Murder in Style (31 page)

‘Who? I don't see why I shouldn't come, too.'

‘Not this time. I promise I'm not going to beard any more dragons in their dens.'

Narrowed eyes. ‘Will you tell me where you're going, and ring me in an hour's time to say you're all right?'

‘Promise.'

Clemmie lived in a terrace of two-up and two-down houses, which had originally been built for factory workers but which was undergoing gentrification. There were no front gardens and the front doors led straight into the main room, but fresh paint was everywhere and window boxes sprouted here and there. Almost all of the houses had had a loft conversion, which added another storey to the original building and moved them up several council tax bands. There were no garages but there was adequate parking in the street. Ellie looked for Aidan's two-stroke and failed to see it.

Clemmie opened the door, looking flushed and wearing an apron with pictures of cats on it. She beckoned Ellie inside. T-shirt, jeans and trainers today. ‘I'm a bit behind. I got stuck behind a lorry on the A40 and almost lost my nerve. The driving test's tomorrow morning. Do you mind waiting a mo? I'm cooking, you see.'

She shot off to the back of a light and airy living room, which had been created by throwing the original two small ground-floor rooms into one. An extension at the back housed a small but well-fitted kitchen area. A modern staircase climbed the left-hand wall, with a cupboard beneath it. The furniture was simple, all pastel shades. A couple of abstract prints hung on the walls – Juno's taste? A Sunday newspaper was strewn half over a small settee and half on the floor … which was uncarpeted but had a couple of good rugs on it. Central heating. Blinds at the windows. All fresh and clean.

Through the open kitchen door Ellie could see a square patch of garden surrounded by high walls. There was an outhouse which had probably once contained a privy. Aidan was there, wrestling with a lawn mower. As Ellie watched, he picked the lawn mower up and shoved it into the outhouse. There was a lot to be said for brute strength when objects needed to be hauled about.

Clemmie skittered around, dishing up and talking at the same time. ‘Hope you don't mind, I've got to get some food into Aidan before he goes off. Nights, you know. He mustn't be late. I'll eat later. In fact, I'm so nervous about tomorrow that I might just have a sandwich.' She laughed. ‘Do have a seat, Mrs Quicke.' She pulled open the back door to shout, ‘Come and get it!'

Aidan came. Also in T-shirt, trainers and jeans. ‘Hi, Mrs Quicke. Forgive the mess. Complete domesticity.' He washed his hands under the tap. ‘I'm thinking she'll pass the test first time.' Smiling. Relaxed.

As was Clemmie, apart from a certain nervous excitement. ‘You told me you had two goes at the test before you passed.'

‘Well, I wasn't taught by someone as good as me!' He ambled into a chair and held his hands up for the piled plate of food she brought to the table for him. He smiled. ‘One of the first things I said to her was that a man needs quantity, as well as quality. In food, anyway.'

Ellie said, ‘She's not taking the test on your mother's little runabout?'

‘No, no.' Round a mouthful. ‘No, no. I got my own car back, at last. It's been in the garage following an encounter with an ambulance which backed into me when I was properly parked in the hospital car park, would you believe?'

Clemmie said, ‘Aidan's mum's nice. She said that if teaching me to drive kept Aidan off the rugby field, it was a good thing. His dad's given me a couple of lessons, too. And his brother. So I've driven …' she counted on her fingers ‘… a total of five different cars, some automatic and some not.' She busied herself slicing two bananas and adding a whole carton of yoghurt. ‘Was there something special, Mrs Quicke?'

‘Yes, my dear, there was. I'm sorry to say that your stepfather has worked himself up into a right old paddy. He's threatening to go to the police tomorrow, to accuse you of this and that?'

If Ellie had hoped for a guilty reaction, she didn't get it.

‘Oh, what now!' And to Aidan, ‘Do you want redcurrant jelly on it as well?'

‘Mmphm!' Meaning, yes, please.

Tut! Didn't his mum ever tell him not to speak with his mouth full?

Ellie said, ‘Someone stole some cheques from The Magpie and used them to pay off their own bills.'

A slight frown. ‘Was that why you asked me which bank I'm with?'

‘You're in the clear and Charles knows it. We have proof that it was someone else who did it.'

Clemmie and Aidan exchanged looks.

‘Trixie?' A frown from both of them.

Ellie jumped on that. ‘She's done it before?'

‘Not exactly,' said Aidan, ‘but she's always short of the readies, and if you lend her a tenner, you don't get it back.'

Clemmie said, ‘She's always been kind to me.'

Neither of them was worried about this.

Clemmie whisked Aidan's empty plate away. ‘Something else, Mrs Quicke?'

‘Yes. Your mother's laptop seems to have gone missing. Have you seen it?'

A slight frown. ‘That's odd. When it's not in use on the big table, she keeps it beside her desk. Are you sure it's not there?'

Ellie was. She was equally sure that it wasn't Clemmie who had taken it. ‘Gordon says that on the night your aunt died, he saw you hammering on the door at The Magpie, trying to get in.'

‘Yes, that's true.' No anxiety. ‘There was a light on upstairs and I thought Mum or Aunt Poppy must be working late. I'd been trying and trying to tell them my good news about paying off my debt and taking my driving test, but they'd been so preoccupied with stuff – I think it was to do with Uncle Ray – that they kept putting me off. Anyway, when I saw there was a light on upstairs in the office, I thought it would be a good time to talk to them. I tried to make them hear me. But they didn't.'

‘Didn't you have your key with you? Why didn't you let yourself in?'

‘No, I don't have a key at the moment. Laura lost hers and she's using mine because she always arrives first. Mum was going to get another one cut, but she didn't have time to do so before … before. I'm only working there in the afternoons when the office is already open, so it doesn't matter that I don't have a key.'

‘Was Aidan with you that night?' Hoping against hope.

‘Of course. It was his last free evening before he went on nights. He'd arranged to take me out for a practice and had borrowed his dad's car, so we went up by the North Circular and into the back roads for some three-point turns, and four times he made me park on a busy road. When we passed The Magpie and I saw the light on upstairs, he let me out and waited to see if anyone responded. But they didn't. I looked through the letterbox and couldn't see anything. It was all dark inside, so I went back to the car and he brought me home.'

Aidan said, ‘I didn't want to leave her there in the street at that time of night. I parked opposite and waited for her. She was never out of my sight.'

‘You spent the night here?'

‘On that widgy settee of hers? Don't make me laugh. It's far too short.' Aidan reached out one huge arm to catch Clemmie's hand and hold it, while continuing to eat his pudding. ‘She chucked me out at eleven. She thinks I'll give up and go away if she keeps saying “No”, but I'm the persistent sort and I'll get there sooner or later, won't I, Half Pint?'

‘Man Mountain!' She bent over to kiss the top of his head. And smiled.

Good genes. Well educated. Satisfactory work ethic. A tender, jokey relationship plus a strong physical attraction. Clemmie could do a lot worse.

Aidan said, ‘When we heard about Clemmie's aunt dying on the stairs, we wondered if she were already lying behind the door while Clemmie was trying to get in. It must have been about that time that she fell. I'm glad Clemmie didn't have a key to try to open the door. I'm glad someone else found her.'

‘Did you see Gordon's car outside while you were trying to get in?'

‘Didn't look. Was he there?'

He must have been, or he wouldn't have seen Clemmie ringing the bell.

Clemmie looked out at the garden. ‘Oh, Aidan! You've missed a patch of grass, see? Right in the middle!'

‘Who's a perfectionist, then? Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Now, give me a kiss, and I'll be off!' He picked her up bodily, and held her close.

She put her arms around his neck and pressed her head against his.

He set her down on her feet with tender care. ‘See you tomorrow? Text me the result when you've taken the test?'

She nodded, trying to smile. Succeeding, almost.

He left. For a big man, he could move quickly when he chose.

Clemmie began to clear the table. ‘Aidan's a bit of all right, don't you think?' She tried to sound as if she didn't care about Ellie's answer.

‘I do. I gather his family approve, too. You'll have to watch his weight in middle age, though.'

Clemmie started to laugh and it turned into tears. ‘Oh, how can I think about the future, with everything else that's going on?'

E
llie left Clemmie's house and backtracked to the nearest bus stop. She didn't want to hang around and wait for a cab to collect her. She didn't want to ring Thomas because he would be busy with Charles. She didn't know what she wanted.

Yes, she did. She wanted to kick somebody or something.

She had cleared up a number of mysteries and still didn't know whether or not Poppy's death had been an accident.

Everyone was properly accounted for on the night in question, except for Gordon, who couldn't have done it. Unfortunately. Apart from the fact that he couldn't have got up those stairs, he hadn't a motive to kill Poppy. Urrrgh!

Ellie used her leisure pass to get on the next bus which came, and sat down to grump away to herself. Eeeny, meeny, miney, mo. Which of them dunnit? Or had it been an accident? It might have been an accident. Wrong, wrong, wrong! Every feeling revolts. It was not an accident. It was planned.

No, not planned. It was an off-the-cuff thingy. Poppy was there, Gordon was there. He was angry. He threw her down the stairs? But, he couldn't.
She
threw herself down the stairs.

A spot of prayer is the answer. When stuck, pray. That's what Thomas always said. Of course, he was a lot better at it than she was. But oh well, here goes.

Please
.
It's up to you. I
know
Gordon did it but … No, I can't possibly
know!
Well, if you want me to do something about it, you'll have to give me a clue.

She looked up and to her dismay found she was not on the usual bus route. She hadn't intended to go this way. She was getting near Gordon's house, which was the last place on earth that she wanted to be. The bus was stopping. Good, she'd get off and phone for a cab. Phew!

There was a church on the brow of the hill, wasn't there? Was this where Gordon was supposed to go to a day centre for the disabled? What time was it? It was still quite light up to ten at night. She might walk that way, out of curiosity. There wouldn't be anyone there, anyway.

Lights. People going in? Some kind of youth club, perhaps? Yes, ripped jeans and long hair, huge earrings and stilettos. Shruggy shoulders for the boys and bare shoulders for the girls. Mikey would have a ball here, or would he say it was juvenile? Yes, probably. He wasn't a joiner, was he?

‘Can I help you?' Middle aged, paunchy, shaved head. Man in charge.

Ellie tried to think what she needed to know. ‘Sorry, wrong night to come. I was told there was a day centre here for disabled people.'

‘Sure, we use the same rooms. You want a look?'

‘That would be kind. I represent a local charity, and someone said … but I like to see these things for myself.'

‘Bless you, yes.' He raised his voice. ‘Not that door!'

‘Sorry!' floated back. A door slammed.

‘Kids!' he said. ‘A baker's dozen tonight, and every one a challenge. Three adults between thirteen kids ought not to be a problem, but …' He shrugged.

Ellie nodded. Kids, indeed. Mikey times twelve. No, thirteen. This man had his work cut out.

He showed her around. She saw a hall, currently occupied by youths of both sexes scrimmaging in a soft-ball game; a servery leading out of a kitchen; a couple of smaller rooms. Scuff marks on cream paint, a cracked windowpane. The man indicated locked cupboards. ‘Equipment for the day centre, for the uniformed organizations and for the nursery. There's afternoon and evening lectures, slots for the uniformed organizations, committee meetings and so on. If you come during the week they can give you more information.'

‘I was told about it by – now, what's his name? – in a wheelchair. Gordon. You know him?'

‘Him?' A frown. A shrug. A cool tone of voice. ‘He's generous with his time and money.' Ellie got the impression that Gordon wasn't Mr Popular with this man.

She said, ‘I can see the building is well-used.'

He grimaced. ‘A bit run-down, you mean? We're always looking for funding. The budget cuts, you know. Yes, we could do with some decorating. It's ongoing, because the building's in use all the time. I don't mind getting up a work party to redecorate, but the cost …' He raised his voice, ‘I can see you!'

Muffled laughter. A trace of cigarette smoke drifted down the corridor. ‘I need eyes in the back of my head.'

‘I'm full of admiration.' And she was.

They turned back into the hall, where the ball game had ended and, under supervision, a couple of youths were setting up a projector while a girl fiddled with some sort of sound system.

‘Ahha,' said Ellie. ‘Is that one of those state-of-the-art projector things that throws pictures on the wall? I remember the days when we had slide shows and portable screens which toppled over in the slightest draught.' To her great pleasure, a cartoon figure appeared on the wall.