Murder My Neighbour (2 page)

He didn't sound impartial. Ellie wondered whether he'd visited Flavia because he'd liked her, or because he hoped for something from her will. ‘Retirement homes can be costly, yes; but as you say, it was her money.'

‘She told me she was putting the house on the market. She said that when it was sold she'd let me have a little something to be going on with; I'm setting up in business with a friend—'

Ellie immediately found herself wondering if the ‘friend' might be gay. She couldn't understand why that idea had popped into her head, and it wasn't at all like her to think such thoughts, but popped it had.

‘And she gave me the address of the place she was moving to. So yesterday I went down to see her. It's not far away, very luxurious, all artificial flowers in the foyer and cleaners from Poland. They deny all knowledge of her.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘I made a fuss. Finally they trundled out the Paki who runs the place, and he said they had no one there by that name.'

Ellie was taken aback by his use of the word Paki. The sooner she got rid of this man, the better. ‘So she didn't like it there and tried another one?'

‘That's what I thought. But which one? I asked dear Edwina. She doesn't know. Bitter, she is, about it. Says she offered to have great-aunt live with her – which made me die laughing, to think of our grand lady Flavia slumming it with that sourpuss.'

‘Well, someone must know.'

‘That's it; but who? I went round to the house, and she's very much not there. I don't have a key but I've looked through all the windows downstairs at the front and the rooms are empty.'

Rose said she had seen someone – or something – at an upstairs window, which had caused her to fall off the ladder. Was that Flavia? But . . . why on earth should she be up in an attic? No, ridiculous.

‘The house has been stripped of its furniture, the grounds are going to pot. So where is she?'

Ellie tried to think straight. ‘At the home, of course. Only, for some reason, she told the people there that she didn't wish to see you.'

He kicked a low stool. ‘If it had been Edwina, yes. Or anyone else from my ghastly family. But she doesn't mind me. I take her her favourite Liquorice Allsorts. She loves them. I've got the box in my car now.'

Ellie regarded him with disfavour. If she'd been his great-aunt, she wouldn't particularly have wished to see him either. He smelled rotten. Not dirty, but too much aftershave can be off-putting. And he was back to dancing around on his toes. Jittering. She seemed to remember her mother talking about ‘jitterbugs'. Was that a kind of jive? Or had he – she tried not to smile at the thought – got ‘ants in his pants'?

She said, ‘Your aunt must be at the home. If for some reason she's moved on from there, they'll have a current address for her.'

‘They said not.' He took out a pack of cigarettes and a disposable lighter.

‘Please don't smoke in here.'

‘Oh, keep your hair on.' He walked out through the French windows into the garden and lit up.

She followed him, seeing the garden ladder lying on the herbaceous border under the rambler which Rose had been trying to deal with. Catty-cornered to her garden were the spacious grounds of Flavia Pryce's multi-gabled house.

Her visitor was looking up at the big house, too. ‘Great-aunt said Mrs Quicke hadn't a penny, was always asking her for lifts, but I see you've had this place done up nicely. Come into some money, have you?'

‘Sort of.' It was too complicated to explain that Miss Quicke had been a miser who'd tried to make everyone believe she was a pauper, while sitting on a million or so of the readies and a lot of expensive rental property. It was only in the last couple of years of her life that Miss Quicke had had the house done up – and now it was Ellie's to maintain and enjoy.

He ground his half-smoked cigarettes into the lawn. ‘The thing is that I'm in a bit of a fix. Flavia promised me some money, was going to let me have what she'd intended to leave me in her will. You see? And now, my sister's in a spot of bother, needs to leave her husband, but there's the kid and he's threatened her with everything if she leaves him. I said for her to go to the police, but she tried that once and they brushed her off, said she should go to some counselling service, you know? And then he beat her up . . .'

Ellie felt her eyes grow round. She was usually a sucker for a sob story. Even her loving husband thought she was sometimes a trifle naive, taking everything people said at face value. But two sob stories were one too many, even for her. Besides which, this rigmarole sounded off-key. It was too pat, too easy. Too practised? Had he learned a case history off by heart, to trot out whenever he needed the sympathy vote?

He was still talking. ‘So I said I'd rent a flat where we could all live together for a while, and I could look out for her.'

Except that he didn't look the selfless, caring type. He looked the type who'd kick a cat or a dog who got in his way, or laugh if an old woman fell off a ladder.

‘But I must admit I can't at the moment lay my hands on enough money to make a down payment. I wouldn't ask if I weren't desperate . . .'

He was certainly desperate about something. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The thought that he might be high on drugs came into her mind, which terrified her not a little. Everyone knew people on drugs were beyond reason.

She forced the words out. ‘I'm sorry, I can't help you. Now, would you please go?'

‘Oh, but you can. You have so much –' and here he swept his arm around to encompass the large garden and well-maintained house – ‘and I have so little . . .'

‘What, no job?'

He reddened. ‘Well, of course. I'm deputy manager of the bedding department at a big department store, but I have outgoings, you know, the flat, the car. And the credit cards have been maxed out for months. I need a spot of help here.'

‘Then go back to the retirement home and ask them nicely for your great-aunt's address.'

His eyes narrowed. ‘I've tried that, and they won't play ball. Look, I'm sure you could write me a cheque for twenty thousand without turning a hair—'

‘What!'

‘Think of it as your charity for today. It would only be a loan, of course. Just till I can catch up with Flavia, and then I'd repay you. I could manage with a thousand for a starter, and the rest later.'

Ellie had inherited money and property both from her first husband and also from her aunt Drusilla, but she'd put the lot into a charitable trust which she administered for deserving cases. She didn't think her visitor qualified for assistance. ‘Most certainly not!'

‘You wouldn't even notice it. Five hundred? Surely you wouldn't condemn my sister to—'

Ellie realized she was trembling. ‘I've asked you to leave once already. Will you please go. Now!'

He turned back to the French windows. ‘No need to get your knickers in a twist. You attend to the ancient retainer and I'll see myself out.' He stood back to let her pass through the French windows in front of him.

‘Yes. Well, thank you.' She felt limp with relief that he was going without harming her in any way.

The phone was ringing in the hall. They didn't have an extension in the sitting room, so she hurried through to take the call.

A pleasant man's voice, with undertones of anxiety. ‘Ellie? Stewart here. I know I don't usually call in on a Monday, but—'

Oh, the relief. She was fond of her broad-shouldered, practical son-in-law, who managed her properties-to-let. Well, ex son-in-law, actually, but their relationship had survived her daughter Diana's dumping him for a series of dangerous liaisons. Don't think about Diana and her terrible news . . . or was that why he was ringing? Ah, but . . . Yes, he could well have heard what Diana wanted.

She said, ‘Are you coming round, Stewart? I could do with—'

‘If I may, yes. The thing is, I have little Frank with me. He hardly slept last night. Nightmares. We couldn't get him to go to school today.'

So Diana had spread the bad news around, had she? Oh dear. Frank was a lively little boy and perfectly happy living with his father, his sensible and loving stepmother, and the two little girls who adored their older half-brother.

Diana was supposed to have her son at weekends, and actually did so; occasionally. But she was not always wise in what she said or did with him, and now and then he returned to his father in a distressed state of mind.

Ellie said, ‘Can you come straight away? The thing is, apart from anything else – oh, not to worry, just a rather difficult visitor, who is about to leave – no, it's not Diana, though I suppose you'll have heard about . . . No, it's Rose. She fell off a ladder in the garden and I need to get her to the doctor's.'

She lifted a hand to wave off the aforesaid difficult visitor as he let himself out of the front door. He didn't close it properly behind him – it needed a good strong pull in hot weather – and it swung open again. Ellie edged forward, still holding on to the phone as Stewart said he'd be with her in less than ten.

As Ellie slammed the door shut, she caught a glimpse of the Pryce boy driving off in a bright yellow car. Egg-yolk yellow.

Oh well. At least he'd gone. She cradled the phone and rushed out to check on Rose in the kitchen.

It was only much later in the day that Ellie discovered her morning's visitor had helped himself to more than a few minutes of her time.

TWO

R
ose was sitting at the big table, holding her elbow in a bowl of water. Midge the cat sat beside her, watching with interest as the water turned a gruesome pink. Rose had skinned her elbow and grazed her chin, but her eyes were bright enough, and she didn't seem sleepy so she probably hadn't suffered a concussion. Only, one wrist was swollen and the stocking on her right leg was in shreds, with bright stains on the skin beneath. She'd also lost one of her shoes.

‘I ought never to have left you,' said Ellie, relieved that Rose hadn't gone off into a swoon but concerned about her swollen wrist. ‘Stewart's on his way. We'll get you checked out at the doctor's. Did you make yourself a cup of tea?'

‘Tell the truth, I didn't get as far as that. I could do with a cuppa, and no mistake. Who'd have thought I'd be so clumsy? But there, who'd have thought there'd be someone peeking down at me from that old house? I didn't imagine it, did I? Have I completely lost the plot, Ellie?'

‘No, no,' said Ellie, running a clean cloth under the tap, wringing it out and placing it round Rose's wrist.

‘Gave me such a fright! There ought to be a law.'

‘Let me have a look at that elbow. And your leg? Ouch. Nasty. But we'll have you right as rain in a minute.'

The doorbell gave three short peals, and Stewart used his key to let himself into the house. Stewart was accustomed to report weekly – and sometimes oftener than that – to Ellie, so he had his own key to the house.

There was a rush of feet, and little Frank, all bony arms and legs, cannoned into Ellie and sent her flying back into a chair. He clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder, and wrapped his arms and legs around her. She folded her arms around him. ‘There, there.'

Stewart followed his son into the kitchen, looking harassed. ‘I'm sorry, Ellie. He's been in such a state that—'

‘You did the right thing.' Ellie stroked Frank's hair, which was only now beginning to darken from the blonde of his father to the brunette – almost black – of his mother. ‘There, there.'

Rose tried to get up. ‘I'll just make us a pot of tea, shall I?' She collapsed back into her chair, ashen-faced.

Ellie said, ‘Stewart, we have to get Rose to the doctor's. She fell off the ladder in the garden and I'm worried about her wrist.'

‘We'll see to all that,' said Stewart, reliable as ever. ‘Frank, you'll help us look after Rose, won't you? Once we've seen to her, we can talk about our other problem, right?'

Frank lifted his head from Ellie's shoulder. ‘Mum can't just give me a new daddy, can she?'

‘No,' said Stewart. ‘I've told you already; she can't. Now, let's help Rose, shall we?'

Ellie managed to get Frank standing on his own two feet. ‘That's the ticket, Frank. This is an emergency and we need you to help. First, can you find Rose's handbag for us, and then another pair of shoes for her to wear?'

He sniffed, but did as he was asked.

The doctor sent them to hospital for an X-ray. Rose didn't lose consciousness, but her colour was poor and she breathed as lightly as a bird. Ellie made a call on her mobile to Thomas only to find he wasn't picking up, so she left him a message to say they were having to wait at the hospital till Rose had been dealt with.