by EJ Lamprey
‘Donald, wait, would you come back to that first garage with me? I’ve just remembered where I heard about patent leather shoes before.’ She explained as they trudged back towards the garages—he had, naturally, read about the deaths and even the request for Helen to come forward for questioning—and they opened the doors again to stare down at the dusty shoe.
‘Vivian said Helen wore patent-leather shoes with diamante buckles. And just one shoe, on its own, that’s so bizarre?’
‘And I tell you what,’ he said suddenly, ‘there’s a bloody awful stink in here. Don’t touch the shoe—’
‘I wasn’t going to!’ she interjected indignantly as he went on, ‘we’d better call the polis. Between that shoe and the mouldy smell, looks like we may have found your missing cleaner.’
~~~
Nearly an hour had passed before DI Iain McLuskie tracked them down again in the library where they had retreated to wait away from the noisy hall—many of the residents preferred to share the mild drama rather than face the near-blizzard that had replaced the lazy snow of the morning. He cocked his head in surprise as a wail echoed down the stairs.
‘That’s a noise I didnae expect to hear in a place like this?’
‘Some woman we rescued from the motorway.’ Donald put down his newspaper. ‘Which is why we were looking in the garages. For my sleigh, to collect her from her car.’
‘That’s what I’ve come in for, sir.’ Iain nodded at them both. ‘We’ve got the area roped off and bin waiting for the SOCO team, but this snow’s delaying everything. I’ve come in to apologize for keeping you waiting and to see if you’d mind hanging about a bit longer for someone to take your statements? The covered walkway’s pretty much closed by the storm at this point so I really appreciate you waiting but we’ll get you back to your apartments if you prefer. My superior officer from Lothian and Borders is through the worst of the traffic, it shouldn’t be too much longer.’
‘It’s time for elevenses anyway.’ Edge looked at her watch and slotted the book she had been reading back onto its shelf. ‘We could grab a coffee and pastry and then go upstairs to visit Vivian and William and go over this latest development—but Iain, do please tell us, was it Helen in the garage?’
The DI paused, then shrugged. ‘Oh aye, but don’t bandy it about. Cause of death to be confirmed by the doctor, but in my unskilled opinion the knife still between her ribs had a bearing on the matter. Looks like she stumbled backwards over the boxes, shoe must have flown off, mebbe accidentally kicked by the killer while the boxes were being piled on top of her. You can’t see it unless both doors are pulled wide. Mind, it’s no great hiding place, she would have been found by now just by the smell if we hadn’t had this cold spell. So, from what you said already, you opened the wrong garage by mistake?’
‘I’ve just moved in.’ Donald nodded. ‘The garages have their own numbers, which don’t relate to the apartments. I knew mine was one of the ones in the middle, I opened the one next to it by mistake.’
‘Which just happened to belong to the recently deceased Miz Campbell.’ Iain said heavily. ‘As if it wasn’t all confusing enough.’
‘Vivian is going to be absolutely riveted.’ Edge said enthusiastically. ‘Come on Donald, let’s get a quick bite—I’m really starting to regret giving those sausages to Buster, I am absolutely starving. Grab some pastries, so we can go upstairs and bring her up to date.’
Iain flinched, then shrugged helplessly. ‘I cannae stop you,’ he conceded resignedly, ‘and to be honest this development has turned the whole case upside down.’
‘One minute you’re looking for a murderous cleaner and the next you’re thinking Miz Campbell saw her being murdered, rushed to phone the polis, and was murdered herself before she could spill the beans,’ Donald said shrewdly and a grin tugged briefly at the DI’s lips.
‘Sherlock Holmes and JB Fletcher,’ he said wryly, ‘I’ll just be taking the rest of the day off, think on. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to the press but you can come up with any theories you like, I’ll listen to them. Someone will catch up with you later for those statements, eh?’ and he was off.
‘JB Fletcher?’ Donald raised his brows and Edge gurgled and went a bit pink.
‘My niece is in the police, and I’ve been allowed to get a little bit involved—she’s phoned me four times already but she’s on the far side of the traffic jam, Iain’s told her not to even try to get through. She’s raging at missing all the excitement. But I’ll tell you while we’re waiting for the coffee,’ she promised and, rather to her own surprise, she did.
Donald was, for a brusque man, an unexpectedly good listener and asked intelligent questions. Almost before she knew it she had poured out the entire history of the murders as she and Vivian had pieced them together so far—even about Helen’s strongbox, although she refused to be drawn on the rest of its contents. By the time they made their way up to Frail Care, where Vivian, watching the police cars from the window, was almost hopping from foot to foot with curiosity and impatience, Donald knew as much as they did. William, having replaced the enormous tracksuit he had worn to breakfast with his striped silk pyjamas and a padded silk dressing-gown, made it clear that he too was agog to know what all the excitement and police presence was about. During the long wait he’d been brought up to date by Vivian and they’d accurately speculated that another body had been found.
After assuring Vivian that Buster was perfectly safe and comfortable in one of the runs—Odette was in Donald’s apartment, but had been walked before breakfast and was, he said, fine until at least lunchtime —Edge carefully closed the door so their voices wouldn’t drift through to disturb the new mother and baby. The two patients were then brought up to date with the latest developments, which sparked a lively four-way debate and increasingly elaborate scenarios for the murder until Donald lifted his hand.
‘Enough with the wild theories,’ he said impatiently. ‘I don’t suppose any of you have paper and a pen?’ Vivian glanced at Edge, who had to laugh as she produced her notebook from the other day. He opened it expectantly, flipped through the notes she’d made, and glanced up at them, eyes gleaming.
‘I don’t see why, between us, we can’t work it out, if we tackle the whole thing logically. What do we know? Helen was a forger, we know that. She did time for it, and she did a number on wossname’s will. What else do we know, for a fact?’
‘She was a blackmailer.’ William said stubbornly. ‘And we know that for a fact, too. Not only Josie, you heard what Edge said was in her strongbox. The bits Edge would tell us, anyway. Someone in that box murdered her.’ He shot a discontented look at Edge who pretended not to see it and settled herself more comfortably in her visitor chair.
‘We know Betsy was a prison warder, and bossy as hell,’ Vivian offered, ‘and I have a theory, sorry Donald, but it’s very nearly fact, about how that call to the police was worked, because I had personal experience of how she hijacks her way into situations. I was cross about some campers leaving their dog in their caravan in the height of summer, she was walking back from the shops and I asked her to hold onto Buster while I went to get the dog out. I was going to put it in one of the campsite runs and leave a note on their door. Instead she insisted on phoning the SSPCA, and she told them it was she who’d heard the dog. Turned it into a big issue and there was all sorts of bad feeling. She did things like that all the time. What we don’t know is whether she was manipulated into making the call as part of a plan or whether she genuinely saw Helen being murdered and ran back to her apartment to phone. I don’t think she can have, even Betsy’s iron nerve would surely have broken and she’d have told 999 that it was desperately urgent? And if she did see the murder, she’d hardly have let the murderer follow her into her apartment. Whoever that was, they were a man or a strong woman, because smothering Betsy—well, she was a big strong woman. And she’d have been on her guard. So my theory is that the murderer told her they’d found the body and Be
tsy bossily insisted on calling the police herself instead of phoning Megan to do it. Showing off, again, and taking control— she was just like that. It was definately someone she knew, and didn’t suspect.’ There was a respectful silence as they considered Vivian’s scenario and then Donald wrote ‘knew killer’ in his notebook. He added ‘manipulated?’ with a large question mark.
‘We know the buzzers were sabotaged in Mose’s apartment,’ Edge said flatly after a moment, ‘and that one of them was in Helen’s strongbox. And wild theories or not, that implies to me that she intended blackmail.’
‘I agree,’ Donald said unexpectedly, then added more cautiously, ‘I agree it’s a strong working hypothesis, anyway. So;’ he looked at the notebook, ‘we’ve the likelihood that Helen found the buzzers weren’t working, presumably when she found Mose dead and tried to buzz for help, but not being blackmailers ourselves, we can’t work out why she would instantly assume foul play, cut one of them off, and lock it in her strongbox.’
‘She had to be aware if there was funny stuff with the buzzers, Mose’s will would get her looked at quite closely,’ Edge said thoughtfully. ‘If it got to official ears—even if she was only charged with undue influence—the police would soon establish she’d done time. What we don’t know is why she assumed foul play and took the buzzer. Once she did assume it then yes, being Helen, take it, because apart from anything else it could become another source of blackmail to her. Or at worst she could produce it to prove his death had been set up by someone else?’
‘Assuming again,’ Donald bent a reproving look on her and William stirred restlessly.
‘We have to assume, dear boy,’ he said crossly, ‘because Helen wasn’t considerate enough to lock her diary away with her little treasures. I think she took a chance on forging the will, and next minute he’s dead on the floor when she goes in to clean, and I also think that whoever fiddled with Mose’s buzzers was probably just starting to fix them when she walked in, and startled meaningful glances were exchanged. And knowing dear Helen as I do—did—she grabbed the first chance she could to steal a buzzer because under the circumstances it was worth the try.’
‘And there you have the fiction writer.’ Donald said unkindly, but Vivian shouted him down.
‘No, no, I think that’s very good! We never thought of that, did we, Edge, that someone could have been in there when Helen walked in? And it would look so suspicious if they were calmly poking around while Mose lay dead on the floor, naturally Helen would think the worst.’ She started to cough again and Edge handed her a glass of water.
‘Okay, duly noted,’ Donald turned to a fresh page in the notebook. ‘Different angle. Who benefits from Mose’s death? And who from Betsy’s? And for that matter, from Helen’s, although if she did walk in on the killer that’s a given. We’re trying to find anyone who overlaps. Think of one, then we’ll test them against the others.’
For a moment they all went silent, then Edge gave a surprised little laugh. As the others looked at her she said slowly ‘I’ve got someone; but it’s the wildest theory so far and an absolutely ridiculous motive.’
‘None so far have come up with a double motive,’ William said encouragingly, but Edge still looked embarrassed.
‘I’m still puzzling it through but—well, the buzzer could have worked because there was a connection, it was just a very loose one. No one would have been surprised if it didn’t work, but if it did, at that time of morning, it would have rung through to Harriet. And it was Harriet who got Mose’s bungalow. And it was Harriet who will be moving into Betsy’s apartment. I know it’s mad, but she is connected to all three.’
‘She couldn’t know she would get the bungalow.’ Vivian objected and Edge shook her head.
‘I know. I said it was bizarre. But because the rumour broke so quickly of not one but two murders, the people ahead of her on the buyers list backed off. So the first person who said yes was Harriet. She said the timing was wrong, and she said she had to whether she wanted to or not, but if you ignore what she said, what actually happened was that she jumped the bungalow queue. And she has worked here long enough to know exactly what effect rumours would have. And she had access to the buzzers—she has access to all of our buzzers. All of our keys to all of our apartments. So if William is right, Harriet could have been in the apartment to reconnect the buzzers properly and Helen would have walked in to find her ignoring Mose’s dead body while she worked on them.’
She looked at the others and shrugged. ‘The one thing in Harriet’s favour is that instead of screaming for help, Helen settled calmly for a bit of blackmail. So, wild leaps here, Harriet offers to pay her off—and remember, Vivian, Helen’s aunt said she’d got a windfall, and we were puzzled because Mose’s estate wouldn’t have paid out for months? That could be Harriet promising to pay her. The next thing Harriet had to set up was a dodgy rumour about murders, to scare off the nervous people on the list, and maybe Betsy nominated herself by roaring in to complain that her new cleaner is an ex-con. Betsy dies—and Harriet is quite strong enough for that, she’s a big woman herself—and guess what, the new cleaner disappears at exactly the right moment, the cleaner who just found out her new job is with her old warder. In fact if I’m right, Harriet, who told the police she was furious at someone leaking the story to the papers, did it herself to make sure they got it. With the result she jumps the queue and also gets Betsy’s studio. And garage.’
‘So Harriet murders Helen who knows what she’s done, because she’s blackmailing her—okay, that would work. But why didn’t she get rid of Helen’s body?’ Donald looked up keenly. ‘If she wanted to frame Helen, and yes, that was working, she needed for her never to be found.’
‘But she wouldn’t have been.’ Vivian said thoughtfully. ‘Nobody would normally have been going into Betsy’s garage but Betsy, and she was dead. Harriet couldn’t guarantee getting the garage but I think first option on garages always starts with the new resident. Just like you, Donald, got Mose’s even though there is a waiting list for garages. And once she had the garage that gave her all the time in the world to move things—well, the body—out of her own garage with no questions asked. She’d have had until spring, if necessary, if it hadn’t been for the accident on the motorway, and Donald opening that garage by mistake.’
She shifted nervously and cast a glance at the door. Edge shook her head at her and said reassuringly that Harriet was, as far as anyone knew, still stuck in the terrible traffic jam.
‘Thought I heard her dulcet tones—’ Vivian brought her attention back to the discussion. ‘The thing is, who could sit down and plan it all out, there seem to be so many random exceptions? Mose died, the buzzers were fixed, everything goes exactly according to plan, but that still wouldn’t have got Harriet to the top of the buyer list. It didn’t go according to plan so what, did she pick a random garage so she could kill Helen there, then murder the resident to stop him or her going into the garage? I’m a bit confused!’
‘It’s completely bizarre, but the pieces are fitting!’ William leant forward intensely. ‘I’ve got a question, though—why the sudden rush to get a bungalow? Harriet’s not due to retire for what, two years? And suddenly she’s nobbling buzzers and—’ he stopped short, looking astonished and then indignant ‘and ME! She had a go at me!’
Vivian bit her lip at the look on his face but managed to ask, in a voice that wobbled only very slightly, ‘how did she have a go at you?’
‘She bloody did! Why do you think I’m in here?’ He gestured round the Frail Care room. ‘My medication stopped working and my blood pressure went through the roof, couple months ago. If Matron hadn’t found me in a little heap in my library and had me brought here and onto her hellish regime of diet, exercise and different meds, I’d be watching you lot groping around for motives from my very own fluffy celestial cloud right now. And guess who takes delivery of all the meds since the system changed? The bloody administrator, that’s who! Easiest thing in the world
for her to replace my pills with Tic-tacs, then sit back and wait for my bungalow to come on the market!’
‘If that’s true,’ Donald began, and quailed in the face of an outraged stare. ‘I mean, in that case,’ he amended placatingly, ‘why would Harriet be in such a hurry? And why the desperate need for a bungalow?’
‘Health?’ Vivian offered. ‘You can’t take a place here unless you’re fully mobile, self-sufficient and able to do the gym classes and get about generally. Once you’re in, they won’t chuck you out until you permanently need special care, but it is tricky getting in. I nearly didn’t make it because of this wretched annual bronchitis, I know that for a fact.’
‘But she’s fit as a flea,’ Edge objected, then frowned. ‘Come to think of it, she didn’t stay for the extended class last week—first time in my experience. She always stays, every day, for the full hour. On Friday she said she was busy and had to go. I didn’t think anything of it but Matron didn’t look surprised—maybe she hasn’t been doing the second sessions lately. And here’s a thing, I did find her kneading her chest one day when I popped into the office. She said it was indigestion, but she looked quite peaky. If she had found out she had, say, a degenerative heart condition, would that take her off the waiting list?’
‘In two years’ time, aye, definately.’ Donald, the one most recently familiar with the entrance requirements, said decidedly. ‘If her health was crashing, and by her anticipated retirement date she’d be needing constant medication and daily health visits, or even to be kept in here, in Frail Care, that would have completely blown her application out the water.’
