Read Murder in Style Online

Authors: Veronica Heley

Murder in Style (21 page)

Thomas appeared in the doorway to the kitchen quarters, caught her eye, and shrugged. He mouthed, ‘Are you all right?'

She grinned. While Thomas was around, she'd have back-up. She said, ‘I'm OK if you're OK.'

He nodded, and disappeared again. Pleasant smells emanated from the kitchen quarters. Perhaps they were having something more than cheese for supper?

‘I'm sorry, Diana,' said Ellie. Though she wasn't at all sorry, really. ‘I got caught up in a difficult situation.'

‘Tchah! Well, now you're here—'

Ellie started. ‘Who's that with you?' A movement in the sitting room behind Diana had caught her eye. A pale-faced woman lay on the settee with a wet cloth over her eyes. Fair hair, rumpled white blouse, jeans. Ellie advanced and Diana gave way. Ellie could hardly believe her eyes. ‘Lesley, is that you?' Her police friend? Looking as if she'd been in a car crash. Well, not a car crash, perhaps. But definitely in shock.

Diana said, ‘Never mind her. She said she'd wait for you, and I told her you wouldn't have time for her today, but she insisted and—'

Lesley took the cloth off her eyes and gave Ellie a weak smile. Ellie's mind went into overdrive. Car crash? No. Broken engagement? Yes – there was no ring on her finger.

Lesley said, ‘Sorry, Ellie. I just felt, well, as if I couldn't—'

Diana broke in. ‘Yes, yes. That can wait. This is important. Mother, I've got in on the ground floor, it's an opportunity in a million. All I need from you is a loan of fifty thousand pounds, which you'll get back with interest, I promise you. But I need it tonight. The rest can wait till next week.'

Ellie said, ‘If you've given him a cheque, try to get it stopped.'

‘What!' A shriek.

Lesley put the cloth back over her eyes.

Diana said, ‘Mother, I know you don't have a clue as to—'

Ellie tried not to roll her eyes. ‘Try this. Ray Cocks came to see you. He wanted money. He told you he was about to inherit his wife's business and that he'll put the sale of it in your hands for a consideration. Perhaps he even offered to let you buy The Magpie's houses? You gave him money. I hope you didn't give him cash. I hope you were wise enough to give him a cheque. That's why I said, “Try to get it stopped.”'

A blank stare. ‘What on earth's got into you? It's a chance in a lifetime! He's willing to give us the right to sell the properties. The sole right, I'm no fool. I insisted on that.' She began to pace the room. ‘Ten houses, he said. But he suspects there may be more. I rang round, trying to find out which estate agent they've been using. It's Marge Mornay. Marge Money, she calls herself. Got three or more offices, only one in Ealing, the rest somewhere up in town. I got back to him, asked why he wasn't giving her the right, and he said Marge had tried to cheat Poppy over the last house they'd bought, and he didn't feel right going back to her, so naturally I agreed.'

‘Marge wouldn't cheat Poppy.'

‘Mother, listen to me for once! I gave him a token amount for starters, and I'll borrow the rest from you till I can get a bank loan for the rest.'

‘How much did you give him?'

‘Ten thousand, cheap at the price. For the right to manage the sale of his wife's property. There's his house, too. A couple of million, that will go for. Maybe two and a half, possibly three. It's a big detached property in an excellent location. Now all I want from you to start with is the fifty thousand for which he'll grant us sole representation.'

Ellie sank into a chair. Midge the cat appeared from nowhere and jumped on to her lap. He started to tread money on her skirt, while keeping a wary eye on Diana. Midge didn't like Diana. And vice versa.

Ellie said, ‘Look, Diana. I've had a long and tiring couple of days, trying to work out what's happening in the Cordover family. Almost the only thing I know for sure is that Ray hasn't inherited anything. It's all gone to Poppy's sister under a will made many years ago.'

‘What? You're not listening! He's promised us—'

‘He didn't know about the will until Friday morning. Didn't you ask around, find out what sort of name he has for business? He's a gambler who drove his wife to consider divorce. I repeat: under her will, he gets nothing. That includes the family's house, which was in her name at the time of her death.'

‘You're wrong!' Diana reared up, fighting off the truth. ‘He's a respected businessman. He owns a garage—'

‘Did he tell you that in so many words? He handed the garage over to his wife some time ago in exchange for her paying off some of his debts. I got that from his accountant, whose opinion of Ray's business capabilities is about as low as you can get. After he lost the garage, Ray more or less abandoned the idea of working for a living, went back to the club and ran up yet more debts. What security did he give you?'

Diana sank into the nearest chair. The truth was gradually, oh so gradually, beginning to sink in. Oh, horror! ‘I … he said, I assumed … everyone knows that … you've got it all wrong!'

‘You have Internet banking, don't you? It may be after bank hours, but I should see if you can get that cheque stopped, if I were you.'

Diana breathed, ‘My ten thousand pounds! I can have him for fraud!'

‘It depends when you gave it to him. He didn't know the contents of the will till yesterday morning, after the funeral. If you gave him the cheque on Thursday, it wouldn't have been fraud because he didn't know the true position then – although, in my opinion, whatever guarantee he offered to give you would be poor value. As things stand, he will have no say whatever in what happens to Poppy's estate. Knowing him, if he's managed to cash that cheque, you won't see a penny in return. So my advice is to see if you can cancel it. It's worth a try. But I wouldn't waste any time.'

Diana's mouth went slack, and then firmed up. ‘Can I use your computer?'

‘No. Where's your iPad?'

‘I left it at the office to recharge.'

‘Try your phone.'

Diana rushed from the room, taking out her smartphone. A moment later they heard the front door slam.

Lesley hadn't moved a muscle during this.

Ellie collected Midge from her lap, got to her feet and deposited him where she'd been sitting. She drew up a stool beside Lesley on the settee, and took her hand. Didn't say anything.

Quiet descended. There really wasn't anything to say, was there?

Eventually Lesley took the cloth off her eyes and propped herself upright. ‘You warned me. How come you know so much about men? More than I do.'

‘Age, I suppose.'

‘He tried to make out it was all my fault. He said I had no right to interfere in his family's arrangements for the wedding. I pointed out who was paying for the wedding, and he said I was accusing him of holding down a rubbish job, which isn't true, it really isn't!'

‘Mm. Defence mechanism.'

‘I told him to calm down. He said that if I wanted to drive a wedge between him and his family, it wasn't going to work. I said I couldn't care less about his family, and if he wanted to listen to them rather than me, then it wasn't a good start to our marriage. He shouted at me. I shouted back. I told him to leave. He refused.' She sounded incredulous. ‘He actually told me that as I was in the wrong, I should leave. And it's
my
flat!'

Ellie sighed. Lesley knew, every policeman knew, that she could have got the police to throw him out of a flat which was in her name, but she hadn't done so. Was she protecting her own reputation? Couldn't she bear to be laughed at, a policewoman who had the might of the law on her side, but chose not to eject someone from her own flat?

Or did it mean that she thought she was in the wrong, somehow?

Lesley said, ‘I threw a mug at him. Full of coffee. Hot. It smashed to pieces when he fended it off. And one of the shards cut his knee open.'

Ellie's lips twitched, but she managed not to smile. Clemmie had done much the same, hadn't she, with her first boyfriend?

‘I had to take him to the hospital to be checked over and stitched up. He couldn't drive. He's sub-let his own flat. His parents live in Derby. He hasn't anywhere else to go.' A long, long sigh. ‘So I took him back to the flat and left him there.'

‘Because you knew you could come here.'

A nod. ‘Because I knew you'd understand and back me up. You know I'm in the right.'

Ellie wasn't so sure about that. ‘You may certainly stay here tonight. Have you told Susan? Is she making a bed up for you?' Speed-racing through Ellie's mind was the thought that wedding nerves are dreadful, and that Lesley could do with some tender loving care before the day. But how to bring bride and bridegroom together again?

Lesley said, ‘Susan can fetch some things for me, can't she? Some clothes, my laptop. I'll make out a list.'

‘How would it be if you moved in here till the wedding, to give yourself some space? You could be married from here. How does that sound?'

‘The wedding's off.' She held up a ringless hand. ‘I threw the ring out of the window.' Her tone was tragic.

Ellie subdued a grin. ‘Out of which window? The one overlooking the street, or the one looking over the back garden?'

Lesley began to weep. ‘The garden!'

‘Did you toss it out, or throw it far away?'

‘I don't know, do I? I tossed it. I couldn't have cared less. And now I suppose he'll want it back!' She wailed, sunk in misery.

Ellie moved on to the settee and held the girl in her arms. ‘There, there. When you're feeling calmer, you can send him a text to say you're sorry. After supper, say. I don't suppose you've eaten much today, have you?'

A muffled, ‘I couldn't eat.'

‘You've got to keep your strength up. Has he tried to phone you yet?'

Lesley delved under the cushion and brought out her smartphone. She looked to see if there were any messages. ‘Up his!' She threw the phone across the room.

Ellie subdued the impulse to tell the girl to stop having a teenage tantrum, and rescued the phone. It was an up-to-date phone, the sort Ellie had no idea how to access. Did it open with a magic pass of your hand, or did you have to know the password?

She said, ‘I'll just have a word with Thomas. I'll be right back.'

Once in the hall, she shut the sitting-room door, and dug out her own phone to ring Mikey.

The boy answered, sounding preoccupied. ‘Yes?'

‘Mikey, it's me. Mrs Quicke. Emergency. You're at your friend's house, right? Can you get hold of a magnet and go round to Lesley's flat? Yes, my policewoman friend's flat. Do you know where it is? The last house on … yes, that's right. She has the ground-floor flat. She threw her engagement ring out of the back window into the garden and is desperate to get it back. I'm not sure it's possible to find it, but do you think you could try, using a magnet or something?'

‘What did she do that for?'

‘She was upset. You'd better ring the bell at the flat before you go into the garden, and explain that she's sent you to find the ring. Her fiancé's laid up with a bad knee and can't look for it himself. Mind you, the odds on your finding it aren't good.'

Heavy breathing.

‘Mikey?'

‘Mm. Gold, is it? We could try a metal detector. Another of my friend's father's got one.'

‘Mikey, you're a genius.'

‘Twenty quid? For each of us?'

‘Done.'

‘I might have to give my friend's father a bit more, to borrow the detector.'

‘Worth it. Thanks, Mikey. Ring back with a progress report, right?'

‘Sure. It's way more real than playing war games. They're boring. How did you find the garage?'

‘Financially? Dicey. The information you got was most helpful.'

‘Right. See you.' Down went the phone.

Ellie looked up to find Thomas watching her, stroking his beard. She said, ‘Oh, Thomas! The stupid mess some people get themselves into.'

He put his arm around her. ‘Food helps.'

‘Mm, yes. But first, here's Lesley's phone. Can you work out if her fiancé's been trying to contact her? They've had a quarrel over nothing much, but that sort of thing can escalate. She's broken her engagement off and I haven't a clue what to do next. She'll have to stay with us, I suppose. Has Susan gone out for the evening?'

‘Susan has gone clubbing.'

Ellie's mouth fell open with shock. She repeated, ‘“Susan has …” Really? But Susan never …!'

‘No, but she's got some new clothes and done something to herself. I'm not sure what, but she looks magnificent. She rang a friend and has gone clubbing.'

‘Wow!' Ellie thought, what a difference a good bra makes! She said, ‘Right, well, I'll make up a bed for Lesley after supper. Which reminds me: what are we having? Cheese and potato pie?'

‘I can do better than that. Lamb chops with chips and salad; cheese for afters.'

‘Wonderful. But, can you check Lesley's phone first? I feel so stupid, not being able to handle these new phones. You can do it. Everyone else can do it. I really ought to learn how to work them.'

‘You,' said Thomas, ‘have different skills, far more important skills than managing a smartphone.' He winced, looking at some recent messages. ‘Mm. A couple of texts from someone who's forgotten how to spell. Or is it always this way with text-speak? The meaning is clear. Sent in a temper. Somewhat inflammatory. What do you want me to do?'

‘Let's eat, and then we'll decide.'

TWELVE
Saturday evening

E
llie licked her finger in order to collect the last crumb of cheese from her plate. She sighed with pleasure, then forced herself back to the problem in hand. She said, ‘The thing is, that if Gordon isn't stopped, he's going to the police on Monday morning to accuse Clemmie of murder, rape, torture and treason.'

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