wanted to hear. ‘I understood she’s very confused about the tragic events of last New Year’s Eve.’

Ellie looked at her watch. Now she’d discovered what the woman was after, she couldn’t get away fast enough. ‘She’s fine. I’m afraid I have to go. Another appointment.’

‘With her doctor? I would welcome his assessment. Will you accompany her? Is she using our old family doctor? I could ring him, make an appointment for her, make sure he understands the position.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ellie, getting to her feet with some difficulty since her chair was so low, ‘but that won’t be necessary. Let me have your new address in due course, won’t you? Is it going to be necessary to put this house on the market?’

‘I’ve arranged a private sale already. Of course I get this house as my share of the divorce settlement, plus alimony.’ The woman kept pace with Ellie on her retreat to the front door. Now she laid a be-ringed hand on Ellie’s arm. ‘I won’t offend you by saying that I’d make it worth your while to keep me informed but, as a mother yourself, you must realize what I’m going through.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ said Ellie, wondering what would have happened if Diana and Mia had changed places at birth, and mentally reeling at the thought. If Diana was hard and greedy now, what would she have been like if she’d been taught the ways of the world by this woman? The mind boggled. Perhaps there was something to be grateful for in the present situation, after all.

Once out in the drive, Ellie took a deep breath of fresh air. A white van had arrived in her absence, parked with its motor idling at the side of the house. A tradesman?

As Ellie walked down the drive the van started up behind her. She saw her cab driver look up, startled. A glance over her shoulder made her realize that the van was bearing down on her on the wrong side of the drive.

She wouldn’t have enough time to reach her cab before . . .

She tried to catch the van driver’s eye, but the windscreen was tinted.

She looked around, wildly, giving way to panic.

The van was almost upon her.

There were low growing shrubs on either side of the drive. She took a dive into them as her cab driver screamed, and the van thundered past.

She’d landed in a pittosporum. A pretty, curly-leaved pale green shrub much favoured by flower-arrangers. Reasonably springy.

She extricated herself with some difficulty, helped up by her shocked cab driver.

‘You all right?’

She tested her arms and legs. ‘I’ve lost a shoe. Can you find it?’

‘Let me see, let me see. Whatever did that man mean, driving like that, he should have his licence taken away.’

‘Did you get his number?’

‘Why would I bother with his number? He is just a white van man, and they are two a penny in London, no? Ah, here is your shoe, a little bit of earth inside it, but not to worry, it is all right to wear. Can you walk?’

She could. She got back inside the cab and found her mobile phone. Tried the police station. Learned that DI Willis had just started a week’s leave. Learned that WDC Milburn was not in that day. Left a message for them to call her. Discovered she was trembling.

‘Is all right now?’ The cab driver was anxious. ‘Not a scratch on my car. Is it good idea to tell the police? I can say nothing, nothing at all. I was almost asleep, I swear it. Then I heard the van and I screamed and you heard me and saw what was happening. I saved your life, no?’

That wasn’t how Ellie remembered it, but she wasn’t going to argue. She nodded.

‘So where to now?’ The driver was anxious to get rid of her.

She had intended to do something else this morning. Something to do with flowers. She shook her head. She couldn’t remember. She ached all over and needed the loo. ‘Take me straight back home, will you? And thank you.’

She got back home in time to see a rolled-up carpet being carried through the hall by a couple of hefty lads. The long mahogany table in the dining room had been moved to stand against the wall, and there was her ex-son-in-law, laying out his laptop and some paperwork. Stewart was a big man who liked space around him, so they usually talked business in that room, rather than in her study at the end of the corridor.

Was the carpet going to be put in her study, or in Thomas’s? Thomas didn’t want his room disturbed, did he? She rushed along the corridor, to make sure the men knew that. No, it was going in her study. Somehow or other. Oh well.

She returned to the dining room saying, ‘Sorry, sorry,’ and trying to disentangle herself from the bag she’d been wearing on a strap across her body. She was conscious of a blinking light on the answer phone in the hall, indicating that there was at least one message for her. Tough. It would have to wait.

Rose came across the hall with some coffee for Stewart and nearly dropped the pot when she saw Ellie. ‘Now what? Are you all right?’

‘I fell in a bush. Quite all right. I’d love some coffee, too. But first I must wash my hands. Stewart, would you give me five minutes?’

A good wash in hot water. A few scratches to add to those she’d collected the other day. Perhaps a new bruise or two. Her shoe didn’t look too bad. A bit dusty. She brushed herself down, did some deep-breathing exercises. Found she was still shivering. This would never do. Stewart was a busy man. She mustn’t keep him waiting.

She held on to the washbasin, and closed her eyes.
Dear Lord, I don’t understand what’s going on here. Two vehicles trying to run me down in a week. It’s a bit much, don’t you think? Although, of course the first one was an accident, and this one was probably some stupid fool wanting to give an older woman a fright.

On the screen behind her eyes she replayed Monday’s tragedy: the sprawling pushchair, the spinning wheels, the toddler, the body of the young mother.
Oh, make it go away! Please!

She was going to hyperventilate. No, she wasn’t. Breathe deeply, that was it. And again.

She was smiling as she went into the dining room. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Stewart.’ She found herself a chair and drew it up to the table. ‘Sorry about the mess. We’re having to clear the decks for the wedding, you know. Oh, I am stupid. Of course you know all about it, don’t you? How your Maria can keep the cleaning business going while being a successful wife and mother, I don’t know.’

‘They tell me women are good at multitasking.’ Smiling. ‘She has a really good assistant now to help her, worth her weight, you know? We both owe you so much, we’re delighted to be able to repay, even in such small matters . . .’

‘You’re a lucky man, Stewart, and I’m lucky to have both of you as friends.’ Before they got maudlin, she moved on to business. ‘You have some news for me about the house in Castlebar Road?’

He had his laptop out, and not one but two mobile phones on the table. ‘The letting was handled by Elaine. The paperwork says that the prospective tenant is a Mrs Summers, divorced, large family, wants to take in an aged parent as well, understands there can’t be any subletting. She gave two references and a cheque for the deposit, intending to move in at the end of this month.

‘It sounded all right, but I trust your instinct so I did a spot of delving. We have Internet banking, so I looked to see if Mrs Summers’ cheque has been cleared yet, and it hasn’t. It may be some glitch or other. It may not. I will enquire further.

‘Then I turned up her application form. Mrs Summers’ current address is in Oak Tree Lane. The houses there are small, two- and three-bed cottage types. You wouldn’t normally expect to find a large family in one of them, but at first I gave her the benefit of the doubt; perhaps it’s because she has a large family that she needs to move to a bigger place? On the way over here, I detoured to call at the house she’d given as her current address. A Sikh family live there now. No Mrs Summers, and they don’t know of any Mrs Summers in Oak Tree Lane, either.

‘She gave two references. The first was a doctor in Pitshanger Lane. Maria has a friend who attends that surgery, so I asked her to check that they knew a doctor by that name. She says not. She says that that particular doctor retired a couple of months ago and is now living in Cornwall. The second reference was from a magistrate on the Isleworth circuit.’ He indicated his mobile phones. ‘I’m waiting for a call from him now.’

His phone trilled, and he answered it. ‘Yes, I did leave a message for you. Sorry to trouble you, but we’ve had your name given to us by a Mrs Summers . . . Yes, Summers. As in winter and summer, but with an “s” on the end. She says that . . . You don’t know anyone of that name? Are you sure? Yes, of course you’re . . . Yes, I must be mistaken. I’m so sorry to have troubled . . . Oh, your husband passed away last year? I am sorry to hear it. Yes, it must be very disturbing . . . Again, so sorry.’ He put the phone down, shaking his head.

Ellie helped them both to some more coffee. She felt she needed it, even if Stewart didn’t. He was twisting a pencil around his fingers, rapping the table with it, then jotting down sums.

Ellie said, ‘You will, of course, turn Mrs Summers’ application down. A false address, false references, and we’ve yet to discover what happened to her cheque. The house goes back on the market. It’s not worth turning the matter over to the police.’

Stewart shook his head. ‘There’s no obvious link to Denis. It might not be him behind it. There are other large properties on the market that he might be trying to rent, but I’ve worked it out that he could make a fine living out of that house if he got it rent-free and sublet rooms. The point is; does Diana know?’

Ellie sipped coffee, trying to clear her head. ‘No, I don’t think she does. If she had gone to you asking to rent one of our largest houses, alarm bells would have rung all over the place, wouldn’t they? I don’t think even she would think I’d give them a place like that rent-free. Diana told me that it was Denis who was getting them a large house, and I think she spoke the truth; this is something Denis has thought up for himself. You didn’t see this Mrs Summers yourself? Can you ask Elaine what she looks like?’

‘Will do. One thing, though. Mrs Summers must be a real person, and she must be local, because she presented a cheque in the name of Summers. OK, so it bounced, but she’s got a chequebook with that name on it, right? Banks don’t hand out chequebooks without making sure the person concerned really does live at the given address. Also, she gave references from people who do or did live nearby. Suppose I check how many people with the surname of Summers are in the phone book?’

Someone knocked on the front door and at the same time rang the bell.

‘Heavens!’ Ellie jumped to her feet. ‘The party people for Diana’s wedding reception! Can you manage without me for a bit?’

She shot into the hall and opened the front door, to admit a stately figure carrying a silver-topped cane, dressed in a bright pink shirt over grey jeans, and crowned with a mass of carefully curled yellow hair. Gay as a lark.

Behind him came a downtrodden-looking little man carrying folders and clipboards which kept slipping from under his arms, and a woman holding not one, not two, but three mobile phones.

‘Behold the hour and the Party Planner arrives! Let me introduce myself. Freddie Balls, the man of the moment. You’ll be Mrs Quicke, I assume?’ He revealed blindingly white teeth in what was supposed to be a welcoming smile. The smile quickly morphed into a downturned mouth. ‘I thought the hall would be bigger than this.’

‘Oh,’ said Ellie. ‘Diana did measure it.’

He frowned. ‘If anyone can work miracles, it is I. Show me the reception rooms.’ He turned to the room from which she’d come and threw open the door. On seeing evidence of a meeting in progress, he reeled, the back of his hand to his forehead. ‘Is this all the space I have to work with?’

Ellie suppressed a giggle. ‘Would you like to see the drawing room?’ She felt sure he’d call it the ‘drawing room’ and not the ‘sitting room’. She opened the door and let him take in the splendour of the big room, furnished with antiques from many periods.

His eyes were small, bright and quick. ‘If all the furniture were removed from both rooms, and my own tables and chairs brought in, then we might, possibly, be able to seat fifty people for supper. But it would not be politic to divide the sheep from the goats, would it? Those in one room would envy those in the other, and whichever way we looked at it, communication would be difficult. No, impossible. I cannot be responsible for such a social disaster. My reputation would not permit it.’