Murder With Mercy (29 page)

Hugh shook his head. ‘It proves nothing, except that he was trespassing and did some more damage to the company's property. If I hadn't gone looking for him, I don't know what might have happened.'

Ellie told herself it was no good crying now. It was relief that was making her feel weak. ‘Thank you, Hugh. I am so grateful you found him in time.'

He was stiffly formal. ‘I can't be responsible for him if he enters the site again.'

‘No, I realize that.' She couldn't find a hankie, so sniffed, hard.

He nodded and let himself out.

The phone rang, and this time Ellie ignored it. Mikey was safe for the moment. But for how long?

Heads were hanging over the banister. ‘What's up?' said Thomas, bear-like in his dressing gown.

Vera, trailing her own dressing gown, had managed to lower herself down to the first-floor landing, holding a bundle of Mikey's clothes. She looked as washed-out as natural blondes can do on a bad day. And very anxious. ‘Is Mikey all right?'

‘He's fine,' said Ellie, forcing a smile. ‘Drop those clothes over the banister and I'll take them to Rose's shower room. He should have taken his mac if he wanted to go out and play in the rain, but there, you know what he's like. He'll be up to see you as soon as he's been cleaned up.'

‘Ellie?' Thomas's voice was as gentle as always, but it held a command. Thomas was getting stronger by the minute, and he wasn't going to be as easy to put off as Vera.

‘In a minute,' she said, rescuing Mikey's clothes.

She took them through to Rose, who said, ‘Everything that he had on ought to be dumped, including his shoes, but if that rapscallion has left any hairs on my head after all the worry he's given us with his shenanigans, I'll see what I can do to rescue them.'

Ellie trudged up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Thomas sat her down by the windows and seated himself there, too. He took her hand in his. ‘Tell me what's going on. Visitors are coming and going without explanation. Phones are ringing, sometimes answered, sometimes not. Mikey has been doing a disappearing act, here one minute and gone the next. Vera's trying to be brave and not making a scene but she knows that something's up, as I do.'

‘Leave it till tomorrow, right? You'll feel better then.'

‘Ellie, light of my life; if I'm well enough to realize something serious is going on, then I'm well enough to pray about it. Your eyes look tired. I know Vera and I have given you some disturbed nights, but it's more than that, isn't it?'

Was he really up to hearing what was going on? His colour had improved but his hand was a trifle too warm on hers. No, he wasn't fighting fit yet.

She turned her hand in his, holding on to it. ‘Prayer would be good. As much as you can manage.'

There was a stir at the door, and Mikey came in, freshly scrubbed, smelling of good soap, warmly clad. With his mother in tow. Vera's eyes looked wild. ‘You said not to worry, but Mikey's in trouble, isn't he? Don't shut me out. I have a right to know what's going on.'

Behind her came Rose, panting from the effort of climbing the stairs. ‘Council of war, is it? Well, you're not discussing anything behind my back.'

‘Take a seat, all of you,' invited Thomas. ‘And now, Ellie, tell us what's going on.'

So Ellie did, with Rose interjecting now and then that she didn't understand that bit so Ellie had to go back and fill in. Ellie hadn't intended to go into detail about Mikey's adventures, and she did try to minimize how roughly he'd been treated, but Vera wept and clutched him to her when they got to that part. ‘Oh, Mikey! And I knew nothing about it.'

Rose handed Vera the box of tissues. ‘It's his own fault. He will
not
be told!'

The boy looked down at his feet.

Thomas stirred in his chair. ‘Mikey, we see what you've been trying to do, but a good general doesn't win a war by throwing all his troops into battle against overwhelming odds. That way he's sure to be defeated. A good general thinks long and hard before he acts. He considers the enemy's strengths and weaknesses. He doesn't necessarily attack where he's expected to do so. He makes sure his troops are in good condition, well fed and well armed. He gathers information. He takes advice from his officers. He may not follow that advice because his is the final decision about how to fight the war, but he listens to what they have to say.'

Mikey didn't look up at Thomas, but he did seem to be listening.

Thomas went on, ‘When I'm up and about, we'll have a look at stories of some of the great generals of the past and how they won their wars. The Duke of Wellington, for instance, was wily enough to pull his troops back from territory he'd gained in a summer campaign, to overwinter where he was safe from attack. That way he didn't lose men by making them fight under adverse conditions and was well prepared for a spring offensive. You follow me?'

Mikey's mouth twisted, but he managed a tiny nod.

‘Good. Your problem is that you only saw one small part of the picture and, without any particular preparation or forethought, you launched into an offensive you couldn't win.'

Mikey flushed.

‘Now suppose,' said Thomas, ‘you'd taken a camera with you when you first went after Preston and Dave. You might have got some evidence which would have stood up in court, saved yourself considerable aggro and us a lot of worry.'

Mikey ground his teeth. It was clear he hadn't thought of that.

‘Remind me to give you a good camera for your birthday. Or suppose,' said Thomas, ‘you'd confided your suspicions in me or in Ellie? We could have asked Hugh to investigate and—'

Mikey treated Thomas to a Grade One glare of contempt.

‘Sorry to interrupt,' said Ellie, ‘but I don't think Hugh could have helped much. He's, well, got a lot of problems at the moment. But Mikey, if you'd told me earlier, I might have been able to help. You were tackling things from the wrong angle. The problem was not what Preston and Dave were doing, nor that someone tried to run you down in the street. The problem was who bribed Dave, or Preston, or both of them to do the damage in the first place.'

Mikey frowned. So did everyone else.

Ellie said, ‘I've been thinking a lot about this. The police can't always catch people doing bad things, but sometimes they can deal with the problem another way, by tracing the money the villains have made by their crimes. The Inland Revenue can step in and confiscate the fruits of their wrongdoing. The police couldn't manage to put away the boss of a crime spree in Chicago for the murders he'd committed, but he ended up behind bars because he'd fiddled his income tax. I think I can tackle this problem the same way. With help.'

Thomas nodded approval. ‘By taking advice from your friends, by attacking at the weakest point and when least expected. Now Mikey, what you have done so far has brought several crimes to light, and it's time for adults to move in and take action. But we can't concentrate on what we ought to be doing if we're in a state of anxiety as to your whereabouts. I want you to promise your mother that you will keep away from the building site until this matter is cleared up. Agreed?'

Mikey's lower lip came out.

Vera gave him a hug. ‘Come on. You know it makes sense. To please me? I shan't have a minute's peace if I think you're going to put yourself in danger again.'

Mikey gave a reluctant nod and then sagged against his mother, who clasped him tightly, murmuring, ‘There, there. You've had a rough time but it's over now. Let's go up and have a little nap, shall we? Back in our own little beds.'

Rose bustled to her feet, easing her back. She muttered something about everyone wanting a nice cup of tea, and disappeared.

Ellie said, ‘Tell me what to do, Thomas.'

His eyes were closed, his breathing even. He wasn't asleep but praying. She stayed where she was, watching him, being thankful for his presence in her life.

The room stilled around them.

Thomas was a powerful prayer warrior.

She wasn't sure exactly when he fell asleep, for his clasp on her hand remained firm. She heard the phone ring downstairs, and it seemed to disturb him for he stirred, letting her hand drop away. He did not waken. His temperature was the nearest to normal that it had been all week. Rain spat against the window. She sat on in the early dusk, not thinking but resting.

Busy, busy. Lots to do. Thomas to settle. He said he didn't think he was up to much yet, but he'd be praying for her. Rose was in a flurry, dropping things. Mikey and Midge made themselves scarce. Thump, thump. He'd found his skipping rope again.

Ellie, trying not to be distracted, made phone calls. Mr Greenbody – Ken – would be with her on time. He said he had some good news for her. Kate said she'd try to make it but had a whirlwind of a day already booked.

Her own solicitor, Gunnar. ‘No, my dear, I haven't forgotten. Do you still need a copy of Mrs Pryce's will? I'll look it out as soon as I get to the office, but I'm afraid I'm in court after that. What? What! Oh. Yes, I suppose I could ask my clerk to fax through a copy for you …'

Gunnar wasn't going to be much help, was he?

Vera looked pale but ate a reasonably good breakfast for a change. ‘You can't really want me in on this, Ellie? I mean, every time that woman sees me she “forgets” my name and asks when I can go to clean for her.'

‘She's afraid of you, that's why.'

‘Of me? A cleaner?'

‘Be proud of what you did to keep you and Mikey afloat. And you're not a cleaner now. You're a mature student, getting good grades. Yes, I know it will be awkward for you, but I really would like you to join us if you can manage it.'

Set the scene. To offer coffee or not? Possibly not.

Dust and hoover in the dining room, which needed attention in the absence of her cleaners. Turn on the lights. Chase Midge and Mikey out from hiding under the big table. What on earth were they playing at? Hadn't she enough on her plate without …? And the phone rang again.

This time it was the fax Gunnar had promised. Well, they'd need that. She scanned it carefully. Yes, and yes. That's what she'd thought. Hoped.

The front doorbell announced the first arrival.

K
en Greenbody bustled in carrying a bulging, rather worn leather briefcase and a superb new laptop. ‘Rejoice with me, Ellie! I bring good news. I thought it might be a good idea to contact young Terry before Ms Pryce realized we were on to her little schemes and could warn him what was happening, so I called in to see him on my way home yesterday. I explained that some of Edwina's scams had come to light and that she seemed to have involved him, too. I said how worried I was that she might try to drag him down with her in the matter of the fraudulent sale of his car. The very idea caused him to go weak at the knees. He had to sit down and sip a restorative before he could speak coherently.

‘Then it all came out. He confessed that he
had
acted as project manager for her when she had a leak at her flat. The leak was genuine and did do a lot of damage although probably not nearly as much as she made out. Terry had been short of the readies at the time and agreed to project manage for ten per cent of whatever it was she managed to get out of Mrs Pryce. And yes, he probably was aware that some of the bills were inflated first time round, but he denies emphatically that he had anything to do with a second leak and a second lot of work on the flat. He was more than happy to give me a statement to that effect. He is not, definitely not, going to prison to save her skin.

‘As to the sale of his car …' Ken gave a great, chuckling laugh. ‘Yes, I suspect he
was
in on the scam but now he knows that she's been rumbled, he's never going to admit it. He looked me in the eye and declared she must have thought up the fraud herself. He has given me a signed statement to the effect that he did not sell his car to Edwina. I suppose we could get the police to look at his bank statements, to see if he was in receipt of any kickbacks from her, but I'm not sure it would be worth it.'

‘Bravo, Ken.'

He grinned. ‘Oh, by the way, I was late for supper and my wife says I owe her a night out at the opera, strange tastes she has, but there it is. I said you'd be happy to underwrite the cost of the tickets.'

‘I shall be delighted. Tell her to pick her programme.' Ellie flicked tears from her eyes. ‘I can't tell you how … That's just exactly what … You know what I mean to say.'

He was pleased with himself. ‘There's nothing like sowing dissension in the ranks of the ungodly. Now, where would you like me to set up shop?'

Ellie suggested he sat at the foot of the long dining table, and she offered him coffee.

He declined. ‘I wonder, would you like me to be Inquisitor General today?'

‘You have all the facts and figures. I'd be grateful.'

The next arrival was Ms Edwina Pryce, who stepped into the hall as if she were the leading lady making an entrance on stage. A Louis Vuitton handbag was hooked over one arm, and she was wearing a cunningly cut ivory cashmere coat over a matching slimline dress. Her four-inch high heeled shoes were exquisite, her hair had been attended to by a master and her make-up was understated but took a good few years off her age. Or maybe she'd been Botoxed?

No, no Botox yet, thought Ellie. Or we'd have had the bills for it.

Edwina looked Ellie up and down. ‘You almost disappear into the woodwork on a dark day like this. Going to a funeral?'

‘That's right,' said Ellie, who'd been pleased to find only one buttery spot on the midnight blue suit she kept for such occasions, and it had come off nicely with a flannel and some hot water. ‘We're meeting in the dining room. May I take your coat?'