Murder by Mistake

by Veronica Heley

  FIVE

  Tuesday afternoon

  Ellie tried not to dislike people at first sight, or even second. She gave herself five seconds during which she suspended judgment on Mia’s solicitor, and then allowed herself to wonder if he’d had a personality transplant. Or might that be an asset in his line of business?

  It was clear that he had all the facts and figures, the law and the prophets, at his fingertips – which, by the way, he was forever rubbing together in a manner which meant either that his skin was so dry it needed attention, or that he had an annoying mannerism which his parents should have checked. Provided, that was, that he had actually had parents, and had not been spawned out of textbooks by law reports.

  He had arrived at the house just as Ellie was decanted from her cab, exhausted and hung around with bags from Marks & Spencers. Since Mia refused to leave the kitchen when the man arrived, he had seated himself at one end of the long table, laid out his papers, and proceeded to inform her of her duties with regard to himself and her inheritance. In a tone of reproach he pointed out that he’d been put to considerable inconvenience by her absence. He’d spent both time and money – remembering that time was money – trying to trace her whereabouts, all of which he would be forced to recoup from the estate. Now she had made up her mind to surface from wherever she’d been hiding, she should pay attention to what he had to say and, naturally and of course, follow his advice.

  Mia said, ‘What happened to his cat?’

  He smoothed out a piece of paper. ‘I have no idea. I assume it was taken by the Cats Protection League when the house was cleared. Now, as sole executor for my client, I’ve carried out his instructions, obtained probate, and am now ready to hand over to you, subject to deduction of any fees accruing. Do you understand?’

  Ellie and Rose exchanged glances. Mia had insisted they stay in the room, and they’d been curious enough to do so. Mia didn’t seem to have any curiosity at all. She had put her head in her hands and was idly twirling a tress of dark hair round a finger like a schoolgirl, showing by her body language that she didn’t care what was being said to her.

  The solicitor cleared his throat. Ellie was amazed that he didn’t shoot his cuffs as he picked a paper up off the pile in front of him. He shot his cuffs. She tried not to meet Rose’s eye, tried not to giggle, told herself that this was serious, grown up stuff and that she should pay attention. Wished Thomas were there to appreciate their visitor’s eccentricities.

  It didn’t look as if Mia were listening as he started to read out a statement of her financial position. Ellie tried to follow, but got lost in the detail. Rose’s eyes glazed over.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Mia, lifting her head. ‘If I’ve understood what you’ve been saying, he left his house to me with instructions that you should clear it, bank the proceeds, and put it up for sale. Has it been sold?’

  ‘As I was trying to—’

  ‘Yes or no.’

  He sniffed, indicating annoyance. ‘We have had a reasonable offer, which awaits your approval.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to live there, would I? Close the sale. What about the business?’

  ‘In this day and age, the recession . . . There is a manager, of course, but he lacks, if I may say so, some of the flair which my client—’

  ‘Going down the tubes?’

  Ellie was surprised how sharp Mia could be. But then, she’d been an intelligent, lively-minded university student once, hadn’t she?

  He sniffed again. It seemed to be his way of expressing frustration. ‘I wouldn’t say that, exactly. It has some orders from old clients to keep them going, but yes, there have been some redundancies. It is still a nice little business, but perhaps—’

  ‘No longer a “nice little earner”? Hasn’t moved with the times, invested in new machinery, addressed new markets?’

  ‘I really don’t—’

  ‘Is there a buyer for it, at a reasonable price?’

  ‘Well, not as such, no. Early days, and in this present time it is a little too much to expect . . . but of course, given time, that is the route I would advise you to take.’

  ‘Sell everything and invest according to your advice? I don’t think so.’

  He excavated a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and sniffed into it. His eyelids fluttered. ‘I’m not sure—’

  ‘Good,’ said Mia, getting to her feet. ‘That’s better. You may or may not have heard what I’ve been through this last year. I don’t care whether you have or not. But let me tell you this; I can’t afford to waste what time I have left. They may get me tomorrow or next week, and in a way I would welcome it. End the uncertainty. As for the inheritance, if I live long enough you should dump the lot in my bank account. If I still have one. Maybe I haven’t? I suppose I can check it out online. Whatever. Just don’t waste my time. Understood?’

  Pushing papers together, eyelids fluttering, he reminded Ellie of a startled horse. Perhaps he was really a shy soul, and not just a dry one? ‘Understood, understood. But have you considered, have you yourself made a will? It would be wise, don’t you think? Be happy to oblige, give me your instructions, are you able to do so now?’

  ‘No.’ Mia hadn’t had much colour in her face before, now she had even less. Perhaps she hadn’t really believed in her lack of future until he’d taken her at her word?

  ‘Of course, of course. Will be in touch, any time, you have only to mention. You can be contacted here, of course? Naturally. But, er, what about the business?’

  ‘Sell it.’ Mia walked out of the kitchen. Just like that.

  ‘Oh, but – Mia?’ Rose went after her.

  Ellie held the door open for the solicitor. ‘I’ll see you out.’ And did so, with him still fluttering his eyelids. Irritating man.

  Returning to the kitchen, Ellie found Rose there, shaking her head. ‘Burst into tears, she did. Ran upstairs and bolted the door against me. Overwrought.’

  ‘I thought she was coping surprisingly well.’

  ‘Mm. That friend of hers, Ursula, came by this morning while you were out. What a strong personality, a breath of fresh air, made me feel quite tired the way she swept everything along before her. But she did Mia good, at least for the time being, jollied her along, put some backbone into her, told her not to put up with anything she didn’t want to put up with, which was probably good advice though I didn’t expect her to be rude to that solicitor, even though he could do with a dose of Epsom salts, as my mother would have said.’

  ‘Agreed. Should I go up to Mia?’ It was odd, but Rose now seemed to have taken over responsibility for Mia. ‘I brought back a load of clothes for her to try on, and oh, some stuff for supper.’

  ‘Leave her be for the time being. She feels safe here with me. Cooking for us seems to calm her down, and I’m not going to stop her, am I, if it makes her feel useful, though as you know highly spiced foods don’t agree with me. But if it helps her then I’ll eat and take some Bisodol afterwards.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Oh, and Ursula left a folder of stuff for you to look at. She went through it with Mia and me, and I must say I think she’s thought of everything from our point of view, but she wanted to make sure you had someone coming in to move the furniture about and clear up afterwards, which I said you were paying for because you’ll be using your usual cleaning company that you always have, and that they’d been round to give us a special extra clean on Monday, which was when you were out, and they’re looking forward to the wedding, too. Only, Ursula looked serious and said she ought to be paying for that, though I’m sure I don’t know how she thinks she’s going to do it, but she says she’s put a little bit by now and then and her father’s giving her something, which her mother doesn’t like at all, but you know what Mrs Belton is, you couldn’t please her if you gave her a thousand pounds because she’d want it to be five. Thousand, I mean.’

  She took a deep breath, and Ellie nodded. ‘And Maria rang and Pat didn’t kn
ow what to say to her, so she called me and I went through to your study and had a word with her about the extra that’ll need doing around the house and she said to leave it with her, and knowing her I could do that, though it wouldn’t be many people you could trust in such matters, would there? So I told her – Ursula, that is – that we were all looking forward to her wedding enormously, and not to worry about the cleaning and moving furniture because it was giving us something lovely to think about, and it’s going to be no trouble at all to us to have her wedding reception here, with the photos in the conservatory, she says, because she knows I love my flowers, though I think perhaps a trip to the garden centre first wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it? We’re not looking at our best in that direction at the moment, are we?’

  ‘Garden centre. Agreed,’ said Ellie, her mind whirling.

  ‘And that Pat’s been in looking for you three times now, lots for you to sign and look at, she says, and oh yes, there’s a letter come for you, by hand. On the hall table.’

  A hand-delivered letter? Ellie didn’t often get those. Something for Thomas? She went to look. No, it wasn’t for Thomas. It was addressed to Ellie in an angular script, handwritten and not typed. Very black ink on a heavy, cream paper. Ellie’s first instinct was to throw it in the bin, because she guessed who it was from.

  She didn’t throw it away, of course. She was trained to open post and deal with it as soon as possible. Sometimes, naturally, she passed awkward correspondence on to Pat, but in this case she knew she’d have to deal with it herself.

  There was an embossed address on the letterhead, that of Prior Place. Mia’s old home. The tower block which Mr Prior had built on the North Circular bore the same name. Mia’s ordeal had begun in the penthouse suite of the tower block, and had continued back home.

  So Mrs Prior was still living at home, was she?

  A square script, written with an expensive pen.

  Dear Mrs Quicke,

  I am desperate for news of my poor daughter. Someone sent me a picture of her taken after an incident in the Broadway. I hardly recognized her, but I am assured that it was her, and that she is staying with you, posing as your daughter.

  I understand that I am most unfairly banned from meeting her, but if it is true that you have hidden her away, may I at least ask for reassurance that she is well and receiving appropriate treatment for what she suffered at the hands of her stepfather and stepbrothers? As you may know, they are now in jail awaiting trial, and I myself – another innocent victim – have in consequence suffered greatly. All that would be as nothing if I can only be assured that my only child is being well cared for.

  Would it be possible for us to meet before I leave Ealing, as I understand that I must? I have been informed that I must not even shop in the Avenue if Mia is staying with you.

  Yours sincerely,

  Adelina Rossi, ex-Prior, née Parham.

  How dare she make herself out to be ‘another’ innocent victim, she who had entered into all her husband’s schemes and had been quick to arrange punishment for anyone who dared defy him!

  So her name was Adelina, was it? Appropriate. And she was now calling herself ‘Rossi’. Was that her first husband’s name? It occurred to Ellie to wonder in what manner Adelina had got rid of her first husband, in order to marry the wealthy Mr Prior.

  Yuk! And to pretend that her sole concern was for Mia’s well-being after all that had happened! Ellie felt that she would very much like to strangle the woman . . . except – she had to laugh – that the boot would probably be on the other foot, since Ellie was neither very tall nor very muscular, whereas Adelina Rossi, ex-Prior, née Parham, was both. In fact, she was monumental. The only time Ellie had seen the woman, she’d towered over most people, including her husband.

  Ellie took the letter through to Thomas, expecting him to join with her in condemning Adelina Rossi, but he was in no mood to listen to her, jabbing at his keyboard and growling into the telephone. Not wanting to interrupt him, Ellie kissed the top of his head, patted his shoulder and left.

  Now what? Her mind was awhirl with jobs to do.

  That letter from Mrs Prior. Ex-Prior. Ellie had been brought up to believe that there were always two sides to an argument. She tried to make herself believe that Adelina Rossi, ex-Prior, might not be as black as she’d been painted. That, appearances to the contrary, she really was concerned about her daughter.

  Ellie snorted. Unlikely.

  She remembered something else that had been bothering her earlier and went through to her study. Pat had gone for the day, but Ellie knew her way around the filing cabinet and the computer records. Well, most of the time she knew her way around the computer. Enough to find out what she wanted now.

  She pulled up last week’s rental returns. Stewart sent through the latest figures to her computer every Monday, and once a week he would come in and they would go over what needed to be done to the housing stock: repairs, renovations, lettings, problems and so on.

  Mm, mm. Diana had said that Denis was going to rent a big house with six bedrooms, two en suite plus two bathrooms, presumably somewhere local. Of course it might not be one of hers. Most unlikely.

  There were only a few such large properties on their books; four were already let out on long-term leases, one was undergoing a major refit, new bathrooms and kitchen, etc. There was just one ready to go back on to the market; six bedrooms, two en suite plus two more bathrooms. Newly fitted kitchen. Conservatory. Eighty-foot garden, mostly lawn, surrounded by shrubs. Easy maintenance.

  Ellie reached for the phone and got through to Stewart. ‘Sorry to trouble you. I know we weren’t supposed to be meeting this week because you’re off on holiday – when? Wednesday, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maria wants to make sure everything goes smoothly for you on Saturday, so we’ve decided to put it off till after the weddings.’ An even tone, hiding emotion?

  ‘Ah, you’ve heard?’

  ‘Frank came home from a visit to Diana saying she wanted him to dress up in a satin costume with a floppy tie and be a ring boy at her wedding. He was distressed, said he wouldn’t do it. I rang Diana, and she confirmed she’s having the reception at your place. I gather Maria’s organizing extra staff to help you to cope.’

  Ellie grimaced. ‘The reception was thrust upon me and as the invitations have gone out, I don’t see how I can get out of it. How is Frank taking it? I know little boys don’t like dressing up but . . . is he really upset about that, or about her getting married again?’

  ‘He’s distressed, full stop. We’ve had the dickens of a job getting him to sleep at night, ever since. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was afraid. But of what?’

  ‘Ah. I think I know. Diana says Denis is taking a large house so that they can have all the boys with them in the holidays.’

  A sigh. ‘I’ll have to ring her again. The wedding; well, if she really wants him to act as ring-bearer, then we’ll go along with that. It doesn’t matter so much if we postpone our own holiday for a few days, but I wouldn’t want to change the existing arrangements for Frank. Maria loves him and he’s doing well at school. He doesn’t always see Diana at weekends, but when he does he comes back in such a state it’s hard to calm him down.’

  ‘I know. Diana isn’t the wisest of mothers. Not everyone is gifted to be a wise and loving mother, though your dear Maria certainly is.’ Here Ellie remembered Adelina Prior, who was nobody’s idea of a loving mother, but who pretended to be exactly that.

  ‘Stewart; there’s something else. Probably it’s nothing, but could you check on the house in Castlebar Road for me? The workmen must be nearly finished, but it’s not been let out yet, has it?’

  ‘Mm? Oh. Yes. Last weekend. It’ll be in the next report.’

  Ellie clutched the phone even harder. ‘Who’s the tenant?’

  ‘I didn’t deal with it myself, but I seem to remember it’s a divorcee with four or five children, wants to take in her aged mum as well.’

&
nbsp; ‘There’s the usual clause about not subletting?’

  ‘Of course. Is there a problem?’

  ‘I just had a horrid feeling . . . Diana told me Denis was renting a house which answered that description, and I couldn’t help wondering if it might be one of ours.’

  ‘Why would he want to rent one of our houses? Oh.’

  Ellie sat down with a bump, because she, too, could think of a very good reason why Denis might want to rent one of her houses.

  Stewart was silent. She could imagine that he was thinking Diana had already been well provided for. When she’d married Stewart, her father had given them the money to buy a house, which had been sold at a profit when they divorced. Diana had used that money as deposit on a big house down here in London, which she’d divided into flats for sale, retaining the best one for herself. On top of that, when Ellie had inherited her aunt’s big place the previous year, she’d made Diana a present of the semi-detached house in which she herself had lived for so many years . . . and which Diana had immediately rented out. Diana had done well out of what she’d been given, but had never been satisfied with what she’d got.

  Ellie couldn’t defend her daughter’s past record, but she could excuse her present conduct to a certain extent. ‘She says her present flat is too small for her and Denis together. I may be imagining things, of course, but suppose Denis is behind the let. Suppose he’s trying to rent the property under a false name. Once he’s moved in, he might think I wouldn’t dare to turn my own daughter out. He could break the terms of the agreement by subletting, and naturally he wouldn’t bother to pay any rent. He’d be well away, living in a six bedroom house in a good part of Ealing, while the Trust would be down the drain for thousands of pounds, when we might have let the house out to someone who really needs it.’

  Stewart sounded as worried as Ellie. ‘I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about, but tomorrow morning I’ll check the tenant’s references and follow them up. I’ll also get on to the bank to see that the cheque the tenant gave us hasn’t bounced. It may be perfectly genuine.’