Murder in Style (26 page)

‘Ray and his debts. Ray and Poppy's marriage.'

A decisive nod. ‘Poppy says she is ready to talk about a divorce. All those years, never a bad word does she say about him. She and Juno, most alike. Faithful wives. Every year, Poppy says, “One day his luck will change.” But at the last she understands he cannot change. Charles says that if she lets Ray carry on gambling, he will strip her of everything she has. Gerald says that if you don't try to stop an addict, you are agreeing with what they do. We can all see that is true.'

‘Very difficult.'

‘Poppy is worried about Trixie, too. That funny man who hangs around the girl. What sort of agent is he, anyway? Is he interested because there is money in the family? Has she any talent? Mrs Quicke, have you any opinion about that?'

‘She is not as strong a personality as Clemmie, but there doesn't seem to be any harm in her. Yes, I think there might be some talent there. Can't you get someone in the trade to give her an audition? You were prepared to put some money into her film, weren't you?'

‘We are thinking that way, yes. Get her a camera test. Gerald and I are thinking to let the grandchildren have the money now, when it will help in their careers, rather than after we die. What we do for Trixie, we will do the same for Clemmie.'

Ellie liked the sound of that. ‘At some point the discussion here ground to a halt. First the women left, and then the men. Can you remember roughly what time that would have been?'

Marika pulled up some wool, thinking. ‘The girls? About nine, I suppose. The men stay on to talk more to Gerald about Clemmie's supposed fraud.'

‘Why didn't the girls stay here?'

‘Gordon …' A shrug. ‘He refuses to talk about anything but the fraud. The girls want to talk about divorce and how it might affect The Magpie, so they went there to be quiet and to get away from him. Juno says the stairs to The Magpie office keep her sane.' A tiny smile.

Ellie also smiled. Yes, she could see how that could be. Gordon couldn't get up those stairs. Sanctuary! Ellie said, testing her theory, ‘The girls had each come in their own cars?'

‘No. Gordon brought Juno. Poppy came in her own car, yes.'

‘Poppy took Juno off in her car when they went to The Magpie? And then what?'

Marika stood up and stretched. Was she trying to change the subject? Was there something she was not telling? What on earth could it be? ‘You're going to see Gordon now? I'll give you the address.'

E
llie felt as if she'd been thrown out. Surplus to requirements. Made use of, and dumped in the trashcan.

She knew perfectly well that Marika wanted her to go to see Gordon but, perversely, it was the last thing Ellie wanted to do. She couldn't think what she could say to him. There wasn't anything she
could
say, was there?

She got to the end of the road and her phone rang. She didn't realize it was her phone at first, but looked around for someone close by who might have their phone out. And then realized it was hers. She was surprised, because she didn't usually leave it switched on.

‘I'm bored.' A boy's voice, half-broken: Mikey. ‘Can't you find something for me to do?'

‘I thought you were playing games with a friend.' She looked around for a place to sit and spotted a low wall. She perched on that, hoping the householder wouldn't shoo her off.

‘We were. I beat him. As usual. And yes, I have done my homework. Mum's having a rest on her bed and Dad's under the car. Not that he knows a gasket from a gastronome. He told me to go away and play. So, where are you, and have you any ideas?'

‘I've been visiting someone on the other side of the Avenue.' Ellie fished in her pockets and then delved into her handbag. ‘Yes, I could do with some help, and you'd be much quicker at it than I. There's an estate agent called Mornay. Marge Money or Marge Mornay. She has several offices, only one of which is local. I want you to look up for me any recent sales of property in this area. I'm thinking maybe a penthouse suite, or a flat in a new, luxury block, with garage parking. Two bedrooms … no, perhaps only one. No, make it two. There must be a speakerphone entry system.'

‘You're not thinking of moving?'

‘Certainly not. You know about the Cordover affair, and the woman who died from falling down the stairs? I think that one of the family might recently have been looking for a bolthole while she considers divorcing her husband. She'd want somewhere safe, quiet and local. Money's no object.'

‘Why two bedrooms?'

‘She might need to keep a room for her daughter to sleep over.'

‘You think Poppy was buying a hidey-hole?'

‘No, I think it was Juno. Now I don't want you ringing people up and entering into chit-chat about this. I don't want Gordon or anyone else following our trail.'

‘You think Juno's in danger? Whoopee!'

‘Oh, Mikey! You're such a child, sometimes.'

‘I'm better than you with a computer.' Boasting.

‘I'll grant you that. I think Marge Money has been handling all The Magpie transactions. They've known one another for ever and Marge is no friend of Gordon's, so it makes sense that Juno would ask her to find her somewhere safe to hide. Can you do it by going on their website, and seeing what they've offered for sale recently?'

‘How recent?'

‘I'm not sure. Juno used to go away every now and then to spend time at a spa hotel. Her family checked, and that is exactly what she did. After the reading of the will on Friday, she stepped out of her parents' car and disappeared. At first I thought she might have gone to Poland to stay with relatives, but now I think she might – just might – have been planning to leave Gordon for some time. If so, she will either have bought or rented somewhere local, perhaps within walking distance of The Magpie. Only, she's not given anyone her address.'

‘What's she afraid of? Being pushed down the stairs like Poppy?'

‘You've got it.'

‘You don't want flats that have stairs, then. Or they can have stairs, but only for fire exit purposes. You want luxury and lifts, right? There's quite a few flats around here like that. But, she might have bought one that's never been advertised.'

‘I know. The problem is that if you can find her through the Internet, then so can Gordon.'

‘And then what?' Joking. ‘Why would he try to kill her?'

‘I'm not sure. Out of revenge because she's leaving him? That's a guess and probably wrong. But, if you feel like doing a bit of digging around on the computer, it might turn up three or four places which … oh, I don't know, Mikey. Now I'm talking it through with you, it sounds like a wild-goose chase.'

‘Dunno about that. Thomas says you've an extra sense about people that ordinary mortals don't have. Can I use your computer? Thomas will let me, won't he? Are you going to be home later? Where are you? Shall I come and get you? It won't take me a minute on my bike.'

Ellie had a vision of herself sitting pillion on the back of Mikey's bicycle. She closed her eyes. No, no,
no!
‘You're not giving me a lift unless you've aged to eighteen overnight, passed your driving test and are able to provide me with a comfortable seat in a modern car.'

He thought that was funny. ‘All right. You can always ring for a cab, can't you?'

‘I'm going to Gordon's house next.' She rummaged in her bag to produce the piece of paper Marika had given her. ‘It's not far. One of those big detached houses at the top of Kent Avenue.'

‘Nice houses. What number?'

‘Can't quite read it. It's got a name. Gateway House? Something like that. I'm only going to drop in for a minute or two, and I can't think what I'm supposed to say. Marika wants me to go there, and so I'm going. I'll be back by teatime.'

‘Has Susan been baking?' Mikey was always hungry.

‘I've no idea. Now, don't you go bothering her if she hasn't.'

He laughed and switched off. Ellie looked to see if she'd got any voicemail messages. She hadn't, so she put her phone away and set off again.

Kent Avenue was a road of expensive buildings. There was a run of early nineteenth-century terraced housing, and two blocks of four-storey flats. Between these were a few modern, detached houses with brick-laid forecourts behind electronically operated gates. The ones for Gordon's house stood open. Also open were the doors to a double garage. Ellie could see into the garage. One car had extra roof space; that would be Gordon's adapted car. Next to it was a sleek Lexus. That would be Juno's?

There were two other cars parked in the forecourt. One was another Lexus, a twin to the one in the garage. The number plates were consecutive. Those two cars had been bought and registered at the same time. So, the one on the forecourt would be Poppy's car, which she'd driven to The Magpie and which the police had located later in a side street. Presumably Ray had taken that over and was now driving it around.

Oh. Did she want to meet Ray at the moment?

She felt slightly guilty about withholding the new combination she'd put into the safe at his house … which reminded her that she ought to have written it down somewhere as soon as she'd done it. It wouldn't do to forget it altogether, would it?

Now, the fourth car. Whose would that be? Ellie wasn't good at recognizing makes of cars or remembering number plates, but she'd seen this particular car the evening before. She couldn't remember the registration number. She told herself that there must be dozens of similar family cars in the neighbourhood. It was a middle-aged car. A car for a man who earned a considerable salary but didn't care to run a sports car.

‘By your cars you shall know them.' Who did she know who fitted that middle-aged car? And the answer was … Charles Mornay.

If she were right, then Gordon was at home and his visitors were Charles and Ray. A toxic mix. Three men who had married women who were successful in their own right. Three men whose marriages either had failed, or were failing. Two of those three men bore no love for Clemmie and were plotting to bring her down.

Ellie could see why Gordon and Charles had met to talk, but what about the third man? Did Ray want to join in the persecution of Clemmie, or was he after money for his own kitty?

He was after money.

A ramp led up over the step to the glazed front door. On either side of the ramp stood some bright blue pots planted with variegated ivy … the only greenery in sight.

Ellie rang the bell, and the speakerphone squawked at her. She said, ‘Mrs Quicke to see you.' The door clicked open and she entered a square hall with stripped wooden flooring, suitable for wheelchair use. Ahead lay a staircase with a stairlift at the bottom. Looking up to the landing, she spotted an empty wheelchair. So Gordon could get around the ground floor as much as he liked, could take the chair upstairs and transfer to another wheelchair there.

The house had been expensively adapted for his use. All the electrics were at hip height and doorways had been widened. In other words, Gordon had complete freedom of movement in his own house. When he wanted to go out, he could take his wheelchair to his adapted car and transfer to that. He could, in fact, go anywhere and everywhere, except up and down stairs.

A mellow, mocking voice. ‘Hey, look what the cat brought in!' Ray was standing in the doorway to a room on the left. He was holding a glass of what looked like whisky. Half seas over, and it was only three in the afternoon. His speech was slightly slurred. ‘Why haven't you returned my phone calls?'

‘Have you been phoning me?' A bland smile. It might work.

‘I need the combination of the safe.'

‘Oh, that. I wrote it down as soon as I got home. Remind me to give it to Juno when she returns.'

‘I need it now!'

Ellie acted helpless. ‘I'm so sorry. I'm hopeless at numbers. That's why I wrote it down when I got home. It's on the back of the calendar in the hall. I think. If I can't find it, I suppose Juno will have to employ a locksmith to open the safe for her.'

‘Tcha!' said Ray. Yet he didn't seem as desperate as Ellie had thought he might be. Had he located some other source of income?

‘Who?' Charles appeared behind Ray. ‘Ah, the interfering busybody.' He was also the worse for alcohol. Charles swept her an elaborate bow, nearly spilling his drink as he did so. ‘Come into the spider's den.'

Ellie obeyed and entered a large, sunny living room, which stretched from front to back of the house. More stripped wood flooring. Sliding glass doors at the back gave on to a patio adorned with a gas barbecue and all the trimmings. Beyond that was another low-maintenance garden, all shrubs and lawn, probably attended to by a contractor.

Centre stage was Gordon, ensconced in his wheelchair, also with a glass in his hand. There was a pervasive scent of whisky and something else. Something rotten? Food that had gone off? A dividing wall had been removed at the back of the room to give access to an up-to-date kitchen. Presumably the smell came from there.

The room had been furnished in pleasantly neutral colours, save for three rather-too-bright abstract pictures on the wall, which someone had recently attacked with malice aforethought. Glass fragments clung to the frames and twinkled on the floor below. A cut-glass vase on a glass-topped coffee table had been knocked over, and the roses which it had contained were now strewn, dying, on the floor. The water which had been in the vase had stained the wooden floor.

Gordon is destroying the things which Juno had cared about. I wish I hadn't come.

Ellie tried to ignore the evidence of violence, and managed a social smile. ‘Marika asked me to drop in on you this afternoon.'

‘Hah!' Ray threw himself down into a capacious armchair, spilling some of his drink. He swore, and licked his hand. ‘The mother-in-law from hell.'