Murder With Mercy (7 page)

Now what was it Ruby used to say?

It had gone. Maybe it would come back later.

Everyone at the surgery was upset about Petra. If she found a solicitor who'd take the case on a ‘No Win, No Fee' basis, then the doctors would be in real trouble. That couldn't be allowed. After all, she knew who'd helped poor Ruby to have a good night's sleep for once.

She'd better call round and have a word with Petra next day.

Had she anything in her diary? Where was her diary, anyway?

Ellie hesitated. Was this the right place? It didn't look like a house in which someone had died recently. Far from it.

It was a substantial detached house, probably built about 1920, on a main road. A dropped kerb allowed cars to enter a paved forecourt through electronically-controlled wrought-iron gates tipped with gold. Ellie counted four cars on the forecourt: one luxury model with tinted windows, two smaller runabouts and a builders' van. One of the smaller cars was bright red. You couldn't change the colour of your car just because someone in the house had died, but it did strike an incongruous note.

It wasn't only the cars which gave her pause, for even as she approached, an effigy of Father Christmas on a sleigh, complete with reindeer, was being hoisted into position on the front of the house. Three men were currently working to secure the installation, easing it into place with many a merry quip and yell of, ‘Watch it!' and, ‘Left hand down a bit!'

The decoration – if you could call it that – was dotted with hundreds of light bulbs which would dispense signs of seasonal cheer to the neighbourhood. In mid November.

Ellie consulted the piece of paper on which Evan had written the number of Freddie and Anita's house. Surprising as it might seem, this was definitely it. Ellie dived for shelter from the drizzle into a deep porch and located the doorbell.

The front door opened to a blast of warm air, some heavy rock music, and the whine of a vacuum cleaner. A woman in her forties, pretty enough in an insipid way, held the door open. She was talking into a mobile phone, complaining that someone had let her down. Was this really the right house?

Ellie hesitated.

‘Yes?' The woman shut off her phone. ‘We don't buy at the door.'

Ellie reddened. Did she look like someone selling dusters? ‘I'd like to speak to—'

‘He's not seeing any visitors at the moment.'

‘Oh. Well, Evan Hooper asked me to drop in this photograph of—'

‘I'll take it, shall I?' The woman reached for the packet.

‘Who is it, May?' Freddie, the man of the house, appeared from the back of the hall; tubby, dark of hair, florid of countenance, genial in manner. Casually but expensively dressed. She recognized him from the old days and noted that he wasn't exhibiting any particular signs of grief. No wringing of hands or dishevelled appearance.

‘Evan Hooper asked me to bring—'

‘I know you, don't I? Of course. You're Mrs Quicke?' Shaking hands, drawing her inside. ‘Long time no see, what with this and that. Hard times, your husband and now my wife … Come on in. Horrible day, isn't it?'

The insipid blonde looked annoyed. ‘Yes, but Freddie! You agreed, no visitors.' She even went so far as to lay a hand on his arm. ‘You need time to—'

‘It's all right, May. Don't fuss so.' He stepped away from her, letting her hand slip off his arm. ‘Do come on in, Mrs Quicke. You find us all at sixes and sevens, always the same when we have to put the lights up, wasn't sure whether or not to do so this year, was it lacking in respect, you know? I decided to go ahead when May said the neighbours would be so disappointed if we didn't. Everyone looks forward to it. Only now I'm wondering whether it was the right thing to do. Oh, this is May, my right-hand woman from the office, keeps me on the straight and narrow, ha ha.'

May held out her hand to be shaken, unwilling to be dismissed. ‘Pleased to meet you. I'm sure you understand, Mrs Quicke, that it's early days yet and he must take care not to overdo things.'

‘Yes, yes,' said Freddie, sweeping Ellie into a sitting room occupying the depth of the house. A hothouse atmosphere, lilies wilting in a cut-glass vase, a Siamese cat giving Ellie a look of annoyance, a plump girl with a broad face – possibly Polish – wielding a vacuum cleaner.

‘I can't stay,' said Ellie, trying to give him the photograph again. ‘I just brought—'

‘No, no. I insist. May; can we rustle up some coffee? And …' He struck his forehead, addressing the cleaner. ‘Sorry, forgotten your name for the moment. Could you, do you think … somewhere else?'

The cleaner pinched in her lips, but removed herself and the hoover. May, however, was not so easy to dislodge. She said, ‘Freddie, you promised me you would have a quiet time today and not rush about, but deal with some of the paperwork that—'

‘Yes, yes. It's not really that important, is it? Mrs Quicke, do have a seat. The coffee will be up in a minute, won't it, May? Now, Mrs Quicke; I've been meaning to call on Evan, but, well, you know how it is, one's own life gets suspended somewhat when … Where does the time go, I ask myself? It was only yesterday that …' He heaved a great sigh, then turned on May, who had stubbornly refused to do as he'd asked. ‘May, dear. Coffee, please?'

May's colour rose, but she admitted defeat and left the room.

‘Now,' said Freddie, ‘we can be comfortable. May is a treasure, an absolute blessing, I don't know what I'd have done without her, especially at the beginning when I couldn't seem to lace up my shoes properly, or tell you which day of the week it was. But now I'm sort of coming out of it, trying to pick up the pieces, ha ha. May's quite right, I'm not coping all that well, but it has been on my mind to get in touch with Evan. I must not lose touch with my old friends. So tell me; how is he?'

He seemed genuinely to care, and Ellie – who had written him off at first as a man who was recovering rather too fast from his wife's death – began to warm to him. She said, ‘You two go back a long way.'

‘I was best man at his first marriage. What a woman! Anita always said it wouldn't last, that she was too much of a man for him. His other wives came and went, so to speak. Serial monogamy, Anita said. She, my wife, was godmother to one of theirs, can't remember which one for the moment. Anita and I, we never had any offspring, more's the pity. I used to envy old Evan with all his … Not that we weren't happy, Anita and I, you get used to these things, and as I always say, what's meant to be, you've just got to cut your cloth and get on with it, right? So, how is he bearing up?'

‘He's a bit down; it's a slow progress getting back on his feet and he's inclined to give up. He needs a lot of encouragement. If you could find time to visit, cheer him up, it might help. But I do understand that when someone dies, your own life is put on hold.'

He put out his hand to pat hers. ‘Yes, you know all about that, don't you, with your first kicking the bucket as he did. Who'd have thought it, eh? I mean, he always seemed so fit but there it is, and we can never be sure what lies in store for us and all that. You remarried, I hear. A man of the cloth? Working out all right?'

She wasn't offended because he seemed sincere in his enquiries. ‘Very much so.'

‘Second time round,' he said, nodding. ‘Not that I want another crack at it. Anita and I, we didn't always see eye to eye, how could it be otherwise, but we were good friends. Always.'

Ellie spared a thought for May, who might or might not have aspirations in Freddie's direction, but if she did have any such hopes she was doomed to fail. This man was still in the depths of grief, though on the surface he was coping well enough.

He wiped the heel of his hand across his face. ‘Do you believe, Mrs Quicke? In life after death, I mean? I was brought up a Catholic, though Anita wasn't that way inclined, and … I can't help but worry about her, wherever she may be. Suicide is a sin, isn't it?'

‘Are you sure that it was—'

‘Oh yes. Compos mentis and all that, right to the end. It was the third time the cancer had come back, and it was the prospect of losing her hair again which did it. There was no hope, you know. Perhaps she'd have gained another month. At best. It would have been a miserable, long drawn-out death. She knew that, and so did I. I did wonder whether she might … But she didn't even hint … I must have had an inkling though, because I checked that she hadn't enough pills to do the job, before I left.'

Ellie nodded. She hoped such a thing would never happen to her. Suppose Thomas were suffering from terminal cancer, and he asked her to help him die? What would she do?

But no, that would not happen. His faith was so strong, he would never put her in that position.

Freddie's eyes were far away. ‘The thing is, I've tried to fool myself but I can't. I did know what was at the back of her mind when she encouraged me to go to the old school reunion. She said it was to give her space, a bit of time to herself, but I didn't reckon on her getting hold of any more pills. Stupid of me. She was always the bright one. I don't know who supplied her with … But it doesn't matter, does it? The thing is, I knew what she intended to do, though I pretended I didn't. So I'm as guilty as she is.'

Ellie didn't know what to say. She didn't, in all honesty, know exactly what to think. If the pain got so bad … what was the right thing to do? Ask the doctors for more painkillers?

Dear Lord above, put the right words in my mouth.

She said, ‘She loved you very much. She saw to it that you weren't involved.'

His eyes were shiny with tears, but he held them back. He patted her hand. ‘I'll go to confession this weekend. Haven't been for years. Get it off my chest, what? Thanks for listening. There's not many people you can talk to about … well, anything of real importance, is there?'

The door opened and May bustled in, her mouth downturned with disapproval. She was carrying two mugs of milky coffee slopping over on to a tray. She put the tray down with a thud, saying, ‘The man from the Co-op rang again. I said you'd ring him back when your visitor had gone. And the men who are putting up the lights want a word.'

‘Co-op Funerals?' Ellie took a sip of the coffee – which was instant rather than ground and over-sugared – and tried not to pull a face. ‘I believe they're very good.'

‘Yes, her father and mother, also her aunt, I believe. The service will be at the church she used to attend on high days and holidays. I used to go with her, often as not. A good choir, decent preacher. Cremation. Family flowers only.' He picked up the envelope Ellie had brought and drew out the photograph. He smiled. ‘Yes, that's a good one. She hated having her photograph taken recently, her hair, you know. She had such beautiful hair. Thank you, Mrs Quicke. Appreciated. You can tell my old friend that I won't be alone. I've got family, cousins and an old uncle of hers, all coming to stay for the funeral on Monday. My sister said she'd come earlier, which is a mixed blessing, but most of them will be here at the weekend some time. My sister's wonderful in a crisis. She'll see to making up beds and providing food and all that. I said I thought the family would probably all like to go to the Carvery afterwards, but she said they'd expect to come back here, and she'd arrange the food and drink. If Evan can make it, that would be good. But if not, tell him I'll pop in to see him as soon as I can find a moment.'

‘I'll see you out,' said May, appearing at Ellie's elbow. ‘You didn't have an umbrella, did you?'

May wanted Ellie to leave, and there was no need for her to stay, was there?

Freddie came to the door with her, rubbing his hands, looking around. ‘You know, I'm not at all sure we should have the lights up this year.'

May overrode him. ‘You know it had all been agreed before she did away with herself.'

Freddie winced. Ellie wondered if May realized how tactless she was being. Perhaps she did?

‘Nasty day,' he said, waving Ellie off. ‘Keep in touch, right?'

Ellie smiled and nodded, without committing herself. As she reached the pavement, it occurred to her that there was one person who might well have been interested in hastening Anita's demise, and it wasn't her husband. No.

If one had a nasty, suspicious mind – and Ellie had to admit that it was a failing of hers to think the worst of man and womankind – then you would look hard at the ever-helpful May, who might well have taken the opportunity to assist Anita into the next world.

It was true that the one-time cleaner Ruby and the middle-class golf club player Anita had both died of overdoses, and there was some question as to how they'd managed to obtain enough pills to do so. It was perhaps understandable that a friend might have helped both ladies to their deaths, but there was no connection between them. How could there be, coming from such different backgrounds?

Ellie turned her mind to mundane matters, such as what they should have for supper that night, and whether or not it would be a good idea to ring the doctor about Vera, although it was widely known that antibiotics didn't help with flu. You just had to keep taking painkillers and fluids.

She got to the checkout point and couldn't remember her pin number. Eight five oh something. She tried what she thought it should be twice, and the assistant said if she got it wrong the third time the card would be blacklisted and she'd have to ring some helpline or other to reactivate it. She had to leave her groceries there as she hadn't enough cash to pay the bill.

She had it written down as a telephone number in her diary, but she couldn't find her diary. Perhaps it was in her brown handbag, the one that she could wear over her shoulder?