Perhaps it had been. Perhaps she'd been on the wrong track all the time. Then she remembered that Chris Talbot hadn't wanted her to involve the police. Oh dear.
She felt limp, but her brain was informing her that she had to tell Mr Talbot about this - as soon as she'd coaxed Midge down from the tree. Only how did you get a cat down from a tree which must be sixty feet high if it was an inch?
Knowing it was useless, she said, ‘Oh, Midge! Do come down!’ Armand unlocked his back door and came out into his garden. Seeing Ellie standing there looking helpless, he asked if he should have yet another try at getting Midge down. She clutched at her common sense and said, No. Midge would come down when he was ready.
Armand declared that he was not wasting any more time on that cat. Which was a lie. Even as he went back inside, Ellie thought she'd bet on it that he'd be back out again in a few minutes.
Chris Talbot had exchanged telephone numbers with Ellie. He'd even written his home number on the back of his business card. She got out her mobile phone and rang him at home. No reply. An answerphone clicked in.
She tried to keep her message succinct. ‘Mr Talbot, a man broke some windows at my house this afternoon. I think it might have been Marco, Sir Arthur's driver, in retaliation for my spoiling a local planning application last night. The thing is, I know you didn't want the police involved, but my neighbour rang them before I got back and I told them about Marco. I don't think they took it seriously, and I'll keep your name out of it if I can. I'm all right, just shaken. I'll try to contact Felicity this weekend.’
There was a crackling sound from the poplar tree. Midge was making his move. He dropped a couple of feet, and clung to a lower branch, digging his claws in. Ellie ran down the garden, looking up, praying the cat would be safe. Midge inspected the next few feet, and decided it didn't look too good. But he hadn't eaten since breakfast time. One or two birds were skittering around above him in the tree, ready to roost for the night. Too high for him to reach.
He decided to take a chance and half slid and half jumped down a few more feet. Now he was within reach of the topmost rung of the ladder.
Ellie held her breath.
Exactly as if he were walking down a staircase in the house, Midge descended the ladder.
‘Well done, Midge!’ said Ellie.
Promptly on cue, Armand appeared in his garden, and punched the air, cheering. His pretended indifference to Midge forgotten, Armand called Kate out to see. Their neighbour on the other side came out, and congratulated Ellie. Armand removed the ladder, while Kate beamed on everyone from her garden.
Once on the ground, Midge turned his back on Ellie and marched up the garden path towards the kitchen and food. He allowed Ellie to provide him with some of his favourite tuna, and a bowl of milk and water, plus a frosting of crunchies.
Ellie knew better than to touch him while he ate. She sat at the kitchen table, waiting for him to acknowledge her existence. He didn't jump on her lap after he'd eaten. He hadn't forgiven her yet. He jumped up on to the boiler, and proceeded to his toilet. Ellie was only too grateful that he could still jump up on to the boiler. At least he hadn't suffered any injuries from the tussle with the intruder. Or had he?
‘Hold on a minute, Midge,’ said Ellie. ‘What's that on your chin? Is it blood?’ She dampened a tissue and rubbed at the cat's chin and jaw. The tissue came away red. Blood? Ellie wondered if she could still get hold of a vet to attend to Midge if he'd been cut … but no. No cut. The blood must have come from Marco. Midge objected to her attentions, but not too strongly. He was full and wanted to sleep it off.
There was more dark red on and between his claws. Midge allowed Ellie to swab away at one paw, and then withdrew, offended. He knew how to clean himself up far better than Ellie. Could they extract some DNA from the blood left on the cat? It might be worth a try.
Ellie bagged the tissues up and sealed the top with Sellotape. She realized she was extremely hungry. She'd made cups of tea and even drunk one earlier. She'd fed Midge. Now it was time to feed herself, or she'd be tossing and turning all night.
She made herself an all-in-one omelette, with bits of leftovers from the fridge. Taking it through to the sitting room to eat in front of the telly, she listened to the news - more tragedies. Why did she bother? It only upset her to hear about more tragedies just before she went to bed.
Only then did she remember the answerphone, and listened to her messages.
One: Diana. Oh dear. The usual threats. Ellie wondered if she were being a cold-hearted mother, refusing to help her only child out of difficulty. Except that there'd been too many crises over the years, too many cries for help. Ellie resolved that tomorrow she'd try again to talk to Diana, see what she could do.
Two: Roy. He'd wanted to take her out to supper at the Carvery that evening. Tough. The evening had come and gone. He also wanted to talk to her, urgently. He didn't say about what, but she could guess. Would Sir Arthur blame him for the fiasco last night? Had he spoken to his mother about the mess he'd got himself into? Had he lied to Ellie about his involvement with Sir Arthur?
Three: Mrs Dawes, Ellie's flower-arranging friend with the improbably jet-black hair. She wanted to remind Ellie that the Autumn Fair was to be held in the church hall the following morning, and could Ellie help out on the bric-a-brac stall, as they were short. Tough; Ellie had already promised to help Jean with the teas and coffees.
Four: someone who did a bit of heavy breathing and hung up. It might be a salesman. It might not. It might be Marco wanting to gloat.
Ellie didn't want to think about that.
Midge decided he'd had enough of this long and tiring day and was going up to bed, without her if necessary. It wasn't yet ten o'clock, but Ellie had also had enough. She locked up the house, and took her mobile to bed with her, praying that they'd be safe that night. In God's hands. Guardian angels round us keep. Etcetera. Please.
Her mobile phone trilled. She shot upright in bed, checked the digital bedside clock - just after eleven - managed to switch on the bedside light, found her mobile and pressed the right button.
Chris Talbot, sounding tired. ‘Mrs Quicke, I've just picked up my messages. Are you all right? I'm phoning from the hospital. My younger son, Julian, was knocked down on his way home from school this afternoon …’
Midge got up from where he'd been nestling at Ellie's back, and gave her a look which meant, How dare you disturb my sleep?
‘Is he all right?’
‘His right leg's broken and he's badly bruised. They've set and pinned the bone and he's going to be just fine, but they're keeping him in overnight to check he doesn't have any ill effects from a knock on his head.’
This was shocking news. The attack on her conservatory was nothing by comparison. Ellie murmured, ‘Sir Arthur?’
‘Julian didn't see what hit him. He heard a car with what he says was a “ropey engine” coming up fast behind him, he was on the pavement, was thrown forward and hit his head against the wall. He's not sure if he blacked out or not. He thinks the car had a leaky exhaust because he could smell fumes as it roared off. No one got out of the car to check on him or to rob him. It's a quiet road with little traffic in it. There wasn't anyone else to be seen. Julian knew his mother was out and his elder brother not due home yet, so he fished out his mobile to dial nine-ninenine, and then rang my office. I got through to my wife and told her not to go home but to collect our other son from school and go to a hotel for the night.’
‘Sir Arthur's car is a Mercedes, isn't it? Runs as smooth as silk. It couldn't have been him. What time was it? About four? I don't think it can have been Marco either, because he was over here bashing in my conservatory about that time of day. The car that hit your son sounds like an old banger, picked out for the job. Possibly stolen?’
‘I'm trying not to be paranoid about this. It may have been two lads joyriding, who lost control of the car, panicked and drove off without bothering to check on their victim.’
/> ‘You don't think it was, do you? Would Sir Arthur use hired hit men?’ said Ellie, thinking that all this was unreal. Talking about hit men? In this quiet London suburb?
Chris Talbot hesitated. ‘I haven't heard of him using those tactics before, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done so. I got to the hospital to find Julian being interviewed by a couple of local police. He told them he hadn't seen anything, and doesn't know why anyone would want to kill him. They incline to the joyrider theory.’
Ellie frowned. ‘You didn't enlighten them?’
‘It never occurred to me before today that Kingsley would take it out on my family. If Julian hadn't been attacked I'd have kept quiet, but this alters things. I can't have my family put at risk. So yes, I told them I suspected Sir Arthur. They said they thought it unlikely that a respectable businessman would resort to such measures.’
Ellie remembered the devastation in her conservatory. ‘He's not a respectable businessman. He's a thug.’
Grimly. ‘He's not been caught before and it's unlikely we can prove anything now.’
Ellie said, ‘There might be some proof. Oh, not for the attack on Julian, but for the assault on my conservatory. If we can get Marco for that, it might help. The local police came round to view the damage because my neighbour reported it in my absence. They thought it was a burglar trying to obtain entry and there didn't seem to be any proof that it was anything but that. Only after they'd gone, I found that my cat had dug his claws into the man who broke my windows, and had also bitten him. There was blood on Midge's fur, although he's no cut that I can see. I've swabbed off as much blood as I could and kept the swabs. Would that help?’
Chris Talbot became crisp and efficient. ‘I'll send someone to pick them up from you in the morning. Put the samples into a sealed plastic bag. I'll send it off for analysis, and tell the local police what I've done. They won't have linked the two cases. Two different local forces. If I can get hold of Marco's DNA somehow, possibly from a mug he's drunk from - yes, I can do that through my contacts - then the police would have two cases to work on. Yes, it might help.’
‘You'll take extra care from now on?’
‘Of course. Are you going to see Felicity tomorrow? Kingsley usually goes down to the country at weekends.’
‘I'll try. Hopefully he'll take Marco with him.’
‘He'll take his shadow, Martinez, too. I expect it was Martinez who organized the attack on Julian. I'll have to investigate that. I'm sorry, I never asked how you were. I feel responsible.’
‘I was attacked because I upset his plans for a local housing development. Nothing to do with you. And I have no proof that Marco was the assailant, unless my cat can provide it.’
‘We'll see what we can do. Are you covered by insurance, because if not …?’
‘I am. Thank you.’
‘I'll be in touch.’ He rang off. Ellie imagined him sitting back in his car, being driven through the night to the City, planning this and that. She thought that Sir Arthur had made a mistake in attacking Julian. Chris Talbot probably wouldn't retaliate in kind … no. His revenge would be more subtle, probably financial. But if Sir Arthur were up to attacking a teenage boy, what else might he not think of doing? Throwing acid at Mrs Talbot's face? Kidnapping her?
It was a nightmare scenario, but in the dark hours of the night, Ellie couldn't rule any of it out. Sir Arthur was not your common or garden white-collar criminal. He was Taurus, the bull. Uncontrollable.
Was the gentlemanly Chris Talbot up to Sir Arthur's weight? Probably. Remembering that he wasn't just a gentleman, but a ‘gentleman pirate'.
She turned off the bedside light and lay back, listening to the usual night-time sounds. Traffic: distant. A police-car siren: distant. The far-off rumble of a late-night tube train. Sound travelled for miles at night time.
An owl. The squeak of a bat.
A couple walking down the road, talking a little too loudly. A television, muted. The cry of a fretful baby next door. Was Catriona teething?
Dear Lord, I'm way out of my depth here. Help, please. Keep me safe.
She thought she saw Frank sitting on the side of the bed, putting on his shoes …
… and woke to hear the telephone ringing downstairs.
It was midnight, and Midge had moved to the bottom of the bed.
Ellie tried to shake herself awake, reaching for the bedside light, running over the list of people who might be in such trouble that they'd ring her at this time of night. Someone had had an accident, of course. They were ringing from the hospital. Diana? Oh dear. Had she really carried out her threat to do something dreadful that would make her mother sorry about not helping her? Or was it Maria, saying one of the children was dead, or …?
The answerphone was switched on. By the time she reached the landing, the phone had stopped ringing. She listened for whatever the dread message might be.
No message. Just heavy breathing again. She could hear it even from where she stood at the head of the stairs.
Marco?
She went back to bed, feeling anxious. It took her a while to get to sleep again, but finally she did … only to be woken again at one o'clock. This time she made it to the phone before the answerphone kicked in. More heavy breathing. And then the phone was disconnected.
Fear for her family turned to anger. She turned the bell on the phone down to silent. There! That would let her have a few hours' sleep.
Anger carried her back upstairs and into bed, where reaction set in, and she began to fret about what she ought to say to the police in the morning. If she let Mr Talbot have the bloodstained swabs, she couldn't give them to the police, and the police wouldn't like that, would they? She turned over in bed and banged the pillow into a different shape.
Perhaps she hadn't rescued enough blood from Midge to prove it was Marco who had attacked her conservatory. It was probably too diluted to help. She ought to have taken Midge straight away to the vet's. But he hated that so much! He'd probably have scratched and bitten everyone in sight, and then how could they have rescued any DNA?
Oh, her poor plants! What would Frank have said if he'd still been alive? And what could she do about that unfortunate creature Felicity? And how on earth was she to manage to get through everything she had to do tomorrow … Felicity … Mrs Dawes and the Autumn Fair at church … Jean and the coffee cups …
Please Lord … and she fell asleep.
At some point in the night she'd had an idea about how to combine two of the calls on her time, but over an early breakfast she realized her idea simply wasn't feasible. Surely Felicity wouldn't want to help out at the church, and in any case, Ellie couldn't leave the house with builders wanting to replace the glass in the conservatory, and Maria's people coming to hoover up the broken glass. Then there was Diana.
Yes, she'd phone Diana first. Was it too early? Not in view of the emergency, no.
There was no reply at Diana's flat. Ellie thought to try Diana's mobile number, which she could never remember offhand, but which she'd written down somewhere … if she could find the piece of paper … Had she left it in the study? No, here it was, tucked into an electricity bill that she must pay today, or she'd be getting a reminder.
Diana's mobile was never switched off. Ever. She seemed to have a new mobile every other month, keeping abreast of the latest technology. It probably cost her more than she spent on having her hair done, and that was an arm and a leg.
‘Yes?’ Diana. Terse to the point of rudeness. Was she still in bed?
‘It's me,’ said Ellie, ungrammatically. ‘Sorry it's so early, but I only got your message late last night, and couldn't ring back because …’
‘You needn't have bothered. I'm not counting on you for anything any more. And by the way, I'm not able to have little Frank this weekend, so you might check with Maria and Stewart that it's all right for him to stay on with them.’
‘What? But … Diana, you have warned them you can't have Frank, haven't you? Otherwise he'
ll be looking out of the window, waiting for you to-’
‘Do you think I enjoy disappointing him? But you've given me no option. Give him a kiss from me. I expect you'll think of something to make it up to him. You enjoy spoiling him, don't you?’
‘But …’
‘Must go. Speak to you later.’
The phone went dead. So much for thinking she could have a quiet, reasonable talk with Diana about her finances.
Kate rapped on the back door and Ellie went to let her in.
Kate said, ‘We were worried about you - and Midge. And I completely forgot - how did you get on with Chris Talbot?’
‘I'm all right, and I liked Mr Talbot very much; it certainly wasn't him who sent the pizza. He was, I think, afraid that his daughter might have done it, but I don't buy that either.’
Kate nodded. ‘I agree. I thought it was unlikely that Chris had done it, but we had to exclude him. I'll tell Gwyn. They'll be buzzing around all this weekend, trying to mend fences. So what's your next move?’
‘I've got to be at church all day. Autumn Fair for church funds. Would you or Armand look out for the builders when they come to replace the glass? And there's someone coming to hoover up all the bits of broken glass, too. Oh, and is there anything on the Internet which would help about poison and poisoners? I just don't understand what would make someone do that.’
‘Ellie, you can access the Internet yourself.’
‘You know I'm hopeless at getting on to the Internet. It all takes so long to find anything, and I'm afraid of getting viruses and … no, don't tell me there's a way round that. I can't cope at the moment.’
Kate gave in. ‘All right, I'll see what I can do. Have you time for a cup of coffee?’
Ellie glanced at the clock. ‘Just about. But first I've got to phone Maria and Stewart …’
Maria sounded distracted. ‘Was there something, Ellie? We're about to go out for the day, leaving as soon as Diana collects little Frank. He's got a drawing of a train he's done this morning, that he's dying to show her.’
Murder By Committee Page 10
