Murder in Time (32 page)

‘Game, set and match to the old gentleman. Do you mind very much?'

‘I don't know what I think. I'm pleased for Mikey, in a way. In lots of ways. I think his grandfather is to be trusted, isn't he?'

‘I think so. I don't suppose the son will bother you much in future.'

‘I couldn't marry him. I couldn't.'

‘Quite right. Imagine what Dan would have said, if you'd tried. And Thomas would have been outraged.'

Vera managed to laugh at that. She pulled herself together. ‘Tea and cake, then. Have we any, or shall I throw some scones together?'

Ellie said, ‘What on earth are we going to do with all that fruit and that huge bunch of flowers?'

‘We'll cope with them later.' Vera made for the kitchen, but Ellie was held back by the phone ringing.

It was Lesley. No preamble. ‘Dick Prentice's dead.'

‘What!'

‘Suicide.'

Ellie felt for the chair and slid on to it. ‘Are you sure? No, that's silly. You wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. But … how? What brought this on? Did you manage to catch up with Maureen? She might have … No, she wouldn't go so far as to kill him, would she?'

‘Ellie, calm down. It's suicide, not murder. Yes, I did track Maureen down yesterday evening and had a word with her about spreading rumours. She was, I am happy to say, both furious and tearful that Dick Prentice should have put her in such a false position. I used words such as libel and slander and quoted the prison terms for people convicted of either, which frightened her considerably. I had to make her a cup of tea and provide her with a tissue before she could talk rationally, and at that point she was only too happy to give me a statement to the effect that her boss had taken advantage of her good nature, etcetera. She said how disappointed she was in Mr Prentice who, now she came to think about it, had used her abominably, and it was just like her mother had always told her, that men are brutes at heart.'

‘I can imagine,' said Ellie, amused.

‘Indeed,' said Lesley. ‘After a while she stopped being frightened and turned to righteous indignation. How dare he, etcetera. She said she was going to have it out with him, that she was going to inform their line manager about his conduct, that that would put a stop to his progress up the ladder, and serve him right. I've no doubt she meant what she said, but I can't see her storming into his house and demanding that he commit suicide, can you?'

‘Well, no. But if she phoned him and told him she intended to report him, and that she'd informed the police of how badly he'd misled her …? I'm just trying to work out the timescale. Let's say she did ring him last night and threaten to take action. Would that be enough to push him into committing suicide? Before he's even been interviewed by the police?'

‘“Ours not to reason why.” Let's be thankful that he did.'

‘Yes,' said Ellie. Her mind had fastened on to the memory of a man saying that he'd do what he could to avenge Vera. She tried to recall Simon's exact words. He'd said something like, ‘I am doing, have done, everything I can to make amends.'

Now what had he meant by that? It wasn't just telling Dick to retract the story about Thomas, or giving Vera a cheque, was it? Or was it?

She said, ‘Suppose someone else also put pressure on him. Someone who said they could bring a witness to Dick's raping of Vera?'

‘One of the people you've talked to, you mean? Ye-es. But which one, and why today?'

Ellie had Simon's name on the tip of her tongue, but was not sure about saying it aloud. ‘Did Spotty Dick leave a note?'

‘Yes. To Whom It May Concern. Citing depression.'

‘I suppose that's as good a name for it as any. You wouldn't really expect him to confess to rape, to taking drugs and to trying to rape several women. And he certainly would feel depressed if he knew he were facing a prison sentence. How did he do it?'

‘A neighbour of his heard a car engine running inside Prentice's garage and called the police. They found him sitting at the wheel, dead. There was no mention of Thomas or Vera in his note.'

‘Or of Maureen,' said Ellie, trying to work it out. ‘I bet if you got hold of Dick Prentice's phone records, you'd find that Maureen did either go to see him or phoned him last night, in order to warn him that the police were after him.'

‘Would that be enough to make him commit suicide?'

‘It might,' said Ellie, crossing her fingers. She didn't know whether or not Maureen had done anything to force the issue, but she had a strong suspicion that Simon had done exactly that. If it was Simon, there would be no trace of the phone call. He'd have been wily enough to have bought a disposable phone, used it, and got rid of it.

‘Well,' said Lesley, ‘I'm happy with the outcome as it is. I wouldn't dream of suggesting that we look into anyone's telephone records. The official position will be that Mr Prentice was depressed and committed suicide. I've scared his accomplice into clearing Thomas, and that will be the end of that. Right?'

‘Thank you. Yes, I suppose that is the best possible solution,' said Ellie.

What a pity that someone else had to die … but also, what a relief. It was, she had to admit, a merciful conclusion to the investigation into the rape, at least for all those left alive.

She put the phone down, wondering if she herself had any responsibility for Dick Prentice's death. If she hadn't interfered, if she hadn't given Lesley those names and told her about Maureen … what would have happened?

She'd acted with the best of intentions, but … No, no. She shook herself back into a sensible state of mind.

Let God be the judge. Justice has been done. Praise be.

After the deputation had departed, Ellie found herself unable to settle.

One minute she was amusing Evan, and the next she was gazing out of the window. It was a bright afternoon, and she rather fancied a breath of fresh air. ‘Is it going to rain, do you think? I thought I'd take Evan for a walk around the block. I know Diana said not, but he's fractious and likes being wheeled along. Do you want to come?'

Thomas yawned. He'd taken a service that morning at short notice, had had a nice long nap in his La-Z-Boy chair, and looked forward to cooking the evening meal. ‘That leg of lamb that Dan brought. An hour and a half in the oven, do you think? With roast potatoes, parsnips and whatever greens we've got in the larder? You're only going round the block, Ellie? You're not going to do anything silly?'

Anything
silly?
He shouldn't have said that. Wasn't she capable of deciding such things for herself? What
was
the matter with the man? She'd got him cleared of the abuse charge, hadn't she? ‘I might call on a neighbour, if he's in. I'll ring first, to make sure, and I promise to leave a note of the address if he asks me over there for a cuppa.'

Thomas yawned again and went off to rummage in the larder.

Ellie paused in the hall, listening. Sometimes, if Vera forgot to close the door to the top floor properly, you could hear what was going on up there. Dan wasn't due for a while. There were faint telly noises upstairs. Nobody was shouting or crying. Three of the clock, and all's well.

She dithered. Did she really want to go out?

Everything had been cleared up beautifully. Dick Prentice was dead, and his assistant had been dealt with by Lesley. Simon had seemed repentant. He'd made the right noises, and his cheque would help Vera to her dream kitchen. Mikey had established a relationship with his grandfather, and his father's threats against Vera had been neutralized.

All was hunky dory. Except that the man who'd murdered Dan's father had never been brought to justice.

She made a phone call. The person who picked up the receiver at the other end wasn't surprised to hear from her, which told her everything she needed to know. Yes, if she'd like to drop around sometime that afternoon, that would be good.

Ellie left a note for Thomas, tucked an extra blanket around the sleeping form of Evan, who was … oh dear, just beginning to wake from his nap. Time to get his wheels a-rolling, or he'd start screaming. She checked that she had an umbrella in her handbag and pulled on a mac, just in case.

She let herself out of the house, closing the front door gently to behind her.

It was one of two people. She'd known that for a while. One was dead. One lived two roads over. Dead or alive? Take your pick.

Simon had known.
Let sleeping dogs die.

Simon had implied it was the young one. Maybe it had been. But when Ellie had been told to look for a woman, her old friend hadn't been talking about a lippy girl from the chippy, but about a mature, manipulative woman, who could charm the birds off the trees … or seduce an old family friend into comforting her after a shock. Comforting her into her bed? Mm. Possibly not. Though the suggestion might have hovered in the air, so to speak.

On the night of the murder, Dan had needed help in the aftermath of the party. His cousins had been whipped off to hospital. The house had been ransacked. His guests had gone. He was alone and needed help.

So what had he done? He'd rung an old family friend. Mr Scott had driven over with his son, who'd been at the party earlier but who had got home safely. Raff stayed on in the house while Mr Scott drove Dan to the hospital. Mr Scott had then returned to look after the house and to be there to explain to Dr and Mrs McKenzie, when they returned, what had happened. Mrs McKenzie had gone inside alone, while the doctor had stayed outside to garage their car.

Mrs McKenzie had been met by Mr Scott. He was their old family friend, solicitous and helpful. Charming, fragile Mrs McKenzie would have been distraught at seeing what had happened to her beautiful home. Mr Scott had calmed her down. Mr Scott had gone up to her bedroom with her and made sure there weren't any nasty burglars still lurking under the bed or in the cupboard. He'd looked behind the shower curtain and soothed her until she was able to cope and see herself to bed. Mr Scott had then gone back downstairs and taken a seat, waiting for the doctor to return … and fallen asleep. He said.

What had Raff been doing all that time?

Ellie was about to find out.

M
r Scott lived in a large, detached house, circa 1910, red brick, a turret on one corner. It wasn't as huge a house as some, but it had been built for someone who intended to employ servants to look after it. Ellie would have taken a bet that there'd be a billiard room or a conservatory at the back and that the kitchen would be large and inconvenient. She manoeuvred Evan in his buggy into the porch and rang the bell. One bell only. The house was still occupied by one family, and it had not been divided into flats.

Evan had been turning his head from side to side to look up at the trees as Ellie pushed him along. Now his view was limited to the inside of a large, dark porch, and he screwed up his face, ready to yell out an objection.

The door was opened by an imp of the feminine gender. ‘Grandpa says he's out in the back.' She clung to the door, balancing herself on roller skates. Her feet went every which way until she regained her balance, when she shot off across the hall and down a short passage into the back garden.

Ellie pulled the buggy into the hall and shut the front door. There were clashing sounds nearby. Someone washing up the lunch dishes? A slight odour of dog. A clutter of coats of all sizes and colours, a hat stand containing umbrellas, sticks and a kite. Yes, a kite.

The imp had been about Mikey's age. She had fair, tightly curled hair. Both the colour and the curls were natural.

Raff's child?

An ancient dog of indeterminate breed appeared, enquiring who the visitor might be. Too old and rheumy to be a threat. ‘Good dog,' said Ellie, who knew more about cats than dogs. Apparently, that was the right thing to say, for he turned himself round with an effort and padded off back down the passage to the garden. Ellie followed.

A couple of steps at the back led up to a pleasant but nondescript garden, bounded by brick walls. There was a lawn with shrubs around the perimeter and, full in the sunshine, a plastic table surrounded by chairs. Scattered around the long lawn were a trampoline, a barbecue under wraps, a climbing frame, a half sized football net, and a paved path on which the girl with the curly hair was trying out her roller skates.

A white-haired man in his sixties was sawing away at an overgrown lilac bush, half of which had been brought down by the wind and was lying on the lawn. He stopped when he saw Ellie and laid down his saw. ‘Did Hedda see you come in?' He gestured to the chairs. ‘Are they dry enough to sit on, do you think? Will you be warm enough out here?'

Ellie manoeuvred the buggy up the steps and put the brake on. ‘They look fine. My grandson likes the great outdoors.'

‘Such as it is. I'm afraid I'm no gardener. It's as much as I can do to keep the place tidy. Tea or coffee?'

‘Thank you, but I've just had some. Apologies for breaking in on your Sunday.'

The dog laid himself out on the paving stones beside the chairs, placed his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

The girl sang out, ‘Grandpa, watch what I can do!' She tripped, recovered herself and tore on up the path.

He sang back, ‘I'm watching you!'

‘Raff's child?' said Ellie.

A long sigh. ‘Yes. So, it's over at last.'

‘You knew you'd be called to account some day?'

A nod. ‘I've made provision for Hedda and the child. My wife passed away long ago. You want me to go to the police with you? I'd rather they didn't come here. I don't want the child to see me taken off … although I suppose it can't be kept from her much longer.'

Evan was grizzling. Ellie adjusted the angle of the buggy so that he could see around him. He chewed on his fist. He was definitely teething again. Where, oh where, had she put his dummy?