Murder by Mistake (23 page)

‘I’m out of here,’ said Thomas, getting to his feet while finishing his second mug of tea. ‘This house is no place for a sensible working man today. Mia and Rose; I’ll drop you in the Avenue, and you can get a taxi back with your purchases, right? Ring for a black cab from outside the station, rather than wait for a minicab. I’ve got an errand to run at the registry office –’ and here he flicked a grin at Ellie – ‘to check up on something. I’ll leave the car in the Town Hall car park and grab a sandwich for lunch somewhere after my appointment up in town. Then I can pick up the car on my way back and take it over to the church for the rehearsal at a quarter to six. Mia; Ellie will bring you over in a cab. Right, everyone?’

‘Can I come to the rehearsal, too?’ said Rose, brightening up.

‘Of course,’ said Ellie. She gave Thomas a special smile. He hadn’t dismissed her worries about Denis, after all. He was going out of his way to check up on the paperwork. Good for Thomas. And Mia was actually planning to leave the house? Wonderful.

The three left in a flurry, which gave Ellie a chance to rescue the local
Gazette
from where she’d hidden it. It would not be a good idea for Mia to see pictures of the accident on Monday, even though she was so much better now. The story was on the front:
Tragic Accident – Young Wife Killed – Two Children left Motherless
. The picture showed Ellie helping Mia to her feet, the wrecked pushchair and the big black man standing beside Ellie, gazing off the edge of the picture to where Ellie knew the young woman had been lying. Thankfully, there was no view of the actual body.

Ellie sat down with a bump, hands shaking. The shock, the blood, those two wonderful women working on the toddler, the wreckage . . . the baby wailing.

She sniffed, told herself to stop crying. It had been an accident.

She reached for some scissors to cut the picture and the story out of the paper.

All their names were there. Some hadn’t been spelled correctly, but that didn’t matter. Mia’s name was given as ‘May’ and she was reported to be Ellie’s daughter. On the other hand, they’d got Ellie’s name right, as well as the name of the road in which she lived. Leon’s, too. Apparently, he’d been discharged from hospital the same day. Good. She must check how he was doing and find some way of rewarding him for saving her life.

Then she noticed something which lifted her spirits. ‘The children are being cared for by relatives.’ What a relief! She hoped they’d be much loved.

What did the police have to say about it? Nothing Ellie didn’t know. A dreadful accident . . . A stolen Volvo . . . Joyriding which had got out of control. Anyone who had seen anything, etcetera, contact the police on, etcetera.

Ellie took a deep breath. It had been an accident, not attempted murder. It was all in the past. It had happened; she’d survived and so had Mia. Best not to think about it. There was plenty else to think about, wasn’t there?

Such as getting in some food for the weekend. Then Mr Balls must be let in and listened to. As Ellie stacked breakfast plates in the dishwasher, the first of the vans rolled into the driveway. Electrician, decorator, florist or members of the cleaning team?

Ellie opened the front door to let them in and picked an envelope up off the doormat – the bill for Diana’s wedding dress. Then came a box of favours for Diana’s wedding; chocolates, by the look of it.

Mr Balls arrived with his two slaves, the doorbell continued to ring, and workmen to trample through the hall. The decorator arrived with a stout youth carrying bags of this and that. The electricians came. Ellie warned the cleaners that the polished floor of the hall was going to need polishing again that evening.

After fifteen minutes of smiling and being helpful to everyone – who probably wished her out of the way in any case – she escaped to her office. Pat was there, sniffing. Pat didn’t like all this disruption. Well, neither did Ellie. But – a naughty thought occurred to her – Ellie could escape if Pat stayed to field queries from the Party Planner.

‘Dear Pat,’ said Ellie. ‘I have to deliver a cheque to Diana’s dressmaker this morning because if the woman doesn’t get paid today, there’ll be no wedding dress. So I’ll have to go out for a while. Can you hold the fort for me? Oh, and can you order us a minicab to take us to the church this evening in time for the rehearsal; that’s for Rose, Mia and me. As for the rest, forget the routine. Smile at Mr Balls and make endless cups of tea, but go light on the biscuits because there aren’t many left.’

Ellie scribbled out a cheque for the dress, wincing, and made a couple of phone calls. There was no point visiting someone if they were going to be out.

Denis’s wife Valerie lived in a three-storey brick house near Scotch Common. It was one of the few remaining Victorian houses in that part of Ealing, and one of the most expensive. Ellie recognized the battered red car as she turned into the driveway. It hadn’t taken her long to walk there, and the fresh air had done her good, helped her to think clearly.

Valerie opened the door to reveal a wide hall littered with abandoned shoes, bicycle helmets, and a deflated football. A number of children’s and adults coats hung on a rack, but perhaps not as many as Ellie might have expected. There was also a lack of child noise. Somewhere in the depths of the house Radio Three was playing a waltz by Strauss.

‘Mrs Quicke? I recognize you from your picture in the local paper. That was a nasty accident, wasn’t it? Are you all right now?’

‘More or less. Do call me Ellie.’

‘That’s not your daughter in the picture though, is it? Or do you have two?’

‘No, Mia’s just a friend staying with me till after the weekend. The children are out?’

Ellie followed her hostess down the hall to a large kitchen at the back. Here was more evidence of children’s activities: workbooks and comics on the table, one grey sock in the middle of the floor, a muddle of newly washed and dried clothes waiting to be ironed. The fitments were all in the fashion of five years back. Someone had spent money on the house, but not recently.

Valerie said, ‘My mother and father came to collect them first thing this morning, taking them over to France on the ferry. They’ll be out of touch for a while.’

‘How wise.’ Ellie suspected a lie told in a good cause. The children were probably on their way to Scotland, perhaps to an activity camp somewhere.

‘They told me what happened yesterday and how kind you were to them. They also told me what their father wanted them to say. I wasn’t going to have them questioned by the police. Coffee?’

‘Please.’

As Valerie turned to the coffee machine, Ellie saw that one side of her face was yellow. From a bruise? Ah, so Denis hit his wife as well as his children? Valerie was not quite what Ellie had expected. Denis’s wife had a worn, lined face, but her clothes sense was impeccable, even if neither jeans nor cotton T-shirt were this year’s fashion. Her hair had been brushed into a smooth blonde mop showing grey at the parting. Her speech was pure Roedean, an exclusive girls’ boarding school. Add grandparents who could take the boys off somewhere at the drop of a hat and a new picture of Denis’s marriage emerged.

The coffee was good, strong and black. Ellie added sugar and milk. Valerie didn’t. Valerie was very thin. Anorexic? No. Racehorse slender. Good bones, well educated. Moneyed background?

Valerie said, ‘You wanted to see me about . . .?’

‘The abuse that you and the children have suffered.’

Valerie looked out of the window at a garden which accommodated climbing frames and football nets. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Why doesn’t he hit the middle two?’

Valerie continued to look out of the window. ‘Is it any business of yours?’

‘I’m just wondering what will happen when he starts on my daughter. Diana’s not like you. I don’t think she’ll take it.’

‘I didn’t, either. At first. But after a while . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Once you’ve been properly done over a couple of times and haven’t the strength to fight back, you tend to cringe the moment someone raises his hand.’

‘You admit he beats you?’

Another shrug.

‘And the children?’

‘They didn’t adapt well to their new school. The fees are an arm and a leg. He was furious when their school reports were so poor.’

‘In this recession . . . wouldn’t it be best to return them to their state school?’

A voice devoid of emotion. ‘He wanted it.’

‘I can see that it would involve a loss of face if he took them away now, but lots of people have to downsize nowadays. Or did he hope your parents would subsidize the fees?’ A guess, but a lucky one.

Valerie shook her head from side to side, over and over. She grabbed her mug of coffee and downed it in one. ‘They’ve decided it’s time he stood on his own two feet. I agree.’

‘Ah. They’d been subsidizing you for some time?’

Valeria relaxed. She pulled out cigarettes, a disposable lighter, and found an ashtray. She lit up, coughed, and began to talk. ‘You must think me a fool to have put up with it for so long. Pride, you know? I didn’t want to admit anything was wrong for, oh, years. He didn’t hit me at first, not when things were going well. He was proud of me and the boys, and of this house; his position in society. My father was in the construction business, did well, sold out at the right time, has a good pension. Nothing was too good for my brother and me when we were growing up: ponies in the paddock, private schooling, holidays abroad.

‘Denis took to the lifestyle like a pro, although I found out later – much later – that in fact he was a grammar school boy who’d flannelled his way up from nothing, a terraced house in a poor suburb of Coventry. His father worked in the motor industry on a production line . . . but we don’t mention that, of course. In fact, it took me a while to discover he hadn’t been educated at Harrow.

‘Can you believe how naïve I was? I was never a Brain of Britain, nor a beauty. I was working in a travel agency – a job my father found for me – when in walked Denis and took me away from All That. His words. “I’m taking you away from all that.” He was so powerful, so mesmerizing. I hadn’t a chance. He made sure I was pregnant before I took him home to meet the parents. He’d done his homework, of course. He knew exactly how much my father was worth before he set eyes on me. That only came out later, too.’

‘Your parents helped you buy this house?’

‘They also helped him get started in the estate agency business. He was doing well enough, but not brilliantly, when he met Diana and went into partnership with her. And finally moved in with her.’

Ellie winced at an uncomfortable thought. Had Denis known Diana was the daughter of a wealthy woman when he met and wooed her? But surely even Denis wouldn’t expect Ellie to subsidize him? Would he?

Um. Possibly. Yes.

After Miss Quicke had died, Ellie had made a new will, leaving the house to Thomas for his lifetime and everything else to her charitable trust. Diana knew that, of course. But did Denis?

Ellie probed a little more. ‘So you’re over him, looking forward to being rid of him?’

A twist of the lip. ‘Sure. I want out, and I don’t want the boys having any contact with him in future.’

‘Then why not take their bruises to the police?’

Silence. Eyes down. A long pull on her cigarette. Valerie waved the smoke away, looked out of the window.

‘You want more than that,’ said Ellie, guessing. ‘You want this house, or its equivalent. You want a fresh start, and you want him off your back for good. Difficult to arrange, under today’s laws.’

‘We’ll manage.’ She ground out the stub of her cigarette. ‘If that’s all . . .?’

Ellie played around with the suspicions in her mind. ‘Why haven’t you divorced him?’

Valerie gave a little jump. She hadn’t expected that question. She picked up their mugs and carried them to the sink. ‘I have. Of course.’ She ran the tap, and over the noise of the water said, ‘If you don’t mind, I’ve a lot to do today.’

‘Like going to the hairdresser? You didn’t visit one yesterday, did you? You haven’t been to the hairdresser for weeks, judging by the amount of grey hair showing at your parting. So where were you yesterday?’ Ellie made a further intuitive leap. ‘You were at your solicitor’s.’

Valerie turned off the tap and led the way to the hall. ‘I don’t have to answer your questions. Would you please go now?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Ellie, deep in thought. ‘I don’t think you’ve even started divorce proceedings, have you? You could stop this wedding, but you don’t want to do that. You want him to go through with it and then you’ll have him for bigamy. After that, you can cut him out of your life without fear that he’ll hit you again. It’s neat, I must say. I could even find it in me to applaud, if it weren’t my daughter who’s involved.’

‘Diana’s tough. She can take it.’

‘She’s besotted with him.’ Ellie spoke to the back of Valerie’s head. ‘If you let him go ahead and do it, you’ll be an accessory to his crime.’

Valerie turned to face Ellie. ‘I hear nothing, I see nothing, I say nothing. I haven’t been invited to the wedding. For all I know, this remarriage of his is a figment of your imagination, a rumour set about to upset me, his dutiful little wife.’

Ellie took in the firm set of Valerie’s lips and the bruise on the side of her face. There were yellowing marks on her upper arms, too.

Ellie held out her hand. ‘If I were in your shoes, I might well think the same. Do you have a good solicitor? Because if not I might be able to point you in the direction of one.’

‘My brother has arranged all that for me.’

Ellie said, meaning it, ‘I wish you the very best.’

Valerie laughed, short and sharp. She shook hands and opened the door to the outer world. ‘I’m putting this house on the market and renting a house in a village near my parents. Don’t tell him, will you? Hopefully I’ll be gone before he finds out.’