‘I don’t think you’re in any danger, honestly, but I’ll check with the police, ask their advice.’
‘Don’t make me leave, will you?’
‘Of course not, but you need to talk to that solicitor.’
A shadow of a smile. ‘Get him to wait on me here. Why not? He’ll come if he thinks I’ll let him handle everything for him . . . which I will, right up to the point that I dump the whole lot in the nearest cats home.’
‘I suppose I could try to get him here, but you can’t stay indoors for ever. May I suggest you talk to—’
‘Social services? I agree with my aunt about that. A lot of half-trained, overworked do-gooders. I need one of them like I need a hole in my head.’
‘I’m sure they’re not all like that, but . . . well, will you talk to Thomas about it? And before you start on about not being alone in a room with a man, think what you’re saying. Do you really imagine Thomas would take advantage of you?’
The girl put on a stone face, because her Uncle Bob had done just that. The girl couldn’t trust any man at the moment.
‘All right,’ said Ellie. ‘When Thomas blunders in for his breakfast – give him another five minutes because he had a long day yesterday – ask him if you can talk here in the kitchen, with Rose standing guard over you.’
Mia tried to smile, but her lips trembled. She nodded. ‘I’ll try.’
‘Fear is like a virus once it gets into your head,’ said Ellie, who should know. The horrors of yesterday were still hanging around, waiting for her to relax so that they could slip through into her conscious mind.
A sudden thought struck Mia. She grinned. ‘What I want to do today is to make some filo pastry. My aunt taught me how and stood over me till I got it right. My aunt was a wonderful cook. She gave me her book of recipes because her eyes aren’t good enough for her to see them any more. I suppose she’ll have to go into care now, won’t she? Not that I mind, really. Rose, may I make some filo pastry here today?’
Ellie understood that the girl was in denial. Denial was a nice country to live in, provided nothing broke through its boundaries to threaten you with reality. So let her make filo pastry. Let her make herself useful in the kitchen. It might help to settle her, make her feel safe.
Meanwhile . . . Ellie began to make a list. Phone the hospital about that brave man, Leontes, see if they had an address for him. Phone the police to see if she could find a liaison officer for Mia. Get her some clothes. ‘What clothes do you need, Mia?’
A shrug. ‘I’m all right as I am.’
No, she wasn’t. Ellie jotted down, ‘T-shirts, jeans. Underclothing.’ Also, Thomas must be told about Diana. Ouch.
Thomas arrived later than usual for breakfast, ate it on the run and departed, saying he’d lost a couple of days’ work and must catch up. He didn’t speak to Mia except to say, ‘Hi! All right?’ Ellie didn’t try to stop him leaving. Rose and Mia looked pleased that he’d not interfered with whatever they’d planned for that day.
Ellie went along the corridor to her office in the old morning room. There she found her assistant Pat, dealing with mail.
Ellie averted her gaze from the pile of post. ‘Small problem, Pat. Can I leave everything to you for a bit?’ Pat only worked part-time and expected Ellie’s full attention when she was around, but Pat wasn’t going to get it today, was she? Pat would probably sulk. Well, let her.
Pat rolled her eyes as Ellie reached for the phone and dialled the number of Ealing Hospital. She enquired about Leontes, who turned out not to have been named after a Shakespearian character, but to be a man called Leon T Spearman. He’d been discharged late last night, and no, the hospital couldn’t give out his home number. She wasn’t a relative, was she?
‘One more call, Pat,’ Ellie said, dialling again. She must speak to Maria urgently, not only because she was happily married to Diana’s first husband, Stewart, and was doing a great job bringing up little Frank, but also because she ran the cleaning service which Ellie used – and Ellie was going to need more help from them on Saturday. It was possible, of course, that Maria might already know about Diana’s second wedding and her plans to involve Frank, but it was best to make sure.
The line was engaged. Ellie left a message for Maria to ring her back.
What next? Ellie pushed today’s post away from her and turned to Pat, who was concentrating on her computer.
‘Pat, give me a minute. Change of plan, or rather extension of plan, for Saturday. Diana is getting married again and has arranged for us to hold her wedding reception here on Saturday afternoon – yes, truly! I had nothing to do with it, but the invitations have gone out. If Maria rings back when I’m out, would you fill her in and say I’ll ring her later?
‘Oh, and yesterday a man pushed Mia and me out of the way of a speeding car which went on to kill a young woman and leave her two children motherless. The man’s leg was caught by the car and there was a lot of blood. He’s been discharged from hospital. How do I find him? He saved my life, and Mia’s.’
‘Police, I suppose.’ Pat liked a good gossip, but she was evidently not pleased at Ellie’s refusal to attend to the morning’s post.
‘I suppose so,’ said Ellie, hating the thought of it. ‘Oh well, I’d better see if anyone’s available to talk to me.’ She picked up the phone, sighing.
Tuesday morning
Mobile phones are helpful, very. Sometimes the images on the camera part aren’t that good, but this one was clear enough, good enough to print off. The slut, the witch, the bitch, getting to her feet, unharmed. She ought to have been killed. Or burned at the stake. Or put in a coffin with a stake through her heart. Maybe she’d have a delayed reaction, though, and die in the night.
He hoped the lilies would give her unpleasant dreams.
Ellie asked for Detective Inspector Willis and was put on hold. She’d had various brushes with the DI in the past, and had learned to respect the woman’s professionalism, while aware that the compliment was not returned. Ellie deplored the woman’s abrupt manner and the variety of red dyes she used on her hair, while DI Willis clearly thought Ellie was a silly housewife who had nothing better to do than waste police time.
Well, if Ellie had wasted police time on occasion, she’d also helped to sort out one or two neighbourhood crimes, including those involving Mia’s family. DI Willis owed her the courtesy of a five minutes’ call, didn’t she?
Pat shoved some mail in front of Ellie, who tried to concentrate on it; with indifferent results. When Miss Drusilla Quicke, Ellie’s difficult but endearing aunt, had died, Ellie had inherited a fortune and a number of houses and apartments which were rented out. Ellie had put everything into a charity which was run by her with a board of trustees.
The housing stock was efficiently managed by Stewart, Diana’s ex-husband. And hadn’t Diana been furious about his being given the job! How Stewart had managed to survive marriage to Diana so well was something of a mystery, but he had done so almost unscathed; Ellie was very fond of him.
Stewart held as low an opinion of Denis the Menace – the Dirty Den of the Estate Agency world – as Ellie did. Which reminded her that she still hadn’t told Thomas about Diana’s latest plan to upset the course of their domestic happiness.
Ah, a policeman had come back to her on the phone with a message. The DI could spare Ellie a few minutes face-to-face at ten, if she put her skates on. She glanced at the clock, yelped, grabbed her handbag, said, ‘Must go!’ to Pat, and fled.
It wasn’t far to walk to the police station, and the exercise would do her good. A happy second marriage and a love of good food hadn’t done anything to reduce her waistline. Or Thomas’s. They really ought to go on a diet; but not perhaps until after the wedding. Weddings.
She was kept waiting at the station. Of course. She found an old envelope and started to make a list of things to do. Ring the solicitor. Ask Ursula’s opinion about Mia’s clothes. What sort of bridesmaid’s dress was the girl supposed to wear
to the ceremony? And then . . . what next?
Ellie had her charge cards with her for major shopping, but could do with popping into the bank to get some cash. She couldn’t for the moment remember what they were supposed to be having for supper. Would the leftover cold chicken stretch to four people, especially when Thomas was one of the four? She rather thought not.
‘Mrs Quicke. Would you care to come through?’
Gracious me. Good manners for once? However, this wasn’t the DI speaking. It was WDC Milburn, a pleasant, robust young officer, whom Ellie had met before. Ellie was ushered into an interview room.
‘Mrs Quicke.’ DI Willis looked at her watch, impatience in every gesture. She’d tried a ginger hair dye this time. Oh well.
In her haste Ellie let her pen and the list she’d been making tumble to the table, and the DI picked it up. Prominent at the top of the list was the large figure eight which was, of course, Mia’s dress size.
Seeing this, the DI’s eyebrows went up. She glanced at Ellie’s waistline – which was nearer a size eighteen than an eight – before handing the paper back.
‘Important shopping to do today?’ said the DI, noting that Ellie had been concerning herself with such trivial matters as underwear and nightdresses.
Ellie put the list into her handbag and snapped it shut. Then realized the WDC was handing her the pen which she’d also dropped. Ellie’s colour rose. How incompetent they were making her feel! Well, someone had to look after waifs and strays like Mia, and that seemed to be Ellie’s job at the moment. The police’s job was to look after them, too. If necessary she would remind the DI of that.
‘Mia Prior,’ she said, plunging straight in. ‘Can you give me the name of her support officer?’
‘The Prior girl?’ The DI’s hard eyes glittered. ‘May I ask why?’
‘She was convalescing with an aunt in the country. She did receive a visit from someone in social services, but Mia’s aunt sent the woman away. Mia is now back in this district and staying with me, so I’d like to link her up with a professional who can help her adjust to daily life. Come to think of it, you probably haven’t heard that she was nearly run over yesterday in that road by the Town Hall.’
‘What!’
Ellie nodded, considered she’d made a sufficiently sharp impression on the DI for due process to begin, and sat back in her chair. She frowned. She really ought to have inspected the contents of the small suitcase Mia had brought with her before she’d set out on a shopping expedition. Did the girl need bras? Shoes? Toiletries?
The DI accessed data on her computer and stared at it for a long moment before swivelling round to Ellie. ‘Tell me.’
Ellie considered asking the woman to add the magic word ‘please’ to that request, but decided to overlook the omission in view of the seriousness of the situation. She told the DI what had happened the previous day, pointing to her scrapes and bruises as she did so. ‘I honestly don’t know whether Mia was the target or not. She’s convinced she was. She’s afraid that those who abused her, or possibly their friends, are going to kill her before the case comes to trial.’
The DI raised both hands. ‘Her death wouldn’t stop the trial. The police have her evidence on videotape, taken while she was still in the nursing home. We have the doctor’s evidence, too. Even if she died tomorrow – of natural causes or otherwise – the police would still go ahead with the trial.’
‘That’s a comfort. I’ll tell her that.’
‘Of course –’ the DI rubbed her chin – ‘the defendants should have been told this. I’m sure they must know, but human nature being what it is, people often believe what they want to believe. They might believe that getting rid of her would improve their chances of acquittal, no matter how often they are told otherwise.’
‘Ouch.’
‘But –’ tapping at her keyboard to access more data – ‘they’re all still locked up . . . the two stepbrothers, and the stepfather . . . yes, and the councillor who . . . and the man who supplied them with drugs. There were a couple of lowly lads who carried out some of the strong-arm stuff but . . . No, two of those are . . . One got bail, but he’s not considered a threat to the girl in any way. Ah, one of the other abusers got bail, but he was on his last legs.’
‘The one she calls “Uncle Bob”? Yes, he died.’
‘And the mother . . .’ More tapping. ‘The mother got bail. The police objected, but she made a good impression in court.’
‘Oh dear.’ Ellie remembered the woman well: a monumental blonde, flashing diamonds. A deep voice threatening destruction to anyone who crossed her husband in his plans for ever bigger developments. A woman who would refuse to acknowledge defeat and would bounce back fighting.
Ellie clasped her handbag tightly. ‘In my opinion, she was her husband’s enforcer, if that’s the right word. Her husband used his influence to get planning permission for his various enterprises, the sons assisted him in various ways – such as procuring young people to act as arm candy – and worse. If anything went wrong, the mother directed the sons to dispose of the problem. Mrs Prior gave me the shudders.’
‘She said she knew nothing of the girl’s treatment after she was raped and brought back to their house. She said she was told the girl was ill, didn’t want to see anyone.’
‘If you believe that . . .’
‘Agreed. What mother never bothers to check on her only child? But others did believe it. She got bail but is not allowed to approach her daughter in any way, or to live within so many miles of her. Since Mia left London to live in the country, Mrs Prior is currently residing in the family home, Prior Place. Not half a mile from here. How long will the girl be staying with you?’
‘Indefinitely. I know it’s rare for a mother to side with her new husband rather than her child, but—’
‘It happens, yes. By the terms of her bail, if the girl returns to Ealing, the mother must remove. I’ll see she’s informed immediately.’
‘Could you check to see if she knows about the events of yesterday? Because someone sent Mia some lilies late yesterday afternoon. Here’s the card that came with them.’ She handed it over. ‘As you can see, it says, “You should have died.”’
A frown. ‘How could she have learned that Mia had been involved in an accident so quickly?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. You know how everyone seems to have those mobile phones which are also cameras, nowadays? There were several people taking shots of the scene. I remember wondering how they could, but I believe some people earn money by sending camera shots to the newspapers, don’t they?’
‘Yes, but how would anyone know where to find her?’
‘The police took statements, wanting to know who everyone was and where they lived. I had to tell the police officer my name, and Mia’s. I had to tell him twice that she wasn’t my daughter, but that she was staying with me. I had to give him my address. The policeman asked me to speak up because of the traffic. Anyone who was standing nearby could have heard, sent a picture to Mrs Prior, and told her where Mia was staying.’
The DI took her eyes off the screen. ‘I follow your reasoning. I wonder if the newspaper will have been given that information, along with the pictures? I’ll check, see if we can stop them printing her address.’
‘Oh dear. What a mess. And the man who saved our lives? Leon Spearman? I’d like to thank him in person.’
‘If you’re right, then his name and address will be in the paper on Friday, too. You didn’t know the woman who died?’
‘Never seen her before, didn’t really catch more than a glimpse, after . . . after. Horrible business. It keeps replaying in my mind. No one had the wits to catch the number of the car.’
‘Hang on a minute. I’ll see if I can get an update.’ The DI wasn’t long away, returning to say, ‘The Volvo. A family car. It was found abandoned by Ealing Common tube station late last night. It’s being examined now. It had been stolen the night before from outside someone’s house. Th
e owner’s shattered, has two little boys of his own. And before you ask, they managed to save the toddler’s arm, but he’ll be in hospital for a while yet. The baby’s been taken by social services and they’re looking for other members of the family as we speak.’
‘I would like to think it was a hit and run by a joyrider, but I can’t quite convince myself that that was the case.’
The DI attempted a smile. ‘You have an instinct for crime, Mrs Quicke. It would make my life a lot easier if you hadn’t. I must admit you are more often right than wrong.’
Saying which, the DI actually held out her hand for Ellie to shake, before ushering her out of her office.
Wonders will never cease, thought Ellie. Did that woman actually admit I belong to the human race?
She looked at her watch and frowned. Everything always takes so much longer than you think it should. What was next on her list? She sought in her handbag for the envelope on which she’d been jotting down notes and found it eventually. She must go to the solicitor’s first, and then – it was getting late – a sandwich somewhere? And after that she’d go on to Marks & Spencer by bus, to get a whole load of stuff for Mia to try on. After that she’d better organize herself a taxi back home.
A horrible worm of suspicion was lurking at the back of her mind. Diana had said Denis had found them a large house to rent, one with six bedrooms and two bathrooms. Of course there was no reason to suppose that he was after one of the houses which Ellie’s trust owned. Of course not. Ridiculous.
Or was it? She thought she’d better check as soon as she got back.
Tuesday afternoon
He’d never wanted to kill anyone before. He hadn’t thought he was capable of it. How surprised everyone would be, if they knew what he was thinking. It would be like killing a spider, or a rat. He must take care that he wasn’t caught. It would be best to use psychological tactics at first. Scare her to death. If that didn’t work, he was perfectly prepared to go further.
Murder by Mistake Page 5
