Murder in the Garden

by Veronica Heley

  Ellie reddened. ‘Neighbours. People at church. Yes, we did begin to wonder, because he moved in with her. She never went out of the house without him. Didn't want to talk to us any more. Then the house went up for sale and it sold pretty quickly …’

  ‘To the Chaters? The couple who eventually went off to Spain?’

  Ellie nodded. ‘I caught up with Lilian coming back from the shops one day and she said how excited she was that they were going to get married and go to Australia to live. Or maybe it was New Zealand. What could I say? That it was too soon? That he liked her because she had a house to sell? I said I was pleased for her, and indeed I was in a way, because she did look so much better than she had done. I said she must be sure to send me an invitation to the wedding, but I never got one.

  ‘They got some people who clear houses to take away all the furniture, because they were going to make a fresh start with everything new. Or so she said. We did worry about her for a while. But then …’ Ellie shrugged. ‘Then we had the Chaters and really did have something to worry about. The noise!’

  Little Frank was asleep in her arms. He was getting heavy but she didn't want to move, in case he woke up. She looked out of the window. The back garden was quiet and peaceful, dotted with Rose's flowers in tubs. She had even planted some climbing roses against the old walls. The garden was a picture.

  DI Willis said, ‘You think it's her at the bottom of the garden? You think this man Ted got his hands on her money, killed her, buried her and left the country?’

  ‘I don't know,’ said Ellie, feeling wretched.

  ‘How old was she?’

  ‘Again, I don't know. Late fifties, maybe a little younger. She hadn't worn well.’

  ‘Then it's not her. The body in the garden is that of a young female with perfect teeth.’

  ‘Ah. Lilian's teeth were not. I know that because I saw her in the dentist's waiting room once, and she said she'd broken her plate. So, it's not Lilian.’

  ‘So we have to go back even further,’ said DI Willis. ‘Who was there before Lilian and Greg?’

  Ellie's head was aching. Her arms were aching. She said, ‘I'm sorry, but can we do this another day? All I can tell you is that there was an elderly couple before the Brownings, so it can't be either of them. And before that … when we first came here -’ Ellie frowned, not wanting to think about that time - ‘there was a family with children still at school. Two boys. It can't be them.’ DI Willis rose to her feet. ‘This is … disappointing.’

  ‘Baffling,’ Ellie agreed. ‘What do you do next?’

  ‘We have to check out some of this information you've given us. Then I'll be back to see you. There's a possibility we may have to dig up all the gardens that back on to the church.’

  ‘What? You mean, mine as well?’ Ellie couldn't have heard correctly. Frank stirred in her arms.

  ‘It's only logical,’ said Ms Willis, doggedly. ‘I hope we won't have to. If you could have given us any real help …’

  ‘I have tried. You can't dig up my garden!’

  ‘I'll see myself out, shall I?’

  The young policeman stood up to go but didn't immediately follow the DI.

  He leaned over Ellie. ‘Shall I take the little one through for you? He's quite a weight, isn't he?’

  ‘What? Oh. Thank you.’ Ellie relinquished her burden with relief. ‘Why should they want to dig up my garden? It's ridiculous.’

  ‘I'll see what I can find out for you. They've got to trace the girl somehow. Perhaps there were grandchildren around the old people?’

  ‘I never thought of that.’ Ellie rubbed her forehead. ‘I can't think straight. Yes, I believe you're right. Oh dear.’

  ‘Don't you worry yourself now. You've been very helpful, given us far more than we expected.’ Frank slept on in the policeman's arms.

  Ellie opened the door to let them into the front part of the house. ‘By the way, I didn't catch your name …?’

  ‘Honeywell. Yes, really. Honeywell. On loan from another force.’

  The businessman settled himself at the computer terminal. The room was crowded with students of all nationalities and all ages, tapping away, sending emails back home to all quarters of the globe. The man was pleased. No one had given him a second glance.

  Now for the message. Something short and sharp. It was imperative that the police were distracted from checking up on the families who had once lived in that house.

  DC Honeywell laid Frank down on Roy's settee, and departed with a cheery wave for everyone. Rose said, ‘What a nice-mannered young man.’

  As she saw the police off, Ellie realized that she would have liked nothing better at that point than to call a minicab, take herself and little Frank home, put him to bed and go to bed herself. All this looking back on the past was churning her up. Exhausting her. But it was only six o'clock and in an hour's time Aunt Drusilla was expecting them at her house for a dinner party.

  Roy was gloomy. ‘Can't get a television signal. The television engineers won't come out at a weekend, which means I won't have telly over the weekend.’

  Rose fluttered away, promising to see if he might borrow the new battery-operated set Miss Quicke had bought for her bedroom, and which she very rarely used.

  Ellie began folding up empty cardboard boxes.

  Roy wandered around, pushing chairs into a better position, angling a lamp to better effect. He was gradually calming down.

  ‘It won't be too bad, when I've got the pictures up. My mother said I ought to have got all new furniture, gone modern. But I like the mix of old and new. Fancy her wanting me to go modern! She knows all about the latest trends in decor, too. Says I should have had bronzed light switches, instead of stainless steel.’ He looked at them, and then shook his head. ‘No, I prefer these.’ He hadn't noticed that Ellie was looking jaded. In that moment, she knew she'd never ever marry him. She didn't want another unobservant husband.

  The next question was, what were they going to do with little Frank? They couldn't leave him to sleep alone in Roy's place. They decided to take him over to the big house and put him to sleep in his pushchair in the hall there. He'd almost outgrown his chair but it did let down to a horizontal position, so he'd be safe in it and they could hear him if he woke up at any time.

  Ellie dashed across to the big house to make sure the caterers had arrived - they had - and that Rose had put on something suitable - she hadn't. Ellie persuaded Rose into a plain grey dress and coaxed her hair to frame her face. Rose grew flustered, wanting to go down to see what people were doing in ‘her' kitchen.

  Ellie got herself ready. She blocked off all thoughts of police and bodies and how badly Diana had behaved at school, and of the moment when Frank had almost hit his daughter …

  She made herself think instead about getting in some more bulbs for the spring, and planting them with Tum-Tum and borrowing one of his collection of mystery novels to take her mind off things. Also, she must check with her old friend Bill about going out to the nursery gardens as soon as possible.

  Eight

  When Ellie had got herself ready, she went back downstairs to check on Frank, who was still fast asleep. She found Rose, removed her apron, tidied her hair, and sent her into the drawing room, where a buzz of conversation announced that the other guests had already arrived.

  Roy was there, of course, looking suitably suave and urbane. Rose nervously tried to hand round drinks in spite of the fact that the caterers had someone doing just that.

  A very large gentleman was standing in front of the fireplace talking to Aunt Drusilla. That elderly dame was wearing a black silk dress which might have been new in the 1930s but which still looked stunningly elegant, especially as she'd set it off with a scintillating diamond brooch and earrings.

  Aunt Drusilla held out her hand to Ellie. ‘Come and meet my dear friend and solicitor, Gunnar. His mother was Swedish but I don't hold it against him.’

  Gunnar had small, brilliant eyes, and a wide smile
. He was no youngster, but he still had all his hair, even if it had turned white. He had the sort of bass voice which reminded Ellie of Russian choirs. He held Ellie's hand a fraction too long, trying to assess her even as she tried to assess him. So this was Aunt Drusilla's solicitor, was it? A shrewd choice.

  ‘I thought it was about time you all met Gunnar. Just in case.’

  The door opened, and in stepped Bill Weatherspoon, who was Ellie's solicitor and long-time family friend. Bill liked Ellie a lot, and she occasionally went out with him, especially to look at gardens which were open to the public. It was Bill who'd promised to take her out to the nursery gardens to make her final selection of plants for the development on the Green.

  Bill's presence annoyed Roy, who scowled at the sight of a man he considered his rival for Ellie's affections.

  ‘Mr Weatherspoon - or Bill, if I may,’ said Aunt Drusilla, not bothering to rise from her chair. ‘I think you know everyone, except perhaps … Gunnar?’

  ‘Of course I know Gunnar,’ said Bill, shaking his hand. ‘We sit on a couple of committees together.’

  ‘So we do,’ said Gunnar, all smiles. ‘But I didn't know you were acquainted with Drusilla.’

  Bill bowed in Miss Quicke's direction. ‘Only by sight. And reputation.’

  Miss Quicke produced a laugh which could best be described as a cackle. ‘If my reputation goes before me, I have less trouble dealing with people. Ellie, stop gaping and help yourself to a sherry.’

  Ellie did as she was bid. Bill moved to stand beside her. ‘Ellie, do you know why I'm here?’

  She shook her head. ‘My aunt moves in mysterious ways.’

  ‘Mm.’ Bill had wise eyes in a monkey face. He was tall, thin, ugly and dependable. ‘Are we still on for our outing to the nurseries on Monday?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I'm really glad to see you this evening, by the way.’

  ‘You've been turning up more bodies, I hear. Want some more free advice?’

  ‘Your advice is never free.’ They both laughed at that, because any time Bill had to give Ellie advice, he asked her to repay him by accompanying him to a social function.

  The door opened again, and in came … Stewart and Maria Patel! They both hesitated on the threshold. It was clear neither of them had ever been in the house before. Maria was wearing a three-quarter-length dress in a shimmering dull gold fabric which showed off her warm colouring to perfection. Stewart looked almost handsome, which he often did in company where he was appreciated. Ellie never saw the two of them together without noticing their air of quiet content. Tonight that air of content was tinged with apprehension.

  ‘Welcome,’ said Miss Quicke, waving them into the room. ‘Stewart, I think you know most people here, don't you? Gunnar, this is my niece Diana's ex-husband to be, and his fiancée Maria - if you can have a fiancée before you've shuffled off your first wife.’

  ‘Delighted,’ said Gunnar, inclining his upper torso slightly in their direction. He was too large to bow properly.

  Maria smiled and a dimple appeared in her left cheek. Ellie immediately thought that Maria must have put on a little weight, because that dimple was new … and then she wondered again if Maria were pregnant, as well as Diana.

  Miss Quicke beckoned to the couple, who gave the impression of holding hands, though in fact they were not actually doing so. ‘Stewart, we've only met in passing so far, haven't we? You've been doing a good job for me lately …’

  So, Miss Quicke was aware that Stewart now knew she was his boss?

  ‘And Maria … we've often spoken on the phone, but never actually met before, have we?’ Maria's cleaning company had been doing their best to fulfil Miss Quicke's demand for the perfect cleaner for years.

  Maria didn't quite curtsey to Miss Quicke, though it looked as if she wanted to. Ellie made a point of kissing them both and introducing them formally to Bill, and to Roy.

  ‘So … shall we go in to dinner?’

  At which point the door opened again, and in stormed Diana, wearing a minimalist black dress, strappy black shoes with heels that looked as if they wanted to throw her forward on to the floor, and a scowl. Diana could scowl for Britain.

  ‘How dare you abandon my son in the hall?’

  Miss Quicke got to her feet with the aid of her stick. ‘I don't remember inviting you, Diana. I thought it was you who'd abandoned him to us, while you gallivanted off to Town.’

  ‘Well, I would have, but Derek said … anyway, the arrangement is that I have him at weekends, and so I cancelled going out with Derek and came back to pick him up, and what do I find? You're all having a cosy party while my son lies neglected, pushed out of sight …’

  Stewart turned his head away. ‘Oh, give it a rest, Diana.’

  Rose was indignant. ‘Diana, it was you who abandoned him, not us. We took care of him all afternoon, in spite of the police being here and everything. He was as good as gold, too, except when he got hold of that statuette, and say what you like, you can't take your eyes off him for two minutes at once before he's into mischief.’

  Roy laughed out loud and the others smiled.

  Ellie hastened to pour oil. ‘Diana dear, I'm so glad you've come back for little Frank. Now we can sit down to eat without listening out for him to-’

  ‘Oh. Really? A dinner party? Well, since I'm not going up to Town, perhaps I'll join you.’

  Everyone blenched except Miss Quicke, who was also accustomed to getting her own way.

  ‘You weren't invited, Diana, so I must ask you to-’

  ‘But these people were? Why, may I ask, have you invited my fool of an ex-husband and his piece of arm candy while I, the mother of your only great-nephew-’

  Stewart went pale with anger. Maria, on the other hand, took a hasty step towards Diana.

  Ellie stepped between. ‘Diana, that was rude and quite unnecessary. Maria dear, let it go.’

  There was a wail from the hall. Everyone looked to the door, which a waitress was now holding open, with the intention of ushering them through to the dining room.

  Diana stalked out of the room, throwing orders at the waitress as she went. ‘Set an extra place for me and bring a high chair for my son.’

  The waitress looked to Miss Quicke for instructions. ‘I'm afraid we don't have a high chair.’

  ‘No, of course you don't,’ said Miss Quicke.

  Diana's voice floated back to them. ‘Come on, everyone. I'm hungry.’

  Maria looked to their hostess for a lead. ‘I could have him on my lap at table, if you like. I often do when we go out for a meal.’

  Miss Quicke was blinking. Thinking hard. At last she nodded. She took Gunnar's arm and led them through the hall and into the grand dining room. Normally this room was used by Miss Quicke as an office, but tonight the shining length of table had been cleared of paperwork and computer, there were candles in the silver candelabrum, flowers in a centrepiece, shining silverware and a priceless Minton dinner service to eat off. Diana had seated herself at one end of the table already.

  Miss Quicke had a lengthy word with the waitress. The place setting in front of Diana was removed and replaced to her righthand side, while some everyday cutlery and an ordinary glass tumbler was placed in front of her instead.

  Miss Quicke indicated where everyone should sit. Luckily there were ten chairs in the dining set, so there was enough for everyone, though Ellie did wonder if Gunnar's chair would bear his weight. Miss Quicke took the chair at the opposite end of the table to Diana, and began to talk to Gunnar about Roy's conversion of the garage. Roy was on her left, and joined in.

  Soon everyone was busily talking to their neighbours, leaving Diana in an oasis of silence. Little Frank, roused from his sleep, blinked at the candlelight, sitting on Maria's knee. Ellie kept glancing at Diana. The girl was too thin to be pregnant, surely? Almost haggard, in fact. She seemed obsessed with every move that Maria made.

  Ellie had Rose on her right and Stewart on her left.

  Stewart
was not at ease seated next to Diana. ‘Ellie, did you ask Miss Quicke to invite us?’

  Ellie shook her head, taking a hot home-made roll from the waitress - who failed to offer one to Diana. How strange …

  Soup was served, in heavy old plates decorated with flowers, possibly hand-painted? Diana's was served in a plain white bowl.

  ‘Delicious,’ said Maria, and laughingly helped little Frank to a mouthful from a small spoon that a waitress had given her.

  Miss Quicke gave Maria a glance of approval. ‘You'll make a fine mother, my dear.’

  Ellie felt as if a cold penny had been dropped down her spine. What had Miss Quicke seen? That Maria was pregnant? Maria was certainly blushing. And then came another thought. Maria was Miss Quicke's natural heir in business terms. Not Roy, who was a good architect but no financier. Not Ellie, who didn't care about money. Not Diana, because she wasn't honest in such matters. But Maria was good with money, she'd worked hard to build up her business, she was honest in all her dealings. And, there was no getting away from it, Maria was pregnant.

  Oops!

  A light white wine was served to everyone. Diana's was poured into an ordinary tumbler instead of a wine glass.

  The soup plates were removed while Ellie talked as sensibly as she could to Stewart. A fish course arrived, beautifully presented and not too much of it. Another light, white wine.

  ‘Why have I been served with a cold plate?’ demanded Diana. Everyone stopped talking to look at her. No one volunteered an explanation, because it was clear what had happened. There hadn't been time to warm a plate for her. Or … or was this the caterers getting back at Diana for throwing their numbers out?

  Everyone started talking again. Diana was furious, stabbing at the fish with her fork, refusing to acknowledge the presence of her husband sitting next to her. Ellie took a sip of wine, which made her feel braver. She launched into a slightly hysterical but, she hoped, amusing story of the fox that had been seen cavorting on the Green around the church at night recently.

  Bill was talking animatedly to Maria about his own very pretty garden, which went down to the river Thames. Soon everyone was talking about gardens, as if it were the only safe subject in the world. Even Stewart was saying how much he looked forward to having a bit of lawn to mow.