Murder by Mistake (13 page)

‘Oh, what am I to do? Oh dear, don’t take any notice of me, I’m not usually like this.’ She looked round for her handbag to find a hankie.

He got to his feet, using his cane to help himself up, and walked over to the open French windows. ‘Mrs Quicke, I am not
the
Party Planner for nothing. I know how to solve your problem. It will require a great deal of hard work. Time is not on our side, but I have the solution! We must have a marquee on your lawn!

‘We will set aside the dining room to receive coats. I will arrange for some racks to be delivered to hang them on in safety. You will lock the door to this drawing room, and lock the French windows as well, so that no one can enter this room. The receiving line will be held in the hall. Bride and groom, parents, best man, bridesmaids. The photographs will be taken there, of course.

‘From there the guests will proceed through the conservatory into the marquee, which will be laid out with tables for fifty people. Cables will carry power from the house for lighting, and for the disco. A side entrance will lead direct to your kitchens, which will be where the food comes on to the premises, ready cooked and ready to serve. There is a back entrance, I assume? The wines can also be kept chilled there. The bar? We will set it up at the back, beside the exit to the kitchens. Are you with me?’

‘Yes, indeed. But, a disco in my garden at night? Whatever will the neighbours say?’

‘You will send round a note asking for their understanding because this will only be for one night. If you finish before midnight, there should be no complaints.’

Ellie went to stand beside him, taking in the depth and width of the garden. ‘The beauty of your scheme is that the two parties can be kept separate and no damage done to the house. How Ursula’s mother would have loved a big “do” in a marquee, and how Ursula would have hated it. I’m very fond of that girl, and she deserves a quiet family wedding. A marquee here for Diana – splendid. It solves all our problems. However can I thank you?’

‘By paying my fee, which will be enormous.’ He smiled and winked to show he was only joking, but she thought he was worth whatever money he chose to ask.

She said, ‘I’ll gladly pay your fee, and double it if you’d agree to mastermind both weddings. I’ll fetch you the file Ursula has given me and, if you agree, you can act as Master of Ceremonies throughout the day.’

‘You do me too much honour. Slaves!’ His assistants rose from chairs in the background. ‘Take notes. We must get on the phone at once. We need a wooden framework to cover the lawn, and on this we need a sufficient number of boards to act as a dance floor. There must be no skimping, no rocking. Then we need a marquee. I will measure up; I don’t trust anyone else with such details. Tonight we burn the midnight oil, working out a timetable for everything.’

His eyebrows worked overtime. ‘Mrs Quicke, you will have a copy of my schedule tomorrow morning, and so will your daughter. If there is any quibbling, remind her that she who pays the piper, calls the tune.’

Ellie fetched the file for Ursula’s wedding and gave it to him. He glanced through it and said, ‘Is your phone number here? And your mobile number, please.’

She wrote down the numbers. ‘I rarely have my mobile switched on. I only use it for emergencies.’

‘This is an emergency. Please leave it switched on at all times.’

Properly cowed, Ellie produced her mobile phone from her handbag and switched it on.

‘Slaves! To work. Where is the measuring tape? Not that one, you fool! The larger one.’

Ellie left them to it.

The house lay quietly around her absorbing their busyness; Mr Balls was giving orders to his slaves in the garden. She could hear Thomas’s deep tones; he must be on the phone in his study. The cleaners were now in the drawing room, removing all the valuable silver and china, rolling it in bubble wrap and storing it in wooden boxes.

From the kitchen came the sound of Capital Radio, not as loud as Rose usually had it . . . and yes, the chirrup of Rose’s voice and Mia’s sweeter tones. There came the clash of pans as they cooked something for lunch or supper. The grandfather clock ticked away, oblivious of the recent threat to its safety. Ellie put out her hand to touch its silky wooden surface. ‘You shall not be moved.’ She laughed at herself.

As she relaxed, various parts of her body began to hurt. She’d been tossed around rather too much for comfort these last few days.

Her mind went into overdrive. Was Mia right in thinking that she’d been the target of that hit and run on Monday? A hit and run which had taken the life of a young woman and left two children motherless? The lilies, the wreath and the sympathy card surely meant that she had been the target?

Ellie let herself down on to a hard wooden chair, thinking that she ought to take some paracetamol for her aches and pains, aware that she was not thinking too clearly. Had she drunk more than her usual quota of coffee that day?

If Mia had been the target of Monday’s hit and run, then how to explain the attempt of the white van to run Ellie over today? Well, someone might have thought that Mia would be visiting her mother and had lain in wait for her to emerge from the house. As soon as he saw a female figure, he went for it, not realizing till too late that he’d mistaken his victim. Did that make sense? Sort of.

The house phone trilled at Ellie’s elbow, and she jumped. The answer phone light was winking, telling her that a couple of messages had already been recorded for her. She lifted the receiver and recited their phone number.

‘Who is that? You rang me earlier. Who are you? What’s going on?’ A woman’s voice, neither young nor old.

‘I’m afraid I—’

‘This is the number that rang me. Look, no messing. What’s this all about?’

Light dawned. ‘Are you Mrs Summers? I think my business manager may have contacted you earlier. He was trying to trace someone who’s applied to rent a place from our housing trust. Would that be you?’

‘It might be.’ Cautiously. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘I’m not sure. Look, could I drop round to see you for a moment?’

‘I’m not really at liberty to . . .’ Her voice faded away as she shouted at someone to shut up for a moment.

Ellie could hear boys’ voices in the background. Several boys. Unbroken voices, but tough. Top of primary school age? Could it possibly be that Denis’s children had been farmed out to this woman to look after during the school holidays? Having met Denis’s young hooligans, Ellie was of the opinion that, if this were true, the woman deserved a medal for services beyond the call of duty.

Mrs Summers returned to the phone. ‘I’ll be free this afternoon after two and before half past three. Why don’t you drop round then?’

‘I’ll try.’

Mr Balls and his slaves passed by, smiling and bowing, miming that he’d phone her later. Ellie smiled back. What a relief to have him take over! They let themselves out of the house as Ellie pressed the play button on the answer phone.

Two messages. The first was from Diana saying she might not be able to get over till after four. The second was from WDC Milburn, saying she’d tried to reach Mrs Quicke but was off duty till Monday morning, and please to leave a message if it were anything urgent.

Thomas appeared, smiling and relaxed after a good morning’s work. ‘You’re looking tired, my love. Are the cleaners being a pain? I see the dining room’s been cleared already. Remind me to remove my stereo from the sitting room and store it under my desk. Have you had something to eat yet? Will you treat yourself to a nap after lunch?’

She cranked herself upright, thinking that at least his sanctum appeared to have been respected. So far. ‘I have to go out again. Oh dear, I wish I hadn’t said I would.’

‘Food up!’ Rose, all smiles. ‘Today we’re having one of Mia’s aunt’s favourites: a sausage-meat and onion pie.’

Ellie didn’t mean to fall asleep after lunch. She sat down and closed her eyes for a moment, only to hear the grandfather clock in the hall chime three. She jerked upright. ‘Oh dear!’ She’d been meaning to go somewhere, but where?

She remembered. Ouch. She was going to be late. Mrs Summers lived the other side of the Avenue, didn’t she? The address; where was it? Stewart had left it for her, but what had she done with it? She found it and tucked it in her purse. Would she have time to walk there? Probably not. She phoned for a cab, and then dashed into the kitchen to see if there was anything the cooks wanted her to buy for supper. The kitchen had been scrubbed clean and tidy, the dishwasher was reaching its final spin, and there was no sign of Rose, who was probably having a nap, or Mia – who might be anywhere. Well, probably not out of the house. Ellie left a note to say she’d be back by four and got to the front door as her cab drew up outside.

The road in which Mrs Summers lived was not far from Ellie’s old house. She got the cab driver to cruise along, looking at the numbers on the gates till she located the right one. Was this it? It was a small semi-D, three bedrooms, in pristine condition. Oh, except that the gate had recently been torn off its hinges, and various shrubs in the front garden had been trampled into the ground.

Ellie envisaged a herd of elephants – no, children – rampaging through the garden, shattering everything in their path.

The cab driver said, ‘You want that I wait for you, Mrs Quicke?’

Ellie hesitated. How long was she going to be?

A well-known figure came out of the house, using his remote to unlock a large car parked nearby. He was scowling. A well-built man, a man wearing his forty-odd years with panache, a man from whom you would not buy a used car. He had a smile as false as National Health teeth, but at the moment it was nowhere to be seen. Denis the Menace. The big car swallowed him up and he drove away, still in a temper.

Ellie shrank back in her seat. She told herself there was no reason to be frightened, but for some reason, she was.

‘Summat the matter, missus?’

‘Not really. Yes, do wait for me. I won’t be long.’ She’d better have backup. If this Mrs Summers were in league with Denis, then it was only sensible to keep the driver waiting.

She rang the doorbell. Sweet chimes. She couldn’t place the tune, but thought she might recognize it if she heard it again. The house was quiet. The boys had departed. She was, of course, arriving after the time slot she’d been allocated. Perhaps Mrs Summers had also gone out already?

A woman opened the door, saying, ‘Forgotten something? Oh.’ She stepped out, looking down the road. ‘Oh dear. Has he gone already? He was going to give you a lift.’ Mrs Summers was a skinny woman in a skimpy dress. She had a mess of taffy-coloured hair and was in her early forties, aiming to look thirty. She wore a lot of heavy gold rings and two gold bracelets, plus hoop earrings.

Ellie said, ‘I know you from somewhere, don’t I?’

‘Probably. I used to work part-time at the 2Ds Estate Agency, and you came in once or twice, didn’t you? I’ll give him a ring, tell him you’ve arrived at last. He’ll come back for you, I’m sure.’

‘Don’t bother. I’ve got a cab waiting for me outside, and I’ll catch up with Denis later.’

‘Well, come on in, then.’ The woman was nervous, perhaps embarrassed, but not showing signs of guilt. ‘Like a cuppa? Sorry about the mess.’ She led the way into a through lounge and dining room, sparkling with new paint and the very latest wallpaper. The furniture was also expensive and up to date, but showed evidence of a recent rough house . . . or of four bully boys tearing the place apart.

Mrs Summers picked up a cushion and chucked it back on to the sofa. ‘I’m looking after my ex-boss’s kids in the mornings.’

‘You have my sympathy. I’ve met them.’

The woman laughed, reddening. ‘Oh, they’re not so bad, really, and Denis said he’d compensate me for them wrecking my vegetable patch.’ She gestured to the French windows at the back, which were open and gave on to a garden which looked as if a tornado had burst through it. Runner-bean sticks had been torn up, with the plants still clinging to them. Marrows had been trampled into mush. Ripe tomatoes had been thrown against a circle chalked on the fence.

Ellie said, ‘Oh dear.’

Mrs Summers pulled a face. ‘Yes, but Denis and I go back a long way, and he’s promised to make good any damage. Since my hubby passed on and the work at the agency dried up, I’ve been at a loose end. Might as well keep busy, don’t you know? In the afternoons I’ve even been doing some cold calling on the phone. Tiring, that. People are so rude, you can’t imagine. I usually pop over to see my sister in Islington on Wednesday afternoons, which was why I asked you to call earlier. Their mother collects the boys at one, takes them for tennis lessons. Then Denis dropped by specially to give you a lift back home.’

‘And to pay you?’

‘Well, not exactly. At the end of the week, he said.’ She had put most of the cushions back on the chairs by now and gestured for Ellie to be seated. She met Ellie’s eyes with only a trace of embarrassment. ‘It’s about the house you called? He said there wouldn’t be a problem, but if you’ve found out already . . .’ She shrugged. ‘There wasn’t any harm in it, was there?’

NINE

E
llie said, ‘I wouldn’t agree with you about there being no harm done, Mrs Summers.’ She picked up an orange which had rolled under her chair, and restored it to a bowl of fruit on the window sill. The flat-screen television was about the only thing in the room that hadn’t been upended or thrown around. ‘Tell me how you got into this.’ The sympathetic tone of voice worked.