Murder in Time (31 page)

Thomas said, ‘Dick Prentice? I won't be answerable for the consequences if it's him. I'll cope with Evan, if you want to speak to him.'

It wasn't Dick Prentice.

It was an official visitation in a cream-coloured stretch limousine.

First came the chauffeur … One of the kidnappers from the other day? Then came a manservant … kidnapper number two? … who was almost hidden behind an enormous basket of fruit. A bouquet of rare flowers dangled from his wrist.

Next came Abdi, rubbing his neck and looking anxious.

Finally, out of the back of the car stepped a dapper little old man with sharp black eyes which were hooded, rather like a tortoise. He used an ivory-handled cane to indicate that Abdi was standing in his way. The godfather? No, the grandfather.

Ellie wanted to laugh. Or cry. She wasn't sure which. She backed into the hall and rang the bell to summon Vera.

Abdi's father bent his head in greeting. ‘Mrs Quicke? What a very pleasant neighbourhood this is. I trust you will allow me to present you with a few flowers and some fruit in view of the fact that my son has caused you so much inconvenience.'

Total charm offensive. Oxford-educated? Intelligence personified. A slight sibilance? He gestured with his cane, and the offerings were tenderly placed on the hall floor.

Subduing a slightly hysterical impulse to laugh, she said, ‘Do come in. Vera will be down in a minute. Coffee, tea?'

‘Thank you, so kind. But no. I fear we have trespassed on your good nature too much already. A few minutes of your time, perhaps?' He twitched his cane again, and the servant returned to the car.

‘Won't you come in?' said Ellie. Absurdly, as he was already in, and making for the sitting room … where he seated himself in her high-backed chair. Of course.

He looked around, assessing her and the room. With another inclination of his head, he said, ‘I regret that my son seems temporarily to have lost his voice and failed to introduce us. My name is Abdi, the same as his. So confusing. But I trust you will be able to tell us apart?'

‘Yes, I should think I would.' This man was a force to be reckoned with.

‘Pray, be seated,' he said, as if he were the host. Ellie sat, half amused and half indignant.

Vera appeared in the doorway, her hand on Mikey's shoulder, eyes wide, taking in the situation.

Abdi the younger hovered. He was diminished by his father's presence. And flustered. He said, ‘Father, this is—'

‘Indeed.' The older man turned his whole body round in the chair to see Vera and Mikey better. Had he a stiff neck? Arthritis? He bent his head. ‘Welcome, Mrs Pryce. And Mikey, too. For once I can understand the direction my son's heart has taken, even if his methods of wooing lack discretion. Do, pray, take a seat.'

Wide-eyed, they did so.

Flatterer! Was Vera impressed? Apparently not. Wooing? Ah-ha. This man was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

‘Father …'

The cane twitched, and Abdi the younger fell silent.

The cane twitched again. ‘You may be seated, my son.'

Everyone waited while the younger Abdi looked around for a chair and sat. Ill at ease.

The elder Abdi turned his attention back to Vera. ‘Mrs Pryce, my son's impetuosity has from time to time led him into situations from which I have had to rescue him. I apologize on his behalf, and I trust, gracious lady that you are, you may find it in your heart to forgive him.'

Vera stared at him, frowning. Silent.

The old man said, ‘I am a wealthy man with interests in oil and shipping. I have factories in India and China. I have four children, eight grandchildren and I believe will shortly be presented with my first great grandchild. None of them, I regret to say, have the backbone of a shrimp –' a twitch of the cane here prevented his son from bursting into speech – ‘and I have been at a loss as to who might take over the reins when I am eventually forced by ill health or old age into retirement. I am absolutely delighted to hear that the merging of my bloodline with some good Anglo-Saxon genes has produced a descendant worthy of my name.'

He beckoned with his cane, and Mikey left his mother's side to stand in front of the old man. Were they going to stare one another down? And if so, who would win?

M
ikey said, ‘I apologize for wrecking your son's house, sir.'

A narrowed glance. ‘I am told it will cost half a million to make good the damage.'

A grin. ‘He must have insurance?'

The old man smiled. He leaned forward and patted Mikey's cheek. ‘Well said. But we won't compound the problem by making a false claim against the insurance company. My son will foot the bill.'

Abdi Junior grimaced, but didn't look too distressed, so he could probably afford it.

‘So, Mikey,' said Abdi senior, ‘will you come to work for me when you are finished with university?'

‘I might.' Mikey looked back at his mother, who moved to stand at his shoulder, saying nothing, but reminding everyone that he was her son.

Abdi senior rested both hands on his cane. ‘Mrs Pryce, you have been greatly wronged. It is difficult to see how we can make restitution, but one method did occur to me. My fool of a son could go through a form of marriage with you. This would legitimize Mikey in the eyes of the British law and make it easier for him to find his proper place in my organization when he is grown up. I do not suggest that you live with my son as man and wife. That would be asking too much of you. After a few weeks of this marriage in name only, you would file for divorce on the grounds of his unreasonable behaviour—'

Ellie couldn't let him get away with that. ‘I'm afraid under British law they'd have to be married for much longer than that before they could go in for a divorce. Two years? More?'

‘That is true,' said the old man. ‘But it might be done on a visit to my country where the laws are, er, more flexible. A stay in a hotel in a beautiful resort, all expenses paid? My son would not contest the divorce, but the subsequent money settlement would mean that you, Mrs Pryce, need never work again. I would bear all the costs, of course.'

Young Abdi said, ‘It's a good offer, Vera. Take it, do.'

Vera shook her head. ‘One minute you're threatening to have me charged with murder and—'

‘What!' The old man shot a rapier-like glance at his son.

Abdi Junior mumbled, ‘The man I paid to find out about Vera, he said he'd found someone answering her description who'd been arguing with the doctor that night. Shouting at him.'

‘I assure you it wasn't me,' said Vera.

Abdi Junior grimaced. ‘I know that now. I went to see the so-called witness. It was dark, he was on night shift, had been walking his dog before he went to bed. He saw someone in dark clothes with fair hair arguing with a man in front of his garage. He couldn't even swear to it being a man or a woman. That's all he saw. I didn't know Vera had left by that time, and I thought it was her.'

‘A man on night shift? Indeed!' said Ellie. ‘In that neighbourhood? Wishful thinking. A burglar looking for an easy entry, more like. No wonder he hadn't come forward before.'

‘Well, yes. I suppose. But I thought that if I said it was, she'd agree to my terms.'

His father was outraged. ‘You
thought
! On such slender grounds, you tried to blackmail the mother of your only son?'

‘Yes, well. It turns out it couldn't have been her. I've said I'm sorry. I'll pay the man off, tear up his statement. I promise.'

Ellie said, ‘That won't do. However little your witness observed, I suppose he did see something, and the police ought to be informed.' Especially if he had been a burglar on the prowl.

‘Agreed,' said Vera. ‘Have you got the statement with you?'

‘Well, I … er …'

His father twitched his cane, and Abdi Junior pulled a couple of sheets of paper out of his breast pocket and handed them over to Ellie. ‘You can't tell much from this.'

Ellie said, ‘Thank you. I'll see it gets to the right people.'

The cane twitched again, and Abdi Junior said, ‘I'm sorry. I really am.' He revived, like a ball bouncing back into play. ‘So, Vera; what about it? We could fly to Somalia and do the deed next week.'

‘You're joking. You're already married.'

‘Yes, but she … Now that she is aware I can't … I can assure you that there will be no problem.'

‘You mean that she's already filed for divorce?'

‘She is happy to fall in with our plans, knowing how much it means to me.'

‘You're paying her off.' A statement, not a question.

A shrug.

Vera said, ‘Thank you, but no. Two wrongs don't make a right. I am not going to enter into a fake marriage for the sake of money, no matter how cleverly you word your offer. It would be like selling myself. As for legitimizing Mikey, people don't judge as harshly nowadays as they used to do. He will get by on his merits.'

‘I anticipated your reaction,' said the old man, ‘and if I may say so, I honour you for it. I did think of promising that if Mikey entered my organization he would be well protected, but that, also, I will not do. If he comes, he comes under his own name and fights for his own place in the sun.'

‘Yes,' said Mikey, ‘that's how I'd like it to be.'

The old man nodded. ‘I thought you'd say that. And –' turning to Vera – ‘I think you were wise to turn down my son's offer of marriage. You deserve something better. Shall I introduce you to a more suitable match?'

It was Vera's turn to blush. ‘Thank you, but “no”.'

Abdi Junior rushed into speech: ‘Mikey could join us on the yacht for a holiday.'

Both Mikey and the old man shook their heads. ‘You go too fast, my son. Mikey has had one experience of your so-called hospitality, and I don't want him wrecking the yacht as well.'

Mikey grinned. ‘I wouldn't wreck anything of yours, sir. I wouldn't need to, would I?'

‘You may call me grandfather. That is, when you feel ready to do so.'

Vera said, ‘I won't object if Mikey wishes to see his father now and then, but I don't think he should leave the country. Not yet.'

The old man bowed his head. ‘Agreed.'

She went on, ‘I don't know if this makes any difference to your way of thinking, but I have received an offer of marriage from another man. He and I would have been married long ago if it hadn't been for the events of the night on which Mikey was conceived. After that, we drifted apart and have only recently made contact again. This man wishes to adopt Mikey and give him his own name.'

Mikey fidgeted, eyes down. Which meant … what? That he didn't want to take Dan's name? Understandable, perhaps.

The old man looked at Vera from under his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps he can decide what he wants to be called when he's had time to think about it.'

Mikey nodded. He put out his hand and rested it on top of his grandfather's. A fleeting caress. The old man bent forward and kissed Mikey on his cheek. ‘Grandson.'

Mikey's eyes were shiny with tears. ‘Grandfather. May I come to visit you whenever you're staying in London?'

‘I hoped you'd say that. I'm here for a week or so, perhaps six times a year.' The old man looked around. ‘Bring up a stool, Mikey. Sit beside me. I want to hear in detail exactly how you managed to do so much damage. Did Mrs Quicke tell you what to do?'

‘Oh, no,' said Mikey, happily sitting down beside his grandfather. ‘I learned a lot about how to start fires and what water can do when I was helping the workmen at the hotel in the next road.'

‘You worked on a building site?'

‘Unofficially, yes. It was fun. Anyway, I learned what water can do, and electrics, and stuff like that. I turned the taps on in the bathroom to saturate the carpet, knowing that if it wasn't discovered for a while, it would damage the floor and the ceiling beneath. I started the fire with the lamp because I'd seen how easily an unattended lamp can set paper on fire. I smashed the windows because they were fitted with alarms and I thought that might bring the police in, and then I saw the laptop and broke that, and I glued up the power points and the remote for the television. But Mrs Quicke did help me when we got down to the garage, by pointing out where the tyre lever was. I couldn't have wrecked the cars, otherwise. I had thought I might introduce a virus into the computer system, but I didn't have enough time to work out the password.'

‘For this relief, much thanks,' said the old man, smiling. ‘Remind me to let you have the passwords for all our systems when you come to visit. That way you won't have to destroy everything in sight.'

‘Oh, I wouldn't. Not now.'

‘No, I don't suppose you would.' He gestured to his son. ‘Now that we've cleared the air, perhaps you would like to shake hands with Mikey. You would both make better friends than enemies.'

‘I don't mind,' said Mikey, looking at his father from under his brows, ‘if he doesn't.'

Abdi Junior scowled and then grinned. ‘Isn't it terribly British, shaking hands?'

They shook hands, tentatively. Then Mikey was pulled into his father's arms and given a hug. The look on Mikey's face was part horror and part pleasure.

The old man had the last word. ‘My blessing on both of you.'

Ellie thought, The old man wins, hands down. ‘Coffee?' she asked.

‘Out of a jar? I think not.'

‘Made in a cafetière. No? Tea and cake, then?'

‘That would be delightful.'

Vera said, ‘I'll help.' She left the room with Ellie. As they reached the hall, Vera started to hyperventilate. Ellie helped her to a chair and held her tightly till she'd recovered.

Vera blew her nose. ‘Sorry about that.'