‘But you intend to honour his promise?’
Ellie said, ‘There’s a clause in his will which gives a donation to the church. Naturally that will be honoured when probate is granted.’
‘There you are, then,’ said Timothy, being all hearty.
Archie plucked at his lip. ‘A million pounds, as he promised?’
‘Five hundred. I’m so glad that he remembered the church in his will. It seems only right and proper, don’t you think?’
‘Only five … hundred … pounds?’ squeaked Timothy.
‘I think I would like to add a little more to that …’
‘Yes?’ said Archie.
‘… making it up to a round thousand. And if you agree to put up some sort of plaque to my husband in the church hall, then Miss Quicke will also add five hundred pounds. That makes fifteen hundred pounds in all.’
Archie went a dull red. ‘He promised me …’
‘I expect he talked in vague terms about wanting to leave me well provided for and about making a donation to the church, which is exactly what he did.’
‘But you inherited …’
‘Enough to keep me comfortably but not enough to throw money around. By no stretch of the imagination was I left three million pounds. Do you know, I was so shocked when Timothy told me your plan that I even considered selling this house in order to let you have the money? It would mean I’d have to go to live with relations and find myself a job of some sort, but I did think about it. Then I realized that even if I sold this house – and you do know I only own half of it, don’t you? – it wouldn’t make up the million pounds you needed.
‘Then I thought, but this is not what Frank wanted for me and I realized there must have been some misunderstanding. I rang Gilbert Adams and asked him about it, and he was quite clear that Frank knew what he was doing and that his Last Will and Testament must be observed.’
‘But …’
‘Now, my solicitor suggests that some of the money I will eventually inherit is put into a trust fund for disbursement to deserving cases. I can’t touch that money yet of course but I suggest that when the time comes, Archie applies to the trust for something towards the rebuilding fund; perhaps another couple of hundred pounds? I’m sure they will consider the request for a small donation favourably if I put in a good word for you.’
Archie was staring into a future which looked distinctly unhappy. Ellie felt almost sorry for him.
‘I’m afraid you’ve been misled into thinking I could solve all your financial problems. It’s so easy to indulge in wishful thinking, isn’t it? You all wanted me to be the goose that laid the golden eggs, but it turns out I’m just the goose.’
Timothy had the grace to try to laugh at this but Archie looked thunderous. He was not going to forgive her for making him look a fool. The story would be all round the parish by nightfall. He might even have to resign as church treasurer.
Ellie didn’t want that. He was a good treasurer and that’s what the church needed. ‘Like Frank, I have the greatest respect for you as treasurer, Archie. I’m sure you’ll be able to pluck the necessary funds out of thin air.’ No, that was a bit close to the knuckle. ‘Of course, you may have to scale down your plans for the rebuild, but I’m told that fundraising unites a church beautifully.’
‘The architects,’ said Timothy in a hollow voice. ‘They must already be on their way.’ Poor man, he could see that the failure of this plan would count against him in his plan to be appointed vicar.
Ellie stood up, forcing them to stand as well. ‘Why don’t you take them across to the old hall and have a site conference?’
Archie fought for words, glaring at Ellie.
She had one last subversive thought and held out her hand to him. ‘Friends?’
She guessed he wouldn’t take her hand and he didn’t. Then she was ashamed of herself. She had provoked him rather.
Timothy, however, was recovering himself better. He held out his hand to shake hers. ‘Well, thanks for … for being so straight with us. We’ll see you on Sunday as usual?’
She nodded. By Sunday everyone would know she wasn’t going to give the church a million pounds and that she wasn’t on the list of the richest women in England. They’d know about the trust fund and they’d know they couldn’t expect her personally to underwrite their financial problems. That suited her.
Archie wasn’t finished yet. ‘You should have told us earlier. What fools we’re going to look …!’
‘You should have asked. You didn’t even check my husband’s will. I think I see the architects’ car arriving, so I’ll leave you to deal with them. Have a nice day.’
** * When they’d gone, she sat down and had a good laugh. Which turned into a bit of a weep. But not much of a one. Dear Frank, she thought. If only he were there to see the problems she’d inherited along with his money. Archie was never going to forgive her. No. A pity. But not the end of the world.
She got some tea for the tiler, who had nearly finished, and some for the builders, who had arrived to fix the drainpipes on the outside of the conservatory. They’d already installed a connection to the nearest drain. The sun made the conservatory beautifully warm and she liked the pattern of the floor tiles now they were down. She rather thought she might have to have blinds fitted in the summer. That was all right with her.
She watched Tod cross the Green on his way home from school. Alone as usual. Again, he avoided looking up at her as he turned into the alley. Oh dear. But perhaps that nice Methodist minister would be able to get his son interested in befriending Tod. Dear Lord, please … And keep him safe. I expect I imagined that there was still danger to Tod. I hope so …
Ellie felt her pain ease a little.
After tea she forced herself to work in the front garden. It was dreadful having to cut down and clear away broken plants, especially shrubs which had been just about to flower. She had to leave most of the larger plants for a man to deal with but she thought some of the bulbs might recover, with luck.
It was getting cold and dark.
There were lights on inside Tod’s house. Soon Mrs Coppola would be home from work. Ellie had told the Reverend Greenway that she would try to warn Mrs Coppola, who would no doubt be very rude in return. Ellie gritted her teeth. She must give it a try and then, if anything were to happen to Tod … No, don’t think like that. Nothing’s going to happen to him.
Ellie went in, cleaned herself up and told the tiler how much she admired the new tiles and the builder how much good the new drainpipe would do. The drainpipe would take water off the roof of the conservatory and fill a capacious water butt before emptying into the drain. Everyone was being very jolly.
Once the workmen had gone, the house seemed remarkably silent. Waiting for something, almost. She put the radio on. Turned it off again. She might live in a close community but she had no one to talk to.
She felt restless. She rang the police station to see if there were any news of her other stolen valuables. They said they’d contact her if there were any news, but oh yes, they’d caught up with Gus sleeping rough somewhere on the south coast, and were hoping to charge him pretty soon.
Poor Gus, she thought. Poor lost little waif – except that I wish he hadn’t seen fit to steal my bits and pieces.
It was all wrong, what the police thought. Now if they’d only followed up her idea about the stamps … but they didn’t believe in it. A bird in the hand, that’s what they liked. After all, Mr Pearsall was untouchable, living in his big respectable house in a respectable neighbourhood. There was no proof. Absolutely none.
Then she remembered the smell. When the cleaner had opened the door leading out of the hall, there had been a waft of air which had brought with it a strong, antiseptic smell. Possibly from the room she’d gone into, and possibly from the man himself. Not Dettol. Not Flash or anything like that.
She had it now. It was chlorine.
You didn’t use chlorine to wash down a hall floor. You used
chlorine to purify water, particularly in swimming baths. So why was there such a strong smell of chlorine in Mr Pearsall’s hall?
Tod’s swimming trunks and towel stank of chlorine when he came out of the swimming baths. They were missing.
Swimming baths. Tod had gone swimming, had left alone and vanished. Stamps. Tod had loved his collection dearly but had jettisoned it after he’d been abused.
Did Mr Pearsall by some chance go swimming about the time that Tod did?
Had he bribed Tod with stamps before and after the event? No one else fitted the profile. Gus certainly didn’t.
Oh, this was pure surmise. How could she find out if it were true?
She must ask Tod. It was the only way. He might try to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about but now she had guessed enough of the story, perhaps she could get through to him.
She picked up a notebook and pen, but left the lights on because she was only going up the road. Notebook in handbag, sling it across your body. Stupid girl, you should have put your jacket on first. Never mind, jacket can go on top. No need for an umbrella.
As she banged her front door shut, she saw a long silvery car draw away from the front of Tod’s house. Another visitor for Mrs Coppola? Or … hadn’t she seen a car like that in Mr Pearsall’s drive?
The car was going away from her, but she could have sworn that as it passed under the street light, she saw Tod in the back. She couldn’t see the driver because of the headrest. It wasn’t a plainclothes police car. They didn’t use that sort of vehicle. Number plate … no, it was too far away for her to read it.
She paused, undecided. The lights were still on in Tod’s house. She went down the path and rang the doorbell. He would come to the door and laugh at her fears, invite her to come and see him play a complicated game on his new computer. Or slam the door shut in her face because his mother had forbidden him to see Ellie.
No reply. The door was slightly open, so she went in.
The lights were on everywhere. The television was on. A bottle of Coca-Cola was sitting on the floor, half drunk. A biscuit half eaten. There was no one at home.
Eighteen
H
ungry boys don’t leave biscuits half eaten. Perhaps he was in the loo? Ellie went upstairs, calling for Tod. The rooms were all empty. Marie Celeste, she thought.
She knew – she thought she knew – where he’d been taken. If it was him in the car. It might not have been. He might just have popped out to a friend’s house.
She rang the police station. Nobody she knew was on duty. She could tell by the weary tones of the desk sergeant that he was fed up with her ringing him. She said she thought the boy Tod had been enticed away by a man in a silver car, no she didn’t know the make or the number, but she thought he might have been taken to a house by the park, near the tube. It was owned by a Mr Pearsall, she had the number of the house somewhere but not on her.
He took down the details and said they’d get someone on to it but they had a major incident on their hands at the moment, so …
Do it yourself, she thought. She scribbled a note for Mrs Coppola, who probably wouldn’t get it till far too late, and ran out of the house. Then ran back in and called a minicab. Only, now it was the rush hour and they hadn’t got a cab for fifteen minutes. She would get there quicker running … well, walking a bit and then running a bit … got a stitch. Stop and breathe deeply.
On again. Oh, Tod …!
It was quite dark now. Overcast, too. It was going to rain again, probably. Lord, help me and Tod in our hour of trouble. Please, Lord, don’t let him be hurt again, let me be in time, though Lord alone knows what I can do when I get there, but maybe something …
She reached the house at a stumbling run and leaned on the gatepost to catch her breath. There were lights on inside the hall and on the firstfloor landing, but nowhere else. She leaned on the doorbell.
The silvery-grey car stood outside, ticking itself gently into silence as the metal contracted. She memorized the licence number, not that she had any means of giving it to the police, but it seemed a sensible thing to do.
She leaned on the doorbell again. Still no sound from within. Was this all some hideous mistake? Perhaps it hadn’t been Tod in the car at all and it was just a coincidence that Mr Pearsall happened to have a car which looked the same as the one which had passed down her road and stopped outside Tod’s house at the time that Tod disappeared.
No, it wasn’t a mistake.
She looked around desperately for someone, anyone, a passer-by, a man parking his car, to tell them, warn them, ask them to ring the police again.
The door opened, slowly. But it opened wide.
‘Yes?’ The man in grey, cold and cautious. Alone. No Tod. The hall tiles sparkled behind him in the light of a chandelier above his head. A large oak table in the centre of the hall held library books, gloves and a man’s cap. She sniffed the air, and again caught a whiff of chlorine, much fainter now, but still recognizable.
‘I’m so sorry to trouble you but I was supposed to collect Tod from his mother’s house tonight and give him supper, but I must have missed him.’
Ellie stepped into the hall, smiling brightly. ‘I saw your car drive off with him and thought, Oh dear, his mother will be cross, so I came to collect him, take him off your hands.’
A poor excuse, but perhaps it might work.
He shut the door behind her, with care. All his movements were slow and deliberate. The house was eerily quiet around them.
She said, ‘If you’ve still got his swimming things, I can take those as well. His mother’s going spare, missing them.’
His voice and eyes were dull. ‘Whatever makes you think I’ve ‘got them?’
‘I smelled the chlorine in here the other day. Do you go to the baths often?’
‘I go when I feel like it. Sometimes I help coach the boys. Occasionally I give them a lift home. They’re so scatterbrained, that lot. I’m always finding a bundle of swimming things in my car. A boy called Tod, you say? I don’t think I know him. I have my nephew here with me this evening. My sister’s boy. I expect it was him you saw with me tonight.’
‘Have I made a terrible mistake?’ She smiled brightly. ‘I could have sworn that I saw Tod in your car and he wasn’t at home, you see.’
‘Yes, you were mistaken. So …’ He moved to open the front door again, holding her by the elbow to show her out.
She yelled, ‘Tod!’ with all her strength. It seemed to take him by surprise, for he fell back. They both listened. Was that an echo? Someone banging on a door?
Their eyes met. Both knew that the other knew. The grey man shut the door and locked it. ‘I can see I shall have to show you my little secret. Come.’
The grey man pulled Ellie across the hall to a door and opened it. It was a small cloakroom, with no outside window. The smell of chlorine grew stronger. He switched on the light from the hall and a fan started up. There were a number of pegs holding men’s outdoor clothes, but in the far corner were some bulging plastic bags.
‘Is this one Tod’s?’ he asked, throwing one of these bags at her. ‘Or perhaps this one? Or this?’
She blinked. She opened the first bag and found a boy’s swimming trunks inside, wrapped in a red towel. Not Tod’s.The second bag contained Tod’s swimming trunks and blue towel, marked with his name.
‘These boys are so careless,’ he said, in the same even tone. ‘They leave all sorts of little mementoes behind. I have quite a collection of them. Locks of hair, sometimes. Tod has quite spoilt his good looks, hasn’t he? I was quite shocked when I saw him again this evening. He was such a good-looking boy when I first spotted him. Polite, too. Sometimes they aren’t at all polite to their elders and I have to teach them manners. He was a delight to teach, I must say.’
‘What have you done with him?’
‘Why, nothing that he didn’t want to do, I assure you. Did you think I was a pervert?’ He laughed, a dry sound.
Ellie wondered if she were dreaming. The man was so quiet, so orderly, so gentlemanly. Had she made a terrible mistake?
‘Come, I’ll show you.’ He switched off the light and led the way across the hall and up the stairs. Like the staircase at Aunt Drusilla’s, the treads were wide and gently curved. It was a pleasure to climb them, if you weren’t worrying about what would happen when you reached the top. Now she could hear someone thumping up above.
Mr Pearsall didn’t pause at the first-floor landing but switched on some more lights and turned right … and up a second flight. This time the stairs were steeper and not so gentle. The banging got louder and now Tod could be heard shouting.
On the second floor Mr Pearsall turned right again, went down a short corridor and continued up a third flight of stairs. This flight was steep and uncarpeted. The servants’ stairs.
At the top the grey man took out his bunch of keys and unlocked a stout wooden door.
The room had once been a nursery, perhaps. The windows were blacked out. A rocking horse stood in one corner. From the ceiling hung various straps and chains. In one corner was a bed and in another a camera on a tripod and lighting equipment.
Tod was crouched in a corner, using a small chair to beat on the wall. ‘Let me out!’
‘It’s all right now, Tod,’ said Ellie, not moving from the doorway in case she got locked in as well. ‘Come over here. We’re leaving.’
‘No, no.’ The grey man shook his head. ‘You’ve got this all wrong. Tod came here willingly, didn’t you, Tod? You got into my car of your own accord and you came up here with me on your own two feet. Didn’t you?’
Tod had been crying. He stood up now, letting go of the chair. ‘You promised me …’
‘Silly boy. I promised to let him have some pretty pictures, didn’t I? And that’s exactly what he will have to take home with him, to remind him of me.’
‘And the negatives?’ said Tod. ‘You promised me …’
Murder of Innocence Page 25
