Murder at the Altar

by Veronica Heley

  She hesitated outside the new Sunflowers café. She hadn’t been in there before but she seemed to remember that someone’s granddaughter worked there. Of course, Chloe. Mrs. Dawes’ granddaughter. Ellie remembered young Chloe from when she was eight and had fallen off her bike and grazed her knees outside the church. Ellie had taken the child in to clean her up and calm her down. Why, that must be a good ten years ago now.

  The café looked clean and tidy with a fine stand of cakes at the back and one of those splendid Gaggia machines to make coffee. There was a reproduction of Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’ on the wall. Naturally.

  There were still some customers eating lunch. Cottage pie? Something on rice, with suspiciously bright peas? Ellie’s stomach grumbled, and she went in. She recognized Chloe at once, even though she had shot up into a beanpole. The girl was model-thin now with smooth dark hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing jeans and a top which exposed her navel, neatly pierced with a gold ring. She was chewing gum, but smiled at Ellie and brought her the menu.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Quicke. Nice to see you. Gran says she doesn’t know what she would have done if you’d been out, the day she found Ferdy. What a thing, eh! I haven’t got over it, for one. If you’re eating, I’d suggest the sausages or the chilli.’

  Ellie chose sausages, which had always been one of Frank’s favourite dishes. She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes to replay the recent interview at the solicitor’s.

  Frank and Ellie had known Bill Weatherspoon the solicitor for many years. A handsome man in his sixties, he showed no inclination to retire. Indeed, he seemed to be sitting on the boards of more charities now than when the Quickes had first known him. He was a member of their church and had been on the PCC with Frank and Archie. When his wife had been having treatment for cancer, Ellie had helped out, looking after the teenage girls as best she could, seeing to their laundry and masterminding the big weekly shop. Frank had joked about that, calling it Ellie’s ‘Lady Bountiful’ act.

  After his wife died and the girls had left for university the two families had drifted apart. Ellie had been pleased to find he was to be Frank’s executor. She was particularly pleased that he was to be sole executor. For some reason she had been afraid that Diana, or perhaps Aunt Drusilla … no, she would not complete that thought.

  After the first pleasantries were over, Ellie said, ‘Put me out of my misery. Will I have enough to live on? Will I have to sell the house and take a small flat somewhere? I dread the thought of losing my garden.’

  Bill Weatherspoon looked startled. ‘No, of course you don’t have to sell up – unless you want. My dear Ellie, I did try to reassure you after the funeral, though I realized you weren’t taking it in.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m still not functioning very well. There’s so much to think about, so many people to consider. Indulge me. Tell me in words of one syllable how I’m fixed.’

  ‘I’ll give you a copy of the will to take away with you. Ellie, you are going to be very comfortably off. You don’t have to sell the house or the car or anything that you don’t choose to get rid of. There are a few bequests; to your daughter Diana, to the church rebuilding fund, and so on. You are the residuary legatee, which means you get the rest of the estate including both houses, though there is a string attached to—’

  ‘Both houses? You mean – Frank’s family house as well? The one Aunt Drusilla lives in?’

  ‘That’s right. The house presently occupied by Miss Quicke is left to you.’ Ellie stared at him, open-mouthed. What was Aunt Drusilla going to

  say to that?

  ‘As you probably know, there are no death duties to pay on gifts to a

  spouse. Now about your own house; I believe it has always been in your

  joint names?’

  ‘Yes, because when my mother died, not long before we got

  married – my father died when I was a child – I used the money I got from

  selling her flat as deposit for our present house. Frank didn’t have any

  capital, you see. So he put the house in our joint names.’ ‘In simple terms this means that in law you already own half the

  house, and can do with it what you wish. Frank has left his half of the

  house to you for life, with the proviso that it goes to Diana after your

  death. If you wish to stay where you are …’

  ‘Oh, I do!’

  ‘… then there’s no problem. If you wish to sell up and buy another

  house somewhere, then there might have to be some adjustment of

  money … which you’d have to discuss with Diana.’

  ‘Yes, yes. But will I be able to afford to go on living there?’ ‘Certainly you will. For a start, as Frank’s widow you receive a pension

  from his firm. Then there’s various insurances which will wipe out anything that remains of the mortgage, plus giving you a lump sum which

  Frank suggested you invest to give you a comfortable income. In addition, Frank himself invested in various companies from time to time. His

  portfolio of stocks and shares looks healthy.’

  Ellie felt rather faint. She had had no idea. ‘How much, roughly?’ He handed her a piece of paper. ‘Frank worked it out for you. That’s

  only a rough estimate, of course …’ The amount consisted of noughts

  which seemed to go on for ever. Ellie blinked, and hardly took in what he

  said next.

  ‘Now what would you like to do about the old family house? Do you

  wish to live there, or will you want to put it up for sale?’

  ‘I don’t understand. Frank can’t have left it to me. Surely he meant to

  leave it to his aunt. Why, she’s just sent me a note saying she’s going to

  be in touch with a solicitor …’

  Mr Weatherspoon grinned. He had rather large, handsome teeth, and

  Ellie was reminded of the fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood. What big

  teeth you have, Grandma!

  ‘Your husband’s aunt Miss Quicke came to see me last week,

  demanding a copy of the will which I was happy to provide her with. As

  you know, Frank only made a will after he became seriously ill. Naturally

  he had expected to outlive his aunt and yes, he had always considered

  that she had a right to live out her days in the old house. But something

  happened recently which led him to reconsider. I can assure you – as

  indeed I assured Miss Quicke – that he was in sound mind when he

  made this will.’

  ‘Why did he change his mind?’

  ‘He told me he’d discovered she was much better off than he’d been

  led to believe, and that she could perfectly well afford either to buy the

  house from you, or to buy something else for herself.’

  ‘But she’s always been so hard up! That’s why we scrimped and

  saved to buy our own place, and why I had to go on working so long after

  we got married …’

  Bill Weatherspoon got to his feet and went to stand looking out of the

  window. ‘Forgive me if this is a sore subject, but I wonder if your health

  would have been better … all those miscarriages … if you had not had to

  work for so many years after you got married.’

  Ellie blinked. How very kind of him to think of that. ‘Oh, I expect they

  would have happened anyway.’

  ‘Frank made some enquiries and was satisfied that he was doing the

  right thing by leaving the old house to you. Do what you like with it. Turn

  Miss Quicke out, make her buy it off you … all right?’

  He returned to his chair. ‘Listen, Ellie. Frank asked me to look after

  you, and I will. He was afraid you’d be unable to cope, that you might fall

  prey to some conman or other. I told him he underestimated you. But if
/>
  you need help in dealing with Miss Quicke …?’

  Ellie was silent. She thought she might very well appreciate some

  back-up in that quarter. ‘I don’t suppose she will want to move at her

  age.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful house with a big garden. You might wish to live in it

  yourself?’

  ‘I wouldn’t wish to turn her out … yes, I would! I would like to turn her

  out on to the streets tonight! To think how hard Frank had to work to …’

  She felt for a hankie, and failed to find one.

  Mr Weatherspoon fished a box of tissues out of a drawer and put it

  beside her.

  Ellie mopped and blew. ‘Oh, how could she!’ And then, ‘Why didn’t

  Frank tell me?’

  ‘He said – forgive me – that you had always been a little afraid of her.

  He wanted to make things easy for you, so he asked me to keep quiet

  until he’d had a chance to talk to her direct about it, persuade her to give

  up the house and go quickly and quietly. He felt he owed her that much

  for bringing him up.’

  ‘I don’t think,’ Ellie said, ‘that woman has ever given up anything she

  ever wanted, the whole of her life. As far as I know, she never once

  troubled to visit him when he was in hospital, so I suppose she wouldn’t have realized he’d willed the house away from her until she asked you for a copy of the will. To think of the way she made Frank dance atten

  dance on her all these years, claiming she was too poor to take taxis …’ ‘Do you plan to continue acting as lady-in-waiting to her?’ Ellie coloured up. ‘I hope you don’t think too badly of me, but she never

  put herself out to help me once during all these years. Not when Diana

  was little and I suffered those miscarriages … not even when Frank fell

  ill and it was obvious that … I can’t remember her ever saying a kind

  word to me. And I know she used to tell Diana that I was a bad mother …

  oh, I have a hard place inside me when I think about her!’ ‘So you’ll put the house on the market as soon as probate is granted?

  That will give Miss Quicke plenty of time to move.’

  ‘I’ll have to think about it. Now may I ask how much Frank left to Diana?’ ‘He left her five thousand pounds to buy a new car.’

  Ellie gaped. She looked at the figures on the piece of paper she was

  holding, and compared the two amounts. Frank couldn’t have left Diana

  only five thousand. No, it wasn’t possible. Or was it?

  Bill Weatherspoon was giving her a quizzical look.

  Ellie said, ‘Frank had a – a difference of opinion with Diana …’ In fact,

  it hadn’t been a difference of opinion; it had been a blazing row. ‘He’d

  given them a lot of money to buy a small house. Stewart is very sweet but

  he doesn’t earn much. Anyway, Diana went for something bigger and

  wanted Frank to double what he’d given her. He refused. He said she

  ought to cut her coat to fit her cloth. Oh dear! I hope she hasn’t got herself

  into a mess financially. I’ll have to talk to her, work something out.’ But Diana took Frank’s car after the funeral, thought Ellie then. She

  said she needed it. That was … sneaky! But perhaps she didn’t know

  then that Frank had left her money for a new car? She said, ‘About

  Frank’s car …?’

  ‘Right. Now I know you don’t drive, and you won’t want to be responsible

  for car tax, et cetera. I know someone who would like to buy the car off

  you. It’s only a year old, isn’t it? Suppose you have the RAC give it the

  once-over …’

  ‘Diana took it. She didn’t realize, I suppose.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘My dear Ellie, Diana – like Miss Quicke – came to

  see me the day after the funeral and demanded a copy of the will. Which

  I gave her. She knew that her father had left her money for a new car, and

  she knew that Frank’s car was yours.’

  Ellie said, feebly trying to defend Diana, ‘I didn’t mind letting her have

  it, really.’

  He steepled his hands and frowned, indicating displeasure at this

  irregularity. ‘You realize she has removed valuable property from the

  estate?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind.’

  His expression indicated that he thought she should mind. Well, actually, Ellie did mind, rather. She’d had fantasies about learning to drive herself, one day. But as things were … no, it was all right for

  Diana to have taken the car. She had asked permission. No, she hadn’t.

  She’d assumed permission.

  Bill gave her a warm smile. ‘Take your time, Ellie. I can see you haven’t

  taken it all in yet. You are going to be very comfortably off. Having known

  you all these years, I can truthfully say that it couldn’t happen to a nicer

  woman. Give yourself a good holiday. Go round the world. Go on a

  cruise. Buy yourself some clothes in Paris. Just see me first if you want

  to set up as a diamond trader …’

  He laughed. Ellie relaxed enough to smile back.

  He said, ‘One piece of advice. All this is very new to you. People will

  ask how you’re fixed. I advise you not to tell anyone – not anyone! – how

  much you have inherited. You don’t need people asking you for loans, or

  capital to start up a business, do you? Maybe later on, when you’ve

  found your feet, yes. But do nothing in a hurry, Ellie. The will is simple,

  probate should not be delayed unduly. Have you sufficient funds in your

  own account to pay outstanding bills? Yes? Because if not …’ The solicitor rose. ‘Ring me any time, if ever you are in any difficulty.’

  The sausages and mash came, plus two kinds of mustard. Really the Sunflowers café was a pleasant place. Most of the other diners had departed. Chloe cleared tables, humming to herself. There was some background muzak on, but it was not obtrusive. Ellie thought, I could have dined at the Ritz today, if I’d wanted to.

  The sausages and mash were excellent, and so was the treacle sponge which followed. The custard was good and hot. And then a pot of tea.

  Ellie felt better. A lot better. She thought, I can afford to go on a cruise … fly on Concorde … visit the Great Wall of China. She smiled at this. She didn’t really want to do anything like that. She just wanted to sit in this pleasant café, be waited on by a charming girl and drink strong tea in peace and quiet.

  From where she sat, she could see that the police were still at Mrs Hanna’s. Curious passers-by kept peering at the open front door – guarded by a policewoman. The bakery was doing a great trade, and the charity shop was thronged, too. Everyone would want to know what was going on.

  Chloe asked Ellie if she’d like some more hot water. ‘No, thanks, dear.’ Ellie indicated the activity across the road. ‘Do you happen to know …?’

  ‘Mm. Mrs Hanna, her that works in the bakery … it was Ferdy, her son who got himself killed last week … and now she’s disappeared. Not a trace. Murdered, they think. My friend who was in here earlier says he reckons her body will be under the new development up the High Road … under six foot of concrete, you know. But me, I don’t reckon it. That sort of thing, gangsters and that, it doesn’t happen much around here.’

  ‘Gangsters?’ said Ellie. ‘You don’t really think …?’

  ‘Nah. Stands to reason. Not around here. Got a big imagination, my bloke. He thinks the ex-girlfriend did it, and so do I.’

  Some new customers came in and Chloe drifted over to serve them. A man and a woman, elderly churchgoers whom Ellie knew by sight. They wave
d at her and she waved back.

  ‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ the woman said to Ellie, indicating the bustle over the road. ‘We saw her in the shop only last week, just before her son was murdered. It looks as if she found out something she shouldn’t.’

  Ellie smiled but didn’t comment. She wanted to say that she’d seen Mrs Hanna after the murder had been discovered and that Mrs Hanna hadn’t known anything then, because she had been putting pressure on Ellie to find out what had happened.

  Perhaps someone thought Mrs Hanna did know something – perhaps something that she didn’t know she knew …

  A nasty thought. Poor Mrs Hanna.

  Ellie thought of all the useful things she could be doing but inertia held her in her seat. Besides, Chloe was busy serving more and more customers. People all wanted to discuss the latest developments. Sandwiches, bacon and eggs, tea and more tea were dispensed by the everefficient Chloe.

  Suppose, thought Ellie, Ferdy had indeed been part of a gang … no, it was absurd to think that. Ferdy had been a loner, working on his cars, taking stalls at car boot sales.

  Well, she only had Kate’s word for that.

  Well, just let’s suppose for a minute that Ferdy had been part of a gang. What sort of gang would it have been? Drugs? Spare car parts?

  Stealing cars and getting them out of the country?

  Ellie had heard of all these things but had difficulty in fitting them into what she knew about their pleasant neighbourhood.

  Chloe came and hovered, writing out Ellie’s bill.

  Ellie said, ‘I suppose it could have been some sort of gang warfare … although what could have happened without us noticing?’

  ‘Not drugs, that’s for sure,’ said Chloe, slapping down the bill. ‘Not Ferdy. He didn’t believe in doing drugs. My friend says it would have been a lot simpler if it had been drugs. No, it’s the girlfriend, believe me.’

  Ellie wondered if they could find out when Mrs Hanna disappeared, and where Kate was at the time. No, it was quite ridiculous. Kate couldn’t possibly have done it. Clonking someone on the head and dragging them up the church to the altar was one thing. Killing Mrs Hanna and disposing of her body was another. Mrs Hanna must have weighed thirteen or fourteen stone.

  Of course, there had been those drag marks along the carpet runner in Mrs Hanna’s flat …