Murder in Style (32 page)

‘On Sunday evenings we have a video. They use the equipment during the week, too. Lectures, educational, that sort of thing.'

‘Yes,' said Ellie, staring as two youths backed into the hall, fighting with … lasers? No, pens which shot out a beam of light.

The man in charge lifted the lasers from the boys with effortless ease. ‘Now, now. These aren't toys, you know.'

Ellie was interested. ‘Are those the pointers that lecturers use to highlight different things on a screen? They have quite a range, don't they?'

‘These aren't true lasers. These are telescopic pen-pointers, see?' He extended and then collapsed them again. ‘You can get all sorts on the Internet. I believe military lasers can interfere with planes coming into Heathrow by throwing a beam into the pilot's eyes. Dangerous.'

‘Indeed.' Ellie felt as if she were sleepwalking. ‘Thank you so much. My name is Ellie Quicke, by the way. I have a trust fund for local charitable purposes. I'll get someone to come round and have a look at what you're doing. They'll contact you beforehand. Would you mind not mentioning my visit to anyone for the time being? We have so many requests for funds, I don't want to raise false hopes.'

‘You got it. I'm zipped.'

And, probably, he was.

She walked outside into the evening air and sat down on a nearby bench. So now she knew how Gordon had done it. With a pocket pointer of the type used in the day centre as a lecturer's aid. A military laser would have been unnecessarily powerful at such short range, but a pocket pointer, shooting straight into someone's eyes as they started down the stairs …?

With malice aforethought.

Not caring how much damage was done.

Not even particularly aiming to kill.

To hurt, yes. Lashing out because he'd been hurt.

And, he'd got the wrong girl.

Ellie felt limp. She got out her phone and tried Lesley's number.

‘What!' Lesley was not amused at being interrupted.

‘I know who killed Poppy, why and how. Interested?'

‘Can't it wait till morning?' Languorous, sated. In bed?

‘I suppose so. I haven't any proof, but perhaps you can get some.'

A groan. ‘All right. I'll come round first thing tomorrow morning and you can tell me all about it. Till then … goodnight!'

Thomas rolled into the house, looking drained.

Ellie said, ‘Breakfast or bed?'

‘Breakfast and then bed. I got through to Marge a couple of hours ago, and she came straight over. She'll see he comes to no harm.'

‘Confession was good for the soul?' Putting a large glass of orange juice in front of him and reaching for the frying pan. ‘Two eggs, bacon, and anything else I can find?'

‘Wonderful.' A deep sigh. ‘Poor man.'

‘I know you can't tell me …?'

‘Marge told me, and it wasn't in confidence. She says that Charles had a thing about Gordon when they were all at school together. Gordon was half flattered and half annoyed by it. Even in those days he was fixated on Juno, who wasn't interested but did go out with him now and then. Juno wanted a career. Ray was playing the field, and so was Poppy.'

‘And Marge?' Throwing tomatoes and mushrooms into the pan, Ellie switched on the toaster.

‘Like Juno she wanted a career, but on the night of the party everyone got drunk and paired off. Ray with Poppy, Gordon with Juno, et cetera. To her surprise, Marge found Charles pursuing her, and … well, she enjoyed it. He swore he'd long got over Gordon, that it was nobody but Marge for him in future. They got married the following year and—'

‘She found that he hadn't really got over Gordon after all?' Ellie switched the kettle on and flipped the bacon over.

‘It was all right for a while. They had a couple of children, who are now grown up and flown the nest. Over the years, Marge kept up with Juno and Poppy. They acted as godmothers for each other's children, used to babysit for one another.'

‘Marge was Clemmie's godmother. How did she feel about Clemmie's birth?'

A shrug. ‘She understood how it had been. She said she wouldn't have minded a tumble in the hay with the man concerned herself. She loves Clemmie, wishes the girl would let her do more for her. Marge is no fan of Gordon's, said he was a master of mental abuse and it was a wonder that Juno had stayed sane. She knew all about Juno and Gordon trying for another child, and failing. It was Charles who volunteered to take Gordon to get the result of his fertility tests, because Gordon's car was having its MOT and the girls were both working. Gordon told Charles the bad news that he was infertile, Charles tried to console him, and they ended up in hospital.'

Ellie eased a spoonful of baked beans on to an overflowing plateful. ‘Guilt. Which explains why Charles will do anything for Gordon nowadays. Marge kept the marriage going for a while?'

‘She did, but Charles was never the same to her after that, and after a while he began experimenting with other men, so she cut her losses. She hasn't been interested enough to try matrimony again, but she still has some fondness for him.'

‘Poor Marge. Poor Charles.'

‘Not poor Gordon?'

‘He may have been warped by what happened to him, but he didn't need to treat Clemmie and Juno so badly, and he certainly didn't need to kill Poppy, even if it was manslaughter and not murder.'

Thomas temporarily suspended operations on his food. ‘Light of my life, explain!'

‘He meant to get Juno, of course.' Two rounds of toast were whizzed on to Thomas's side plate and she depressed the plunger on the cafetiere. ‘Would you like some fruit for afters? I've told Lesley all about it, and she's getting a warrant to search Gordon's house, hoping to find the lecturer's torch which he used to dazzle whoever came to the top of the stairs at The Magpie. Gordon was in a terrible temper. He was obsessed with the idea of getting Clemmie convicted for fraud, but no one except Charles would take him seriously. He was furious that Juno had gone off with Poppy to consult behind his back. He was also afraid that she was seeing someone else.'

‘Someone else? Any cream for my coffee?'

He wasn't usually allowed cream in his coffee, but perhaps she could make an exception today. She fished a carton of double cream out of the fridge and handed it over. She said, ‘The god in the machine. The shadow who protected Clemmie. The man who Gordon called the chocolate soldier. And, above all, the knitting.'

‘You've lost me.' His eyelids drooped. He sipped coffee and relaxed. Thomas could neck down a pint of strong coffee and go to sleep straight away. Ellie couldn't so much as look at a cup of weak coffee after teatime. Everyone's different.

‘Up to bed with you,' she said. ‘You go and sleep it off. I'm expecting a couple of phone calls. If I have to go out, I'll leave you a note to say where I've gone.'

The first phone call came at lunchtime.

Lesley, on her mobile. ‘Phew, Ellie! Talk about mad, bad and dangerous to know! Although I can't say I saw any charm, whereas Byron was supposed to be charming, wasn't he?'

‘Gordon didn't attack you?'

‘Not me, no. I had taken someone with me when I asked him to come down to the station. Someone large and capable. I don't think he'd have taken any notice of a woman by herself.'

‘Did you find any evidence?'

‘Evidence of hate. He's scrawled her name all over the bedroom walls, calling her every name under the sun. He's pulled all her clothes out of the cupboards and sprayed them with chemicals. Smashed all her toiletries.'

‘No pointer-pen lights?'

‘Two, on a ledge in the kitchen, which was a pigsty, by the way. He says they're for lecturing and that's what he uses them for. They don't leave any trace when you throw the beam in someone's eyes. We can't get him for that.'

Ellie sank into a chair. ‘You can't get him for anything?'

‘Oh, yes. Nice and tight. He asked for a solicitor. We got him one. He started quiet and crescendoed to fury. His solicitor tried to stop him, but he was unstoppable. Out it all came. It's all Juno's fault, by the way. She ought to have been at the office. She'd said that was where she was going. He knew, he just knew, that she was meeting her lover there. He'd smelled the man on her, he was justified in teaching her a lesson, and that's what he did. He drove himself to The Magpie, got out of the car and manoeuvred himself across the pavement with two sticks. He wanted to surprise her so he didn't ring the bell. He took the spare key she'd had cut recently but had forgotten to take into work. He opened the door and called out to her to come down and, when she came to the top of the stairs, he used the torch and got her in the eyes. She lost her balance and tumbled down. And it was all her fault that it wasn't the right woman. Juno was responsible for her sister's death, not him.'

‘You got it on tape?'

‘You bet. He said he had every right to discipline his own wife and that it was only a matter of time till she came home and he was going to give her the hiding of her life when she did. As for her daughter, well, that was another story, and when we'd heard what he had to say about her, she'd be locked up for life!'

‘Irrational, would you say?'

‘Very. We charged him with manslaughter and he went berserk and tried to ram his way out of the interview room. He threw his solicitor a punch because the man had tried to stop Gordon incriminating himself. He's been remanded in custody and there'll be tests and hearings and the Lord only knows what.'

‘They won't let him out straight away, will they? Not without warning us?'

‘One moment he was threatening to sue everyone in sight, plus the Man in the Moon, and the next he went all cold and wouldn't speak. Except to discharge his solicitor, who seemed very happy to escape. I was relieved to leave the room, too. I deal with all sorts, Ellie; you know how it is. Fraud, drink, drugs; stabbings and brutal beatings; domestics which leave the victim scarred for life. But it's rare for me to feel as if I'm being taken over by … well, you'll laugh … evil.' Lesley tried on a laugh for size. It didn't fit very well. A sigh. ‘Well, that's another case tidied up, thanks to you.'

‘Thank Gerald and Marika. Thank your instincts, which refused to let you accept the verdict of accident.'

‘And, well, just “thanks”, Ellie. You know? In general terms. For this and that.' A change of tone. ‘You say Susan found herself a suitable bridesmaid's dress? I should have asked you to be matron of honour.'

Lesley didn't really mean it. It was just a compliment. Ellie was pleased, though. It was good to be appreciated. ‘See you at the church. Don't be late.'

‘As if!' Lesley rang off.

Ellie rang Marge and told her the good news. Gordon had been charged with manslaughter and remanded in custody.

‘Thank God for that,' said Marge. ‘I think we can all breathe more easily now. Even Charles.'

‘He's asleep now?'

‘Sound. Your husband is something else. Charles says he was suicidal when Thomas arrived on the doorstep and talked him down off the proverbial window ledge. I understand it took all night. Your man called me at eight and I came straight over. Charles was calm enough by then. Poor old soul. There's no great harm in him, you know. We'll always be friends, no matter what. He's going to take some time off, and we'll go on that cruise we'd talked about.'

Ellie said, ‘That's good news. So, on to the multi-million-dollar question. I need to see Juno. I have a list of various properties on your books in this area which might have interested her. Would you like to point me in the right direction, or get me an invitation to visit her in her new home?'

A gurgle of laughter. ‘There are no flies on you, Mrs Quicke, but you're way out on that one.'

‘Ah. The soldier made his own arrangements?'

‘Precisely.'

‘Was it he who collected Juno's laptop from The Magpie office?'

‘I believe so. I'll get her to phone you. Anything else?'

‘Do you know if Clemmie passed her driving test?'

‘She doesn't take it till one, does she? I'm sure we'll hear as soon as she's done.'

Within the hour there was another phone call for Ellie. Would she like to call round at teatime, address supplied?

‘Yes, please. Have you heard about Clemmie's—'

The phone clicked off. Oh well, she'd find out soon enough.

It was a large house, almost as large as Ellie's, and much nearer to Ealing Broadway. It was also a secure residence, with remote-controlled access via wrought-iron gates. It sparkled with loving care and attention to detail. There was a double garage at one side, whose doors were closed. The forecourt was paved with bricks, the paintwork and windows gleamed, there were hanging baskets spilling over with colour and ditto in wooden planters here and there. Dust was not allowed to settle here. There was a car which Ellie recognized in the forecourt. What was the Cordovers' solicitor doing here? Ah, perhaps Juno was at last beginning to make decisions about the future. Or to draft a new will?

As Ellie reached for the entryphone button on the gates, the solicitor emerged from the house and entered his car. The gates opened and he drove out, as she walked in.

Someone was standing in the porch, holding the front door open. Waiting for her.

The chocolate soldier, as Gordon had insisted on calling him? Well, he had the coffee-and-cream skin and handsome features that characterized Clemmie. His bearing was that of a soldier, but he was in mufti, wearing fawn chinos and a roll-neck jumper. He had quite a presence. Strong, patient, reserved and intelligent. Like Clemmie.

‘Mrs Quicke?' He held out his hand to Ellie, assessing her with Clemmie's eyes. ‘Hugh Major. My surname is Major, which is confusing, since I retired from the army with the rank of major. Juno is expecting you.'