Murder With Mercy (11 page)

Thomas relaxed, laughing, stroking his beard. ‘The young imp. But, a knife?'

‘Definitely a knife. But, if he really has been sabotaging the work at the hotel—'

‘It's his playground. He feels proprietorially towards it. He wouldn't damage it. Why would he?'

‘Yes, he does love the place. For that very reason I wondered if he'd resented the fact that the work there is nearly finished and tried to delay it. Hugh has banned him from the site, but—'

‘It didn't stop him going there again today.'

Ellie raised her hands in the air. ‘Tell me about it. I delivered him to school this morning. I saw him walk through the school gates. What else could I have done? Now, it's too late to phone Hugh tonight but I'll have words with him tomorrow, see what I can sort out. If I offer to pay for the damage, I'm sure Hugh won't press charges. The big worry is if the police involve Social Services they might start poking around, wanting to take Mikey into care. It would kill Vera.'

‘We won't let that happen.'

She was comforted. If Thomas was on the warpath, who could withstand him?

‘And that's all that's troubling you?'

Ah, he knew her so well. ‘I spent some time with Evan, who is about the dreariest of companions you could imagine, all doom and gloom. Diana wants me to sort out an official companion for him from among his circle. Well, I can't vet them all, but I could sound one or two of them out to see if they are sympathetic and sensible.'

‘Hmph!' said Thomas. ‘Isn't it up to Diana to soothe his fractious brow?'

‘Possibly, but that's not one of her talents.'

‘I don't see why you should have to run around after her, or him. I do worry about you, you know.'

Ellie tried to explain. ‘I like people and I like to be of use to them. Yes, it's tiring and sometimes it's tiresome but I do feel I'm being of use when I'm helping other people.'

He laid his hands over hers. ‘Aren't your days busy enough as it is?'

‘I inherited all that money. I didn't earn it and I didn't ask for it. I don't feel that I have a talent for handling it, but it's been dumped in my lap and I have to look after it as best I can. Looking after it is not enjoyable. I prefer dealing with people. I'm interested in them, what they think and do, and how they cope with their lives. I feel I understand them, and sometimes I do feel that I can help them. I infinitely prefer talking to someone to reading the minutes of meetings or rubber-stamping paperwork.'

He held her hand, then patted it.

She blinked. It was all the world to her that Thomas understood. He hadn't married her for her money. That had never been of interest to him. He loved her because she was right for him, and he was right for her.

She said, ‘Oh, and the oddest things can happen. Detective Constable Milburn – who's asked me to call her Lesley, by the way – wants to know if I'd heard anything about the untimely deaths of some elderly ladies in the vicinity. According to her, we are surrounded not by ladies who lunch, but by ladies who pass away prematurely, possibly assisted by their friends or relations. Now, Evan asked me to drop something into a friend of his called Freddie, whose wife's recent death is a possible case in point—'

‘Do we know him?'

‘Sort of. Golf club acquaintances. Freddie and his wife were friends of Evan's, and she took an overdose recently. Thomas, gossip drifts your way from all quarters. Have you heard of anything like that?'

Silence. Thomas stroked his beard. She could feel the intensity of his thinking. He put out his hand to riffle through the
Radio Times
, checking what might be on the box. Then laid the magazine down again. More frowning.

‘Mm?' she said.

A shake of the head. ‘Dunno.'

‘Lesley also mentioned someone else, a former cleaning lady whose niece seems to think she was pushed into the void in untimely fashion; the aunt was afraid she was about to be moved to an old people's home. I've met the niece and was not impressed. I'm not sure what to think of her story. Freddie's wife was threatened with a return of cancer. Both took an overdose. In both cases there was a query as to how they'd managed to collect so many pills, and Lesley wants to be quite sure that nobody helped them.'

‘Ah. Older people can get confused, take their nightly medication, go to sleep, wake up and mistakenly take another dose.'

‘Especially if they're dreading the future. Especially if they've managed to stockpile not just one but quite a few extra doses … which in both cases is denied by the relatives.'

‘Relatives are usually understanding and sympathetic if the sufferer is in intense pain and wants to end it. They may not actually connive to supply extra pills, although I think that over the years I've been asked to conduct a funeral for several people whose misery has been cut short unexpectedly.'

‘What is your position on that?'

He pulled a face. ‘I pray about it and ask for forgiveness if I've overlooked some way that I might have eased their pain.'

‘You turn a blind eye.'

‘I hope and trust I haven't misread any signals. How about you?'

She sighed. ‘I've been trying to think of anyone I knew who might have gone down that road and I can't, except that my mother did say once … but it was years ago, and I didn't know them. It was some couple she'd known for ever who died within days of one another. I mean, one died in hospital and the other was found dead in her bed at home the next morning. I have no idea how I'd act if I were faced with such a situation. I hope it never happens.'

She shuddered. ‘Someone just walked over my grave.'

It was lovely to hear from old friends. She'd been half hoping and half fearing that he'd contact her, because she'd heard he was in a bad way.

Dear Evan. They'd known one another for ever. The great thing about old friends was that you never needed to explain anything. Mind you, his choice of wives … Well, least said the better. Her husband had always said some men were ruled by impulse, and he wasn't referring to their choice of shoes, was he?

Evan said he was desperate for company so of course she agreed to visit. He said he'd ring her back when he knew exactly when he'd be free, which was a bit of a facer if he really was so much alone. But there, perhaps someone had come into the room and he didn't want her to know that he was contacting such an old friend. Yes, that would be it. Diana must have come in, and he'd not wanted her to hear. Well, well. Concealing the truth from his new wife so soon?

Or really desperate.

If he didn't ring back, she'd have to find some way of getting to see him.

A
nasty, wet, windy morning. Also, a business morning. Ellie usually wore comfortable casual clothes around the house but on business meeting mornings she felt obliged to make an effort. Even if no one else was impressed, dressing formally made her feel better able to play the part of the head of her charitable trust. True, others would make all the necessary decisions, and only occasionally was she called upon to do more than dispense coffee and, even more rarely, to adjudicate. Thomas said she was an excellent captain because could have steered the good ship
Lollipop
with one finger on the helm while her crew worked their socks off to earn her approval. Ellie thought he exaggerated.

The meeting would start at ten, but before that … Oh dear, it was going to be a busy day, wasn't it? Thomas had risen early and by now must be down in his quiet room, saying the office for the day. Rose might or might not be up and about. Ellie pulled on a good white blouse and a navy skirt. That outfit wasn't quite warm enough, but she found a blue and white woollen waistcoat to go over it. She slipped on some dark-blue brogues, which were comfortable and still new enough to look smart, and climbed the stairs to the top floor to check on the invalid.

Vera was blearily awake, eyes at half mast, temperature still far too high. Ellie cajoled her into taking a shower while she herself changed the bedlinen and found a clean pair of pyjamas for the invalid. Mikey was – thank goodness – sprawled across his own bed, fast asleep. Still too warm for comfort. Did he have flu, was he going down with it? Mindful of the doctor's words about concussion, Ellie shook the boy awake and made him open his eyes. He yawned in her face, curled himself into a ball and retreated from the day. Ellie lifted his arm and inspected the scratch on it. Healing nicely. No need for stitches or a bandage. She moved him into a more comfortable position and pulled the duvet over him. He still didn't wake up.

Should she leave him in bed, or try to make him go to school?

Best be on the safe side. She'd ring the school and tell them he was sick.

Down to the ground floor. Rose was up and about but not dressed. Rose had filled the dishwasher but not set it running. Was there enough other crockery and cutlery for breakfast? Well, it didn't matter if plates didn't match, did it?

Thomas came bustling in, rubbing his hands. He'd been out to check on his car, parked in the drive outside. ‘There was a frost last night, but the car's all right. I must remember to renew the antifreeze. Shall I cook breakfast?'

The phone rang. Diana. ‘Just ringing to check. You can sit with Evan this morning, can't you?'

‘No, dear. Thursday is my business morning. Remember?'

‘But I'm relying on you to—'

‘Sorry, Diana. I really can't. It takes all morning. I've got a pile of other work to see to but I said I'd pop in to see him at lunchtime, and I will.'

‘You'll check on those other women as well?'

‘I'll try.'

Ellie put the phone down, and it rang again. This time it was Hugh, the project manager from the hotel site. ‘Mrs Quicke, I was up at Head Office all day yesterday, and I've only just heard about the boy being taken to the police station. Is he all right? I'd like to come round and talk about it.'

She looked at her watch. Bother, she'd forgotten to put it on this morning. ‘I was going to ring you. Can you come straight away? I've a meeting at ten.'

Thomas, pulling on his car coat, carrying a Thermos of hot coffee, kissed her ear. ‘Won't be late. Hopefully. Is Vera all right? And the boy?'

She nodded at Thomas and said to Hugh, ‘See you in a minute.'

As she put the phone down, it rang again. Lesley Milburn. ‘Sorry to ring so early but there's been a development which you need to know about. Not good news, I'm afraid. May I come round?'

What could it possibly be? Could they prove that Mikey really had done some damage at the hotel site? Were they going to charge him with it? Her brain went into spasm. The business meeting … She couldn't cancel. Vera was still too poorly to be asked to do anything. Mikey was asleep. Rose was up and about. Evan must be visited.

Ellie stilled her breathing. Surely nothing bad could happen if she put off talking to Lesley for a few hours? ‘I'm tied up all morning and early afternoon. What about teatime? Half three, say?'

‘Can't you make it any earlier?'

Ellie suppressed panic. Could she rearrange everything? ‘No, I really can't.'

‘Oh. Well, I suppose it won't make much difference. By the way, did that girl Petra come to see you about a job?'

‘I gave her some advice, but I don't think she was prepared to take it.'

It was going to be a difficult day.

Ellie phoned Mikey's school and got the secretary, a frosty personage whose function was to intimidate all parents and prevent them, if possible, from speaking to the genial head teacher. Ellie foresaw a difficult interview with the head at some point, but for now she simply reported that Mikey had gone down with flu and wouldn't be in that day. She did not try to explain about the police involvement. No doubt the subject would come up later.

Hugh rang the doorbell as she replaced the phone. He shed his coat, making no attempt at small talk.

‘Tea, coffee?'

He shook his head.

She led the way into the sitting room, wishing she'd had time to tidy up before he came.

He said, ‘I'm heartsick over this. I wouldn't have got the police involved if I'd been there, but it's gone too far for me to stop it. Normally, I'm on site all day and every day but first there was this meeting at Head Office, which was bad enough, and then they phoned me from the site to say there was a problem. Someone had underestimated the number of tiles needed for the bathrooms and we need another two hundred but our accounts people have unaccountably failed to pay their last invoice so the supplier refused to play ball. I had to spend hours trying to sort that out, and by the time I got back to the site it was too late. In fact, it took a while to find out why the men were so edgy, and when they said … I couldn't believe it. I rang the police station, and they said you'd taken the boy away.'

‘Eventually, yes.'

A heavy sigh. ‘I couldn't get a straight explanation out of the men. They said to ask Preston, but he'd gone home after he'd taken the boy to the station, so I went over to his house to talk to him about it. He's a good workman, or has been, can turn his hand to most things, probably retiring after this job's finished. I've never had cause to question his integrity before. He says he caught the boy red-handed under one of the baths, with a wrench, trying to undo a nut. If he'd succeeded, there'd have been a slow drip of water, not easy to trace … and the damage …'

‘And the damage to the boy?'

He stared. ‘What damage?'

‘In his statement to the police, Preston says the boy tumbled down some stairs when he was caught. This was supposed to explain why he'd been clouted on the jaw, had massive bruises on his upper arms, and oh, yes, don't let me forget it, a knife cut which slashed through his jacket and sweatshirt. Luckily, it only scratched his forearm.'