Murder With Mercy (5 page)

Ellie put the food on the table and called out, ‘Come and get it!'

Vera sat down to eat with them, but could only manage a few mouthfuls before pushing her plate aside. She looked dreadful and, on being questioned, admitted that her head ached and her throat was raw. ‘I'll be all right. I must have caught a cold.'

Ellie took Vera's temperature and sent her up to bed.

Mikey sat at the far end of the table with the cat Midge at his side. They ‘talked' to one another, but to no one else. Rose was fidgety, complaining there was still dirt in her precious sink. Ellie apologized. Again.

Thomas took a third helping before Ellie could suggest he finished off with a salad – not that she'd prepared any but it was the principle of the thing. Thomas was always ‘forgetting' that he was supposed to be on a diet.

Fruit and cheese for afters.

Mikey disappeared; one moment he was there, and the next he'd vanished. Rose broke a plate as she cleared the table, so Ellie sent her off to watch the telly in her own room.

Thomas patted his stomach in thoughtful fashion. ‘The weather forecast doesn't look good, and the furrow in your brow tells me the storms are not only outside the house. Let me help you clear up, and you can tell me all about it.'

Ellie said, ‘I'll clear up while you make some coffee for yourself.' She didn't drink coffee after four in the afternoon, but she treated herself to a piece of chocolate instead. Back in the sitting room, Ellie looked at the dirty tea cups and mugs she'd forgotten to take out to the kitchen, and pushed them aside. ‘Your day went well?'

‘Fine. Yours didn't?'

Ellie thought of all that had happened that day. Which should she tell him about first? Diana's latest demands, the odd request from the police, or Petra's visit? Or perhaps the worrying interview with Hugh from Pryce House?

Those could all wait.

She went to retrieve the letter she'd received that morning and which she'd dumped in the waste-paper basket in her study. She said, ‘Read this. There's many a day I've wished I'd never met Mrs Pryce and been landed with her appalling stepchildren. Inheriting Pryce House was one thing. It takes up a chunk of my time, but I suppose it's better that it be turned into something useful like a hotel rather than be demolished to make way for another block of flats … but honestly; if I'd known how much trouble it was going to be to keep Edwina Pryce out of the bankruptcy court, I think I'd have declined to act.'

‘Nonsense,' said Thomas. ‘You know you've a flair for dealing with the oddities of life. I'll grant you Edwina is odder than most. Have you seen my reading glasses anywhere?'

‘In your top pocket?'

The Pryce children, spoiled in infancy, had assumed they could live out a life of luxury without lifting a finger to help themselves, until at last their father said, ‘No more!' He set each one up in business and bought them flats in a good neighbourhood. The idea was that they would take responsi-bility for themselves in future. Fat chance! They squandered the lot and asked for more.

After Mr Pryce died, his widow, following his instructions, had tried to limit the family's excesses with varying results. Impressed by Ellie's handling of her charitable trust fund, the good lady had left the bulk of the estate – including her white elephant of a house – to Ellie in return for keeping the surviving members of the family out of the bankruptcy court.

The eldest daughter, Edwina, thought she had a right to shop at Harrods although she hadn't the income to support such a habit. As soon as she found herself in debt, she passed the bills to Ellie for payment. Ellie seethed, but paid. And paid.

Thomas found and put on his glasses. ‘Granted that Edwina has been nothing but a pain to deal with, it was worthwhile your helping her brother, wasn't it?'

Edgar had been by far the best of the bunch, eventually straightening out long enough to find a job and stick to it. Unfortunately, he'd contracted cancer. Vera had been his carer. She'd loved him and nursed him without expecting anything in return. Edgar had married her, adopted Mikey and, before he died, he'd asked Ellie to look after them both. It had been Edgar's wish that Vera should pick up on the college education she'd had to forgo when a drunken school-leaving party had left her pregnant – and on her own.

True to form, Edwina had tried to make Vera hand over the little money which Edgar had saved and left for her. Ellie had put a stop to that, which naturally had infuriated Edwina further.

There was a third Pryce. He had a job of sorts, and though by no means a pillar of the community, he hadn't shown up very often on Ellie's radar.

Thomas scanned the letter which Ellie had received that day and let it flutter to the ground. ‘I've never heard of these solicitors. Are they “No Win, No Fee”? I see they're threatening to upset Mrs Pryce's will or, alternatively, to make you hand over your shares in the hotel by way of “compensation” for the loss of Edwina's inheritance. They've got a nerve, haven't they?'

Ellie sighed. ‘Edwina doesn't really think she can upset the will. It's been through probate. It's been scrutinized up hill and down dale and, despite her screams of rage, it's been pronounced valid. No, what she's doing is trying to make herself such a nuisance that we'll pay her what she calls “compensation”.'

‘Give the letter to your own solicitor and forget about it.'

‘I know that's what I should do and I will, but it doesn't stop me getting into a state about it. Oh, Thomas, I'm so worried. Hugh, the project manager at the hotel site, such a nice man, he came round to see me this evening, and I'm terribly afraid that Mikey's been playing tricks at the hotel. More than tricks; it's equivalent to sabotage. No, I really can't believe that Mikey would do what they say he's been doing, but he's been banned from entering the site. I promised to have a word with him about it but I can't do it behind Vera's back, and now she's ill and I don't know what to do.'

He reached for her hand. ‘Ellie, light of my life. Don't lose your perspective on things. I can't believe Mikey has been up to anything dreadful, either. Have you asked him about it?'

‘No, I got interrupted. Then I thought Vera ought to be the one who … But you are quite right. If it were just boyish pranks … But there's been real damage done and it's delaying the project.'

‘Well, that's not Mikey.'

She thought about it. Was he right? How could they possibly tell? No, Thomas was right. Mikey wouldn't. Hadn't. Couldn't. ‘I'll see if Vera's fit to come down and talk to us with Mikey. If not—'

‘We'll do it ourselves. We can't have the lad's reputation traduced.'

Ellie climbed the stairs to the top floor, where all was fresh and clean. The builders had done a good job of creating a spacious, two bedroom flat in the attic. They'd put in masses of insulation to keep the place warm in winter and cool in summer. They'd extended the central heating, put in fitted cupboards, a bathroom and a kitchen. The only thing the builders hadn't been able to do so far was to create a separate outside staircase to make the flat completely self-contained, though one day Ellie hoped the council would pass the plans for that, too.

Vera was in her kitchen, swaddled in an outsize dressing gown which looked as if it might once have belonged to her husband. She'd made herself a hot lemon drink. Her eyes were half-closed, and she was swallowing painkillers.

‘Bed,' said Ellie. ‘No arguments. Thomas and I will have Mikey with us for a bit. We're told he's been neglecting his homework to potter around Pryce House.'

Vera's voice was hoarse. ‘I hope you can get through to him. I can't. In my day we were in awe of the teachers, in primary school at any rate. He says they're all morons, except for the IT teacher. He sits there looking out of the window, and if they ask him what they've just said, he parrots it back to them in their own tones and that makes the other kids laugh. If you can think of a way to make him do his homework, then please do!' Her voice faded, and she started to cough.

Mikey appeared in the doorway with Midge the cat strung around his neck. Midge didn't like anyone else picking him up, but for some reason regarded Mikey as a different species and allowed him liberties he was not prepared to extend to any other member of the human race. Except that on occasion he did condescend to stretch himself out on Thomas's frontage when he lay back in his La-Z-Boy chair, and he would permit Ellie to have him on her lap for a short time if she were stressed and he was after a treat.

‘Downstairs, Mikey,' said Ellie. ‘We need to talk.'

He shrugged but preceded her down the stairs, his back rigid.

Thomas had dropped off to sleep by the time they got down to the sitting room but blinked himself awake, yawned and paid attention. ‘Mikey, how is your mother?'

Another shrug.

‘Poorly,' said Ellie.

Mikey seated himself on a low stool. Midge jumped down and made for the warmth in front of the fire.

Ellie didn't know how to talk to Mikey. She'd never considered herself to be brainy, and people like Mikey who had an affinity for maths and computers were out of her comfort zone. She hoped Thomas would do the talking but he was rubbing his eyes, clearly ready for an early night. He'd probably had just as hard a time as she had. Maybe more so. It was up to her to speak to the boy.

‘Mikey, you're over at Pryce House a lot. You know the public aren't supposed to go into the site. It's dangerous.'

A shrug. ‘I go over the wall. They don't mind me. They show me how to use the tools. I help to hold things. It's good. Better than school.'

‘Recently there's been some trouble. You know about it?'

A shadow passed over his face. ‘Someone's playing tricks, hiding tools, causing leaks.'

‘Some of the workmen think it might be you.'

Disgust personified. ‘Morons!'

‘Do you think you have a right to be on the site because your stepfather was brought up in that house?'

Mikey thought about that. Shook his head.

‘I know,' said Thomas, exerting himself to remain awake, ‘that it's hard to be suspected of something you didn't do. You've been going over there for some time, have got to know the workers. Do you think what's been happening is sabotage?'

‘What's “sabotage”?'

‘Accidental is one thing. Deliberate is sabotage. You know that very well. Mikey, pay attention.'

Another shrug. His attention wandered. Ellie could have slapped him. If he behaved like this at school, no wonder he was on the teachers' hit list.

‘Hugh wants you to keep away from the site for the time being. It's just possible that the culprit is only making “accidents” happen when you're around.'

Mikey reached out to the telly to turn it on.

‘Not now, Mikey. Have you done your homework?'

A grin. He hadn't, of course. ‘It takes five minutes. If I bother.'

Ellie said, ‘I'm very much afraid that you're going to get your mother into trouble if you go on like this. How many times has she been called in to talk to the teachers about your behaviour in class? Won't they make her life a misery if you don't do your homework?'

Another shrug. Another grin. He couldn't have cared less.

Thomas pulled himself upright. ‘They haven't threatened you with a visit from Social Services, have they?'

A wide-eyed look. A frown. No, they hadn't.

Thomas looked worried. ‘Mikey, Social Services take a special interest in single parent families, and if they see children from such families acting up at school, or not doing their homework, or truanting, they tend to get involved. They come down hard on the mothers if they think they're not acting as proper parents. They can even take the children away and put them into care.'

Mikey blinked.

‘You hadn't thought of that? Mikey, pay attention. This is serious. They have every right to be worried.' Something in Mikey's demeanour made Thomas add, ‘You haven't been truanting, have you?'

He shrugged. Did that mean he had?

Midge got up off the rug, stretched, and went to wind himself around Mikey's ankles.

Mikey slid off his stool and evaporated, taking the cat with him.

‘That went well,' said Thomas, angry with himself. ‘The lad doesn't frighten easily. I bet he's over the wall again tomorrow.'

‘Hugh is going to take away the knotted rope the lad's been using.'

‘Much good that will do. I was serious about Social Services, you know.'

Ellie sighed. Thomas had probably lied about the success of his day, understanding that she'd needed to talk more than he did. And she hadn't even had time to mention Petra and the visit from DC Milburn. Lesley.

She said, ‘We've both had a tiring day. Let's have an early night.'

An ‘early night' with Thomas might well lead to a good night's sleep for both of them.

‘Just what I was thinking,' said Thomas, rising from his chair with alacrity.

Ellie swam up from the depths of sleep, wondering if she'd left a window open.

No, someone was breathing on her. She struggled to open her eyes. A chilly feeling on her right indicated that Thomas had got up some time ago and was probably sitting in his quiet room downstairs. She looked at the clock. Nearly eight, and she'd overslept. It was a dark morning and – yes, still raining hard.

Mikey was sitting cross-legged on the bed with Midge beside him. It was Mikey who had been breathing on her. He thrust a piece of paper at her.

Vera's writing. ‘Sorry. Think I've got flu. I'm staying in bed. Mikey's had his breakfast.'

Ellie looked at Midge, who was licking his chops and pretending he hadn't just been fed some of Mikey's bacon. She sat up in bed, yawning. There was something she'd promised to do that day, only she couldn't think what.