Murder in Style (16 page)

Ellie nodded. ‘When the body's defences are lowered, it's easy to fall victim to a bad cold, or an infection. Is she on antibiotics?'

‘She's being well looked after. Come this way …'

Ellie didn't move. ‘In a way, I understand why Gordon is so difficult. It must be hard enough to be confined to a wheelchair. Who was Clemmie's father?'

A shrug. ‘A young man someone brought to the party that we hosted for the twins' eighteenth birthday. He went abroad the next day and we had no means of getting in touch with him. I'm sorry to say there was a lot of loose behaviour that night. Ray with his smart new sports car, everyone drinking far too much, with goings-on in every bedroom! Gordon had been seeing Juno for some months and was pressing her to get engaged. It seems he was a little rough with her that night; some personable young student consoled her and well, there it was. Both the girls found themselves pregnant, and of course Gordon thought, we all thought, that he was the father. The student went off back to Harvard or wherever it was that he came from and the girls had a double wedding. All as it should be.'

‘Except that it wasn't all that it should be?'

‘No one realized till the babies were born. Gordon said he'd stand by Juno and take the baby on as his own. Which he did. All legal.'

‘It soured him?'

‘Juno said they must have another baby straight away and they tried and tried, and went for tests, but it turned out he was infertile. Now that did sour him. So he went out, got drunk with some of his friends and they finished upside down in a ditch. No seat belts, of course. Young men don't believe in seat belts, do they? So you see, she can never leave him.'

Ellie wasn't so sure about that, but she understood that Marika's strong Christian faith might lead her to think that way. Perhaps she was right.

‘You must go now,' said Marika, looking at her watch. ‘Or you'll miss the meeting at Trixie's.'

‘I need some telephone numbers. Clemmie's, for a start. And Juno's, of course.'

‘I'll give you Clemmie's, but I can't give you Juno's. She's got a new phone. She rings us once a day but she withholds her number. When she rings next, I'll ask her if she'll ring you, and that's the best I can do.'

Exit Ellie. She felt as if she'd been thrown out, not once but twice that day. First Charles and then Marika. She stumped along the pavement feeling cross and anxious and, if the truth were but known, rather inclined to tears.

She told herself to behave.

It wasn't her fault if people asked for help and then lied to her.

They had all lied to her, hadn't they?

Well, not Clemmie. Ellie was pretty sure that Clemmie hadn't lied to her.

Not even by omission?

Ellie stood still, and a young mum, pushing a baby in a buggy while talking to someone on her phone, nearly bumped into her.

‘Sorry,' said Ellie.

Young mum gave Ellie ‘A Look', and walked round her, still talking on her phone.

Which made Ellie realize that she was in need of a good sit-down and a long think, preferably accompanied by a strong latte and, perhaps – oh frabjous joy – a piece of chocolate cake from Cafe 786. Or some of their carrot cake?

She quickened her pace. It wasn't far to the Avenue. The carrot cake at Cafe 786 was the best in the world. And, with a good shot of proper coffee, she might feel able to face the world again.

She found a seat in the window at the café and turned her chair so that she could see what was happening in the street outside – sometimes there were hilarious stand-offs about parking, most amusing to watch – while she waited for her coffee and cake. Feeling virtuous, she actually got out her phone to see if there were any new messages on it. And there were.

First, her husband Thomas had left a voicemail message wanting to know where she was. She rang back and suggested he join her for a cuppa. With carrot cake? Carrot cake was not supposed to be on his diet, nor on hers, either.

‘Yes, with carrot cake.'

‘I'll be right there.'

Second: Young Mikey. ‘You were asking about Cocks's Garage? One of my friends at school, his mother had a right old barney with them – had to miss a school trip or something because their car was in dock when it shouldn't have been. Would you like to talk to her? She runs Harrison's Deli in the Avenue, and said she was going to sue them because they'd ripped her off. Where are you? Shall I come over on my bike?'

She rang Mikey back. ‘Yes, please. I'd really like to speak to anyone who knows something about the garage.'

Third: Lesley, her friend from the police. ‘How are you getting on with the Cordovers?' And then, in a voice stiff with embarrassment and anger, ‘By the way, the wedding's off!'

Ellie felt dreadful. She ought never to have interfered there. She had advised Lesley to be careful about talking to her fiancé about the bridesmaid's dresses, hadn't she? Ellie had foreseen it might be a ticklish subject. But Lesley had done just that, which had precipitated an argument and she'd actually called off the wedding? And it was all Ellie's fault!

Ellie told herself not to jump to conclusions. Lesley was suffering from pre-wedding nerves. Whatever it was that had upset her would soon blow over. Wouldn't it? Also, it was better to discover you were not compatible with a man before you married than after.

Ellie grinned to herself. The memory of her wonderful Susan in full sail, bosom to the fore, was heart-warming!

Coffee and cake arrived. Ellie tucked in. It was a day to forget about calories. In fact, she didn't want to think about anything worrying. Not anything! If people wanted to kill one another, to cheat on their income tax and steal money from their families, run away and hide, or lie about things … Well, let them!

They could all jolly well jump into the sea. Well, not necessarily the sea, since she lived a good few miles away, but they could take their problems to an Agony Aunt, or a psychiatrist, or a psychotherapist. Although, to be truthful, she'd never been quite sure of the difference between one and the other, while suspecting that the Agony Aunts probably spoke more common sense than people who sat in a comfortable chair waiting for their clients to unburden themselves about some horrid scene from childhood which had probably never existed, because there'd been a lot of bad publicity recently about people retrieving memories which had never really happened, hadn't there?

Ellie frowned. She was getting muddled up, wasn't she?

‘Ellie, my dear.' Thomas sat down beside her, and placed his warm, comforting hand over hers.

She felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, Thomas, I've made such a mess of things.'

T
homas patted her hand, while looking up at the menu on the board. ‘I think I'll have one of their All-Day Breakfasts since we won't have time to cook properly tonight, will we?'

His reasoning was faulty. He was an excellent cook and so was Ellie. They could easily rustle up an evening meal between them. In any case it was a point of honour with Susan to keep the freezer fully stocked with her home-cooked dishes. All they had to do was select one and put it in the microwave to heat up. However, if Thomas felt like having an All-Day Breakfast, then he'd better have it and forget about his diet for once.

He said, ‘Diana's been to the house twice, looking for you. She wouldn't tell me what it was about, except that it was urgent.'

‘She wants money for something. Par for the course. I'm not playing.'

‘She said she'd left an envelope of stuff for you a while back. She wanted me to explain why you hadn't attended to it.'

‘Oh, poor Thomas. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to put up with her nonsense.'

He grinned. ‘I've a tough skin. And an empty tum. Now what sort of coffee shall I have with my meal? Or should it be tea?'

Outside the café, a man sitting in a wheelchair shouted, ‘Watch it, you fool! You shouldn't be riding on the pavement!'

‘Don't look,' said Thomas, hastily turning his chair away from the window.

Ellie looked. It was Mikey, of course. And no, he ought not to have been riding his precious bike on the pavement. The pensioner in the wheelchair was giving Mikey a right rollicking, and quite right, too. Like Thomas, Ellie turned her attention to the menu on the board. ‘Shall I have another coffee?'

Mikey arrived at their table, his colour high. He knew that they'd seen what had happened. They knew that he knew that … but he'd been told off for it, and no more was going to be said.

He produced his most charming smile. ‘Can I have an All-Day Breakfast? I had football this morning and it's ages since lunch and I'm ravenous.'

‘
May
you …?' said Ellie. ‘Not
can
you? Yes, you may.'

‘I'll order,' said Thomas. ‘Ellie, you'll like a camomile tea?'

She nodded. She felt out of sorts and the tea might calm her down. There would be no point in talking about her problems until the men had fed their faces. She began to relax, and even to smile as she thought of the horrid mess some families made of their lives, and of how extremely fortunate she had been with hers.

‘Now …?' said Thomas, on his second cup of coffee.

Mikey slurped a Ribena. It was bad for his teeth and Vera wouldn't be pleased but it was all right for a special treat, wasn't it? Ellie's mind slid over the fact that she ought to have forbidden him to have a sugary drink. She couldn't say anything because she'd just had one herself, hadn't she?

Mikey said, ‘My friend thinks you should speak to his mum who took their old banger into Cocks's Garage—'

‘One thing at a time,' said Thomas. ‘Now, Ellie?'

Mikey interrupted. ‘But his mum's only going to be there till four and he's rung her and said you were going to call in to see her, so she's expecting you.'

Ellie sighed. ‘Mikey, wouldn't it have been better if you'd asked me first?'

‘No.' He sucked the last drop out of the container of Ribena, producing a horrible sucking noise. He let it fill with air, and squashed it flat with a slapping sound.

‘Finished?' Thomas enquired, ladling more sugar into his coffee. ‘Now, Ellie. Tell us what's been going on.'

So Ellie told. From the beginning. Once or twice she had to go back to explain this or that, but she didn't think she'd left anything out by the time she got to the end and looked at her watch. ‘So if Juno doesn't surface – and it's very possible she's hiding out in Poland with her mother's relatives and won't get back in time – then Gordon's going to the police on Monday morning to accuse Clemmie of breaking all of the Ten Commandments, plus anything else he can think of. And, I don't see what I can do to stop him.' She looked at her watch again. ‘I'm going to have to shift myself if I'm to get to Trixie's place in time – and what I'm supposed to do there, heaven only knows.'

‘Hang on,' said Mikey. ‘You've got to see my friend's mum first. At Harrison's.'

‘Go back a bit, Ellie,' said Thomas. ‘Did you say someone's been fiddling their taxes?'

‘Did I?' She thought back. ‘Oh, well, I didn't really mean that. I was exaggerating. I don't think anyone's said anything about taxes.' And yet where was something at the back of her mind …?

Mikey got to his feet, restless, aching to get on with the day. ‘Harrison's. Car. Cocks's Garage. Remember?'

Thomas got out his wallet. ‘I'll pay the bill here, Ellie. Then I'll take Mikey on to talk to his friend's mum at Harrison's. We know more about cars than you do.'

Did the men flick a conspiratorial glance at one another? Yes. Their combined air of innocence would have floated a battleship. Ellie could read them with ease. In spite of the fact that he'd just eaten an All-Day Breakfast, Mikey was slavering at the thought of the special pastries on sale at Harrison's, while Thomas was mentally selecting some of their finest cheeses and a portion of venison pâté for himself.

She ironed out a grin. ‘Enjoy yourselves. You said something about taxes?' She started to worry about that as she got to her feet. ‘Nobody has said anything about taxes, have they? And why would they? The Magpie's books are as clean as can be, except for the money which Trixie pinched. Charles Mornay wouldn't let The Magpie fiddle their taxes. He's far too upright. Perhaps a little unimaginative? I wonder if he's really top flight? Shouldn't the best accountants have some imagination, so that they can work out what fiddles their clients might be getting up to?'

‘You don't usually assume the worst of people,' said Thomas, also getting to his feet.

Ellie sighed. ‘I don't like having to be suspicious of everyone, but today is definitely one of those days.'

Ellie thought Poppy's house was beginning to look neglected already, or was it all in her mind? No, she was not imagining things. Some paper bags and a takeaway container had drifted into the forecourt, plus several cars. A superb white Lexus took pride of place, surrounded by an assortment of cars in descending order of value, finishing with a two-stroke bug-on-wheels which, judging by the number of dents in its bodywork, looked as if it had been in collision with a lamppost and several other immovable objects.

The front door was ajar. Again. Didn't they ever take precautions against opportunist burglars?

There was more neglect to be seen in the hall. A jacket lay on the floor, an empty mug on the table, some keys … What on earth were these people doing, leaving car keys out in the open like that? They deserved to be burgled.

Voices drifted through an open door from a room on the left. Someone laughed. A man. Trixie's voice, calling for order. A murmur of agreement. Was that where the meeting was being held?