Murder in Style (6 page)

Ray's bonhomie began to fade at the edges. ‘Well, yes. I suppose, sometimes there was that. But this house comes to me now, right?'

The solicitor returned his eyes to the will. ‘“Everything of which I die possessed.” This house is in her name, and therefore passes to her sister.'

Ray shot to his feet. ‘You mean that by some freak of the law, which was certainly not intended by my wife, Juno gets this house as well as the shop?'

The solicitor nodded. ‘Together with all the other properties owned by The Magpie partnership.'

‘But …!' Ray swayed on his feet, going red … and then the blood left his cheeks and he began to shake. ‘You can't mean …! What about the houses she and Juno bought and did up to let? I was so angry when I found out about them! What sort of wife conceals her assets from her husband like that, eh? How deceitful is that! But now, it's payback time and I come into my rights. She didn't own those houses when the will was made, did she? So they must come to me.'

The very slightest of frowns marred the solicitor's brow. ‘As a matter of fact, she and her sister did own two houses when the will was signed. Those houses, and however many more there are now, are covered by the wording of the will which includes all properties owned by the partnership. It doesn't matter whether there were two or ten properties at the time of her death.'

‘I don't believe it!'

The solicitor didn't bother to repeat himself.

Ray was getting desperate. ‘Look, she was pretty well fixed, always had plenty in the bank. I know she dabbled in the stockmarket, because she had to sell some shares when she bought me my new car. She'll have left me her shares, at the very least.' Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

The solicitor was getting bored. ‘I repeat, your sister-in-law is the residual legatee.'

Silence as this began to sink in.

It was as if the solicitor had chanted a spell and turned them all to stone.

The solicitor continued, ‘You must remember that this will was made seventeen years ago at the start of the sisters' partnership. At the time of her marriage, the testator owned nothing of her own except the small house which her father gave her on that occasion. You and she signed a pre-nuptial agreement to the effect that you would keep the garage in the event of the marriage breaking down, and that she would keep the house. Two years later, when the partnership agreement was signed and this will was drawn up, Mrs Cocks owned not only her house but also her half of The Magpie partnership, which by that time included the shop and two run-down terraced houses in parlous state. At that point in time you were doing well at the garage and in no need of extra funds, whereas Mrs Cocks knew that she and her sister were going to have to work very hard indeed to make The Magpie project work. This will was drawn up to protect her and her sister in case of accidents. There was also a hefty insurance policy, I believe, designed to cover them for all contingencies, payable also to her sister.'

‘Yes, but … things have changed since then. My outgoings … she was happy to help me out when … if she'd made another will—'

‘So far as I know, she didn't do so.'

‘I don't believe it! I'll sue! No court in the land would deny me, her husband—'

Trixie pushed him aside. ‘Oh, Dad! Shut up! You've had your turn! She gave you everything you asked for over the years, didn't she? She paid your debts and your holidays abroad and your cars. So now it's my turn. You!' She turned on the solicitor. ‘What did she leave me? She wouldn't have cut
me
out!'

The solicitor said, ‘You were a child of two years of age at the time she made her will. It never occurred to her at that time to leave you anything. I suppose she might well have made different provisions for her family if she had made another will. Unfortunately she died before she was able to do so.'

Ray dabbed at his forehead. His colour was poor. ‘She must have made another will! Of course she did. She wouldn't leave me in the lurch like this.'

The solicitor said, ‘If she did make another will, it was not drawn up by me. This is the will that I drew up for Poppy Cocks, née Cordover, signed on the occasion of the incorporation of her business with her sister, who made an identical will in her favour. In the absence of any later will, this one will be submitted to probate.'

All eyes turned to Juno, who seemed to be thinking of something else.

S
he's ill! She's going to be sick …? Can't they see how ill she is?

Ray said, hoarsely, ‘Juno; tell them! Poppy never intended to leave me penniless.'

Juno brought her mind back from wherever it was. She touched a trembling hand to her mouth. ‘We never thought of this. It just seemed … well, common sense. I never thought … from that day to this … we never dreamed that she'd die so soon …!'

Her grief was real.

So was his anger. ‘You'll have to give me my share. Whatever she left should come to me! You aren't going to refuse me my rights, are you?'

Juno looked as if she were going to faint.

Why doesn't someone help her?

The solicitor rose to his feet. ‘As I said before, unless you can produce a later will, this is the will which I, as sole executor, will be submitting for probate.'

The man in the wheelchair broke into a soundless laugh, which developed into a coughing fit. Clemmie rummaged in a bag at the back of his chair. She produced the bottle of water and tried to hand it to him. He struck her hand away and the bottle fell to the floor. Instead of rescuing it, Clemmie turned back to her duties at the tea trolley.

Trixie took centre stage, stepping forward to ally herself with her father. ‘Dad, I'll help you challenge the will. I need money, too, remember.'

Ray chucked his almost empty glass away in a gesture of frustration. It missed Trixie but hit the window behind her. And broke it.

An indrawn breath. Everyone froze.

The solicitor shut his briefcase and stood up. ‘If that is all, then I—'

Ray whirled round on the senior Cordovers. ‘You knew! I see that you did! You should have made sure she updated her will. You knew how I was placed; that I needed to … I shall sue! The courts can't refuse to give me, her husband—'

‘What about me?' wailed Trixie. ‘I need, I've promised, I have commitments …'

She turned on Leather Jacket. ‘Don't worry! I'll get the money somehow, I swear I will!'

Did Ellie imagine it? Did Trixie shoot a glance at the businessman? She wasn't appealing for help, was she? No, she was issuing what looked like a challenge. What was all that about?

Ellie could feel someone's eyes on her.

Clemmie was looking at Ellie in considering fashion. Suspiciously? Yes.

Ray had lost his cool. Trixie was in the process of doing so, deliberately, enjoying herself. Hysteria loomed.

The businessman stood up. ‘Ray, you'd better come and see me, tomorrow.' It was a statement. An order. Understated but real. And then, he walked out. Just. Like. That.

Ray screamed, ‘Don't go! I swear to you—'

The solicitor held out the folder containing the will. ‘I'll leave you with a copy of—'

Ray snatched the folder, and tore it in pieces. ‘That for your—!'

‘Enough!' Gerald Cordover, heaving himself to his feet, trying to defuse the situation.

Clemmie collected a couple of dirty cups and saucers, signalled to Ellie to follow her, and left the room. Ellie went after her with the half-empty platter of sandwiches.

In the kitchen, Clemmie didn't even bother to open the dishwasher. She said, ‘Who are you? You aren't agency staff, are you? You understood what was going on. You
knew
what was going to happen, which was more than I did. So I'm asking, who and what are you?'

‘Ellie Quicke. I run a local charity. Your grandfather and grandmother asked me to be present, because they were desperately worried about the situation and wanted me to help sort it out. As if I could! Your grandfather thought I might be able to talk to Trixie about achieving her ambition to be a film star—'

‘Wait a minute. He wouldn't do that. He thinks it's a stupid idea.'

‘I agree. He thought he could use it as an excuse to introduce me to the family. I didn't think it was a good idea, either, but he was so unhappy … I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. I apologize. I'll leave straight away.'

‘And tittle-tattle about what you've heard?'

‘Certainly not.' Ellie was beginning to like young Clemmie because she did seem capable of thinking of other people. ‘I wouldn't dream of it. The fact is that your grandparents want me to look into your aunt's death.'

Clemmie shot Ellie a sideways look. And breathed out, very very slowly. ‘Ah. So that's it. But Ray's got an alibi.'

‘You aren't shocked by the idea that he might have caused your aunt's death?'

Clemmie lifted her hands and let them fall. ‘I don't know. I can't think straight. We're all so tired, so worried. We don't … we daren't talk about … or even think it. End of.' She turned away to put some of the dirty cups into the dishwasher. She was not going to volunteer any more information.

The front door slammed shut. The businessman departing?

It opened again. Closed gently. The solicitor leaving, too?

Ellie could hear angry voices, trying to shout over one another. Trixie, heading fast into hysteria! Would she let rip with a scream or two? Mm, possibly.

Gerald's voice rose, angry.

Marika's softer voice, trying to diffuse the situation.

Juno's husband had a penetrating voice. ‘All of you! Shut up!'

As if that would do any good. And now, yes, Trixie let go with a full-blooded scream. Perhaps she would do well in horror films.

A woman's voice, distressed. ‘I think perhaps I should go.' Celine?

‘Trixie, behave!' Marika trying to help?

Gerald's voice. ‘Once Trixie starts …!'

The door to the back room slammed, and there was peace in the kitchen.

Clemmie was weeping. She didn't try to hide her tears as she stacked the dishwasher.

Ellie hesitated. Her instinct was to touch, to comfort, but she didn't know the girl well enough to know if it would be appreciated. She said, ‘I'm so sorry. Your aunt was a lovely woman.'

‘Yes. Please, would you go now!' A suggestion, not an order.

The door opened. Juno stood there, swaying, holding on to the lintel, looking as if she were going to pass out any second. Screams and shouts and crashes seeped into the kitchen from the room behind her. Juno ignored whatever was going on behind her. ‘I wonder if … Clemmie, perhaps a glass of water?' Her eyes closed and she began to sway.

Clemmie caught her mother and eased her to the floor.

Ellie rushed to the sink, poured water. ‘She's ill, isn't she? Shall I ring for an ambulance?'

Clemmie held her mother in her arms, closely, lovingly. ‘She's worn out. She ought to be in bed. She insisted on coming.' She took the glass from Ellie, and held it to her mother's lips.

Juno sipped, opened her eyes and looked up at Clemmie. Tried to smile. ‘Stupid me. Sorry. Didn't mean to—'

‘Shut up!' Clemmie's voice was rough but loving.

Juno tried to get up. Failed. ‘I'm quite all right. Gordon wants—'

‘He can look after himself for once.' Not a kind tone of voice. So what was going on there?

Juno closed her eyes again. Relaxed in her daughter's arms. Seeing them both so close, Ellie could see the likeness. High cheekbones, broad forehead, generous mouth, beautifully arched eyebrows. Juno had blue eyes, didn't she?

Clemmie's were brown. The eyes of the man in the wheelchair were light grey. That was something to think about, later.

Celine appeared in the doorway. ‘Has Juno gone? Oh!'

‘I'm perfectly all right,' said Juno, trying to smile. ‘I'll be all right in a minute. Gordon wants to be driven home but I'm so tired!'

Celine and Clemmie exchanged looks which meant, if Ellie were reading them aright, that neither of them had much time for Gordon … who would be Juno's husband?

Celine knelt down by her friend. Yes, Juno was her friend. There was love and trust between the two women.

‘Juno!' The man in the wheelchair appeared in the doorway, commanding, demanding. ‘I said, I want to leave. What are you doing on the floor?'

Juno gasped, ‘Oh dear!' and tried to get up. ‘I'll be all right in a minute. I think maybe I'm going down with something.'

‘Well, it's no good running to the doctor for antibiotics if you've got a cold. You know they have no effect. Pull yourself together. It's time I went home.'

‘You bastard!' from the sitting room. And a scream. Trixie in fine voice.

Smash …! What was that? Another glass? Who was going to clear up the mess? Not Ellie. Nor, it seemed, was Clemmie rushing to the rescue.

Gerald appeared in the doorway with Marika at his shoulder. They took in the scene with one glance. Marika said, ‘Juno shouldn't have come. She should be in bed. Shall we take her home with us, Gerald?'

‘Certainly not,' said Gordon. ‘I won't allow it. She'll be perfectly all right if she only makes an effort.'

Clemmie ignored Gordon to speak direct to her grandfather. ‘Actually, Gramps, I think that's an excellent idea. Mum needs a good night's rest. Dad, I'm sure you can drive yourself home, and if you don't feel up to it, you can call a taxi. Let Mum have a little peace and quiet on her own for once.'

Gerald and Marika helped Juno to her feet, nodded to Celine and Clemmie. ‘She'll be better off with us tonight.'

‘No, you don't! Juno, come back here!'

Too late. She'd gone.

Gordon was furious. Red patches appeared on his thin white cheeks. ‘How ridiculous! Gerald has no right to take Juno off like that. It's her duty to look after me. She's my wife, for heaven's sake!'