‘What can I do for you?’ Very much at his ease.
‘I have Mia staying with me this week.’
‘Ah, yes. They got her name wrong in the paper, didn’t they? How’s she coming along?’
‘Recovering.’
He crossed his legs. Uncrossed them and crossed them the other way. ‘The accident . . . It must have made her feel, well, threatened.’
Now did he mean that Mia ought to be feeling threatened, or what? Ellie wasn’t sure. ‘She was very shaken and it set her back a bit. For a while she began to wonder if someone was trying to prevent her from giving evidence at the trial.’
‘She’s not becoming paranoid, is she?’ A twist of eyebrow, a patronizing tone.
Ellie flushed. ‘She’s received various threatening communications which the police are taking seriously.’ Cross your fingers, Ellie; you really ought to check on what the police are up to.
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’ Dan’s eyes wandered to the bar and then beyond Ellie to the foyer. Keeping an eye on things as a good manager should?
Ellie persisted. ‘I’ve been trying to find out if there’s anyone around who might still think it a good idea to harm the girl.’
‘Really? Mother said you were on that kick, but honestly, I can’t think of anyone.’
‘Ursula said a lad called Silly Billy might have noticed someone.’
Dan shook his head. ‘He’s mental. You know? Had a crush on Mia, used to follow her around. Bit of a nuisance. Can’t think why she put up with him.’
‘Can you remember his surname?’
A frown. ‘Bright? No, that’s not it. Wright. Maybe. I doubt if he’d have noticed anything.’
‘I’m probably chasing hares, but someone is still trying to harm Mia. One thing puzzles me. If this Billy was so keen on Mia, why didn’t he kick up a fuss when she disappeared?’
‘I don’t remember him being around then. Holidays, you know?’ A grimace. ‘Didn’t someone say something about his having had a spell in the Funny Farm?’
‘You mean, he was sectioned under the Mental Health Act?’
‘It was just a rumour.’
‘Do you know where I might find him?’
‘At the uni, I suppose, or researching something in Central Library. He was always at a loss what to do with himself in the holidays.’ He got to his feet in one lithe movement. ‘Well, if that’s all . . .? I make my rounds about this time of day.’
She got to her feet, too. ‘I’m glad it’s worked out so well for you, Dan. I really am.’
He opened the front door for her. ‘It’s no good looking back, is it?’
A figure appeared behind him in the shadows of the foyer. A slender woman with blonde hair, dressed in black. Thirtyish? Would this be the accountant put in place by the Priors to see that Dan ran the place properly? Keeping an eye on him when he talked to someone connected with his past love? Mm. Probably.
Ellie raised her hand in farewell and set about finding a taxi to take her home.
FRIDAY MORNING . . .
Why didn’t the phone ring? She couldn’t stay in for ever. She must leave the house sometime. Only then could he deal with her. The hours were slipping away, and so were his options. He’d rung the house but she’d gone out. Shopping, they said. Why hadn’t he been told she was out? And where was she?
FIFTEEN
Friday morning late
She’d been lucky with the taxi, which had come along just as she was wondering how pedestrians were supposed to cross from one side of the busy North Circular road to the other. It was all very well to have a central reservation, but four lanes of traffic in either direction were a trifle intimidating to someone on foot.
A black cab had come along just at the right moment, peeled off into the back streets and delivered her to the end of the Avenue in next to no time. She asked the driver to stop outside the police station, and paid him in some of the cash which she’d drawn out of the bank to give to Ursula. It was lucky the girl had refused, or Ellie would have been running short.
The police station. Ellie refused to let herself be cowed.
When Ellie had rung the station earlier, she’d been told that DC Milburn was out but expected back soon. Let’s hope half past eleven meant ‘soon’. Detective Inspector Willis was away this week, so she wasn’t available.
No, DC Milburn hadn’t arrived yet. Would Ellie take a seat? She did so, sighing. How many hours had she spent waiting on this hard seat in order to see police who thought her a major time-waster, someone who dreamed up conspiracy stories just to annoy them? Yet more often than not she’d been proved right.
In Mia’s case, was she really wasting their time? On the whole she thought not, though every now and then she wondered if she were really imagining things. But she hadn’t imagined the sympathy card, the wreath, the packet of coconut ice. She began to make a list of everything odd that had happened, so that she could tell her story without getting in a muddle. After that she had nothing to do but stare into space.
Dear Lord, I seem to have missed out on talking to You recently. I’ve been busy, of course, but that’s no excuse. Sorry and all that. You know the muddle I’m in. So much going wrong, and I do worry about Diana, though I’m sure she’d think I was being silly to do so. I know I ought to start talking to You by giving thanks, and I do. I really do. Mia is so much better. But You know all about that. And Ursula, such a lovely girl. Do look after her wedding day, won’t You?
This business of Denis . . . Well, You know more about it than I do. Did he really kill that poor woman? Oh, surely I must be wrong about that. I know; leave it to the police.
Please take extra care of Valerie and the boys. I’m afraid she may be in danger if he realizes she wants to scupper his plans. Not, of course, that I know that’s what she’s doing.
So, what about this Silly Billy? I can’t think there can be anything in it. Oh, here comes trouble . . .
‘Mrs Quicke? What are you doing here? Did I ask you to come in to make a statement? Have you remembered that you saw the deceased yesterday? Is that it?’
A horsey neigh of laughter.
The ‘Ears’ inspector. Oh dear.
He leaned over her. ‘This is none of your business. The Summers woman had lots of male visitors and we expect to make an arrest shortly. So keep out of it.’
She tried not to get flustered. He was standing far too close, trying to intimidate her. ‘Did you check her bank account?’
‘What, what?’ Even his ears went red.
‘You might something interesting, if you do.’
‘It’s an open and shut case and—’
‘Denis was one of her male visitors. Did he tell you that? No? Well, never mind. I didn’t come in to see you about that. I came to see DC Milburn on another matter.’
‘Another bee in your bonnet?’ He stalked off, annoyance leaking from every line of him. She’d bet he wouldn’t check Mrs Summers’ bank account, either. Sigh . . .
‘Mrs Quicke?’ This time it was DC Milburn, stocky and single-minded as ever. ‘You wanted to see me about something? We have checked, you know. All the people concerned in the Prior case are still in jail, except for Mrs Prior who has now left the area.’
‘Yes, I know. But one or two other alarming incidents lead me to believe that someone – and no, I don’t know who – may still be trying to harm, or perhaps just to intimidate, Mia. Can you spare a minute?’
Ellie was ushered into the usual grey interview room. She went through her tale, referring to her list of ‘incidents’ as she did so, aware that DC Milburn had begun to fidget.
Finally, the DC lost patience. ‘Mrs Quicke, we have a great many important cases on our books at the moment and we’re short-handed, holidays and so on. All this is rather trivial, isn’t it? There’s been no direct threat to Mia, has there?’
‘I suppose not, except for the car which nearly ran us over on Monday.’
‘An accident. A joyrider, probably someone un
der age who pinched the car for a laugh and then couldn’t handle it. That Volvo was automatic, but the lad who took it was probably looking for the gear shift when it veered off the road and on to the pavement.’
‘Killing a young mother and injuring her little boy.’
A grimace. ‘Yes, I know. Terrible. But the only fingerprints we found in the car were those of its legitimate owner and her young family.’
‘The steering wheel had been wiped clean?’
A nod. ‘They know about that nowadays, these young tearaways. We are checking with all the known offenders in this area and hope to make an arrest soon.’
‘If he’s under age, he’ll probably just get a slap on the wrist, even though he’s killed someone.’
‘By mistake. Yes. Probably. That’ll be up to the courts to decide.’
Ellie shook her head. ‘Will you at least send someone for the package of coconut ice? It looks as if some rat poison has been mixed in with it.’
A smile. False? ‘Of course. When we’ve time. It’s probably just a spot of food colouring.’ She stood up and held the door open. ‘Do let me know if anything else happens, won’t you?’ She didn’t mean it.
Ellie gathered herself together and left the police station, feeling frustrated and in need of sustenance. She remembered Thomas had said he’d grab a sandwich at lunchtime, and it was nearly one o’clock now. She had a quick tussle with her conscience. If she went back home, she could put the fish she’d bought into the fridge and relieve Pat from the duty of looking after the workmen. But, as Thomas had remarked, the house was no place for a sane person that day, and the fish wouldn’t spoil if she took time out for lunch in the Avenue.
The Sunflower Café seemed a little too busy for comfort, so Ellie went on to Oscar’s, where she ordered a panini and an Innocent drink, and went outside into the garden at the back for a bit of peace and quiet.
Her phone rang. It was Ursula. ‘Mrs Quicke, I’m sorry to trouble you when I’m sure you’ve got a thousand and one things to do. I saw the Gazette this morning and, well, of course it’s just a coincidence, isn’t it? I just thought for a moment . . . but no one is really trying to kill Mia, are they?’
Ellie was silent for a long moment, thinking about this. She’d told herself it was an accident. Mia hadn’t thought it was. Now Ursula – whose antenna were well attuned to what was going on around her – was raising the same question.
At last she said, ‘I don’t know. Coincidences do happen. I was nearly run over by a white van the other day when I visited Mia’s mother, and it’s a long shot to suppose someone mistook me for Mia. I don’t know what I believe.’
‘It set me thinking.’ Ursula held the phone away from her to speak to someone else. ‘Just a minute. I won’t be a tic.’ She came back to Ellie. ‘The thing is, I’ve got to go out in a minute as we’re trying to find a bridesmaid’s dress for my little American sister, who’s broken her arm and is trying not to show that it hurts, such a brave little girl. I told Mia about her, and Mia suggested Sandy might like to be a bridesmaid, too, and she’s thrilled. Mia will look after her beautifully, won’t she?’
‘That’s a lovely idea, but—’
‘It’s not going to be easy to find something for her to wear at such short notice, but I’m going to try. A simple white dress of some kind would do.’
‘What about a bouquet? Can she carry one?’
‘I thought perhaps she could carry a little basket of flowers, but I really haven’t got time to pop into the florist’s—’
‘I’m in the Avenue now. Would you trust me to see to it? Mia’s bouquet is being delivered to my place and, if I can find another, she can bring one for your sister along to the church tomorrow.’
‘Oh, bless you. But, the real reason for this phone call is that I got to thinking about this so-called accident on Monday and I didn’t like the sound of it, not one bit. So I’ve been ringing around a couple of my old friends from uni, asking after Billy. His name’s Bright, by the way, and he lives somewhere off Acton High Street.’
Ursula half covered the phone again to say to someone, ‘Yes, yes. I’m coming.’ And then back to Ellie. ‘Through a friend of a friend, I reached a man called Ahmed who knows Billy, so I’ve given him your mobile phone number, if that’s all right. I’ve got to go. See you this evening at church.’
Ellie left her phone switched on, reflecting that she wouldn’t normally have had it on at all, if it hadn’t been for the Party Planner insisting that she remained in touch throughout proceedings. She wondered how they were getting on back at home, and began to fret about it . . . until she decided that Mr Balls was being paid to smooth out any problems, and she really didn’t need to concern herself with them. For the time being, anyway. She put the phone down on the table while she picked up her panini, which was dripping with cheese and looked luscious.
Her phone rang again. ‘My name is Ahmed. Am I speaking to a Mrs Quicke?’ A slightly nasal tone, a precise manner of speaking, a well-educated man possibly of Middle Eastern origin.
‘Yes, indeed. Ursula asked you to ring me about Billy Bright?’
‘I know nothing of any importance but Ursula insists that I ring you. I do not know her friend Mia to speak to, although I have seen her around. I am a Muslim, you understand, and she is Christian, so we do not socialize. She is not a girl to flirt or behave immodestly. Never. I was shocked when I heard.’
‘You were not at the Prior’s party that night?’
‘No, no. I am not in that crowd, and I do not drink. In any case, I had gone back home for the holiday. Only, when I return at the start of the Spring term, I hear about it. A terrible thing.’
‘She’s been receiving threatening messages recently. We understand that Billy Bright was fond of her, and wondered if he might have seen something or know something, have some idea where to look for the man who is doing this. You know Billy?’
‘I did. The poor lad was brilliant in his way, but not well able to understand the modern world. I respected his ability, which is possibly greater even than my own – I am going on to a PhD, you understand – but we do not socialize.’
‘Because he was not a Muslim?’
‘No, because he stinks. He has always been careless about personal hygiene, but after his mother dies, he wears the same clothes day after day, never cuts his hair . . . you understand?’
‘Yes, indeed. I heard he was fixated on Mia and followed her around.’
‘I know nothing of that. As I explained, we do not move in the same circles.’
‘So what do you know, Mr Ahmed?’
Ahmed seemed to be weighing his words. ‘I know that he does not resume his studies at the start of the Spring term. Our tutor says Billy has had a breakdown and is in hospital. It happens sometimes, with finely balanced minds.’
This was bad news. Ellie had hoped so much that Billy would have been able to give them a lead to Mia’s persecutor. ‘Was he in for long?’
‘A couple of weeks, I suppose. After that we see him in the grounds and in the library, but he does not return to lectures. I speak to him once but he avoids my eye and walks off. We think perhaps he is on medication which makes him unable to concentrate.’
‘Oh dear. Obviously he won’t be able to help us. A pity. We can’t think what to do next.’
‘It is not my place to make suggestions—’
‘All suggestions gratefully received.’
‘It is not my field of expertise but it does occur to me, we have discussed among ourselves, that Billy’s breakdown may be a consequence of the terrible thing that is done to Mia. Amateur psychology is worth nothing, but it is known that he is devoted to his mother, who died . . . after which he transfers his devotion to Mia, who is always kind when other girls laugh at him. You understand?’
‘Yes, I do. You believe that when he heard about it—’
‘It turns him into a “gibbering wreck”. Is that the correct idiom? One of my friends uses those words about Bi
lly when he comes across him in the Ealing Broadway Centre, talking to himself. My friend is shocked because Billy is cursing Mia.’
‘This was before he was sectioned, I suppose?’
‘It is last week.’
‘What?’
‘My friend says Billy is clutching his mobile phone, talking to it or to himself.’
A nasty thought wormed its way into the back of Ellie’s mind. ‘What time and what day was this?’
‘I have no idea. I ask my friend on Monday if it is important. He is away this weekend.’
‘Was the mobile phone also a camera, capable of receiving pictures?’
‘Aren’t they all?’
No. Ellie’s wasn’t. No, wait a minute; she’d been given her current mobile by a friend and it might well have a camera included in its innards, though Ellie hadn’t the slightest idea how to operate it. ‘Might it have been last Monday?’
‘I suppose. Yes, it is possible.’
‘Mia and I were nearly run down by a car when we were in Ealing Broadway on Monday last.’
Ahmed laughed. ‘That is not Billy. He is not able to drive.’
‘No, of course not. A terrible thing; a young woman killed and her two children left motherless, though their family has taken them in, thank God. A number of people rushed up to see what was happening. Some tried to help, but others just stood around gaping. Two or three of them took photographs on their mobiles. I don’t know if you’ve seen the local paper today—’
‘No.’
‘Well, there was a photograph of the aftermath of the accident on the front page and it could only have been taken then and there. No official photographer was around at the time. I’m just wondering if a picture of the tragedy was sent to Billy’s phone by a well-wisher. You can see Mia’s face quite clearly. Also, when the police came up, I had to give my name and address and say that Mia was staying with me. Anyone in the watching crowd could have heard me and sent the information to Billy.’
Murder by Mistake Page 19
