MURDER BY ACCIDENT
Veronica Heley is married to a retired probation officer and they have one musician daughter. She is actively involved in her church in Ealing, West London - the London suburb in which the Ellie Quicke mysteries are set. She has had over 60 books published.
The Ellie Quicke Mysteries MURDER AT THE ALTAR MURDER BY SUICIDE MURDER OF INNOCENCE MURDER BY ACCIDENT MURDER IN THE GARDEN MURDER BY COMMITTEE MURDER BY BICYCLE MURDER OF IDENTITY MURDER IN THE PARK
MURDER BY ACCIDENT
Veronica Heley
Ostara Publishing
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental
First Published by Severn House 2003
Copyright © 2003 Veronica Heley
Veronica Heley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A CIP reference is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781906288 33 4 Ostara Publishing
13 King Coel Road
Lexden
Colchester CO3 9AG
www.ostarapublishing.co.uk
One
‘ I wouldn’t try to get out, if I were you. The handle on the front door’s been wired to the mains. Other things, too, so be careful what you
touch! Ha! Ha!’
The front door slammed shut.
Was it a bluff, or was the handle electrified? Ellie backed away from
the door.
‘Be careful what you touch …’
She put her hands down at her sides, and looked around her. She
wouldn’t touch anything – no, not anything – till she was sure it was safe. She spotted the phone by the overturned table.
Dare she try it? Would that be electrified, too?
They couldn’t afford to let her go. She would have to die, preferably in
another ‘accident’. Sooner or later she would make a mistake and come
into contact with one of their little surprises.
If she touched anything which had been booby-trapped, she wouldn’t
just get a mild shock; it would kill her.
Ellie Quicke was worried. Recently widowed in her early fifties, she was adjusting well to the change in her lifestyle. But like most women, she could worry about several things at once.
She worried most of all about her daughter Diana, who had just got the sack. Diana would want Ellie to rescue her and Ellie really didn’t know how. If she refused to help her daughter … Ellie dreaded to think what Diana would do. Ellie loved her only daughter – of course she did – but she had to admit that Diana could intimidate for Britain and was capable of doing, well, almost anything, to get her own way.
Ellie tried to think about something else.
The recent gale had loosened a gutter at the front of the house and the toilet in the bathroom was not always flushing properly. Well, those were two problems that she could fix. The builders she always used were working next door, so she went into her garden and had a word with them across the hedge. The boss man wasn’t there, but one of his men – he was doing well and had taken on a couple of part-timers recently – said they’d try to fit her in, sure, no problem. She said she’d leave a key where they could find it. That was one worry the less – except that her builders were always busy and now she worried that they might forget her little jobs, which after all couldn’t compare with the money they’d get from building the conservatory next door, or replacing windows or … well, almost anything, really.
She waved to her neighbour’s son and a friend, as they walked along the alley at the bottom of her garden. They waved back. The two lads turned out of the alley into the Green around the church, cutting across it on their way to school.
It was good to see young people around. She only hoped her own dear little grandson would grow up as fine as those two boys, though Diana did tend to spoil him. Don’t think about Diana.
Ellie looked down her garden and up to the Green, where the spire of the church was surrounded by mature trees just bursting into leaf. She sent up a short prayer, Please Lord, look after those two boys today. And be with me when I talk to Diana. I’m worried about her, and don’t know what to say or do to help.
She cut that worry off short and thought of another one.
She could do with a haircut. Her short silvery hair had grown long enough to try to curl again. She must make an appointment at the hairdresser’s in the Avenue. She needed to look neat for the weekend as on Friday night there was to be a party in the church hall to welcome their new vicar, while on Saturday there was a local wedding to look forward to. Dear Rose McNally’s only daughter was being married and of course Ellie was invited.
She must get out her best blue suit to see if it needed cleaning. She’d spilt a drop of coffee on it, and wasn’t sure whether it showed or not. Did she have time to get it cleaned? This was Wednesday. Yes, there was time, just about.
Something was eating the geraniums she was overwintering in her newly built conservatory. There were semicircular bites being taken out of most of the leaves. Was it a caterpillar? And if so, where had it come from? Ought she to spray, and if so, what with? It was not politically correct to spray in the old-fashioned way with something that was bound to kill the caterpillars but might also damage the ozone or the plants or give her a rash. But what else would work?
On a deeper level she continued to worry about her difficult daughter. Diana had been sacked for defrauding her employer. Diana didn’t think she’d been guilty of any wrongdoing, of course. Diana thought it was business as usual. A bit on the side wouldn’t hurt anyone if they didn’t know about it, she’d say.
Unfortunately, when you were managing a block of flats for someone as bright as Diana’s aged but extremely intelligent Great-Aunt Drusilla, you had to get up very early in the morning to cheat and get away with it. Diana had never been that good at getting up in the morning.
Ellie plunged back into misery. Every time the phone rang nowadays it seemed to be bad news. Aunt Drusilla’s phone call the previous evening had been typical. ‘I suppose I should warn you. I’ve sacked Diana. She’s had enough warnings, for heavens’ sake. Don’t try to make me change my mind because I won’t. Oh yes, and I’m also thinking about getting rid of Stewart, Diana’s husband. He’s a nice enough lad and I don’t think he’s as corrupt as Diana, but he’s simply not up to the job of managing my flats and bedsits. You haven’t told him I own them, have you? You know I don’t like everyone knowing how much property I have.’
‘No, Aunt Drusilla. Diana knows you own the block of flats she’s been managing, but Stewart has no idea that you also own the older houses. But …’
‘That’s all right, then. I’ll be sending him a warning letter tomorrow.’ The phone went dead, leaving Ellie to face an uncomfortable future.
Diana’s temper at best was unreliable, and Ellie didn’t like to think what it was going to be like when she heard that Stewart was under notice to quit, too. Diana ought to have been a rocket scientist; with her explosive temper, she’d have been able to send a space shuttle to Mars without any trouble. She might even turn violent.
No, she wouldn’t really. Would she?
Which was a good reason for Ellie to concentrate on the geraniums. She broke off a couple of affected leaves and held them up to the light to see if she could discover a caterpillar at work. No caterpillar to be seen.
Was it dry enough for her to take a turn round the garden, see how the multicoloured polyanthus were doing? Or even stray across the alley into the Green around St Thomas’ Church? The daffodils under the trees wer
e at their very best, burning drifts of yellow. It would be pleasant to linger there for a while … even though the breeze was brisk in March. No, she’d stay cosily in her conservatory and look out upon the beauties of the day. There was much to be thankful for, if you looked for it. And Ellie did.
Dear Lord, thank you for the sun and the spring and the beauty they bring. And please help me with Diana …
The builders at work next door started up some machinery or other which rattled the windows and deafened everyone in the neighbourhood. That broke Ellie’s concentration.
Ellie’s marauding cat didn’t like the noise of the concrete mixer, either. He plopped through the cat flap into the conservatory and through the open kitchen door to see what was in his food bowl. Ellie hastened to feed him, knowing that otherwise her life wouldn’t be worth living. Midge knew how to get his own way.
Ellie had a mental picture of herself being battered from all sides by strong personalities and going down for the count. Perhaps she should pack a small bag, take a taxi to the airport and get on the first plane going to a warm climate. She could afford it.
She could just about hear the phone ringing over the noise the builders were making. She wondered if she had the nerve to walk out of the house and leave them all to it.
But of course she didn’t.
A male voice that she felt she ought to be able to place. ‘Mrs Quicke? That you?’
‘Yes. It’s Jimbo, isn’t it?’ It wasn’t Diana. What a relief. Jimbo ran a very efficient plumbing and central-heating firm which she often used. Jimbo was a rough diamond, but reliable.
‘Thing is, bit of a shock. You sitting down?’
‘Yes?’ Something had happened to Diana?
‘It’s Miss Quicke, your aunt. She rang us yesterday, said she’d heard about us from you, that she had this great big house, nothing been done to it for yonks, repairs to roof and gutterings just been completed but new central heating and wiring needed, then plumbing, right? Well, she said she’d had to sack the people were putting in the plumbing. Tried to use the wrong gauge, stupid so-and-sos, bound to be picked up by the inspectors. Miss Quicke wanted me to quote. So I said, Fine. Be round half nine for a decko, right?’
‘Right,’ said Ellie, switching her worry to Aunt Drusilla. ‘Something’s happened to my aunt?’
Heavy breathing. ‘’ Fraid so. You knew the wiring here was dud, din’t you? Same like everything, in my opinion. What a shambles. Well, I come in just after ten, maybe, bit late … and she lets me in but don’t say nothing and leaves me and my mate standing there in the hall like lemons. And after a bit, I say, Yoohoo! You haven’t forgotten us, have you? ’Cause it’s a big place and there’s no one about but she don’t answer. And I said to Tom – my mate, you know – That’s funny, I said.’
‘Yes,’ said Ellie, sitting down on the hall chair with a bump. ‘My aunt?’
‘It was the electrics, see. It musta been instant. I just stood there, stunned. Then Tom come up and he said … well, not to repeat what he said. But she’s gone. I thought maybe mouth-to-mouth, but it were too late. We managed to find the main fuse box and turned everything off, and I went back upstairs ’cause Tom wasn’t feeling too good but she’s definitely gone. So I din’t know what to do till I thought, well, Mrs Quicke recommended us, and it’s her auntie, so she ought to be told. So that’s why I’m ringing you.’
‘Oh,’ said Ellie, feeling faint. Shock. Numbness.
‘You all right, missus?’
‘Yes,’ said Ellie, from a distance. Aunt Drusilla dead? It was unthinkable. Her death would leave a large hole in Ellie’s life. Miss Quicke was a miser and a bully. Yes, she was – had been – this and that and probably would tell St Peter to stand up straight and take his hands out of his pockets when she got to Heaven, but she’d been part of Ellie’s life for ever.
She’d brought up Ellie’s husband Frank after his parents died, and though she’d treated Ellie as her personal slave for years, they’d reached an understanding of sorts in recent months. They could almost be described as good friends.
Miss Quicke was perhaps the only person of the older generation left in Ellie’s life now, and they’d been able to talk about everything together. Not to mention that both of them were wealthy but didn’t want that generally known.
Ellie would miss her terribly. Lord, be with her.
‘You still there, missus?’
Ellie made an effort. ‘Yes, Jimbo. Have you rung the doctor? You have to get one to certify death, don’t you? I suppose you dial nine–nine– nine.’
‘You think I should? Thing is, undertaker’s needed, not doctor.’
‘I understand, but I think you must follow the usual procedures. It would have been over at once, wouldn’t it? She wouldn’t have suffered?’
‘Dead quick. Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean … well, you know. OK. I’ll get nine– nine–nine. You’ll be round, then? I mean, not much point my staying here, if the job’s not going to come off, right? Got other jobs on, right?’
‘Jimbo, you stay right there till the doctor’s been. I have a horrid feeling that there might have to be an autopsy and, oh dear, there’s so many people who’ll have to be told. I’ll be round as soon as I can, right?’
She put the phone down. She couldn’t think what to do first. Dear Lord, give me strength. Comfort and sustain me.
Midge jumped on to her lap and gently touched her chin with his paw. He was a very loving cat, when he wasn’t hunting anything that moved.
She held him tightly and rocked to and fro. Then let him jump down – he hated being cuddled really – and punched in a familiar number.
Roy Bartrick was Aunt Drusilla’s illegitimate son by the only man she’d ever loved. She’d been forced by her tyrannical father to give him away at birth so the boy had been adopted into a family living some distance away. Grown-up and about to take early retirement from his job as an architect, Roy had come looking for his real mother some months ago, and chosen to settle into the community.
Six feet of silver-haired, blue-eyed charm, Roy had made more friends than enemies since he arrived, especially since he and his mother went into partnership to develop the site of a dilapidated Victorian house on the Green nearby. He also paid court – now and then – to Ellie, who refused to take him seriously. No, she would not marry him, but there was a loving kindness between them.
For once Roy was available to answer his mobile phone.
Ellie found breathing difficult as she fought to tell him the bad news. ‘Roy, this is Ellie. Are you sitting down?’
‘What? No, I’m driving down the Avenue … wait a mo. I’ll pull into the kerb. What is it, Ellie?’
She tried to speak, but couldn’t. She was going to give way to tears. No, she wasn’t. ‘Roy, it’s your mother.’
‘What about the old bat, then? Saw her last night. Had a fine old time last week, didn’t she? Sacked the cleaner – again. Made the builders repaint the fascia boards. Sacked the plumbers. Went out and bought a new computer. Sacked Diana, who had it coming to her, if you ask me.’
There was no love lost between Diana and Roy. Roy thought her a selfish bully, and Diana thought him a fortune-hunter. Both thought they were in line for a substantial inheritance when Aunt Drusilla died, and only one of them was right.
His voice became uncertain.‘She’s also going to sack Stewart, I believe. Says he’s not up to the job. She’s probably right, though I’m a little sorry for him. It’s punishment enough for any man to be married to Diana. Ellie, what’s wrong? My mother was full of beans last night. Told me a naughty bit of gossip about the Town Clerk which I must pass on to you sometime. She also told me to get a haircut. Ellie?’
‘Roy, she’s dead. A fault in the wiring at the house.’
There was a long, long silence. Eventually he said, ‘No, no, no!’
Ellie began to weep, without sound.
He said, ‘I’ve only just found her. She can’t be dead. She’s not that old, an
d there’s nothing wrong with her!’
Ellie wept.
He said, quietly, ‘I don’t think I can bear it.’
‘I can’t, either.’
‘She’s so fond of you. But I – I can’t think straight. What happened? A fault in the wiring? I’ve told her over and over! Those blasted electricians! They were there two days running and then … it’s over a week since they started tearing out the old wiring. I warned her. I did warn her, didn’t I, Ellie? I didn’t forget to warn her, did I?’
Ellie didn’t know whether he’d warned her or not, but she did know that he’d blame himself for ever if she didn’t reassure him. ‘No, Roy. You warned her. I did, too. And dear Rose was looking after her so well.’
‘What a blessing that woman is.Your finding her to look after my mother made her life so much better. She was enjoying herself so much. I can’t … I’ve got to get over there.’
‘Don’t try to drive, Roy.’
‘I’ll lock up the car and walk. It’s not far. I can’t believe it.’
Only after he’d disconnected did she think, Diana will be thrilled …
Oh dear. What a nasty thought.
She mopped up, blew her nose and phoned for a minicab. Even if she’d ever learned to drive a car, today was not the day to do it and she had an account with a local firm. Glancing out of the window, she saw it was a nasty blustery day with a cold east wind. Typical of late March. She pulled on a coat, located her handbag and mobile phone and gave the driver her aunt’s address.
She had her own mobile phone nowadays and though she hated the nasty little gadget, she did agree that it was useful now and then. As now, in the minicab.
‘Diana, is that you?’
‘Mother, you’ve been on the phone for ever. I’m coming round to see you. You’ve got to help me make Great-Aunt Drusilla see sense.’
‘Diana, listen to me. I’m on my way to Aunt Drusilla’s now. There’s been an accident.’
‘Fallen down the stairs again, has she? You never listen to me when I say this, but it really is time that she was put into a home. She’s gone completely gaga, you know. Tried to give me the sack …’ Diana gave a metallic laugh.
Murder By Accident Page 1
