Murder in House

by Veronica Heley

  ‘And this –’ Ellie laid the photos of Mia’s injuries on the table – ‘this is the evidence of what’s been done to the missing girl.’

  The DC looked at the photographs again, studying each one with care. ‘Who does she say did this to her?’

  ‘She’s not well enough to make a statement yet. I don’t know exactly who did this to her, but it’s her stepbrother who’s trying to find her. I showed his photograph to the girls in the flat and they agree that it was he who was looking for her.’

  ‘Produce the girl. Or, tell me where I can interview her.’

  ‘I can’t. Not yet.’

  The policewoman had an unreadable face. She excused herself and left the room, only to return with a folder, which she placed on the table. DC Milburn settled herself. ‘Mr Prior is a long-standing and generous benefactor for many charities, including the police ones.’

  ‘We’re not talking about Mr Prior. We’re talking about his son, Anthony.’

  The girl produced a faint smile, which looked painful. ‘Do you know the family at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can you give me one reason why a much-respected man like Mr Prior would countenance boy gangs committing antisocial behaviour?’

  Ellie had had only one idea in that direction, and didn’t like it much. Ursula had lied when asked about boy gangs. Ursula hadn’t been a member – not her style – but she had known, or guessed, something about them. Ellie, following that line of thought, had remembered Dan Collins’s mother and her household of students. Hard-up students. Young men who might have had access to the joke masks through Dan, who was part of the Prior circle. Or perhaps might just have got the idea of using masks from that last Halloween party?

  Might these same hard-up students have been pointed in the direction of Mrs Belton and told to rough her up, in order to entice Ursula back home? It was only too easy to set youngsters off on a path to destruction; more difficult to stop them.

  Fact: a lad in a mask had taken Mrs Belton’s laptop. Fact: Dan had returned it. He must have had at least an inkling of where to look for the laptop, in order to be able to retrieve it so quickly. Ellie understood why Ursula had been reluctant to point the finger in that direction, but she herself had no such compunction in doing so.

  ‘What I think is that the community is composed of individuals who move in different circles but can, and do, interact, sometimes in surprising ways. I mean, a councillor’s son might know all sorts of young people whom his father has never met or even heard of. Students, for instance. Someone in student-type accommodation might move in two quite different circles, knowing some much younger lads who will do anything for a laugh, while also being friends with men he might have met at private school.

  ‘No, I don’t think the councillor is behind the boy gangs, but I think that the councillor’s son knows some of the people behind these attacks. Else how would I have come by the stolen laptop?’

  ‘We don’t even know that this is Mrs Belton’s laptop.’

  ‘Boot it up, and see. Give it to the technical bods. They’ll tell you whose it is.’

  ‘Daniel Collins must have told you how he got it.’

  ‘He said he offered a reward in a pub. I don’t believe him. I think he has some connection to the lads with the masks. As for why he gave it to me, he’s trying to use it as a weapon in order to tempt Ursula back to town. I hate to think what for.’

  ‘Spell it out.’

  ‘To sleep with a man who might help Mr Prior out of his financial problems.’

  The DC was not impressed. ‘Pimping? Mr Prior? Really?’

  ‘I’m not sure that he knows exactly what’s been going on.’

  ‘I should think not, indeed. And you think this girl Ursula will happily lie down and spread her legs for a client of Mr Prior’s?’

  Ellie pushed the photos of Mia towards the policewoman. ‘No, I don’t. She’s safely out of their reach at the moment, but I think she’ll end up looking like this if they manage to get her back to London.’

  The DC looked undecided. ‘This is complicated. Most of it is hearsay. You must admit that. You’ve told me an interesting story, but you haven’t brought me anything to substantiate it. I’ll have to take your story to the DI, and she’s out at the moment. No doubt she’ll get in touch with you, if she decides to take the matter further.’ She stood to show the interview was at an end.

  Ellie also got to her feet, admitting defeat.

  All of a sudden, the DC whirled round and slammed the file on to the table. Her face was red. ‘I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut, but really! You’ve no idea what sort of man you’re talking about. I’ll tell you what sort of man Mr Prior is. I have a younger sister who is handicapped, but she does voluntary work at a day centre, and he’s been so good to her, helping her to get a better wheelchair. He’s always popping in there, helping to sort out problems. How dare you go around spreading rumours, and trying to smirch the reputation of a man who’s next door to being a saint!’

  With an effort she pulled herself back under control, picked up the file and stalked out.

  Ellie checked to see whether her jaw was still attached to her head. Had she really heard a testimonial for Mr Prior, painting him as whiter than white?

  She left the police station in a daze, wondering whether by some chance she’d misunderstood everything she’d been led to believe. Was Mr Prior really a saint?

  Well, probably not a saint. Saints don’t crop up every day, and most people were a mix of good and bad, grey instead of black or white.

  ‘Posy Prior’. That was the nickname which Kate had used. Kate had got it from Caroline, whose husband worked at the Council. Ellie dithered. She ought to go home and start supper, check on Rose, and arrange for Diana to leave. She hailed a passing taxi, and directed the driver to Felicity’s. It wouldn’t take long to check out the Prior reputation, would it?

  SIXTEEN

  There were only four children at Felicity’s, but they seemed to be everywhere: under chairs and tables, sitting on people’s knees, playing with bricks and books and biscuits. It was a toss-up whether the bricks or the biscuits made their way into mouths, but it didn’t seem to matter much. Some adult would pick up the child and cope.

  Ellie accepted a child on to her lap, without being too sure what sex it might be, or whose child it was. The child crooned to her, and she crooned back. Caroline, dark and a little fierce, spooned mashed banana into the nearest child, and dished the dirt on the Priors.

  ‘He’s called “Posy” because he always comes up smelling of roses, but someone with a keen nose might detect another odour.’

  ‘Corruption?’ Ellie found her little finger being guided into a child’s mouth, and felt tiny teeth breaking through the gum as he or she chewed away.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Caroline, accepting a cake from Felicity, who was busy baking. Felicity always baked when she was stressed. Caroline bit into the cake and said, ‘Yum. Whatever Mr Prior wants, he always seems to get. He calls it luck, but some people think his run of good fortune is too good to be true. His detractors mutter about bribery, but I don’t think it’s that. I mean, no one’s suddenly acquired a small fortune and retired to the Bahamas. However, people who oppose his plans do suddenly die, or emigrate, or have an unexpected change of heart. My husband says it’s voodoo; joking, of course.’

  ‘If it isn’t just favourable coincidence, then how do you think it works?’

  Caroline wrinkled her nose. ‘Having been to a couple of his shindigs, my guess is that he puts long legs and blonde hair to work on the middle-aged men whose wives understand them all too well. I suppose he uses an escort agency to get the girls. My husband thinks they’re briefed to get the men into incriminating situations, someone takes photos and . . . whifft. The opposition melts away. But that’s just gossip. No one’s ever put in a formal complaint, but then nobody who’s been caught that way is going to complain about it, are they?’

  Kate picked up
a toddler, and gave it a cuddle. ‘That’s slander, Caroline. Be careful.’

  ‘Mm. That’s what my husband says. He says there was a woman councillor who was opposing Prior on some pet project of his, and he went to the police with some trumped-up charge against her. She had to drop the case and resign from the council to avoid prosecution, not because she was guilty as charged – which no one thinks she was because it just wasn’t her scene – but because mud sticks and he was talking about a nasty, smelly type of mud that the tabloids would have loved. He’s got the police in his pocket and it’s easy to see why. Every year he gives them a nice round sum for their social club on top of what he dispenses to local charities. They love him.’

  Ellie was thoughtful. ‘So I gathered. He goes in for a lot of high profile publicity?’

  Caroline nodded. ‘Anything that might get his photo in the papers. He’s in the Gazette almost every week. He’s a first class, fully paid-up member of the baby-kisser brigade, with a lovely head of white hair. They say politicians get on much better if they have a full head of hair. And he smiles, oh how he smiles! He looks like Santa Claus. Without the beard, of course.’

  Kate said, ‘“A man can smile and smile, and be a villain.” That’s a quote from somewhere. Shakespeare, I expect.’

  ‘His wife, now.’ Caroline became even more animated. ‘She’s gross! Yuk! Tight blonde curls, diamonds flashing all over, a bosom that sticks right out, and massive hips. A superb complexion, hardly needing the aid of cosmetics. She’s got a wonderful dentist, I’ll give her that; blindingly white teeth that may or may not be her own. I expect she was a real blonde bombshell when she was young. But now, well, I’m not sure that she’s an asset to him any longer. I saw her last at the opening of Mr Prior’s latest – you were there, weren’t you, Felicity? – and the word “whale” came into my mind.’

  Felicity took tins from the oven, used a palette knife to turn out a couple of Victoria sandwiches and put them on a wire tray to cool. ‘I thought her formidable. Her eyes were everywhere. It was she who was really in charge that night. She directed the waiters and saw that people were properly looked after.’ Felicity could be very sharp at times.

  A phone rang and everyone looked around, juggling children. Not Felicity’s landline. Not Kate’s mobile.

  Ellie’s. Kate took the infant Ellie had been cuddling, and Ellie managed to find her mobile and answer it.

  ‘Ellie?’ It was Thomas. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At Felicity’s.’

  ‘Diana says she’s going over to rescue Denis and bring him back here to our place. I said had she asked your permission, and she said she didn’t need it. Thought you’d like to know.’

  ‘The nerve of her.’

  ‘Quite. Perhaps you can have a word with her?’

  He cut off the call. Ellie explained to the others what he’d said, and Kate offered to drive her over. ‘I need to pop back home anyway, get some clean clothes.’

  Ellie was alarmed. ‘You aren’t thinking of going back yet, are you?’

  All three women looked at Ellie, but it was Felicity who broke the silence. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I like having Kate here, and Roy can jolly well put up with it for a couple of nights, but how long is this going on for?’

  Caroline was anxious. ‘Anyone who opposes the Priors has to back down, sooner or later. My husband says it’s best to tread carefully around them. Perhaps I have been a little indiscreet this morning, but it won’t go any further, will it?’

  Kate said, ‘We’ve too many hostages to fortune. I’m not sure what I’d do if he threatened my children.’ She frowned, heavy-browed. ‘I can’t quite see how to stop him. If it is him. We don’t know that it is.’

  Ellie was thoughtful. ‘If we can’t attack him personally, there may be another way to stop him. I might have an idea about that, but I need to talk to Thomas about it first. Meanwhile, Kate, I won’t put you in any more danger by accepting a lift. I’ll take a cab.’

  Diana had bought and turned a large house into flats some years ago, keeping the best one for herself on the ground floor. As Ellie’s cab drew up at the kerb, she spotted not only Diana’s car, but also a police car and an ambulance.

  ‘Some sort of carry-on?’ commented the cab-driver. ‘Want me to hang around for you, missus?’

  ‘No, thanks. This will be fine.’

  Ellie walked into the foyer, found the door to Diana’s ground floor flat wide open, and far too many people crammed into the small living room.

  Working backwards from the doorway were two police officers, one male, one female, who had evidently just arrived. The woman officer had her hands raised trying to calm Diana, in nose to nose confrontation. Diana was screaming with rage. The male officer was endeavouring to use his phone: calling for reinforcements?

  Beyond Diana, a scene of destruction: chairs overturned, a television on its side, smashed crockery, an occasional table broken, and two men being held apart with some difficulty by a couple of bulky paramedics. The men who were fighting were also shouting.

  ‘I’ll sue you to hell and beyond!’

  ‘You should be locked up!’

  One of the fighters Ellie identified as Denis, Diana’s slightly sinister partner at their estate agency. Blood poured down his face and spattered his clothing, while a nasty bruise was coming up on his chin. A woman paramedic was trying to clean him up, despite his efforts to get at his opponent who was – surprise, surprise! – Anthony Prior, also dishevelled but showing no obvious signs of injury.

  Diana plunged between the police officers to grasp Ellie’s arm. ‘Mother! Thank goodness you’ve come. Perhaps you can talk some sense into the plods.’

  Uh-oh, thought Ellie. Not a good idea to call the police ‘plods’. Even if they were. And yes, a quick look informed Ellie that both members of the thin blue line were better equipped with brawn than brain.

  ‘Now, now,’ said the larger of the two paramedics to Anthony. ‘If you’ll just hold steady for a minute!’

  Anthony managed to break the hold the paramedic had on him, and kicked Denis where it hurt most. Denis bent over with a yell, one arm covering his tender spot, the other flailing. The flailing arm caught Anthony on his nose, making it bleed. Denis must have caught Anthony in the same place as Armand had done. Diana screamed, naturally. Ellie wanted to laugh, but didn’t quite dare.

  Heavily breathing, the two men were dragged apart by the sorely tried paramedics, with the slightly tardy aid of the police.

  Denis sank to the floor, writhing. Diana tore into the kitchen and came back with a wet cloth to apply to Denis’s face, which was not where he was hurting most. Anthony covered his own face with both hands, moaning.

  At least they weren’t all shouting now.

  ‘Now,’ said the male officer, breathing hard. ‘Just what’s going on here?’

  Neither of the fighters seemed capable of talking, so Ellie volunteered an opinion.

  ‘Judging from previous behaviour, I imagine that Mr Prior – that’s him with the bloody nose – came to elicit some information from Denis – that’s him on the floor. Mr Prior, finding himself met with a refusal, set out to wreck the place, whereupon Denis objected, as one would, wouldn’t one?’

  ‘He’s broken my arm!’ That was Anthony.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said his paramedic. ‘But let’s have a look, eh?’

  ‘He pushed past me,’ gasped Denis, still holding on to himself. ‘Said I had his sister here.’

  Paramedics and police turned to look at Diana, who said, ‘Don’t be stupid! I’m not his sister. I’m Diana Quicke, and this is my flat!’

  Again, Ellie had to subdue a desire to laugh out loud. ‘Suppose we all quieten down and let the paramedics do their job?’

  The television set, which had been teetering on the brink for some time, now descended to the floor with a crash. Diana burst into tears. ‘My beautiful new telly!’ She aimed a kick at Anthony, and missed.

  Anthony laughed
. ‘Serves you effing well right.’ His eyes were watering, blood was pouring down his chin, and he looked far from the well-groomed young man of the photographs Ellie had been toting around.

  ‘Bastard!’ cried Diana, and would have tried to kick him again if she hadn’t been pushed back and down into a chair by the woman police officer. Everyone’s eyes then went to Diana’s bare feet and legs. And then to Denis’s bare feet and unbuttoned shirt. And back to Diana’s unzipped black skirt. Ellie could almost see the thought balloon over everyone’s heads, ‘They were at it in the bedroom.’

  ‘Harrumph! Well, now!’ said the male officer, notebook to the fore. ‘Anyone need to be taken to hospital?’ He cocked an eye at the paramedics.

  ‘No great harm done,’ said Denis’s paramedic. ‘Superficial cut to the head, bruise on chin, possible concussion, have to watch it for a few hours.’

  Anthony’s paramedic had been stemming his nosebleed and moving his arm around. ‘A bloody nose and possible sprained elbow for the other.’

  ‘He broke my arm!’ insisted Anthony. ‘It needs to be X-rayed. I’m going to sue the pants off him and get damages, as well.’

  ‘It’s not broken,’ said the paramedic, packing up to go.

  Anthony turned to the police. ‘I insist you arrest this man. He assaulted me and broke my arm. You all saw it.’

  ‘No, we didn’t,’ said the woman police officer.

  ‘My father,’ said Anthony, ‘knows your chief constable well. You’ll lose your badge for this.’

  ‘Your father,’ said the male police officer, looking wooden, ‘may be King Canute for all I know. We can’t report what we didn’t see. Now, let’s have it from the beginning.’

  Ellie suggested that everyone sat down, and with the departure of the paramedics, they righted the furniture and found themselves seats.