Murder at the Altar

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Do I! Anita and Donna had quite a set-to about it. And then that child broke a teapot and—’

  Ellie interrupted. ‘I must have seen her with her dog, I suppose, but I can’t for the life of me remember what kind it was.’

  ‘One of those nasty little hairy things. Not a Mexican chiwi-something, but not much bigger.’

  Chloe said, ‘She had a Westie. She was always parading up and down the shops with it under her arm. It used to wriggle, wanting to get down and get in people’s way. She used to bring it into the café and feed it titbits on her day off. Ugh! She would have killed it with overfeeding if it weren’t for Dagmara taking it out and exercising it every day when she – Mrs Hanna, that is – was working at the bakery.’

  ‘Who’s Dagmara?’

  ‘Dagmara Pri-something. I don’t know how she spells it. Everyone calls her Dagmara. You know her! Polish. Cleans for us at the café, does a couple of offices down the road and some of the shops, too, after hours. Big woman, dyed blonde hair. Lives in the same block of flats as Mrs Hanna.’

  Rose nodded. ‘I know her. She comes into the shop, size twenty-two, bright colours. But she never brought a dog into the shop that I remember.’

  Ellie said, ‘The thing is, Mrs Hanna may have overfed the dog but she loved it, didn’t she? She made proper arrangements for it to be looked after when she was working. Now there was no sign of the dog in the flat when the police went in, but I could smell it, and I heard a dog yapping somewhere nearby. Have you seen Mrs Hanna’s Westie around since she left?’

  Chloe nodded. ‘Sure. With Dagmara at the bus stop. She had the Westie on a lead and it was wearing a cute little tartan coat.’ Chloe frowned. ‘That’s odd. How come Dagmara is looking after Mrs Hanna’s dog, unless …?’

  ‘Unless Mrs Hanna asked her to?’ said Ellie. ‘The question is, when did Dagmara remove the Westie from Mrs Hanna’s flat?’

  Chloe said, ‘Dagmara must have a key to Mrs Hanna’s flat because she took the Westie out every day Mrs Hanna was working, including Saturdays.’

  Rose twiddled her fingers in the air. ‘Mrs Hanna didn’t go to work the Saturday after Ferdy was killed. They were ever so cross about it in the bakery, I remember.’

  ‘So let’s suppose that on Saturday as usual Dagmara went upstairs to fetch the Westie for its morning walk. I think there was a note on the kitchen table with a bag full of dog food, feeding bowls and so on. I think the note was addressed to Dagmara, asking her to look after the dog for a while.’

  Chloe and Rose looked perplexed.

  Ellie explained. ‘There were no feeding bowls left out for him, clean or dirty. On the draining board was an empty, washed tin of dog food. An untouched tin of dog food had rolled under the table. I thought at first Mrs Hanna had taken the dog with her, but you say that he’s been seen around since.’

  Chloe shook her head to clear it. ‘But … that means she made proper preparations for going away.’

  ‘What’s more, the fridge had been emptied of all perishable stuff and there was no sign of any of that, either. Plus, a tea towel had been thrown over the door of the fridge to keep the door slightly open.’

  Both women looked thoughtful. Chloe said, ‘That’s what my mother does before we go away on holiday. She cleans out the fridge, gives any perishables to a neighbour, and lets her have a key to make sure everything’s all right while we’re away.’

  Rose said, ‘But everyone says there were signs of a terrible struggle, furniture overthrown, drawers pulled out and everything. She must have been abducted!’

  Chloe was incredulous. ‘After cleaning out the fridge and making sure the dog was going to be looked after?’

  Ellie nodded. ‘I think she packed a large suitcase, something on wheels. She packed in a hurry, leaving drawers half open. Then she dragged the suitcase down the hall, leaving tracks in the pile of the carpet runner. The little dog must have been frantic with excitement, seeing her pack. He would be jumping up and down, creating problems for her. She clipped his lead on, and tied it to the back of the chair in the kitchen while she emptied the fridge, piling everything perishable plus all the dog food into some bags, which she left on the table with a note for Dagmara. She couldn’t take the dog with her so when she left the flat with her suitcase, she carefully shut the kitchen door behind her, knowing that Dagmara would be coming by to take him out the following day.

  ‘Left alone, the little dog went berserk. You know how excitable those little Westies are. He ran round and round, dragging the chair with him, upsetting the vegetable rack, jolting the table so that one of the tins of dog food rolled out on to the floor. He pulled down the drying-up cloths hanging by the sink. Finally he was tired out, and went to sleep.

  ‘Next day Dagmara arrives to collect him as usual. She reads the note and takes both the dog and the perishables back to her flat. She doesn’t put the kitchen to rights again because she wants to get out of there, fast.’

  Chloe bit her finger. ‘And why couldn’t Mrs Hanna take the dog with her?’

  ‘Because she was going out of the country. I assume someone visited her that evening and frightened her so much that she decided to go back to Poland until things calmed down.’

  ‘And she couldn’t take the dog because of quarantine restrictions.’

  ‘But Dagmara must have realized that Mrs Hanna wasn’t dead, as we all thought. Why didn’t she tell the police?’

  Ellie shrugged. ‘Polish people all stick together, don’t they? If Dagmara believed Mrs Hanna was being threatened, wouldn’t she help her cover her tracks? Again, it’s possible that whoever frightened Mrs Hanna might be known to Dagmara as well. Every time I try to think who it could be, I can only come up with something nasty in the second-hand car trade.’

  Chloe said, automatically, ‘Ferdy was clean. He wasn’t above bending the truth a bit, perhaps. Say about mileage on a car. But he wouldn’t have nothing to do with bent gear.’

  ‘I know. It’s a puzzle. But it’s the only thing I can think of that makes sense.’

  Chloe leaned forward. ‘You ought to have told the police, you know. They’re still looking for Mrs Hanna, wasting man hours doing it. They could go and see Dagmara, get her to give them the note … if there is a note.’

  ‘I know,’ said Ellie, comfortably. ‘But I did try to tell them earlier, and they didn’t want to know. Besides, I couldn’t be sure my suspicions were correct until you confirmed that the dog was still around, and who it was with. I was thinking maybe I would try to locate the dog that I’d heard in the flats tomorrow, and see if whoever it was who was looking after it, would talk to me. Then perhaps I’d have something more to tell the police.’

  Rose twittered, ‘Do you think Mrs Hanna managed her getaway all by herself? Getting flight tickets, and all?’

  ‘No. I think she phoned a fellow Pole and got him to help her. It wasn’t Dagmara, because otherwise she’d have taken the dog with her there and then, and I believe the dog was left alone in the flat for some time after Mrs Hanna left, because of the mess it made. Mrs Hanna wouldn’t have gone by air. Too expensive, and she wouldn’t want to be hanging around, waiting for a flight. She would have gone to Victoria and got on that train that takes twenty-four hours to get to Warsaw, but is very cheap. I suspect that if we asked around in the Polish community, someone would be able to tell us how she went … and possibly even, why.’

  Chloe was doubtful. ‘The Poles do all hang together. They probably wouldn’t talk to us. I suppose they might talk to the police, if there was somebody threatening them. You think it was a sort of Polish Mafia thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. Are you going to tell Bob this?’

  Chloe roused herself. ‘Over my dead body do I give that jerk the time of day, ever again!’

  ‘He was only doing his duty, as he saw it. And I think perhaps he wanted to show off in front of you a little?’

  ‘Hunh!’ Chloe took out her compact, and inspected her face. Perhaps she wasn’t quite
so antagonistic to Bob now.

  The phone rang, and Ellie plodded into the hall to answer it. It might be Kate. And what should she tell her?

  It was Diana.

  ‘Mother, what’s this I hear? I’ve had Aunt Drusilla on the phone, extremely upset. Whatever have you been saying to her? Are you out of your mind?’

  ‘Diana, dear. Take a deep breath. Count to ten.’

  ‘I do really think all this must have affected you more than you think …!’

  ‘Finding out that Aunt Drusilla owns half a dozen riverside flats must have turned my brain?’

  ‘What? What nonsense!’

  ‘Would you like to see the enquiry agents’ report?’ Ellie crossed her fingers, hoping it would arrive in the post tomorrow.

  ‘You’ve actually set a private detective on to Aunt Drusilla? Mother, how could you stoop so low!’

  Ellie made an effort to be patient. ‘Not I, dear. Your father. Now listen to me, Diana. Listen carefully. I was glad that you came down to look after me the other day, but you must not assume that I am incapable of handling my own affairs. I was extremely surprised, not to say angry, when I discovered that you had put the house on the market without consulting me—’

  Diana blustered. ‘It was the obvious thing to—’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. I have been to see Mr Jolley and taken the house off the market again. I have also retrieved your keys which you so foolishly left with him.’

  ‘What? You had no right … you know perfectly well that half the house is mine—’

  ‘Not until I pass away, dear. Which reminds me that I must set about making my will. I have decided to leave everything to the nearest cats’ home.’

  Ellie put the phone down, and bent over with painful laughter. Of course she wouldn’t really do it, but somehow or other she had to get it into Diana’s head that she must not interfere in her mother’s life like this.

  The doorbell rang. Ellie opened the front door, and a chilly gust of sleet entered along with the burly figure of Bob.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you again, Mrs Quicke, but I thought you ought to know that when I drove up just now, I noticed a man in a Saab watching this house. It looked like the gas man you mentioned to me, so I went over to have a word, and he took off like a bat out of hell. I tried to get the number, but the plate had been smeared over with mud. Of course, that’s a traffic offence in itself. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that he’s gone now.’

  He looked beyond Ellie to the living-room doorway, where Chloe was standing, biting her lip as she listened to him.

  He looked at Chloe, while still talking to Ellie. ‘It’s a nasty night out. I knew Chloe hadn’t got home yet because I checked with her mum. So I came back, wondering if she was still here and I could give her a lift. It’s not fit for a dog out there tonight.’

  Ellie peered outside. Indeed, it was not a night to be out. The ground was covered with a greyish slush and the wind was whipping branches around.

  Chloe looked undecided.

  Bob swallowed. Sounding less confident than his words might appear, he said, ‘You’re coming home with me, my girl. And no arguments.’

  Chloe gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Of course, Bob!’

  She kissed Ellie on the cheek, pulled on her jacket, and was swept out into the night within Bob’s arm.

  Rose McNally hovered in the doorway. ‘Well! What do you think of that! Do you think she’ll tell him what we think happened to Mrs Hanna?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’ Ellie hoped in some ways that Chloe would do so.

  Rose looked at her watch and gave a little scream. ‘Look at the time. I’m never out this late at night. I’ve got my bus pass but are the buses still running, do you think? I couldn’t possibly afford a minicab. What am I going to do?’

  Ellie thought how much she longed for peace and quiet now. A long, hot bath. Sinking into her brand new soft bed with its daisy-printed covers. Sleep. But she couldn’t shuffle off responsibility for Rose.

  ‘I hadn’t realized it was so late. Would you like to stay the night? You can’t possibly stand around in this weather waiting for buses and I’ve got a spare room here. Also, we haven’t yet talked about what’s going to happen at the charity shop if you don’t go back …’

  ‘Oh, I’m not going back if you don’t.’

  ‘Nonsense, dear. What would they do without you? Now let’s see. Diana slept in the back bedroom and those sheets are still on the double bed …’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly put you to so much trouble.’

  ‘I mean it,’ said Ellie, trying not to scream.

  ‘Well …’ Rose fidgeted, and then burst out with it. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but the thing is … do you have a single bed? I haven’t been able to sleep in a double bed since my husband died. I kept waking up and feeling the space, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do indeed. The small bedroom is full of junk – I do my ironing in there – but yes, I do have a brand new single bed, which I can make up for you.’

  Ellie resigned herself to the fact that someone else was going to have first go at the beautiful new bed. Ah well. It was just for one night.

  ‘You are so kind!’ said Rose. ‘And perhaps a sleeping pill? In a strange bed, you know …’

  ‘And a clean nightie … though I’m not so sure about a new toothbrush.’

  Rose blushed. ‘Oh, we don’t really need to worry about that!’ From which Ellie deduced that Rose was wearing dentures.

  Upstairs they went to draw curtains and make up the new bed with new bedlinen. ‘Very pretty!’ said Rose, bouncing on the bed.

  ‘A late night cuppa?’ suggested Ellie, finding her guest a clean nightie

  – a prettily flowered full-length cotton one with long sleeves – and a towel. She showed her into the bathroom and surveyed the back bedroom, deciding she was too tired to change the bedlinen which Diana and Stewart had used. By now Ellie was aching all over and hating her visitor. ‘Tea, coffee, hot milk?’

  ‘Thank you, dear. Hot milk would be the very thing.’

  Rose followed Ellie downstairs and started poking into corners while Ellie heated up milk, put the chain on the front door, pushed bolts home front and back.

  ‘No poker, dear?’ asked Rose. ‘I always take the poker to bed with me, just in case a burglar breaks in.’

  Ellie forced herself to hold her smile. ‘No poker, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, a nice heavy frying-pan would do.’

  Ellie fished out her heavy frying-pan and handed it over with a sleeping pill. Rose beamed. ‘Thank you, dear. Now I feel quite safe.’

  Ellie wondered if taking a sleeping pill wouldn’t wipe out any benefit that might accrue from taking an offensive weapon to bed, but didn’t argue. She was too tired for that.

  Rose took a very long time in the bathroom but finally Ellie got in for a quick wash, promising herself that on the morrow she would take the dressings off her grazes and have a really good long bath. Into bed in the back bedroom. The sheets smelled of Diana and Stewart, but she told herself to ignore that.

  She hoped to fall asleep at once but was overtired. She lay awake, listening to Rose snoring gently through the party wall. The clock downstairs struck midnight. At one o’clock she half surfaced to hear the clock strike again, and then dropped into a heavy sleep.

  The errand boy was on his mobile. ‘I’m going in. All’s quiet. I’ve got a Mickey Mouse mask and a tyre lever. Should only take me ten minutes …’ The battery in the fat man’s mobile was dead. He’d been trying and trying to get through and couldn’t. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even call a minicab to get him out of there. The office was too far off for him to walk on crutches. He cursed, shouting into the unresponsive phone, trying to raise the errand boy, to warn him.

  ‘She’s sleeping in the back bedroom, not the front …’

  Eventually he seized his crutches and began to make the painful journey down the stairs.

>   17

  Ellie half woke and sleepily wondered why. She concluded that she needed to go to the toilet. She tried to tell herself that she didn’t need to, but she knew that she did, really. She felt for the switch of her bedside light and only then realized that she was not in her usual bed, and the bedside light was not where it should be.

  With an effort she pushed herself upright, swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt for her slippers. The house was cold. She ought to have left the central heating on, especially – she now remembered – as she had a guest. The room was not completely dark because of the lights in the churchyard outside. She yawned, reached for her dressinggown and hoped Rose hadn’t felt the need to go to the bathroom at exactly the same time as her.

  No, Rose was still snoring. But if Rose were still snoring in bed, then why was a light flickering across the landing? She could see it under her bedroom door.

  Suddenly she understood how sensible Rose had been to want to take a poker to bed with her. There wasn’t even a phone upstairs. Ellie looked around for a weapon. Anything. But bedrooms don’t usually supply an armoury of weapons. The best she could come up with was an elderly but heavy portable radio. The batteries gave it a formidable weight.

  The light had gone from under the door. Rose still snored.

  Ellie thought, Lord, have mercy!

  She tied the dressing-gown tightly around herself, pulled the skirts up to give her more freedom of movement and grasped the radio by its handle. She put her eye to the edge of the door on to the landing and eased it open a fraction.

  Nothing. No one. But the door to the front bedroom was ajar, there was a light within, and Rose was still snoring! Even as she watched, her bedroom door swung inwards, as it always did if not firmly closed.

  Ellie considered tiptoeing downstairs and calling the police on the phone … by which time Rose would perhaps have been raped or worse. Telling herself to be brave, Ellie inched soundlessly towards her bedroom. Someone was holding a torch beam on to the bed. Behind the silhouette of a man, Ellie could make out the humps of Rose’s body under the brand new duvet. Rose was lying propped up in bed, fast asleep, with her cardigan draped over her head.