Murder in Time (5 page)

‘Ah, well, it's lost the personal touch and gone downhill since he died. Four or five doctors there now, but you never see the same one twice.'

‘That wouldn't suit her. What about the son? Wasn't he going to go into medicine, too?'

‘Now there was a change of direction.' Geraldine relished giving bad news. ‘Went haywire he did, after his father … You know about that?'

‘I remember the father died, yes.'

‘Murdered, he was. On his son's birthday. Drugs, they said. Some bad lad thinking the doctor had drugs on the premises, which of course he never. But I'm thinking there was more to it than that.'

‘Really?'

Geraldine winked. False eyelashes? ‘All that hoo-ha about the hedge. Storm in a teacup, but it led to blows at least once, didn't it? I reckon he was done in to stop the court case, right?'

‘What I've missed, moving out of the parish! Tell me more.'

‘Well,' said Geraldine, bony hands slapping the arms of her chair, ‘I suppose I ought not to say this …' A sideways glance to see if Ellie appreciated gossip.

Ellie leaned forward. ‘The only way to discover the truth is to explore all the possibilities. Sometimes even to say the thing that you ought not to say …?'

Geraldine thought that was amusing. ‘That's right. It was always the bit of gossip my husband used to say I shouldn't repeat that's the most interesting—'

‘Tell me
all
!'

Geraldine drew her chair closer to Ellie and dropped her voice, though there was no one else in the room. ‘Well, I got this from my Friday-afternoon customer that was a friend of theirs, played bridge with her, that sort of thing, and of course it was all in the papers, the local papers, I mean, though it never got as far as the High Court, which it was going to do, both parties being determined to have their pound of flesh. You know where the doctor lived? One of those big houses up the hill, the other end of the Avenue, over by the Cricket Club? Big houses with their own driveways and long gardens at the back. Well, apparently the doctor bought a bit of someone else's garden at the side of his that they didn't want, and he had it dug out and put in a swimming pool. But when he did so, the contractor tore out some of the hedge between him and his next-door neighbour. The doctor said the hedge was on his property and he wanted to put in a fence instead, to give him privacy around the bathing pool, you see?'

‘And the boundary was in dispute?'

‘That's just it. The deeds showed the line of the hedge, but it looked as if it had been put in a couple of feet to the west or the east of the boundary line, I can't remember which, and it wasn't clear who owned it. The doctor said it was his, and the solicitor next door—'

‘Any name for the solicitor?'

‘Or was it a barrister? I'm never sure of the difference. A bigwig, you know. Big car, big stomach, big ego. A second-hand wife; that's what they call these women that have been through the divorce courts a couple of times, isn't it? I think they broke up soon after. Anyway, there was a right ding-dong and it came to fisticuffs at the golf club one evening, which I wouldn't have heard about but my Friday-afternoon appointment that I told you about – she's moved away so I don't see her any more – anyway, she was there on the next table, and her dress was ruined when the Sauternes went flying around the place. I said she should have sued him for the cost of cleaning, but she said she'd never liked the dress that much, and didn't want to bother, especially as the Sir was such a tightwad and she didn't think it was as much as her life was worth to complain.'

‘The Sir was a K?'

‘A Queen's something; they made him a Sir.'

‘So it went to court?'

‘Magistrates'. And then on to County. We were taking bets on it at the salon, I can tell you. We all liked the doctor and hoped he'd win, though my Bill, my husband that was still with us then, he said him and his friends that worked in the council thought the Sir would probably win. Being who he was and knowing all the right people. My Bill said the costs would be enormous and whoever lost might have to sell his house to pay.'

‘I can't quite see a Sir killing the doctor, though. Did anyone see them fighting? Was it an accident, perhaps? A bit of shoving and pushing getting out of hand?'

Geraldine sighed. ‘Didn't you read the papers?'

‘Sorry. A lot was going on in the family then. My daughter was being difficult, pregnant, wanting …' Ellie gestured helplessness. Diana had indeed been exceptionally demanding at that time, pushing even her doting father too far. Tears, rage, screams … frantic phone calls … Not a good time to remember. ‘I do recall that there was a big party on that night, but the details escape me. Did they make too much noise? Did the Sir complain?'

A shrug. ‘He was out. Both him and his wife.
And
the doctor and his wife were out and the youngsters were let loose, which I'd never have allowed if it had been me, because Heaven only knows what they can get up to when the adults aren't around.' She nodded, looking wise. ‘Drugs and such.'

Ellie sought in her memory for details. ‘Didn't they think the doctor was killed by someone who'd gatecrashed the party and was looking for drugs?'

‘That's what they said in the papers. They tried hard enough to find someone, but did they manage it? No, they didn't. But, they didn't look at the Sir next door, did they? I reckon he and his wife, that tart, and the doctor and his wife, who wasn't too well at the time, they say, although she's chipper enough nowadays, I believe … Anyway, it seems they all got back home about the same time, and the wives went in, leaving the men to put the cars away. The Sir says he went straight back indoors and didn't speak to the doctor, but I reckon that's when he did it. He clocked the doctor with a spanner or something, and left him in the garage, pushing the door shut so no one would find him for a while. Which they didn't. Find him, I mean. Not till the morning.'

‘Hadn't Mrs McKenzie missed her husband?'

A wink and a nod. ‘They didn't sleep in the same room, apparently.'

‘What about the Sir? Didn't the police look at him?'

‘His wife gave him an alibi, didn't she? “He was with me every minute after we got back, officer.” And they believed her just because she was upper crust. Excuse me a minute …' Geraldine consulted her watch and, with a shriek, bolted into the kitchen. ‘Sorry, sorry! I forgot the stew. I'm expecting one of my grandsons for lunch today, so you will excuse me, won't you? He won't like it if I don't have it ready for him, with him only having an hour off in the middle of the day.'

Ellie knew it was time for her to go, but hadn't finished yet. ‘Wasn't there something about a foreigner making trouble that night?'

‘They're everywhere nowadays, aren't they? Not that I'm against them, understand, for one of my other grandsons is going out with the prettiest little thing, and she can cook, too, though her people come from somewhere out in the East, not India, it will come to me in a minute … Oh, are you going? Well, it's long time no see, don't be a stranger any more, will you? And where did I put that thing for Mrs Dawes? The Cedars, remember? Give her my love and tell her I'll pop in after the weekend, got the family coming, another birthday, and they don't like to leave their old gran out, do they?'

Ellie was swept out of the front door and on to the path. She decided that what Geraldine had said was just gossip. What's more, it didn't make sense, did it? Or, it made sense, but only if Ellie adjusted her timing for the events. She frowned. At what point had the police been called in? Who had summoned them? Not Sir, because he was out with his wife, ‘that tart'. Not the doctor, ditto.

Ellie looked at her watch. She'd put it on that morning without thinking, and it still registered the wrong time. She must take it in to be repaired. Or … embarrassing thought … did the battery need changing? She couldn't remember when she had last had that done, which meant it was probably a long time ago and the battery did need changing … which meant a trip to Ealing Broadway, because there was nowhere in the Avenue which sold the tiny batteries for watches. Which meant another errand to run.

In the meantime, could she fit in a visit to Mrs Dawes in the retirement home?

Ellie had a struggle with her conscience. Why bother? Why not go straight home and help Rose sort out the food situation? Or do some of the paperwork which drifted on to the desk in her study every day? She hadn't seen Mrs Dawes for ever, and she could drop off the photo album any old time. Mrs Dawes hadn't missed it, or she'd have made a fuss, wouldn't she?

Besides which, Ellie realized she'd been asking for information of the wrong age group. The people she needed to talk to would be those who'd been at the party; the school-leavers of that day, and the gatecrashers who might or might not have been dealing in drugs. Not the older generation who'd been parents then, for they knew nothing about what had gone on there. It would be a waste of time to visit Mrs Dawes.

Ellie shook her head at herself and set off down the hill. She'd neglected Mrs Dawes, and she was ashamed of herself for doing so. Mrs Dawes might not be the most congenial of companions, but she was an old friend and had looked after Ellie in the days when the old lady had ruled the flower arranging team with a pair of sharp scissors and an even sharper tongue. True, Mrs Dawes had been in the habit of using Ellie as something of a slave …
Do this, fetch that!
But even then, Mrs Dawes had not been quite as spry as she might have been.

It would be best to take the bus. Ellie smiled, wondering if Mrs Dawes still dyed her hair and wore dangling earrings.

Two bus stops later, Ellie got off at The Cedars. She rang the bell and announced herself as a visitor to Mrs Dawes.

‘What?' Mrs Dawes was in a chair with a high back and arms, seated at a table. ‘Who?' A Zimmer frame was at her side. Her eyes were not as sharp as before, her hair was now silver, and she no longer wore her dangling earrings. ‘Ellie Quicke, is it? Well, stranger: what brings you here? Your conscience smiting you? I didn't think you of all people, and married to a vicar, would have neglected your old friends. You're all the same, marry into money and forget your old friends.'

Ellie hid her distress at seeing how her old friend had deteriorated and stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘I know. I have been meaning to. But moving away, even only half a mile … I dropped in to see you at your old house, to bring you a little something, a box of chocolates, I hope you like them. It was only then I heard you'd come here. Geraldine found this photo album, too, which she says must have dropped behind a cupboard.'

‘Chocolates. Soft centres, I hope. Can't do with nuts at my age. They get under my plate. The photo album? Geraldine should have brought it round herself. Did she say when she was coming?'

‘Not this weekend. A family do of some kind.'

Mrs Dawes' eyes strayed. ‘It'll be lunch in a minute. A good cook, most days. It saves my legs, them cooking for me. Proper printed menus they give us, and a choice, too, and they understand about teeth not being up to much nowadays. They even have a dentist visit here. And a chiropodist. But the telly's on all the time, unless you ask to be in the garden room where it's quiet and …'

‘Splendid,' said Ellie, resigning herself to hearing a litany of complaints.

‘So what finally brought you here, eh?'

‘A query from a friend. She's just moved into the area, wanted to know if she should join Dr McKenzie's old practice.'

Silence. Mrs Dawes worked her jaws. ‘Bad business, that. A doctor from that practice comes to see us here. One of them, anyway. One's as bad as the other.'

‘I hoped the son would have gone into the practice.'

‘No backbone. Gave up at the first hurdle. Went in for something else, can't remember what. The church, was it? My memory's not what it was.'

Ellie let a laugh escape her. ‘You mean he became a minister? Like my husband?'

‘Who?' A stare. ‘Oh, yes. I forgot. You married again, didn't you? Is it working out all right?'

Alzheimer's, here we come. ‘Very much so,' said Ellie. ‘So, what about the McKenzie lad? He wasn't stupid, was he? I thought he was a bright lad, went to university?'

‘Tried something else. Not the church. Sometimes I get confused.'

‘Never mind, dear,' said Ellie.

‘But I do mind.' Tears welled in old eyes. ‘It comes and goes. Will you come to see me again? On a good day, mind. There's days when it's …' Her voice trailed away.

Ellie patted the old woman's hand. ‘I promise.' An aide was coming round with trays of food. Another was distributing large bibs. A tray of food was placed front of Mrs Dawes, whose hands trembled as she reached for a glass of orange juice. Her eyes were on the plate of chicken and vegetables. All soft food. It looked delicious. ‘About the doctor,' she said. ‘
Cherchez la femme
.'

‘What?' Ellie wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. Look for the lady? What did that mean? The old lady seized her knife and fork and lost interest in Ellie.

Home again. The Tesco delivery van was in the driveway and the front door was open. The weekly order of shopping had arrived. Vera was clever about ordering online, something neither Rose nor Ellie was good at. Ellie hoped that Rose hadn't been trying to carry the bags in herself, which she had been known to attempt in the past.

Ellie called out, ‘Yoo-hoo, I'm back!'

The delivery man emerged from the kitchen quarters, smiling. ‘Cheers, missus!' He banged the front door to on his way out.

There was a strange coat on the chair in the hall. Oh. So now what?

Thomas loomed in the doorway to the sitting room. He was stroking his beard and frowning. This must be an important visitor, for he didn't usually leave his study at this time of day. ‘Ah, Ellie. I hoped you'd be back early. Our visitor from yesterday is here again.'