Murder By Accident

by Veronica Heley

  She went into the kitchen. Untidy. Evidence of a junk-food meal – everything dried up. Yesterday’s? More junk-food packaging in the waste bin. Fridge pretty empty, except for a heel of a loaf of bread, a few eggs, a scrap or two of bacon. In the cupboard there were a few staples such as tea and coffee, sugar and flour, but there was hardly any food except baby food in tins. Yuk. She put the kettle on to make some instant coffee for both of them before noticing the door of the washing machine was ajar, the interior stuffed with clothes ready to wash, dark and light clothes all jumbled up together. Luckily Stewart hadn’t started the machine up, or everything would come out blue or pink, including underclothes. Ellie pulled the dirty clothes out on to the floor and quickly sorted them it into two piles.

  When the kettle had boiled, she made instant coffee and took it into the sitting room. Stewart was staggering around, eyes squinched up, trying to right the furniture. She pushed him back into his chair, put the coffee mug in his hands, and seated herself on an upright chair.

  ‘Drink that. Then tell me all about it.’

  In her experience it was an opening that never failed to produce the goods. Stewart told. After the first few sentences, Ellie could have written the script for him.

  ‘I’ve failed her. Let her down. No wonder she’s left me. I don’t blame her.’

  Stewart blamed himself for everything. Ellie fitted the pieces of what he said into her knowledge of Diana and felt compassion for the lad. He’d done his best. Ellie knew how Diana could work on you, make you think everything was your fault.

  ‘We were so happy at first. We were both working. I loved my job. It did worry me a bit that we’d bought such an expensive big house but, well – as Diana said – it was nothing less than she deserved and it showed people where we were going.’

  Ellie held back a sigh. Diana had always had an inflated idea of what life owed her.

  ‘Then little Frank came along and though Diana was angry about having a baby so soon, she said that nowadays no one expected a career woman to stay at home and look after babies. She left the firm she’d been working for, because they wouldn’t give her the promotion she had every right to expect. Although I did say that I thought … but of course she was right, and I never should have tried to hold her back from reaching her full potential. Only it wasn’t so easy for her to get a really good job again after little Frank was born … not her fault, of course. Up North they discriminate against career women, don’t they …?’

  Poor Stewart, thought Ellie. You know what she’s like really, but you can’t admit it.

  ‘… and she got so restless at home all day, that I offered – perhaps I didn’t really mean it, although I thought I did – to go part-time to look after little Frank while she got the sort of job she could really get her teeth into, but that didn’t go down too well with my boss and to tell the truth, I’m not much of a hand at housework and cooking, though I do try.’

  Ellie sighed, patted his hand.

  ‘That’s when I got passed over for promotion. But it didn’t matter, because Diana got this really good job, only somehow it wasn’t quite right for her and I’d lost the knack of … well … making it come right for her …’

  Ellie shook her head. He meant he hadn’t been able to get it up in bed. Oh dear. But in the face of Diana’s critical nature, not at all surprising.

  Stewart blushed, clearly wishing he hadn’t referred to sex. ‘Then she got her big chance down here and I was really happy for her, of course I was. To tell the truth, I was rather pleased that we had to give up that big house. It was killing us financially to keep it going and pretend all the time that we were doing just fine, keeping up with the Joneses, you know. I tried for a transfer down here but got turned down. Don’t blame them. Fresh out of ideas. I did look for something else up North but somehow, when Diana took little Frank away with her, I lost heart. You know?’

  Ellie nodded and continued to pat his hand.

  He heaved a great sigh. ‘Then I got a really good offer for the house. Well, I thought it was a good offer. It was way above average, but Diana said … and of course she was right. I ought to have held out for more. But you came to my rescue. Dear Mother-in-law, you really saved the day for me, didn’t you, finding me this job down here? I really enjoyed myself at first, caring for these grand old houses, talking to people, finding out what they wanted, organizing the end-of-tenancy cleaning, getting the contractors to do the repairs and the decorating.’

  ‘What went wrong, my dear?’ Though she thought she knew already.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m just not sharp enough to know when I’m being taken for a ride. Diana pointed out that I shouldn’t have taken the contractors’ word for it, but used people she knew who’d do the job for less and were more reliable. Only, it never seemed to work out that way. I used to get on well with the cleaners I had at first, and the builders, too. But Diana would interfere … no, I don’t mean interfere. She meant it for the best, of course.

  ‘Only, I didn’t think the people she recommended were as good. The work seemed slapdash to me, and when I said so they downed tools. Diana said it just shows how little I know about it, trying to teach them how to do their business. I mustn’t criticize her. She does know a lot more about it than I do. Only …’

  ‘Yes.’ Ellie squeezed his hand. ‘Stewart, you didn’t by any chance find another woman to talk to about this, did you?’

  He looked shocked. ‘How did you know? I mean, it wasn’t anything, really it wasn’t. It was just that we were both left in a corner at a party – a really exciting do, just the thing that Diana enjoys so much – but I was a bit tired, I suppose, and I couldn’t sparkle as she does and this girl was the same, dumped by her boyfriend, who’d gone chasing some blonde or other. We just talked, honest! You could have heard every word, but Diana made out that I … that she …’

  ‘She was a nice-looking woman, sympathetic, and Diana got the wrong idea?’

  ‘Honest, Mother-in-law. It never crossed my mind. I mean, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘You’d no idea that Diana was making up to Derek Jolley?’

  Stewart hesitated and then said, unwillingly, ‘I suspected there might be someone else, a bit on the side, that sort of thing. But I didn’t think she’d leave me and Frank. I still can’t believe it. But I’m beginning to see that she’s right. If I can’t give her what she needs out of life, then I have to let her go.’

  Ellie sighed. What a mess. She could see how Diana had worked on poor Stewart, destroying his confidence in himself as the hunter-gatherer, and as a man. Once she’d got him down and there was no more fight in him, she’d kicked him out.

  Ellie thought that Derek Jolley and Diana probably deserved one another. Stewart certainly hadn’t deserved what happened to him.

  Ellie Quicke, who had always believed in the sanctity of marriage, and that if a couple fell out, you must try, try, try again … made the instant decision that Stewart was better off without Diana and that her immediate task was not to work for a reconciliation, but to rebuild her son-in-law’s confidence.

  Stewart groaned. ‘She said I could make arrangements to see little Frank when it was convenient for her, because she’s moving in with her boyfriend. She’s coming back to fetch her things tonight.’

  ‘What about Frank’s things?’

  He lifted his shoulders and let them drop. ‘She didn’t say. I got your message, saying he was with you. I suppose he’s with the childminder today? Poor little beggar. I’m going to miss him terribly. Last night, when it came to his bath time, I nearly … that’s when I got the bottle out and …’ He gestured to the mess around them.

  Ellie wanted to shake him, but realized it wouldn’t do any good. He was too far down to be shaken into action. He needed building up, not knocking down.

  ‘Well, first things first. How do you feel about your job here?’

  ‘I’ve failed there, too, haven’t I? You should have seen Miss Quicke’s face when I showed her that
terrible flat yesterday. I’d been meaning to do something about it all week, but somehow it seemed too much trouble. She’s bound to tell the agents that I’m hopeless and I can’t blame her. Then I’ll be out of a job again.’

  ‘If you can put the past behind you and make a fresh start, I’ll have a word with her for you, if you like. First things first. Go and have a shower. Clean clothes. Get down to your old cleaning agency and charm them into taking you back on. Get the flat that you showed Miss Quicke fumigated, redecorated, whatever needs doing to it. Can you do that?’

  ‘What’s the point?’

  ‘Because if you don’t, Stewart, I’m going to box your ears!’ She hadn’t meant to say that. She was appalled at herself.

  To her enormous relief, Stewart’s face went through outrage to laughter. She, too, began to laugh. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Stewart. I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘Yes, you did. And I deserved it.’ He looked around at the mess. ‘Do you know something? I’ve never liked this flat. I’d imagined we’d get something modern, light and airy. I’ve got one or two on my books at the moment with stripped floors, minimal furniture, all pale colours. In this area I can charge more for them, too. Nothing vacant, unfortunately. The lease on this flat is up soon, isn’t it? Do you think I could really make a fresh start …? No, I’m kidding myself, aren’t I, Mother-in-law?’

  ‘No, you’re not. Stewart, you are a really nice man who needs to start believing in himself again. And would you please start calling me Ellie instead of Mother-in-law.’

  She bustled him off to the bathroom – dirty towels on the floor, laundry basket overflowing – and tried to think what she needed to do first. She dived for the phone book. Ah, there was the number of the local police station. Now if she could only get through to DS Willis, then … but no; DS Willis was interviewing someone at the moment. Jimbo, probably.

  Ellie asked to speak to someone else and got a heavy breather, who laboriously took down her details and what she wanted to know. He might be slow, but he did seem to understand that an elderly lady would end up crippled if she wasn’t able to get hold of her special shoes. Perhaps he had a mother with bad feet. Heavy breather said DS Willis would get the message when she was free, but he couldn’t say when that would be. Ellie wanted to scream, but refrained. She gave them Stewart’s telephone number, and rang off.

  Next she rang Rose to give her the good news about a new venue for the wedding reception. Dear Rose was thrilled and said she would pass the good news on straight away to her daughter, to the caterers, the cleaning firm which Miss Quicke always used, and to Mrs Dawes. Rose said Ellie had only just caught her, as she was about to leave for Ellie’s house to look after Miss Quicke. So far so good.

  Ellie looked around her, and set about righting the sitting room. The sun came out and brightened everything up. The rooms in this flat were of a good size, the furniture solid if not inspiring, but there was dust everywhere, stains on the paintwork, and the carpet …! Best not to think what’s been spilt on the carpet.

  Ellie had worn old clothes that day because breakfast with little Frank was a splattering experience. She found an ancient apron in the kitchen, set the washing machine going on the whites-only programme and started to make a large, satisfying breakfast for Stewart with odd bits and pieces from the fridge and store cupboard.

  He emerged from the bathroom looking neat and tidy but plucking at the collar of his shirt. ‘I couldn’t find a clean shirt. Will this one do? I was going to do some washing last night, but …’ He grimaced. ‘I lost it, didn’t I?’

  Ellie’s priorities in married life were first food, and next clean clothes. ‘You look perfectly all right,’ she said, and set a crowded plateful in front of him, pouring tea into the largest mug she could find. She thought she’d better deal with all the washing before she left the flat.

  He started to eat while she picked up toys and newspapers and threw out a pot plant that had died. Didn’t Diana ever do any housework? On the evidence, possibly not. She removed a bag full of rubbish from the kitchen bin and put in a new one.

  ‘You know it wasn’t Aunt Drusilla who died yesterday?’

  He frowned. Shook his head to clear it. Frowned some more. ‘Sorry. I don’t follow you. Aunt Drusilla, dead? No! You’re pulling my leg.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear that someone was electrocuted yesterday at Aunt Drusilla’s?’

  Six

  S

  tewart stared at Ellie as if she’d gone out of her mind. ‘Aunt Drusilla dead? No, really? But … Who …? I don’t understand. No, Diana would have said something if … You really mean it?’ ‘It wasn’t Aunt Drusilla. It was a cleaner from an agency.’ ‘Oh? For a moment there, I thought that if it had been her great-aunt, Diana would have been over the moon. Wouldn’t she have been thrilled? The plans she’s made for when the old girl pops off …’ He pulled a face. ‘I always said to her, Don’t count your chickens. Besides, I rather like the old girl. So, an accident, was it? That’s terrible. But that wiring …’ he shook his head. ‘Anyone could see. Poor Diana. Foiled again. I bet she’s fit to be tied, missing out on her inheritance by chance. A good thing, really, though I say it as shouldn’t. I was brought up to think we should make our own way in life and that inherited wealth is somehow wrong.’

  Ellie slapped some more toast in front of him and he seized on it hungrily. When had he last eaten, she wondered.

  Well, it was definitely not Stewart who’d tampered with the wiring. Though the police would probably want to question him about it at some point. And how was Jimbo getting on at the police station?

  ‘Do you know,’ said Stewart, ‘I’d rather not be here when Diana comes for her things. I haven’t got much here. All our own furniture is in store still, up north. Suppose …’

  Ellie dumped another mug of tea in front of him.‘First things first, Stewart. I know I’m going to sound as bossy as my daughter, but may I ask what has happened to the money from the sale of your house up north?’

  ‘It’s in the bank here, of course. Diana couldn’t make up her mind what we should do with it.’

  ‘Joint account, bank in the Avenue? He nodded. ‘Well, I suggest you go straight to the bank, open a new account in your own name only, and transfer half of whatever is in the joint account to yourself.’

  He blinked. Put his mug of tea down slowly. Did some quiet thinking. As Ellie watched, the lines of his face tightened. Suddenly he looked older and, yes, more capable.

  ‘She’ll take everything if I don’t?’ It was only half a question.

  Stewart lumbered to his feet, looked blindly around the flat and checked his pockets for car keys and wallet. Ellie helpfully found a jacket for him, and saw that his tie was straight before pushing him towards the door. On the threshold he paused, turned round and gave her a hug, lifting her off her feet. Then vanished.

  ‘Gracious me,’ said Ellie. The phone rang. It was the heavy breather from the police station with a message for Ellie.

  DS Willis couldn’t come to the phone but had sent a message saying that she was sending a WPC down to Miss Quicke’s straight away to escort Ellie into the house to collect what her aunt needed. Also, would Mrs Quicke please tell the builder – who’d been phoning every half hour to get permission to start removing his scaffolding – that this was all right provided he didn’t try to enter the house itself.

  Ellie cast a distracted look around the flat. All her house-wifely instincts reacted against leaving it in such a mess, with the washing machine still working away. But if DS Willis said straight away, she didn’t mean in an hour’s time. Ellie phoned for a minicab, and helped herself to the spare door keys from the kitchen cupboard. She would pick up Aunt Drusilla’s things and come straight back here to take the washing out of the machine and tidy up a bit.

  As she’d expected, there was still incident tape across the driveway at Aunt Drusilla’s. The builder’s lorry was outside in the street, and the builder himself was arguing with a policeman
on the pavement. There was no sign of the WPC who was supposed to oversee Ellie’s entry into the house, but a number of local people were hanging around, gaping and gossiping. Perhaps they hoped the builder would lose his temper and hit the policeman; he certainly looked capable of it.

  ‘Look,’ said the builder, snatching at calmness and missing. ‘I’ve got to get that scaffolding down. It’s due on another site today and if I don’t get it up there, I’ll lose the contract. You’ve got to see it my way.’

  The policeman gave him a wooden look and shook his head. Ellie’s minicab driver was curious to know what was happening. Someone dead, then?

  Mr Strawson, the builder, raised his fists in the air and stamped around in fury. He was a big, bulky man with something of a paunch. His clothes were rag-tag, his lorry filthy, his workmen looked no better, but he had the reputation of doing a good job. He caught sight of Ellie and moved in on her.

  ‘Look, can you tell this man that I’ve got to get on and—’

  Ellie said, ‘I know.’ She approached the policeman. ‘Good morning. I don’t think I know you, do I? I’m Mrs Quicke, Miss Quicke’s daughterin-law, and I quite understand that you have your orders to let no one into the house. Now, I’ve been on the phone to the police station this morning and DS Willis has sent me a message that it’s quite all right for Mr Strawson to remove his scaffolding, provided he doesn’t try to go inside. Oh, and a WPC is coming to help me get some things for my aunt from the house.’

  The policeman was no more susceptible to charm than he had been to Mr Strawson’s bluster. ‘Sorry, miss. Don’t know nothing about that.’

  Mr Strawson’s blood pressure was going through the roof. Ellie cursed herself yet again for forgetting her mobile. ‘I assure you I was speaking to the station not fifteen minutes ago. Couldn’t you get on your mobile phone and check with DS Willis?’

  The policeman unfolded his arms and with an air of extreme reluctance he spoke into his mobile. The bystanders were joined by a man walking his dog. Mr Strawson folded his arms over his ample frontage and glared. The policeman reported their requests as if they had been demands made with menaces. He nodded once or twice. Said to Mr Strawson and Ellie, ‘Hold on. There’s someone on their way.’