Murder in Style (25 page)

Ellie's grandson, little Evan, picked up the landline phone. ‘Hello, who is it, Mummy's busy. Shall I fetch Daddy?'

‘It's me, Evan. Granny. Could you ask Mummy to come to the phone for a minute?'

He shouted, ‘Mummy! It's Gran!'

Ellie could hear Diana's voice in the background. ‘Tell her it's all right!'

Heavy breathing into the phone. Evan said, ‘Mummy says it's all right. Are you coming over now? We could go to the park.'

‘Not today, my love. Thanks for being so helpful.'

‘What about tomorrow? Can we go to the park tomorrow?'

‘I'll ring you as soon as I'm free.'

Ellie could hear Diana in the background. ‘Evan! Come and get your lunch!' And the phone went down.

Well, good. Probably. Diana wouldn't have said it was all right if she hadn't managed to stop Ray's cheque, would she?

Ellie looked at her watch. With a bit of luck, she could manage twenty minutes or so in the garden before lunch. Now, where had she put her secateurs?

She was happily dead-heading the roses when she heard her landline phone ring. Bother! Perhaps Thomas would answer it. No, he wasn't back yet. Perhaps Susan …? No, of course not. Why should she? It wasn't her phone.

Ellie stumbled indoors and reached the hall just as the phone stopped. Someone was leaving a message. Well, good. She could leave it till later. Oh, better not. She pressed Play.

It took her a moment to realize who was speaking. It was Ray Cocks. Containing rage, just. ‘Mrs Quicke, I believe you were so kind as to put my wife's valuables and money back in the safe for me. That was,' gnashing of teeth, ‘very helpful of you. Unfortunately I think you must have misdialled when you closed the safe, as our combination doesn't work any longer. Do you think you could remember exactly what you did? This is rather urgent. Please, ring me.'

Ellie pressed the Delete button. Grinning to herself. It was Aidan who'd suggested she made up a new combination, and she had done so. She had no intention of giving the new combination to Ray. The money, the jewellery, the safe and the house now belonged to Juno, and Juno would be given the combination when she surfaced again.

Ray could ask till he was blue in the face, but she would refuse to give it to him. And, if he did happen to threaten her – oh dear, he might, might he not? – then she could always play the doddering old lady and pretend to have forgotten it.

What a delightful morning it was turning out to be! Back to the garden …

Thomas returned home just as Lesley was leaving. They exchanged pleasantries in the hall and then Thomas came into the kitchen, rubbing his hands, to find Ellie dishing up lunch.

‘Parky for the time of the year.' He kissed Ellie's ear, and gave her a hug. She could tell that his morning had gone well and that he was at peace with himself.

As usual, he said, ‘I'll lay the table, shall I?' And proceeded to do it.

Susan stumbled into the kitchen when they had almost finished their first course. Susan was tousle-haired and yawning, but looked pleased with herself and the world in general. She was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt with a very low neckline and shorts. She had quite some cleavage! And, she had a love-bite on the side of her neck.

The meat dropped off Thomas's fork, halfway to his mouth.

Susan's eyes glistened. ‘Oh, proper food. Is there enough for me?'

‘Masses,' said Ellie, trying to be pleased that Thomas still had enough testosterone to react to a well-filled bra, but slightly annoyed that it was Susan's which had attracted his notice instead of Ellie's own – not inconsiderable – affairs of interest. She got up to serve Susan who, still yawning, had seated herself. Ellie said, ‘You went clubbing?'

‘Mm. My friend Maya, she's on the same course as me, she's been on at me for ages to go, and when I texted to tell her about the dress and the bra, she met me in Marks and made me buy some new clothes and she stood over me till I stopped hiding my “assets”, as she calls them. She made me throw back my shoulders and, well, display them. A bit like a peacock, only the wrong sex, if you see what I mean.'

Ellie saw. So did Thomas. Thomas met Ellie's eye and said he could do with a second helping, if she wasn't keeping it for later. Ellie obliged, phasing out Susan's monologue until she heard a name she was familiar with. ‘What was that? You met Angelica in the queue for the club?'

‘She was with a coupla men. Giggling to them about me being an overweight fatty, like she always does. She asked if I'd managed to find a bridesmaid's dress big enough for me, and Maya nudged me the ribs and said, “Show!” so I chucked off my jacket, and made myself tall and, well, Maya was quite right. The new bra does have an effect on men. Angelica is very flat, poor thing.'

Ellie noticed that Thomas was wide-eyed. Also, he'd suspended operations on his food. She wanted to kick him, but was too far away.

Susan hoovered up the food on her plate, then sat back, patting her tummy. ‘That's better. I was hungry. Maya says I don't need to go on a diet, and that if a man asks me out I am not to make an excuse, but accept. So I did. At least,' she frowned, ‘he offered to bring me home and I said yes, but when he got too fresh I gave him the old one-two and that was that. What's for afters?'

Thomas wanted a snooze with the newspapers after lunch. Ellie could have done with a snooze herself, but felt she couldn't rest until she'd done something to help Clemmie who, if Gordon fulfilled his promise, was going to be accused of murder and fraud the following morning.

Where to start? Well, she could see if Clemmie were available for a chat, and ask her if she really had been banging on The Magpie's door the night Poppy died.

Ellie tried Clemmie's mobile phone number, only to be told it was not available. Ellie had thought everyone younger than her kept their phones permanently switched on because they couldn't bear to be out of touch with their peer group, yet Clemmie had switched hers off. Ah, a thought. The girl was probably having a last-minute driving lesson. Wasn't her test due tomorrow?

Perhaps Ellie could call on Gerald and Marika? Ellie was convinced they knew more than they were telling. When they'd asked her to help them on Thursday afternoon they'd been wracked with anxiety, yet by Saturday afternoon Marika had been calmly knitting and willing to let Ellie deal with the problem. Had something happened between Thursday afternoon and Saturday afternoon to alter the situation for the better? And if so, what?

At a guess this meant Juno had been in touch with them and was well on the way to sorting things out in the family. But, if Juno had been in touch with her parents and her daughter – and possibly Celine as well? – she had failed, judging by their continuing anxiety, to reassure Ray or Gordon.

Ellie supposed this was why she'd imagined that Juno had left Gordon. Looked at in a cold and clinical manner, Ellie really had no basis for thinking this. She couldn't recall anything being said or done which would lead her to that conclusion, except that – wheelchair or no wheelchair – if she'd been married to Gordon, she'd have taken an axe to him by now. Or poisoned him. Or, arranged a fatal accident. Or something. She sighed. No, it wasn't worth going to prison for such a scumbag.

Walking along to the Cordovers' house, Ellie tried to think clearly. Charles Mornay had known Gordon for ever, and thought him a saint. Humph! But if Charles had been responsible for the accident which had left Gordon in a wheelchair, it was natural that he should feel guilt and overcompensate for his friend's failings. It did not follow that a person had the patience of a saint if they were confined to a wheelchair.

‘By your works you shall know them.' Ellie had seen Gordon in action and his actions were not that of a kindly or patient man. In fact, the reverse. ‘Malice' and ‘spite' were the words that trickled into Ellie's head when she considered Gordon.

Clemmie's experience of Gordon had been somewhat different from that of Charles. Ellie believed Clemmie's version of events one hundred per cent. Clemmie hadn't pretended she was a saint. She acknowledged she'd been a difficult child, but Gordon's lashing out with a cane came under the heading of abuse, didn't it?

Marge Mornay's opinion of Gordon chimed with Ellie's. Marge didn't have any axe to grind, did she? She was a successful businesswoman who didn't need anyone's approval for what she said or did. She'd known the twins for years and she disliked Gordon. Ellie liked and trusted Marge.

Only, if Gordon really had seen Clemmie trying to get into The Magpie about the time that Poppy died …? No, Clemmie wouldn't have killed her aunt. Definitely not.

Come on, now! You know perfectly well that the most innocent and gentle of people will kill if pressed too hard. Supposing it had been an accident …?

Very well. Let's suppose it was an accident. Clemmie, in distress, discovered she'd killed her aunt and asked Aidan to alibi her. He had done so. Neither of them realized that Clemmie had been spotted and that tomorrow the false alibi was going to blow up in their faces.

Ellie rang the doorbell at the Cordover house, and waited for a response. It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon. A jet scoured the sky on its way to Heathrow airport. Two gardens away, a child on a scooter quarrelled with another child who was slightly older and on a tricycle. Something about taking turns.

The Cordovers were probably having an afternoon nap. Ellie wished she were, too.

Marika opened the door. For a moment Ellie thought she was not going to be allowed into the house but, if there was a hesitation, Marika quickly overcame it. She even managed a smile, but put her finger to her lips. In a soft voice, she said, ‘If you don't mind …? He's having a nap, watching the football or the cycling. It always sends him to sleep. His way of recovering from the stress of the week. Do come in. We were talking about you at lunchtime, wondering how you were getting on. Would you mind sitting in the kitchen? I can make us some tea.'

Marika led the way. She must have been sitting at the kitchen table before Ellie rang the bell, because a small television on the central unit was relaying the news; some knitting – not the same garment as before – lay beside it. An extractor fan had removed all cooking smells, the surfaces were clean and the dishwasher was happily chugging away.

Marika put the kettle on, and gestured to Ellie to take a seat. ‘Would you prefer a herbal tea?'

‘Thank you. Yes.'

Marika made two peppermint teas in china mugs and handed one to Ellie, before taking a seat herself and resuming her knitting. The wool this time was of a finer ply, and she was using larger needles.

Ellie was intrigued. ‘Is that a shawl you're knitting? Do you always use the same patterns?'

‘I've used this pattern – let me see – three times. I make one jacket, one shawl, two pairs of mittens each time. I look at new patterns sometimes, but I like to stay with those I know.' She inclined her head to Ellie. ‘And now … yes?'

Marika was wearing a wedding ring on her right hand. Lesley had told Ellie that Polish women did that. An interesting fact which Ellie hadn't known.

Ellie said, ‘I've talked to a number of people. I can't say I've come to a firm conclusion about whether Poppy's death was accident or murder.'

‘Sixteen, eighteen …' Nimble fingers, downcast eyes.

‘I've talked to the police, trying to get an idea of the timetable of events.'

The clever fingers stilled.

Ellie smiled. ‘I didn't disclose any secrets, but it may not be possible to keep it that way. What influence do you have over Gordon?'

A hard look from narrowed eyes. The knitting was laid down. ‘What is he up to now?'

‘Revenge, I think. He's announced his intention of going to the police tomorrow, Monday, to accuse Clemmie of murder and fraud.'

Marika ran her tongue over her lips. She made as if to rise from her chair, but then sat back. Her eyes went out to the garden, where the parasol flapped idly in the breeze. A wasp buzzed past the window.

Marika said, ‘Revenge, you say?'

‘I think it's because he's never liked her. And, because Juno has left him.'

Marika picked up her knitting again. ‘Can you not stop him?'

‘It's easy enough to disprove the fraud. The paper trail leads to Trixie and not to Clemmie, but it wouldn't be pleasant for Clemmie to be arrested and interrogated while the matter was sorted out.'

Marika nodded, her eyes on her work. ‘Not good.'

‘There's more. Gordon says he saw Clemmie hammering on the door at The Magpie and ringing the bell at about the time Poppy died.'

Marika frowned into space, but didn't comment.

Ellie continued, ‘Clemmie has an alibi for her whereabouts that evening which depends upon the word of her boyfriend. I think – and the police will probably agree – that he'd lie his socks off for her. I am sure she is innocent of her aunt's death, but I can't prove it. The police have decided not to take any further action unless someone comes forward with fresh evidence, and that's exactly what Gordon plans to do. Can't
you
stop him?'

‘Whatever could we say or do?' Marika pulled another length of wool from the ball. ‘Clemmie is not in any danger. The boy will stand by her.'

Almost, Ellie despaired. Why wouldn't Marika take the threat to Clemmie seriously? She decided to take another tack. ‘Could you bear to tell me exactly what went on that night? I know there was a family conference here. The twins, Gordon and Charles Mornay came here to talk about … what?'

‘Gordon said Clemmie had stolen cheques from The Magpie and used them to pay her bills. Charles backed him up. Charles is very clever in his way, but he is always “yes” man to Gordon, and we are sure he has made a mistake. We say we have confidence in Clemmie, but Gordon goes on and on till Poppy agrees to look into it. Gordon wants Poppy to say she will sack Clemmie, but we tell him not to be so silly. Gerald makes us laugh. He says, if Clemmie is sacked from The Magpie, he will take her on in his own business. Gordon is so cross! He says we are not taking him seriously. And, in truth, we have more important things to talk about.'