Murder in Style (9 page)

Two women were already in the shop, pawing through the rails of clothes, attended by Celine.

‘Can I help you, or would you like to look around by yourselves?'

Ellie knew that voice. Yes. It was Clemmie, who had recognized Ellie but was going to pretend that she hadn't. Clemmie was wearing the same simple black dress that she'd had on the previous day, but without the brooch.

Ellie said, ‘Susan here has been invited to be a bridesmaid, wearing some sort of peach-coloured outfit. Have you anything to suit?'

Clemmie transferred her attention to Susan, assessed her and nodded. ‘Come this way. We keep the evening and bridal wear through here.'

Susan would have protested, but Ellie took her arm and they followed Clemmie through the heavy curtain into the back room, the walls of which were lined with mirrored cupboards. A stick-thin woman was already there, trying on a skimpy outfit. Evidently this was a communal changing room as well as a display floor.

Clemmie said to the customer, ‘Would you like me to pin up the hem for you? We have someone who can do the alteration if you decide on that dress.'

‘No, it's not quite right.' The customer proceeded to disrobe.

Clemmie was not fazed. She turned back to Ellie and Susan, gesturing to some chairs. ‘Would you like to take a seat?' She pushed doors open to reveal evening wear on rails, each item encased in a plastic cover. ‘Peach?' Clemmie ran a hand along the merchandise. ‘Mm, too orange for you. That's too pale. Mm, no: too big for you. You'll want a nice low neckline, perhaps with an underwired bra. You can get them at Marks & Spencer's. Just make sure they fit you properly.'

Susan gulped. If Ellie hadn't been between her and the exit, she'd have made a run for it.

‘Ah.' Clemmie extracted two dresses from the rail, and held them up for Susan to see. Both were peach in colour. One had a sweetheart neckline, and the other a very low-cut bodice which would show off a pretty bust to perfection.

Susan gibbered.

Clemmie glimmered a smile at her. Clemmie had a delightful, catlike smile. ‘What I say is, “If you've got it, flaunt it. All you need to be a knockout is a better bra. Now, we might have to take this one in a trifle, for a snug fit. Don't bother to look at anything else. Do you mind trying the dresses on in here? We're a bit short of space, you see.'

Susan shot an imploring look at Ellie, who sent her a reassuring smile in return. ‘I'll have a look at the rails outside, shall I?' And to Clemmie. ‘Thank you.'

‘My pleasure.' Polite. Frosty. Professional.

The skinny woman left, leaving the discarded dress on the floor. Clemmie picked it up without comment. A large woman entered, carrying a pile of dresses, followed by a sulky-looking young teenager, who clearly didn't trust her mother's idea of what was fashionable.

Clemmie didn't even blink. ‘Let me help you with those. Is it a birthday party your daughter is going to? I might have just the thing for someone with such lovely long legs …? Do you have any particular colour in mind?'

Ellie drifted back into the main shop, drawn by the sounds of altercation.

Yes, there was the widower, Ray, in meltdown. Screaming at Celine. ‘So where is she, the bitch?'

There were three other women in the shop looking horrified but, at the same time, fascinated. Clemmie ignored Ray. She went straight to one of the racks, hung up the dress that the skinny woman had discarded, picked out a couple of other outfits and retired to the back room with them.

Celine said, ‘Please, Ray. She's not here and—'

Ray was not going to be hushed. ‘She's in the back? Tell her to get out here, now!'

A nasty draught announced that someone was holding the door to the Avenue open.

‘Can someone help me in? I can't get over the step without help.' An authoritative voice. It must be …! Yes, it was. Juno's wheelchair-bound husband.

Celine said, ‘Ray, you can't just—'

Ray poked his finger at Celine. ‘What have you done with her?'

The man in the wheelchair was getting impatient. ‘Come on! Help me in, someone!'

Celine cast a despairing glance around the shop. ‘Please, Ray; she's not going to be in for a few days. You saw she wasn't well. She went home with her parents, who are going to put her to bed and look after her.'

‘Liar! She's not there. They haven't a clue where she is!'

‘If you please! Somebody! Help me up over the step!'

Celine, desperately, ‘Look, Ray, I've got customers who—'

‘Your customers can—'

Ellie knew the words which a man like Ray would use on such occasions, of course she did. But in this context they seemed more shocking than usual.

‘Really! Such language!' A heavyset matron with a slight moustache.

‘Do … You … Mind!' A youngish businesswoman, objecting to Ray's language. She took a tailored red suit from a rack, and held it up against herself.

‘Eff to you, too!' Ray shot back. He seized Celine by the forearm. ‘Tell her to get the eff out here. Now!'

Celine tried to free herself. ‘Ray, I swear she's not here.'

‘She's not with her parents, so she must have gone home with you!'

‘The last I saw of her, she was getting into her parents' car. Mrs Quicke gave me a lift home. Ask her.'

Ray let go of Celine to swing round, searching for Ellie, who was half hidden by a rack of clothes. ‘You! What the eff are you doing here? Turn over a stone, and there you are. So, what have you done with her, eh?'

‘Nothing to do with me,' said Ellie. Her eyes were on Clemmie, who had come back into the shop and was engaged in picking out another couple of garments for her teenaged customer. Ellie wondered if Clemmie knew what had happened to her mother? How could she? Now there's an interesting question …

The man in the wheelchair wasn't giving up. ‘If you can just help me over the step … can't you see that I can't … thank you!'

Ray shouted, ‘Don't you care what's happened to her?'

Celine rubbed her arm, trying to keep calm, worried that this fracas might upset her customers. ‘Ray, I really don't know where she is. She said she needed some peace and quiet, and that I understand. Now, if you don't leave, I shall have to call the police.' And to the customers, ‘I'm so sorry. I must apologize. My friend is grieving and—'

Ray wasn't giving up. ‘I went upstairs to the office. The Monkey says he hasn't seen hair nor hide of her, so she must be here. If you don't get her out here, I'll have to go in and look for her.'

He made as if to go through the curtain into the back room. Clemmie, who had just been going to take a new selection of garments into the back room, cried out in alarm.

Celine was quicker. ‘You can't go in there! There's people changing—'

‘What!' From within came the voice of the mother of the teenage girl, outraged. ‘Tell him he can't come in here!'

Clemmie said, ‘Shall I call the police?'

‘No, no! Oh, I don't know! Ray, calm down! She's not here!'

‘I don't believe you! Let me see for myself!' Ray thrust past Clemmie to get to the back room.

Gordon had managed to get a newcomer to manoeuvre him in his wheelchair over the step into the shop. ‘About time, too! Couldn't you see that the step was too much for me? I needed to get in to find my wife, who has unaccountably gone missing!'

Celine held out her arms, blocking Ray's entry to the changing room. ‘Are you mad?'

Ray did indeed look demented, with his thinning hair uncombed and the middle button of his shirt undone. He yanked Celine aside. She stumbled and was caught by Ellie, who steadied her on her feet.

‘Now!' Ray reached to part the curtains.

Clemmie tried to stop him, and was backhanded aside.

There was a shriek from within. ‘Mum!' No young teen likes being caught in mid-strip.

Gordon tried to force his wheelchair through a knot of fascinated customers. ‘If you'll kindly let me pass!' Angrily.

One of the customers took out her phone, to take pictures rather than call the police. Clemmie was on her knees on the floor.

A second shriek of horror from the back room, and then …

… slowly, step by step, Ray reappeared, walking backwards, arms in the air.

After him came the very picture of an avenging fury in peach satin, incredible, magnificent bosom heaving – yes, there was no other word for it, Susan's bosom was heaving sufficiently to cause an earthquake in Saigon. Her red hair was loose about her face, her strong arms were steady and the expression on her face was that of a gladiator readying for the kill …

… with a chair.

One of the legs of the chair was actually touching Ray's throat.

He had no choice. He had to reverse or be impaled.

‘How … Dare … You!' The avenging angel kept pace with the retreating man.

‘Shall I call the police now?' A customer to the businesswoman.

Celine choked back a laugh. Hysteria? ‘Somehow, I don't think that will be necessary.'

Ray backed into the wheelchair.

Gordon squawked, ‘Watch it, you fool!' He struck out at Ray. And missed.

Susan's voice grated. ‘Enough? Yes? Then, get down on your knees and apologize to all these ladies.' Her eyes were blue as the sky. Her chin said that she wouldn't hesitate to drive the chairleg home. Perhaps she would have made a good policewoman if she hadn't decided to be a chef.

Ray couldn't seem to get the words out. He held up his hands, appealing for mercy. He slumped to his knees. And gobbled something.

Susan abruptly drew back the chair. She looked at it as if she wondered why she was holding it, turned on her heel and took it back through the curtain into the rear of the shop.

Clemmie got to her feet and brushed herself down.

Someone clapped.

The atmosphere broke up into relief and joy. ‘How about that!' someone said.

‘Brill!'

‘Did you get it on your phone?'

Celine attempted to rescue the situation. ‘Ladies! I'm so sorry. Please forgive. My friend is grieving. His wife, so recent … But Ray, Gordon … I honestly don't know what … but this is not the place to … why don't you ask at the office upstairs?'

‘Been there, done that,' said Ray, slicking back his hair, checking his shirt was tucked into his trousers.

Gordon ground out, ‘You know perfectly well that I can't manage the stairs!'

Susan's arm came out from the back room through the curtain, holding the peach dress. ‘I'll take this. How much?'

Celine attempted a smile. ‘That's on the house.'

The dress shook. ‘Nonsense,' said Susan's voice. ‘I pay my way.'

The businesswoman put down the red suit long enough to reach into her handbag. ‘I'll throw a fiver into the kitty for you!'

The matron with the moustache did likewise. ‘Worth it, for the entertainment. I haven't got a fiver. Take a tenner, will you?'

‘Fifty p,' piped up the young teenager from within. ‘That's all right, isn't it, Mum?'

Ellie delved into her own bag. She couldn't stop grinning. ‘Here's twenty from me.'

‘And another five,' said the businesswoman. ‘Now, Celine …' holding up the red suit, ‘I'll try this on.'

Celine made a good recovery. ‘Ladies, thank you for being so forbearing. Might I offer you all a cup of coffee and a biscuit to compensate for the delay in attending to you?'

Clemmie said smoothly, ‘I'll make the coffee.'

Ray produced a smile for the ladies, probably hoping it would charm them into forgiving his bad behaviour. Perhaps in his youth he'd been something of a ladies' man. From the stony expressions of the ladies present, he seemed to have lost the knack. But he tried. ‘That's all very well, but I've got to find her. She's the only one who can help me now.'

Gordon flushed. ‘You think she's going to bail you out yet again? In your dreams! I agree she had no right to take off like that, but …' He seemed to rethink what he was about to say, and tempered his tone. ‘Well, if she really is ill, ill enough to have the doctor, then naturally I will make allowances. She'll be back, of course. She knows what will happen if she doesn't!' His voice had risen. Again, he brought it back down. ‘In the meantime, you must see that I have to think of myself. I need someone to look after me. Now. I need another prescription filled. And, who's going to make my lunch?'

Celine was soothing. ‘Well, Gordon, while Juno's recovering, perhaps you can ring the agency which looked after you when she had flu last winter. Ladies, do you all take milk in your coffee, or would you prefer a cup of tea? And do find yourselves a seat. If there's not enough chairs, we can bring some more in from the changing room.'

Ray selected the matron with the moustache to be his confidante. ‘It's my sister-in-law, you see. The only one of the family worth tuppence. She went home with her parents last night because she was in distress after the funeral. At least, that's what she said she was going to do. But she's not there! They say they were only halfway home when she told them to stop and let her out as she felt she ought to go back to look after Gordon—'

‘What!' Gordon was not amused. ‘I tell you, she never returned. I spent a miserable evening worrying about what might have happened to her. Finally, when I got through to her parents and learned she'd walked out on them too, well, I had to ring round the hospitals, didn't I? Not a sign of her there, either. How selfish can she be! I had to take double my usual dose to get to sleep and when I woke up this morning, expecting her to have returned to get my breakfast, she still wasn't there and I had to get myself up and into the chair to let the cleaner in without having had a cup of tea or anyone to help me dress. Not a bite have I had—'