Murder With Mercy (8 page)

She remembered some things better than others. She remembered opening the door, nearly ten months ago it must have been, to find poor Dr Ben, his face twisted with pain, clutching at his heart. She hadn't been her husband's practice nurse all those years for nothing. She'd realized he was having a heart attack, helped him inside and searched his pockets for his medication. She couldn't find it, so she rang nine nine nine. He'd gone by the time the ambulance came.

That was a bad day. After her husband had died two years earlier … another heart attack … What was it with these doctors that they ignored the symptoms? … Anyway, Ben was the only doctor in the practice to keep in touch. No waiting in the surgery for her while he was alive. He used to come to see her regular as clockwork, every other Friday afternoon. He made sure she always had enough painkillers and sleeping tablets, they'd have a small sherry and a gossip and off he'd go. He was a lovely man, and she missed him.

She didn't find his bag till later. Going out to close the gate after they'd taken him away, she spotted something brown under the laurel bush by the front door. He must have dropped his bag there when he felt the first pang.

It had started to rain, so she picked it up and took it inside, lest it get ruined. She took out her own tablets, of course, and anything else she thought might come in useful. She'd stopped needing sleeping pills some time ago but they did come in handy for other people.

She rang the surgery next morning and said she'd found his bag outside in the garden. They came to collect it and said some drug addict must have cleared out his bag of pills before she got to it. She didn't contradict them because having them made her feel much more secure. Insurance for a rainy day.

Eight four oh two sounded right. Or was it nine four oh two?

E
llie struggled to get her key into her front door. Hampered by the bag of dry cleaning which she'd picked up on the way home, she found it a tricky business. Thomas never had this trouble with the front door key, but for some reason Ellie did. Perhaps she should have a new one cut?

Finally, she was in and out of the rain but not free to sit down and have a rest, for there was Rose, their housekeeper, wringing her hands, bobbing up and down, in a terrible state. Her cheeks were flushed. Had she been crying?

‘Oh, thank goodness you're back, I didn't know what to do, I tried ringing you, but my fingers are all thumbs and I couldn't seem to get the right number down so I asked the man who came to read the electricity, and he did it for me, but then he said you were switched off and weren't taking calls, so then I thought of trying Thomas but he's in a meeting and said he'd ring me back but he hasn't. I really didn't know what to do for the best so I rang your secretary but she's not at home and in any case it's not really her problem, is it?'

‘What isn't?' Ellie said, dumping the dry cleaning and shedding her wet coat and umbrella. ‘Has there been an accident?'

‘No, no,' said Rose, wringing her hands again, trying to explain and making a poor fist of it. ‘It's Vera. At least, it ought to be Vera, but she's so poorly that I don't think she's up to understanding what's going on, and indeed I didn't tell her, though perhaps I ought to have done, but she's running such a fever that I hadn't the heart.'

Ellie guided Rose down the corridor into the kitchen and sat her down. ‘Cuppa, my dear? Now calm down and tell me what's been going on. From the beginning. I went off to see Evan and you … What did you do?'

Rose gulped, but tried to obey. ‘I was going to make a steak and kidney pudding, and then I thought, oh dear! It's nearly ten and I'm sure Vera needs a hot drink, so up the stairs I went to the top—'

‘Rose, you aren't supposed to climb stairs nowadays.'

‘Well, needs must, and I'm all right if I take my time about it. Anyway, she was ever so hot and croaky and so I came down and got her some lemon and honey and took it upstairs again …'

Rose hadn't been managing the stairs for months. And she'd done it twice in one morning?

‘Good for you,' said Ellie, making a pot of tea for them both. ‘And then …?'

‘I started the pastry and I'd got the steak and kidney on to cook when the phone went and it was Mikey's school. He's played truant. Again!'

‘What! I delivered him to the school gates myself this morning.'

‘I suppose he waited till you were out of sight and went off on his own business.'

‘Just wait till I catch him.' Ellie got milk out of the fridge.

‘That's just it,' said Rose, deep in misery. ‘He got caught this time, good and proper.'

Ellie nearly dropped the milk bottle. ‘He got caught? Doing what?'

‘I couldn't quite make out. Anyway, straight after the school got off the phone, the police rang asking to speak to Vera because they'd got Mikey down at the station, and I told them it wasn't possible to get her to the phone, and they said it was important and I said however important it was, Vera couldn't manage it and I asked them what was wrong, and they said Mikey had been caught on the building site, red-handed, and they needed someone, I couldn't quite understand who they needed but I said you were out and so was Thomas and it was something to do with having a responsible adult on hand, and they said would I do, and I said I couldn't, not really, with the pastry half made and not understanding exactly what had gone wrong, and maybe it was the wrong thing to say and I ought to have gone down there as I don't like to think of the lad in the hands of the police because ten to one they'll jump to the wrong conclusion—'

‘What is it that he's supposed to have done?'

Rose wrung her hands in misery. ‘I don't know! All I know is he's down there all alone, and they said he was being uncooperative and they needed his mother to be there before they could talk to him. I suggested they get one of his teachers, and they took the number of the school and said they'd do that, but you know what Mikey's like and if he doesn't want to talk, they won't get a word out of him.'

Ellie told herself to keep calm. ‘Vera really is bad?'

‘I went up again to see if she was feeling better, but she wasn't, so I didn't say anything to her, which I'm not sure whether I was right or wrong to do so, but then I tried to ring you, and then Thomas, and then I rang your secretary but at last you're here and can sort it out now.'

Ellie sat down with care, trying to take in what was happening. Mikey down at the police station? Caught red-handed, doing what? All that talk of sabotage … No, no! It couldn't be! But that's what everyone always said, wasn't it? That their little darling couldn't possibly have been responsible for whatever it was they were supposed to have done.

Mikey was from a single parent family.

Mikey was a stubborn little cuss at the best of times.

What to do next? Ellie poured tea with a hand that trembled. She handed one of the mugs to Rose, saying, ‘Drink up.'

‘I'm so glad you're back.' Rose wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

‘Yes,' said Ellie. Should she ring her solicitor and ask him to help? No, first she must find out exactly what was going on. She took her own mug of tea back into the hall and rang the local police station. With any luck, it would be DC Milburn – Lesley – in charge of the case, and she'd get a sympathetic ear.

Unfortunately, she landed up with a desk sergeant – probably a civilian nowadays? – who didn't have the time or the patience to discuss a simple case of vandalism by a lad who'd been truanting from school. Who was Ellie, and what relation was she to the lad in question? Mother or grandmother? Aunt, perhaps? Guardian?

‘I'll be there in ten minutes,' said Ellie, crashing down the phone and wondering if it would be best to walk or wait for a cab to take her there.

Rose appeared in the doorway, blowing her nose again. Was Rose going to go down with flu, too? ‘Is he going to be all right?'

‘Of course he is,' said Ellie, mentally crossing fingers. ‘You get on with the supper. If there isn't time to make a steak and kidney pudding we could have the pastry as individual dumplings in beef stew, as they only take half an hour. I'm going to check with Vera and then get down to the station.'

Up the stairs she went. How many times had Rose done it today? Poor dear, no wonder she was worn out. Into Vera's flat. Nice and tidy. Everything clean and neat.

Ellie knocked on the door to Vera's bedroom, and a hoarse voice bade her enter. Vera was in bed, the bedclothes dis-arranged. She looked flushed and her eyes were half closed, not focusing properly. A jug of lemonade was on the stand beside her bed, with some packs of painkiller, evidence of Rose's attentions.

Vera tried to sit up when she saw it was Ellie. ‘Sorry. I'll be getting up soon. Can't leave everything to Rose. Aches and pains, that's all. Better soon.' She was also running a temperature, if Ellie were any judge of the matter. And the light from the window was bothering her.

Rose was right; Vera was in no condition to do anything at all. ‘Everything's under control. Don't you try to get up till you feel better. I just popped in to see how you are.' Ellie drew the blinds halfway down at the window. ‘Is there anything you need?'

‘Mikey …?'

Ellie spoke the truth, if not the whole truth. ‘I took him to school today.'

‘He's up to something …'

‘He usually is. I'll check. You have a nice sleep and I'll be up to see you again in a while.'

For various reasons Ellie never felt comfortable at the local nick. She did realize that members of the public weren't meant to feel comfortable there. It was even possible that a firm of architects had been employed to make sure the surroundings were as stark and forbidding as possible.

There was another reason why Ellie avoided the place. She hadn't intended to make an enemy of the Detective Inspector whom she'd nicknamed Ears, but that is exactly what she had done, and he was one who'd hold a grudge for ever.

As she entered the hallowed precincts, she imagined how Ears would relish her appearance on behalf of a disadvantaged lad of mixed race who'd been caught thieving – or whatever it was Mikey was supposed to have done. Ellie cringed at the thought. Perhaps he was out on a case somewhere. She hoped.

Ellie fidgeted, waiting for the desk sergeant to notice her. A civilian was doing the job nowadays. Chosen for brawn rather than brains?

‘I'm Mrs Ellie Quicke. I've come to collect the boy Mikey Pryce.'

A stone face. ‘You're the lad's mother or grandmother?'

‘Neither. His mother is employed by me as a housekeeper. She and her son occupy a flat at the top of my house. His mother is in bed with flu. I suppose you could say I was a sort of guardian. May I ask what's going on?'

‘You are responsible for him?'

‘In a way, yes.'

‘Yes or no?'

‘Then; yes. May I see him?'

‘Take a seat.'

Ellie did so. More waiting. People came and went. Some police, some members of the public. No Ears, thank goodness. Eventually, Ellie went back to the desk. ‘May I ask who is handling this case, and why you have him here in the first place?'

A different man behind the desk. The same stonewalling attitude. ‘What is your name?'

Ellie looked at her watch. ‘Is DC Milburn around?'

‘Take a seat.'

Ellie did so. And at last Lesley Milburn appeared. ‘Mrs Quicke, what are you doing here?'

‘I was told my housekeeper's young son has been brought here. His mother's down with flu, and I'm trying to find out what's going on.'

Lesley Milburn conferred with the duty officer, looked thoughtful, asked Ellie to wait a moment, and disappeared. More time passed.

Finally, Lesley reappeared, accompanied by a large, sandy-haired woman. Lesley introduced them. ‘This is my colleague, who has been dealing with Mikey – or trying to do so. DC Collins, Mrs Quicke.'

Ms Collins looked as if she'd be a nice, commonsensical girl under different circumstances. Today, however, she looked as if she'd run out of patience. ‘Look, in my view this is just a bit of mischief that's gone too far. Ordinarily, we wouldn't want to waste police time over it. We'd give the lad a good talking to and send him home. But there's a complication. The man who brought him in insists the boy must be charged with criminal damage. He says it's not the first time he's been caught and warned, but that he keeps coming back and doing it again. He says the boy has got to be stopped.

‘We've warned him that because of the boy's age, no magistrate would give him anything but a slap on the wrist, but the complainant insists that we must make an example of the boy, to discourage others. He says that if the juvenile courts won't deal with his vandalism, he'll complain to Social Services that the lad is out of control.'

‘Ouch.'

Lesley nodded. ‘Given the boy's background – single parent, truanting and so on – it's not impossible that he'd get his way. If the boy were to admit he'd been stupid and expressed regret …? But he's dumb.'

Ellie felt herself go pale. Mikey had been very fond of his stepfather, Edgar Pryce, and had become mute after his death. It had taken time and patience to get him talking again, but he'd been talking to her and Thomas last night, hadn't he? So why had he stopped talking now? Ellie said, ‘His mother has flu. And I mean serious flu. Don't you need an adult to be with him before you can question him?'

‘We asked for a teacher to come up from his school, but they said there's no one available till after four o'clock. They were not surprised to hear he's been truanting again.'

‘Give a dog a bad name,' said Ellie. ‘May I see him?'