Murder in Style (14 page)

Oh, yeah! She said, ‘You've been listening to tittle-tattle from Gordon who, however much he likes to present himself as a loving father to another man's child, doesn't actually act like one. Have you ever seen him speak kindly to the girl?'

‘Well, of course. I suppose. I don't often see her. She's not my generation.'

‘If you'd ever talked to Clemmie, you'd realize she'd as soon bite off her own arm than steal from her family. What's more, she has absolutely no idea that she's supposed to have committed a crime.'

He primped his lips. ‘The evidence is against her.'

‘Evidence? What evidence? Some cheques go missing and you think it must be Clemmie, although other people in the office may well have had equal access to the chequebook. Your “evidence” is circumstantial, you must agree?'

‘It's enough, with her background of debt. If her own father …'

Ellie choked back some hasty words. She reminded herself that somebody
had
been milking the firm's accounts. That was a given. Or was it? ‘Tell me exactly what happened.'

‘This is a waste of my time and yours.'

‘Indulge me.'

‘Why should I? You march in here and start—'

‘Gerald and Marika Cordover came to see me the night before the funeral. They had been given my name by someone in the police force who was privately dissatisfied by the verdict of accidental death for Poppy. The Cordovers asked me to look into the situation and that's what I'm doing. So far I've not discovered anything which explains Poppy's death satisfactorily. I'm beginning to wonder if it was indeed murder. Officially, the police say it wasn't. Perhaps it was simply all these cross-currents, these secrets which weren't hidden well enough, these long-held resentments, that have caused people to doubt a verdict of accidental death. Was Trixie responsible? No. One doesn't kill one's Golden Goose mother for the sake of fourteen hundred pounds or thereabouts. Was it Clemmie? I very much doubt it, because she was not in debt.'

He opened his mouth to argue and she stopped him. ‘No, she was not! I can prove it. She'd been trying to tell her mother exactly that when Poppy died and everything went awry. No, don't speak. Let me finish. At the time of Poppy's death, Clemmie was free of debt. She was thinking of buying a car, taking driving lessons, and looking forward to taking her test. So, now tell me what evidence you have against her.'

‘Where did you get that tale from? Everyone knows she's deep in debt.'

‘Everyone doesn't. I don't. Tell me why you think she did it.'

‘Oh, very well.' He flapped his fingers. ‘Laura, as office manager, keeps the partnership's chequebook in her desk. Both the twins' signatures are needed on each cheque. Poppy usually leaves a dozen or so cheques in the book already signed. Laura is responsible for checking the bills, making the cheques out, getting Juno to countersign, marrying them up with the paperwork and putting them in the post. Half a dozen cheques, already signed by Poppy, have gone missing from the book. The counterfoils have not been filled in. The bank statements show these cheques have covered a matching number of invoices. The total amount is over fourteen hundred pounds. I have asked to see the cancelled cheques. The second signature is enough like Juno's that a casual glance would pass it without remark.'

‘And you haven't asked Laura about it, have you?'

‘Of course not.'

Ellie pushed back her chair. ‘Then I will.'

‘You can't do that!'

‘Watch me!'

Clemmie and Laura looked up when Ellie stalked back in, trailing Mr Mornay behind her. Both women were on the phone.

Ellie seated herself at Laura's desk, waiting for her to finish her phone call. Which Laura did. Puzzled, but not in any way alarmed. ‘A problem?'

‘Laura, I'm Ellie Quicke, and—'

‘Yes.' A quick, warm smile. Uncomplicated. ‘Clemmie's told me about you. We certainly can do with some advice at the moment. Now, how can I help?'

‘How often do you see Trixie up here?'

She heard Mr Mornay exclaim something, but didn't look round. Of course the family would have known from the beginning that there was a twofold business going on at The Magpie. The only ‘secret' was the scale of the buy-to-let operation. Two small houses to let meant one thing; ten or more was another kettle of fish.

Laura was relaxed. ‘Trixie? Oh, she comes up here every now and then. Sometimes for a cuppa, sometimes waiting for her mother. You know …?'

Ellie smiled back. ‘Of course. And to collect something her mother might have left for her?'

A puzzled look. Then a quick understanding. ‘Oh, you mean, when she needs topping up? Yes, of course.' An indulgent smile. ‘She does love to shop. The stuff she buys, vintage dresses, you wouldn't believe! And the jewellery!'

‘Does she bring it in to show you sometimes?'

‘Mm. Sometimes. Such a tiny waist. Mine was never that small. She wants to go into films, you know.'

‘She updates you on her career while she's waiting for her mother to write her a cheque?'

A reminiscent laugh. ‘We had quite a joke about it last time. I was making out a cheque for the new boiler in number twenty-eight, and she said I could make one out for her at the same time, as her mother was giving her an extra couple of hundred that month; and I said “Wrong!” I said I couldn't do it from that chequebook as that was for the firm, but that if she could hang on, I'd pop in and ask Poppy to write her a cheque from her own, private book. Which I did. Trixie was wearing the prettiest little red skirt that day, with a black top. Red is her favourite colour. I can't wear red, I'm afraid.'

‘No, I can't, either. Couldn't Clemmie have gone in to ask Poppy for a cheque, if you were so busy?'

A slight frown. ‘No, I don't think Clemmie was here. Nor Ruth. Ruth's usually out and about. I remember now, Celine had rung up to ask if Clemmie could go down to help as they'd just had a delivery and she was by herself. It left us short-handed up here, of course, but that does happen sometimes.'

‘I'm sure you coped beautifully. Can you remember how many cheques you made out that day?'

‘Apart from the one for the boiler?' A slight frown. ‘Just that one, I think. Poppy will know. Oh. Sorry. Of course. We can't ask … but there'll be a record on file. It was near the end of that book.' She opened a drawer and scrabbled around in it. ‘I don't think I used that book again. I usually keep the stubs but … I expect Poppy took it.'

‘Yes, I expect she did. Thanks, Laura. I don't suppose you've seen Trixie since then?'

A sigh. A shake of the head. Eyes filling with tears? ‘At the funeral.' Indistinctly. Yes. A sniff. A hand reaching for a tissue.

Ellie pressed Laura's hand. ‘Thank you.'

Clemmie had been on the phone while Ellie was talking to Laura. Charles Mornay had hovered, mouth down-turned. Now, Clemmie raised her hand to attract their attention. ‘Mr Mornay, have you a moment? The plumber's on the phone. He says our usual supplier is out of stock of the tiles he needs for the job we're doing at number fourteen. We can either wait for another delivery, or switch to some which are slightly more expensive. I rang Ruth and asked her advice, and she says it's not her job to price tiles. Laura tells me the same thing but he, the plumber, is back on the phone, wanting an answer. The new tenant is supposed to move in next week, but he can't if we have any more delays.'

Mr Mornay shrugged. ‘We'll let your mother decide when she gets back.'

Clemmie opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again.

Ellie saw an opportunity to help Clemmie. Or to interfere, if you liked to put it that way. ‘What would you do, Clemmie?'

‘Me?' A frown, a swift calculation. ‘We're trying to go upmarket. If we do, we can charge a higher rent. The new tiles will be more expensive, but look better than the ones we've been using. We'd lose at least a week's rent if we can't get the tenant in on time. On balance, I'd say, “Go for it!”'

‘You do that, Clemmie,' said Ellie. And, turning to Mr Mornay, ‘Agreed?'

Mr Mornay was not pleased, but he managed to swallow his annoyance well enough to twitch a smile and a nod in Clemmie's direction. Then he turned on Ellie with what she could only describe as a snarl, and gestured her to follow him back into his office.

Ellie followed. Meekly. She said, ‘I've seen Clemmie at work in the shop. She's brilliant. And now, look how quickly she solved a problem which you didn't want to tackle! She's definitely management material, isn't she?'

He shut the door with some force. ‘That was disgraceful. You forced my hand, but it won't alter the facts. Clemmie will be out of that door as soon as Juno returns.'

‘Oh, believe me, it was Trixie who took the money. Do you want me to question the girl? It wouldn't take long. Poppy and Juno were too close to Trixie – too involved – to do so, but I can. As for Gordon, he has always hated Clemmie and I think that when he saw a chance to badmouth the girl, he took it.'

He held up both his hands. ‘Stop! Mrs Quicke, I understand that for some reason you have elected to be Clemmie's champion—'

‘As you have chosen to be Trixie's?'

He opened and shut his mouth, like a goldfish. He sank back into his chair and brought out his handkerchief to wipe the palms of his hands again. For a moment she thought she'd got through to him, but then his mouth set in a thin line. ‘I have to believe Gordon. It was Clemmie who took that money.'

‘What proof does he have? The fact that Clemmie might have had access to the chequebook? But, so did Trixie.'

‘Trixie is not in debt.'

‘Want to bet? If I can prove to you that Clemmie was not in debt at the time of Poppy's death, will you give me your word to look at the evidence again?'

‘How could you prove that?'

‘Several ways. One: we could ask Gerald Cordover. He knows the state of Clemmie's finances.'

‘Certainly not! I am not going to go to Gerald Cordover, whom I respect and admire, and for whom I have worked these many years, to ask him about his dealings with his granddaughter! He'd show me the door, and quite right, too.'

Ellie conceded that Charles might indeed find it awkward to question a man for whom he worked. ‘Very well. There's another easy way to prove who took that money. You check which of the girls had accounts at the shops to which the money was paid.'

He blustered. ‘I wouldn't dream of it.'

‘If you don't know how to do it, I know someone who can.' She was thinking of her teenage friend Mikey, who would love to get his hands on such a project. But she wouldn't insult a professional by suggesting an amateur could do better than him. She said, ‘Look, let me have the names of a couple of the shops and I'll get them checked out for you. If Clemmie's name comes up, then I'll step back. If Trixie's, then you must promise me to look at the evidence again.'

‘I can't do that! There's client confidentiality to—'

‘If I get Clemmie in here and ask her to show us which store cards she uses, do you think she'll object?'

‘What …!'

‘If she's innocent, she'll tell us which they are straight away, and I'll guarantee she doesn't shop in the same places as Trixie. Suppose we ask Trixie the same thing? What do you think she'll say?'

‘I refuse to let you do any such thing.' He could see the dark hole which had opened up before him, just as she could.

She went to the door, opened it and called out, ‘Clemmie, there's a silly query come through from the bank. Which store cards do you have? M&S? John Lewis?'

Clemmie sang back, without a pause, ‘I don't have any at the moment. It saves me from temptation. Either I pay cash, or I don't buy it. Is there a problem?'

‘I don't think so. Thanks.' Ellie looked at Charles, who had sunk back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Ellie said, ‘Let me guess. Trixie will have cards for Harrods and Zara, for a start. I'm rather surprised she confined herself to stealing fourteen hundred pounds.'

He pressed his handkerchief to his mouth. Mumbled something. Repeated the words more clearly. ‘You just don't realize what you're getting into. If it were only that …' He wiped his brow with his handkerchief. ‘Look, you don't know the half of it. I can't tell you … I promised I wouldn't … Believe me, I wish I didn't know that … But there is absolutely no doubt that Clemmie is guilty. And I'm not just referring to her stealing from the firm.'

He was in distress. He wasn't putting it on. He really believed Clemmie was guilty. But, of what?

What was he not telling her? What did he think Clemmie had done? Not … No, he surely couldn't think Clemmie had been responsible for Poppy's death?

Why on earth would he think that?

She said, ‘When Juno returns, I'm sure she'll sort it out.'

‘We can't wait too long, Mrs Quicke. I promised Gordon I'd hold off till Monday morning, but if Juno isn't back and got things sorted by then, Gordon is going to the police with what he knows.' He got to his feet. ‘So, don't make a fool of yourself by interfering in things you know nothing about.' He fished a card out of his wallet and handed it over to her. ‘Please confine yourself to the telephone if you have any other queries. Now, if you please, I have work to do. Let me show you out.'

E
llie was whisked out of the office and down the stairs before she could object. In fact, she didn't want to object so much as to hit someone. Almost anyone would do, but she favoured Charles Mornay above all others.

He couldn't really believe Clemmie was guilty of theft, could he? In spite of the evidence? Of all the stupid, bone-headed, short-sighted, blinkered whatsits!