Murder in Style (13 page)

Clemmie's hands stilled. She hardly seemed to breathe.

Ellie said, ‘Was it you who found your aunt dead?'

A face of stone, but a muscle moved in Clemmie's throat.

‘Tell me, was there any blood?'

A tiny shake of the head. Clemmie threw the leftovers in the bin. ‘I really must get on. Busy, busy. So much to do. I have to get started on these worksheets.'

‘Were the pictures skewed on the walls of the staircase?'

Clemmie looked at Ellie. Horror was in her eyes. She didn't seem able to speak.

Ellie said, ‘If the pictures weren't skewed, and there was no blood, how do you know she was killed by falling down the stairs?'

Clemmie shot to her feet, eyes closed, throat working. Was she going to be sick? Yes?

She stumbled out of her seat and made it to the toilet, just in time.

There was a movement in the doorway to the office at the back. Mr Mornay was standing there, aligning some papers in his hand, watching Ellie.

Ellie watched him, in return.

Behind them, Laura could be heard on the phone, taking details of a would-be tenant.

Mr Mornay lifted the papers in his hand, gesturing to Ellie to follow him into his office. Mr Mornay, the mystery man, who was not Celine's husband. Who had been brought into the partnership by Poppy and Juno to give them an overview of the business. A school friend. Retired?

He didn't look like a retired anything. He looked like … a judge? An observer in life. An introvert. A government official? He didn't fit into the picture, which meant either that the picture was much bigger than had been described to Ellie, or that his relationship with Poppy might have been more than that of a friend?

Ellie thought it would be interesting to find out.

‘W
ell!' Mr Mornay swung back into his chair without waiting for Ellie to take a seat. ‘Quite the little old busybody, aren't you? I can't feel your presence is helpful at the moment, and I must ask you to leave the family to grieve in peace.'

Ellie blinked.
Little old busybody?
Those words hurt, as they were designed to do. In the old days, Ellie might have burst into tears at being attacked in such terms, or slunk out of the room, apologizing for her very existence. Well, she supposed she was both ‘little' and ‘a busybody'. But, by invitation, which made all the difference. Didn't it?

So, instead of running away, she took a chair at the table and tried to work out why he'd been so rude. Did she threaten him personally?

She looked him over. No wedding ring. A signet ring on his little finger. A man whose tie was knotted ‘just so'. Perhaps a little pernickety? A professional man. An accountant?

Clemmie had said he'd been brought in to conduct an overview of the business. That sounded feasible. And now, with Poppy's removal from the scene, The Magpie would undoubtedly have to take on someone else to manage that side of the business and, perhaps, appoint another person in the office?

Promote Clemmie? Mm. A possibility. Clemmie was management material.

This man was not on The Magpie's payroll. So, why was he looking at the books which littered his desk? Books which, now Ellie came to look at them, did not fit with the image of the well-run, well-kept Magpie office. These books were all, to put it mildly, a bit scruffy. Perhaps he was auditing some other firm's work while holding the fort in Juno's absence?

He seemed to have made himself very much at home, which argued that he had Juno and Poppy's backing … or the backing of the senior Cordovers?

He repeated himself in a louder tone. ‘Didn't you hear me? Your presence here is not helpful and I must ask you to leave.'

She had it! ‘So you've found the leak?'

He stiffened. ‘I'm not a plumber.'

‘No. An accountant, called in for a special audit of the books. Let me get this straight. When the partnership was set up all those years ago, Gerald Cordover built in certain safeguards. Naturally he made it a condition of his loan that the books were to be audited by someone he trusted, both to safeguard his investment and provide his daughters with advice in case they needed it. He got his daughters to appoint you as auditor. Over the years you will have seen the business grow, but you knew them socially as well. Right?'

A stiffened backbone. A raised eyebrow. He wasn't sure how to take this.

Ellie frowned, trying to work it out. ‘The annual audit for The Magpie wasn't due, so a cover story about wanting an overview of staffing was produced to account for your presence. You were called in because the twins had found a discrepancy in the accounts? Money has gone missing and they couldn't account for it. I suppose they wondered at first if they themselves had made a mistake. Neither of them could bear to think it might be one of their staff, whom they've known for ever. They had good relationships with Celine, Ruth and Laura, and would have known if anything in their circumstances had changed, or if they were in need of extra cash. This was not so. The twins were sensible enough to realize they couldn't ignore a leak which might turn into a tsunami and bring the whole firm down, so they asked you in to do an audit. To their horror, you confirmed that there were discrepancies.'

A grimace which was meant to be a smile. ‘Ridiculous. The partnership books are perfectly in order.' He took out a handkerchief and carefully dried the palms of his hands.

He'd lied.

Ellie concentrated on what she'd seen and heard. Who she'd talked to, and what about. ‘I don't think it's Ray. He needs thousands – maybe hundreds of thousands – and a smallish amount wouldn't help him out of the hole he's dug himself into. I don't think the missing amount can be all that much …?'

He wasn't going to answer. Or, was he? Finally, he raised his eyebrows and nodded.

‘The low hundreds, perhaps? Five hundred? A thousand?'

Another stiff nod. ‘A little over that.'

‘Fifteen hundred, maybe? How was it done? Was money taken out of the petty cash box? No, that can't be it. There'd never be enough in petty cash to cover that amount. Trixie's to blame, isn't she?'

He flicked his fingers, dismissing the idea. ‘Trixie? No! Ridiculous! She has a more than adequate allowance, and she only has to ask for an increase to get it.'

‘Trixie is an expensive little minx, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if she overspent on a regular basis. I expect she was warned several times to rein in her expenditure, but there! She saw her father exceeding his income all the time, so she probably took about as much notice of her mother's warnings as he did. Fifteen hundred in excess of her already generous income? Yes, that's about her style.'

He almost laughed. She'd guessed wrongly?

He got to his feet, went over to the door and made sure it was shut. Returned to his seat. ‘This is strictly in confidence, you understand? It's not Trixie. If it were, I'm sure we would all have understood. But it's not. It's far, far worse.'

‘You think it's Clemmie? Absurd!'

‘I regret, there can be no doubt. You cannot conceive how deeply her betrayal wounded her mother and her aunt. They had taken her in, given her a second chance … it makes my blood boil to think of how she has repaid their generosity!' He exhibited real emotion.

Interesting.

Ellie recalled Juno sinking to the floor after the reading of the will, and Clemmie going to her aid. Juno had looked up at Clemmie, Clemmie had looked down at Juno, and there had been love and trust in that interchange. No suspicion. No blame.

Ellie said, ‘Hang on. You can't honestly think that—'

‘Talk about biting the hand that feeds them! As soon as I've finished my present task, I'm going to have to go back through the books, to see where else she's been stealing—'

‘I can't believe I'm hearing this!'

‘Gordon said—'

‘Gordon? Ah, now I'm beginning to understand. You were all at school together, weren't you?'

A stare. ‘Well, yes. But—'

‘Ray Cocks, too?'

He nodded, but pinched in his lips. He didn't want to talk about Ray.

‘When you qualified as an accountant, you joined a firm which included Gerald Cordover in their client list? And, knowing you'd been at school with the girls, he asked you to take over the books at The Magpie, which was and is doing well. You continued to have some social interaction with the family, yes? Tell me; how did Gordon come to be in a wheelchair?'

A pinching in of lips. Was he going to reply? But then, he decided to do so. ‘A car accident. They said he'd never walk again, but he has gradually got back some sensation. On a good day he can walk a little but … What's that got to do with anything?'

‘Who was Clemmie's father?'

Grimly. ‘A gatecrasher at the girls' eighteenth birthday party, brought by someone unknown to the girls and never seen again. Gordon accepted Clemmie as his. His cross to bear. He's next door to a saint. Even when he's in pain, he struggles to get to the local day centre, where he helps rehabilitate others in the same position as him. He's endlessly concerned for their welfare; writes letters, speaks to politicians. An inspiration to us all. It hurts him to realize how Clemmie has responded to all his loving care of her.'

‘Mm,' said Ellie, thinking that what little she'd noted of Gordon hadn't given her the impression of his being any kind of saint, and that his treatment of Clemmie was disgraceful. ‘So he's put the boot in, has he?'

‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Told you all about Clemmie's disastrous holiday and subsequent debts? About the payday loan which should have kept her in penury for years? Did he tell you that he threw her out of the house when she was on her knees asking for help?'

‘Threw her out? What nonsense! She knew she'd overstepped the mark, and walked out, just like that! He covered up for her then, but … now! This!' He spread his hands. ‘He can't cover for her any longer. Oh, believe me, we've discussed it endlessly. The girls couldn't make up their minds what to do. It couldn't have happened at a worse time …'

He must mean that it had come just as Ray found out that The Magpie was doing better than he'd realized, that Poppy found herself facing his escalating debts and a divorce, and that Trixie had become fixated on a future in front of the camera.

Mr Mornay wiped his hands again, looking into the distant past and not liking what he saw. ‘The night Poppy died, we had yet another meeting. Gordon spoke up for Clemmie, you know. He said he could understand her fall from grace when she was deep in debt and the temptation was right there, in front of her. He said it hurt him very much to say so, but he thought that, however harsh it might sound, they ought to prosecute, to ram home the lesson which the girl doesn't seem able to learn for herself. Poppy admitted she shouldn't have let the chequebook out of her sight, but …' He threw up his hands. ‘You can't mend trust once it's broken. Poppy was coming round to the idea that yes, they must prosecute. Juno argued for a delay. I told them they had twenty-four hours to make up their minds, because I couldn't sign off the audit with a gaping hole in it.'

‘Chequebook?'

He spread his hands. ‘Cheques went missing from the firm's book. Ruth and Laura are not in need. The twins enquired, and they were not. It's common knowledge that Clemmie is deep in debt and spending way beyond her income. Driving lessons. Buying a car! On her salary! The sad thing is that she'd been doing so well here that Poppy and Juno were going to give her a raise.'

That was almost too much information. Ellie took a deep breath. ‘Who told you Clemmie was buying a car? It's not true, by the way.'

A stare. ‘Gordon did. He'd seen her on the ring road, driving a car. He wouldn't lie.'

‘There's no love lost there.'

‘I disagree. He's heartsick about what has happened.'

‘Really? Does Clemmie know what she's been accused of doing?'

‘No, of course not. Everything was left up in the air. Juno won an extra day to think about what to do, but that was the night Poppy died. I suppose, when Juno gets back, she'll tell the girl to go.'

Ellie thumped the desk. ‘Where is your proof?'

‘I told you that—'

‘You're not thinking like an accountant. As an accountant, you are trained to be impartial, to weigh the evidence, but you seem to have forgotten that the same thing applies when you are dealing with people instead of figures.'

‘What!' Real anger. He reddened, seemed about to explode in anger, but caught himself up and folded his mouth on the words he would have spoken. He even attempted a laugh. ‘Well, well; Mrs Quicke. You are quite the … as you say, we are trained to be impartial, and I believe that I am. I go from client to client, spending a week here, a week there; checking this, balancing that. I've always had a feeling for accounts. Columns of figures dance for me. I can look at a set of figures and smell success or failure. And no, I never get involved.'

‘Only now, you are.' Ellie wondered how fond he'd been of the twins. Both were married, but neither marriage was satisfactory. Which would he have favoured? Poppy or Juno? Poppy, probably. In which case, grief might well be influencing his thought processes.

‘It sounds,' said Ellie, ‘as if you have uncharacteristically allowed yourself to become involved in your clients' lives.'

‘What! How dare you!' He bit back a couple more words. Had he really been going to use a profanity? He took a stride to the window. Thumped the glass, disturbing a pigeon outside. ‘You had better apologize!'

Ellie decided to keep quiet and let him run out of steam.

Which he did. He sank back into his chair, and brought out his handkerchief to wipe the palms of his hands again. A long, long sigh. ‘I suppose you're right. In a way. I have always been very fond of … so many years … But I insist, I am always professional in my work.'