‘Edgar was a fortunate man.’
‘Not that I was ever his equal socially, of course. I came to look after him, and then he took to Mikey, and Mikey took to him, and when my rent was due and going up, he said would I like to move in, and Mikey said it would be a good idea, because then he could work on Edgar’s computer, so we did. And Edgar bought Mikey a brand-new, state-of-the-art computer, and, well . . . I cooked and cleaned for them and listened when they talked about gigabytes . . . Is that the right word? I’ve never been able to understand what they were.’
Ellie nodded. ‘Me neither.’
‘Then we had those three days at the seaside, not waiting for half-term, and the teachers didn’t like it one bit, us taking Mikey out of school, but if we’d waited, we wouldn’t have been able to go, would we? Edgar sat in his chair on the beach, and Mikey scrambled around, collecting shells and wanting to look them up on his laptop, and me falling asleep in the sun, would you believe? I even got a tan. He got up out of his chair one day and went along the shore with Mikey, looking for some rare shell or other. I never did work out what, but that didn’t matter, did it?’
‘No, it didn’t.’
‘And we thought . . . we hoped . . . and he said he was feeling a bit better every day, but I could see . . . and the doctor said . . . But he wanted to stay at home, and I said that of course he should. When his sister came and said those awful things, about me trying to trap him into marriage—’
‘Dreadful woman.’
Vera nodded. ‘I said I’d leave, but if I had, what would have become of him? Because he’d have had to go into the hospice. That’s when he said we should get married, so that I could be his next of kin and deal with the doctors for him. So we did. He wrote it all down, what I was to do, where his little bit of money was, and how I should give Mikey all of it for his education if he couldn’t get bursaries, and I said I didn’t want anything, and he said I was the sort who needed to be needed and so I must go back to work sometime, not to cleaning, but to try for a better job when I felt better. Do you think it was wrong of us to get married?’
‘I don’t. I’m only sorry that you didn’t have longer together. You made him a very happy man in his last few months, and he’s given Mikey a new direction in life.’
‘I wanted to see you, to ask you . . . His sister says it’s immoral for me to take family money, and that I should turn everything over to her. One moment I think she’s right, and the next, I don’t.’
This made Ellie angry. ‘His sister is a greedy harridan, who’s already well provided for. Forget her. Have you been able to make any plans for the future yet?’
Vera shook her head. ‘Edgar took six months’ rental on this flat, and I could stay on, but it feels . . . I don’t know. Mikey hates it. I’ve promised him we’ll look for something better, but I can’t seem to get moving on anything.’
True grief. Ellie compared it to what she’d seen at the Hoopers’. Which reminded her of them again. Should she try out her idea? Vera could only turn it down.
‘Vera, have you been reading the papers? Did you hear about the tragedies that have hit the Hooper family? No, I don’t suppose you have.’ Ellie told Vera what she knew. It took some time, and when she’d finished Vera was counting on her fingers, a tinge of colour in her pale face.
‘One, two, three accidents? Pull the other one.’
‘Agreed. The police are beginning to think so, too.’
‘Who do you think is doing it?’
‘I can’t think. I’ve talked to the three remaining Hoopers, and no one of them seems a likely candidate. Maybe I’m missing something.’
Vera took a deep breath. ‘You want me to go to work for them, to sort the house out for them? But . . .’
Ellie waited. Would Vera want to play the game Ellie had in mind?
‘Well, I could do, I suppose. But . . .’ A swift, narrow-eyed glance. ‘That’s not exactly it, is it? If it were, you’d get Maria to send them someone really experienced, who . . . What is it you want me to do?’
Careful does it. ‘You may not feel up to it, yet.’
Vera stood to clear away the coffee mugs. She washed them up, frowning. ‘Do the police really suspect murder?’
‘They’re beginning to, yes. Each of the deaths, standing alone, can be written off as misadventure or accident. Three incidents can’t. The police will be looking at each death, trying to work out who might have caused it, and why. They’ll look at motive and opportunity.’
Vera was becoming interested. ‘Who could possibly gain by killing an ex-wife, a teenager, and a toddler? Is this some kind of vendetta against Mr Hooper, do you think?’
‘The police will be looking into that, searching his files, looking for someone he’d crossed in a business matter, perhaps.’
‘You don’t need me for that.’
‘No.’ Ellie waited.
Vera was coming back to life, her eyes switching to and fro. Vera was no fool.
‘You think that this is being done to get back at Mr Hooper? That someone outside the family is killing them off, one by one? What would they have to gain by it? Money? I suppose each death lessens Mr Hooper’s expenses, but no one would kill them just for that, would they?’
‘Agreed.’
‘So it must be a vendetta. In which case . . . I think I see what you’re getting at. Why stop at three?’
‘My thinking exactly. Who would you mark down next? The model, Angelika, who is about to leave the household to go back to her professional life? The teenager who is aiming for university? Or Mr Hooper himself?’
‘Mr Hooper, I think. No, that’s wrong. If it’s a vendetta, and the person aimed at is Mr Hooper, then surely he’d be left till last to make him suffer more?’
‘Then who would you go for next?’
Vera pulled off the band which held her hair back, and shook it out before combing it through with her fingers and fastening it again into a ponytail. ‘Angelika. No, that can’t be right, because Mr Hooper’s going to be rid of her soon, isn’t he?’
‘That’s what I thought at first. Then it occurred to me that if the killer really is targeting all the members of the Hooper family out of revenge, he might be anxious not to let Angelika get away. The opportunities for getting rid of her – if that is what the murderer wants – are decreasing every day. He must strike soon, or not at all. I would be very much afraid, if I were her.’
Vera was restless, cleaning around the sink. ‘Have you warned her?’
Ellie shook her head.
‘Oughtn’t you to?’
‘On what basis? “By the pricking of my thumbs, Angelika, I think you’re next for the high drop”? I don’t think she’d believe me. But you’re right. I must try.’
‘You want me to go to work there, which I suppose I could do, and act as bodyguard to Angelika?’
‘I’m not quite sure what either of us can do, but I do think we ought to try. This is an opportunity for someone to get into the household and observe what’s going on, see if there’s anything I’ve missed. I can be round there some of the time, but I’ve got meetings to attend, other work to do. If you could be my eyes and ears . . .? You wouldn’t have to snoop around or anything, but perhaps if you could keep an eye out for Angelika, or any visitors, or anything unusual? I have an overactive imagination and I keep worrying about gas taps being left on “accidentally” or a fall down the stairs. Drowning in the bath. Overdose of sleeping tablets.’
‘To arrange something like that, the killer would have to be able to get into the house.’
‘I think he or she has access to the house and knows it well. How else would they know where the key to the gym was kept?’
‘Also, they must be aware of the family’s health problems or they wouldn’t arrange for the child to eat a biscuit containing peanuts.’
‘Or be familiar with the medical history of the second wife, in order to overdo it with the insulin.’
A stare. ‘Who would know
all that, apart from family?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. I can ask questions but I can’t be there much of the time. You could sort out the house and let me know of anything which strikes you as out of place. Have you a mobile phone? Yes, of course you have. Well, you could ring me if you spotted anything unusual.’
‘Or the police?’
‘I’ll give you the number of a policewoman who is already suspicious of what’s happening.’
Vera chewed her lip. ‘I could only work there in the mornings and I’d have to leave in good time to give Mikey his lunch. I’m not going to take him into that house.’
‘Agreed. There is a possibility, no more than that, of course, but I must warn you that—’
‘If someone is hanging around trying to kill Angelika, then I might get in their way? Or you might?’
Ellie was silent. Why hadn’t she realized that she herself might become a danger to the killer?
Vera stared out of the window at the garden. ‘Mrs Quicke, I owe you a lot.’
‘No, dear. You don’t owe me a thing. I shouldn’t have asked you—’
‘I’ll do it. I’ve the right skills for someone to help them out, and the job’s come up at the right time for me, to get me moving again. It did cross my mind once or twice that I could ask if you had a suitable flat to rent which Mikey and I could move into, but . . . I couldn’t bring myself to lift the phone to call you. Now you’ve come to me. Of course I’ll do it.’
Ellie relaxed. ‘Are you sure? If you do, I’ll pay you and pay you well. And, yes, I’ll ask my son-in-law to see what sort of accommodation he can sort out for you. In the meantime, I’ll take you over to the Hoopers’ and introduce you. I’ll say you used to work for me and are going to help them out as a favour. Which is all true. I don’t want them paying you direct because, if they do, they could order you about and perhaps make life rather unpleasant for you.’
Vera looked surprised.
Ellie felt herself go red. ‘I should have said. My daughter Diana – you may or may not have come across her when you were working for me—’
Vera grinned. ‘Hoity-toity madam? Sorry, but she is.’
Ellie had to smile. ‘Yes, she is. She’s also working for Evan Hooper and aiming to become the next Mrs Hooper.’
Vera looked as if she’d rather like to make a sour remark. Thought better of it. Frowned. Opened her mouth to say something. Closed it again.
‘Yes,’ said Ellie, feeling bleak. ‘She is the only person I can think of who might benefit from these deaths. However, I don’t think it’s her style.’
Vera slanted a dark look at Ellie.
‘The police will be enquiring into alibis, motives and opportunities. So yes; if you think Diana is fiddling with electrical connections, then the police must be told.’
‘Only, you think it’s an outsider?’
‘I can’t think straight. How can an outsider know how to get rid of these people? But no one on the inside looks like a murderer to me.’
Vera picked up her handbag, checked for keys. ‘Let’s go.’
Ellie had one of those moments when time stood still. She knew without a doubt who might have done the murders, though she didn’t know why. An outsider who had inside knowledge. Of course.
Except that it was impossible. It couldn’t possibly be.
Could it?
TEN
Monday noon
The Hooper house wasn’t far away. As they turned into the driveway, Ellie was amused to see a couple of men and a woman homing in on a man who was out walking a dog. Could they be members of the press asking a neighbour for a comment on the Hooper tragedies? Ellie and Vera slipped past them unnoticed and rang the doorbell.
The door opened so sharply that Ellie had to step back to avoid the girl who then hurtled out.
Freya, dressed in tank top, shorts and trainers. ‘Who? Oh. You.’ She switched her eyes to Vera. ‘And . . .?’
‘My cleaner. Helping you out for a couple of hours.’
Freya nodded. ‘I was going crazy, cooped up inside, so I’m off for a run. Make sure the door’s shut behind you. We’ve had the police and all sorts here today, wanting to get an exclusive interview. Some nutters on the phone.’ She looked right and left, saw the members of the press still crowding around the neighbour. ‘There they are again. Dad gave them an earful and now they’re pestering neighbours. See you.’ She loped off.
Ellie and Vera pushed the front door open and went in, shutting it firmly behind them. The hall was empty except for dust. Ellie called out, ‘Hello?’
No reply.
Vera said, ‘Spooky, innit?’
Quite. Ellie looked into the ‘snug’. Empty. Today’s papers had joined yesterday’s – and probably those from the day before – on the floor. Empty coffee cups, dirty plates. A steamy fug.
‘Phew!’ said Vera, unlocking and pushing up a sash window to let in some fresh air.
Back in the hall, Ellie called out again. Still no reply. The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence. Ellie noticed that the landline phone on a side table was off the hook. She put it back on, and it rang. She jumped as if she’d been bitten, then laughed at herself. From the depths of the house someone – Evan Hooper? – shouted, ‘Whoever it is, I’m not here!’
Ellie said, ‘Hello?’ cautiously into the phone.
‘You twisted, poisonous creep! What does it feel like to kill your own child, you filthy spawn of toad? And . . .’
Ellie blinked. That wasn’t a very nice thing to call someone, was it? Ugh. She put the phone down, wondering why you called it a ‘torrent’ of abuse. Because the person – man or woman? Probably a man – calling had dammed up the invective, only to release it in a torrent when someone answered the phone? Was this the ‘nutter’ Freya had referred to?
Ellie hoped the girl hadn’t had to hear herself called all those names. She didn’t like it herself.
Did the caller really think Evan had murdered his own child? Nasty. Ugh. The phone rang again. How could she divert the caller? Could she make him think he’d got the wrong number? She picked up the phone, listened to the same few words and said in her best adenoidal voice, ‘Harrods. What department do you want?’
Silence. She replaced the phone on the hook. And waited.
It rang again. She picked it up, repeated: ‘Harrods. What department do you want?’
Heavy breathing. A man? Hard to tell. ‘Sorry, wrong number.’
She put the phone down. Would it ring again? Mm. Perhaps it would be best to leave it off the hook.
She beckoned to Vera. ‘The kitchen’s this way.’ It was in a worse state even than before, because someone had dropped a container of milk on the floor and not bothered to mop it up.
‘Oh my!’ Vera was seldom at a loss for words, but the state of the Hoopers’ kitchen managed it. Then, being Vera, she squared up to the task in hand and got to work. ‘You clear out, Mrs Quicke, and let me at it.’
Ellie become conscious of a steady thrum-thrum-thrum. She tried the door at the back which let on to the gym. It opened, and she found herself in an old-fashioned, Edwardian, iron-framed conservatory. Instead of plants, there was a plethora of exercise equipment.
Angelika was on the treadmill, dressed in a cropped top, shorts and trainers. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. One ear was hooked up to an MP3 player, and a mobile phone was glued to the other. She neither saw nor heard Ellie come in. She was crying, but that didn’t stop her legs smoothly pounding away the miles.
Beyond the treadmill were other machines, the purpose of which Ellie did not like to think about. The thought of subjecting her own comfortable body to their horrors filled her with a strong desire to be elsewhere.
Where was the power switch? Ah. On the wall. The room hadn’t been cleaned since . . . since. Dust. Fingerprint dust. Dirty footprints on the floor.
Ellie was surprised that Angelika could use the equipment so soon after her stepdaughter’s
death, but as her career as a model depended on keeping her splendid body in trim, she’d probably managed to override any squeamish feelings she might have about using the machine. A beautifully tuned body. Would she have done better not to have ‘improved’ her breasts? Perhaps she wasn’t tall enough to be a catwalk model, so had had to settle for swimsuits and underwear?
Ellie’s eyes roved the room. Fiona must have spun off and crashed headlong into that wall . . . there. Ugh. The stains were still on the wall and the floor beneath.
‘What . . .!’ Angelika realized someone was in the room. She pulled the wire from one ear and spoke into the phone. ‘Call you back later. Promise.’ And to Ellie, ‘Who are you? Oh. I remember. What are you doing here? We’ve only just got rid of the police. More questions. As if we knew anything! The press have started to buzz around, and there’s some nutter on the phone, keeps ringing. As if we haven’t enough to cope with, arranging the funerals and letting people know. They say we can’t have the bodies yet, which is totally ridiculous, but Evan will sort it out.’
‘Don’t mind me,’ said Ellie, extra cheerful. ‘I just popped in to see if I could help out for a while. I’ve brought my cleaner with me and set her to work straight away.’
Angelika stopped the machine and stepped off on to the floor, swiping the backs of her hands across her eyes. ‘I double-locked the front door myself. How did you get in?’
‘Freya let us in.’
‘Oh. We had a reporter pounding on the front door, earlier. Evan sent him off with a flea in his ear.’ She’d worked up a fine film of sweat. She reached for a towel on a stool nearby and said, ‘I’m going for a shower.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘No business of yours, but if you must know . . .’ Her face creased in anguish. ‘The agency has cancelled the job in Japan! They said it wouldn’t look right, so soon after Abigail . . . The magazine is getting someone else.’
‘I can see why you’d welcome the work, it would be a distraction, but—’
Angelika flapped the towel at Ellie. ‘You don’t understand anything! I can’t get away soon enough. I thought . . . And now what am I going to do?’ She plunged through the door back to the kitchen, drew up short on seeing Vera, said, ‘Who the hell are you?’ Didn’t wait for a reply, but banged through the door to the hall and away.
Murder in Mind Page 12
