Murder in Time

Table of Contents

Cover

Further Titles by Veronica Heley from Severn House

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

MURDER AT THE ALTAR

MURDER BY SUICIDE

MURDER OF INNOCENCE

MURDER BY ACCIDENT

MURDER IN THE GARDEN

MURDER BY COMMITTEE

MURDER BY BICYCLE

MURDER OF IDENTITY

MURDER IN HOUSE

MURDER BY MISTAKE

MURDER MY NEIGHBOUR

MURDER IN MIND

MURDER WITH MERCY

MURDER IN TIME

FALSE CHARITY

FALSE PICTURE

FALSE STEP

FALSE PRETENCES

FALSE MONEY

FALSE REPORT

FALSE ALARM

FALSE DIAMOND

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First published in Great Britain and the USA 2014 by

SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 2014 by Veronica Heley.

The right of Veronica Heley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Heley, Veronica author.

Murder in time. – (The Ellie Quicke mysteries)

1. Quicke, Ellie (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

2. Widows–Great Britain–Fiction. 3. Murder–

Investigation–Fiction. 4. Absentee fathers–Fiction.

5. Detective and mystery stories.

I. Title II. Series

823.9'14-dc23

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8398-8 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-546-8 (ePub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

This ebook produced by

Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

E
llie opened the front door with her grandson in her arms … and recoiled.

She'd never laid eyes on the man before but she knew who he was. Or rather, who he must be.

Tall and slender, dark-skinned and handsome with fine features. A high forehead. Wealthy. British-Somalian?

He was expensively dressed in a brown cashmere jacket over a white polo-necked jumper which was either silk or silk mixture. Well-cut dark-grey jeans, NOT off the peg. Boots, shiny.

Hard, black eyes. An air of command.

He was the very image of … no! No! NO!

He couldn't be. She was seeing things. She blinked. He was still there. The baby in her arms twisted around to inspect the newcomer and said, ‘Gawk!' around the spoon he was thrusting in and out of his mouth.

‘I'm looking for Vera. Are you her mother?' A well-educated voice. English might not have been his first language, but he'd been to good schools here. He twitched a smile. He wasn't accustomed to being kept waiting but was holding impatience in check.

She made no move to let him in. ‘Vera …? Well, yes; she does live here, but … I'm Mrs Quicke, Mrs Ellie Quicke. Not her mother. And you are …?'

‘You're the housekeeper, I presume?'

Ellie reddened. She'd worn her oldest clothes to look after baby Evan that day, and yes, her short, silvery hair was probably all over the place and she knew there was a patch of baby sick on one shoulder. ‘No, but this is my house. At least: my husband and I live here with our housekeeper, Rose.'

Also with single-parent Vera and her son. Perhaps it would be best not to mention them till she'd found out what the visitor wanted.

‘Rose? Ah,
she's
Vera's mother?'

‘No, Rose is an old family friend, and our housekeeper.'

Ellie was angry with herself. She was handling this badly. If this man was who she thought she was, then what ought she to say about Vera? Should she admit that the girl lived there, studying for a business degree while paying for her board by helping Rose to look after the house? Or, should she deny that she even knew Vera? Yes, that might be best. Except that, oh dear, she'd already admitted that Vera lived there.

The stranger ducked his head, not smiling, and moved forward until she gave way, letting him into the hall. ‘I've come to the right place, then. I'll wait for her, shall I?' It wasn't a question.

He looked about him, assessing the evidence of inherited wealth; the panelling and the tiled floor; the door propped open to give access to the kitchen quarters, other doors leading to the dining and sitting rooms, the fine old staircase, and the view through to the conservatory at the back of the house.

‘Pleasant,' he said. Patronizing. Raising his eyebrows. ‘Is the baby another of Vera's little mistakes?'

Ellie flushed. ‘No, of course not. He's my grandson. I look after him one day a week when his nanny has her day off.'

Ellie wanted to scream at the man to leave, get out, not to upset their quiet lives. And didn't, because … well, it wasn't her business to intervene between husband and wife, was it? Well, not husband and wife exactly.

What had Vera told her son about the man who had fathered him? Perhaps the truth was too harsh for a small boy to hear and, as far as Ellie knew, young Mikey had never raised the subject.

Little Evan struggled in Ellie's arms, dropping the spoon he'd been playing with. He was a strong lad for his age, and she was not as young as she had been. She tried to put him into his buggy. He resisted. She could never get him into or out of it without a wrestling match.

She sought for something to say. ‘Does Vera know you're coming?'

The man shook his head. ‘A pleasant surprise.'

Ellie didn't think it was going to be a pleasant surprise. She didn't dare think what Vera was going to say when she saw the man who'd raped her when she'd had too much to drink at an end of school year party.

Evan was working up to one of his famous tantrums, so Ellie rescued his spoon and, careless of germs, thrust it back into his mouth. She had learned the hard way that there were times to be flexible about bringing up a child as strong-minded as Evan. Only then did he allow himself to be strapped into his buggy. He'd been awake for hours. Perhaps he'd sleep now.

Without waiting for an invitation, the visitor walked across the hall and into the sitting room. Ellie seethed at his bad manners, but followed with the baby buggy, hoping against hope that Evan would collapse into sleep. One cheek was bright red and his nose needed wiping. She did so, tenderly. He was teething.

The visitor went to stand by the window, looking out on the garden in all its brilliant end-of-summer splendour. ‘Will Vera be long?'

Ellie looked at her watch – which had stopped at three. Had she got water in it while changing Evan's nappy? If so, it would have to go to be repaired. She said, ‘I don't know.' She decided against offering refreshments. She wondered if she could possibly get hold of Vera on her mobile, to warn her …

And Mikey! Vera's brilliant imp of a son would be home any minute now.

What had he been told about this man? Surely not the truth?

Panic! Ellie wondered if she could make some excuse to go out to the kitchen, to tell their elderly housekeeper not to let Mikey come into the sitting room. But Rose would hardly be awake from her afternoon nap yet and might not take in what Ellie was saying.

Meanwhile, the man selected a chair and sat. He crossed one elegant leg over the other and steepled his fingers. ‘I gather Vera's had a somewhat chequered history since I last saw her.'

The nerve of the man!

‘She's doing well for herself.' A short answer. Ellie rocked the buggy, a little too hard. If only her husband were around. Where was he today? At a meeting somewhere …

Perhaps Vera had told Mikey some story about star-crossed lovers parted by hostile families? A Romeo and Juliet affair?

She said, ‘Vera is part of our family.'

‘Splendid.' Fake politeness. He was not interested in what Ellie thought.

A door in the kitchen quarters opened and shut with a bang. Mikey was home from school. The man turned his head to listen.

Mikey was a growing lad who needed a constant intake of food. When he came in he'd raid the cake tin, take a handful of biscuits, an apple, raisins, anything. Rose scolded and indulged him. Yes, Ellie could hear raised voices, laughter from Rose and from the boy, a radio turned on, a sharp cry of triumph from Mikey and a clatter as the lid of the cake tin fell to the floor.

Ellie ceased rocking the buggy. Red in the face, baby Evan struggled for a moment to free himself from his harness and then collapsed into sleep.

Ellie's mind whirled with various scenarios. How about impaling the stranger on her garden fork and hiding his body in the garden shed till her husband could get home to dispose of him? She said, ‘Mikey's always hungry when he gets in from school.'

The visitor, previously relaxed, froze into a statue. ‘“Mikey”? He is to be called Mohammed in future.'

A rush of feet down the corridor from the kitchen, more laughter from the boy and from Rose. Perhaps he'd go straight up the stairs to the flat he and Vera occupied at the top of the house? Ellie prayed that he would.

He paused in the doorway to the sitting room, in mid-flight. He'd shot up several inches since he started his new school, but the strong bones he'd inherited from Vera saved him from looking fragile.

A piece of cake in one hand, he stared at the visitor. Did he realize he was looking into a mirror?

What had Vera told him?

The man held out his hand to the boy. ‘Ah. My son. Mohammed.'

Ellie could see knowledge flash into Mikey's bright, dark eyes. Yes, he understood who the man must be, but he wasn't sure how to react. He switched his eyes to Ellie, seeking information.

Ellie said, ‘I don't know, Mikey. When your mother gets back—'

‘Come!' said the man, leaning forward, still holding out his hand. Clearly, he expected the boy to obey him.

Mikey, however, was not your average boy. Mikey had always thought for himself and was not accustomed to obeying orders unless he saw good reason to do so. This had got him into trouble on many occasions and would no doubt continue to do so.

‘Surely you're not afraid of me!' The man smiled, scornful.

Ellie's heart leapt. Most boys would react negatively to a slur on their courage. Mikey started, but checked himself. His eyelids contracted. Again he flashed a look at Ellie. One she found hard to read.