Murder by Mistake

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Ah. Someone at uni is talking about an accident and says Mia is involved. Some of the students put these things on Facebook.’

  ‘Bear with me. What I’m wondering, you see, is if Billy had thought her so perfect before, if he’d put her in his mother’s place in his mind, and then learned she’d been abused by her family and their friends . . . Might this not have tipped him over into hating her? Perhaps he convinced himself that she’d really been a wanton creature all along? Then, perhaps, he might wish to punish her for wrecking his illusions?’

  ‘You are the amateur psychologist now?’

  ‘It might have happened that way though, mightn’t it? His behaviour is disconcerting, you must agree.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘It was good of you to ring me. Thank you. If you hear anything more—’

  ‘I will ring you, yes. If you are correct in what you think, he should be sectioned again, for his own safety.’

  ‘And hers.’

  ‘Yes. And hers.’

  Ellie put the phone down and concentrated on her panini, which was now cold but still delicious, though inclined to deposit dripping cheese everywhere. The more she thought about Billy and his breakdown, the more convinced she was that that poor deluded creature was responsible for the recent persecution of Mia. It hadn’t been the Prior family or their friends; they’d all been duly accounted for, anyway. It hadn’t been her mother, who’d move on to fry other fish.

  Now, if Billy Bright was at the bottom of the threatening messages Mia had been getting, was it right to dismiss his attempts as trivial? No, because he’d progressed from sending lilies to a sympathy card to rat poison. That is, if it really were poison in the coconut ice. Ellie would take a bet on its being lethal.

  Which left her with a dilemma. If she was right, then Billy Bright had committed a criminal act, although he was probably not altogether responsible for his actions. Should Ellie inform the police of her theory . . . which was only a theory based on hearsay?

  She rather thought she should. However much they might laugh at her, the police needed to know about Billy, and if he so much as put a foot wrong in future, they’d be able to cope. To section him. And, if he was on medication as Ahmed had surmised, then it should be adjusted immediately, if not sooner.

  She picked up her phone, and put it down again. She could just imagine how ‘Ears’ would greet her suspicions. Would DC Milburn think the same? Probably.

  Ellie set her teeth. She would get herself a cappuccino, put in lots of sugar, and then see if she had the nerve to report the man.

  She had some coffee, and although it didn’t seem to give her the necessary Dutch courage, she got through to the police station. DC Milburn was out. Of course. Would she like to leave a message? Ellie envisaged the message being taken down and left on DC Milburn’s desk. She could imagine the policewoman reading it, and laughing. She would say, ‘Whatever nonsense will Mrs Quicke think up next?’

  Well, tough. Ellie dictated the message slowly and clearly. ‘Please tell WDC Milburn that I believe a student by the name of William Bright, who lives somewhere off Acton High Street, has been responsible for the threatening messages that Mia Prior has been receiving . . . How do you spell Mia? Yes, that’s right. And William Bright is known as Billy. Shall I spell that for you? No. I’m told he lives off . . . Oh, you got that, did you? I am told he experienced a breakdown after Mia’s problem became known, was sectioned for a while, and hasn’t been the same since. Yes, sectioned. As in Mental Health. And yes, I am very worried about what he might do next.’

  Ellie listened while the message was read back to her. ‘DC Milburn will get this when she returns to the station.’

  Good. Ellie put her phone down again. She had done all she could, hadn’t she?

  Well, no. She had a nagging feeling that she hadn’t.

  Her other big worry surfaced to give her violent indigestion. What was she supposed to do about Denis, the likelihood that he had murdered Mrs Summers, and his possibly bigamous intentions? What could she do? And Midge . . . Had he returned or was he lost to them for ever?

  Ellie scolded herself back to the present. She had more practical tasks on hand than she could manage in the time at her disposal. She must get something light to eat for tomorrow night after the weddings, and buy a joint for Sunday. Also she must call in at the flower shop and arrange for another bridesmaid’s bouquet for Ursula’s little half-sister. What was her name? Sandy. Short for Alexandra?

  How like Ursula to include a little girl with an arm in plaster in her celebrations. Most brides only thought of the look of the thing. Diana, for instance . . . No, don’t think about Diana, who wouldn’t have wanted a bridesmaid who might outshine her.

  Oh, Diana. I fear you are riding for such a nasty fall.

  Ellie grabbed her bags and set out for the butcher’s.

  Friday afternoon

  He felt feverish. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been taken out in an ambulance – or a hearse. He’d have preferred the hearse. His mother had been taken away in an ambulance, although they’d said there wasn’t much hope of saving her. She’d taken too many pills, they said. He’d howled like a crazy dog when he found her lying there. Why did she have to go and leave him like that? She’d said the pain was too much to bear, that the cancer was eating her up, but she could have borne it for his sake, couldn’t she?

  Mia had been so kind to him, afterwards. He had had no idea what she was really like, then. She’d had designs on him, that was it. She’d pretended to be a good girl while in reality she was nothing but a slut. A used-up prostitute.

  He couldn’t understand how she could live with herself. She ought to have done the right thing and committed suicide. Hadn’t he given her enough hints? Last night he’d scrambled over the side door into the back garden, hoping to find a way into the house, into her room. But there was a great big tent in the way.

  This morning he’d strolled past the house and seen vans and cars coming and going. The front door was propped open as people took things in and brought things out.

  An elderly man was making heavy weather of taking some boxes into the house from a florist’s van, so it was only right to lend a hand. At last he was in the house. Delivery boys never get asked for their credentials, do they? She wasn’t there, though. He wandered all over the ground floor till some cleaning woman stopped him and asked if he was looking for the toilet.

  He took the hint and went back to helping the delivery man to take some candelabra out of the boxes and leave them in the dining room. The candelabra were twined round with ivy. The man said his daughter would be adding flowers to them later, but that she was round at the church at the moment doing the flowers that had to be finished before the wedding rehearsal this evening. He said what church it was, too.

  Six thirty this evening. He would get her this time.

  SIXTEEN

  Friday afternoon

  Ellie went from the butcher’s to the greengrocer, because Mia was getting through bananas and oranges even quicker than Thomas. As an afterthought, she bought some cold meats from the deli for anyone who might want a sandwich over the weekend and hadn’t time to cook a meal.

  Then she went to see the florist in the Avenue. The owner was nowhere to be seen and unfortunately her assistant turned out to be a ditherer. Ellie said, ‘Look, all I need is an extra bridesmaid’s bouquet. Can’t you do one for me?’

  ‘The boss is out and I can’t . . . She’s at the church now, doing the flowers. The bouquets and buttonholes for both weddings are already on the van together with the rest of the table decorations, so that all she has to do is give them their final touches on site tomorrow morning.’

  Exercising patience and flashing her credit card, Ellie persuaded the girl to find a basket suitable for a child to carry – even one with an arm in plaster – and to fill it with white, yellow and lilac flowers, firmly set in a block of wet Oasis. The only problem then was that Ellie would have to a
dd the basket to what she was already carrying. Should she get a taxi? No, it was probably quicker to walk. Tiring, but quicker.

  She arrived home feeling hot and tired . . . only to wish she’d stayed out longer. As Thomas had said, the house was no place for a sensible person that day.

  In the hall the Party Planner was mopping his brow thoroughly enough to shift his toupee to one side, while the cleaning team dodged around him and electricians shouted incomprehensible reports of this and that. Someone had moved the bridal arch so it stood by the stairs; probably to make it easier to take tables and chairs through to the dining room.

  ‘There’s no need to panic, dear lady. You may trust me to see everything will be absolutely tickety-boo.’

  ‘Of course.’ Ellie gave him a grim smile. ‘What else do I pay you for?’

  His chest swelled, but his voice trembled as he patted his cheeks dry. ‘We cannot always trust others to be as professional as one would wish. The decorator – a fine woman normally, but in some distress – a daughter’s illness, a husband gone astray – but what is that when one is supposed to remember the chair covers as well as the tablecloths? One despairs, one really does.’

  Ellie edged around him, aiming for the kitchen. ‘I rely on you to get it sorted.’

  In the kitchen Rose was dispensing mugs of tea to members of the workforce, while Mia tied yards of a prettily figured lavender organza ribbon around tiny containers of bubbles, each one in the shape of a wedding cake. Three large men were making the most of their tea break, but when Ellie’s hard eye was turned upon them, they beat a retreat.

  Ellie looked a question at Rose.

  Rose shook her head. ‘No sign of Midge yet.’

  Ellie unpacked fruit, fish, joint and cold meats, and held up the flower-filled basket. ‘Will this do for Ursula’s little sister, do you think?’

  Rose exclaimed with pleasure. ‘Now there’s a pretty thing.’

  Mia said, ‘I could put some of this lavender ribbon round it so she could string it round her neck when she needs both hands free.’

  Pat bustled in, grimly pleased to see Ellie returned. ‘Thomas rang; he said he’d tried to get you on your mobile, but you were engaged. He said he’d no luck at the registry office. They wouldn’t tell him anything.’

  Ellie nodded.

  ‘Stewart rang to say little Frank’s still refusing to dress up for the wedding and be a ring boy, and he – that is, Stewart – has been ringing Diana to see if he could get Frank off the hook, but she insists he go through with it and is dropping his outfit over there this afternoon. Stewart says he’s made some sort of bargain with his son; Stewart will bring him to the party and take him away as soon as the vows have been exchanged and the lad’s done his bit. Then they’ll all go off on their holidays as planned.’

  Ellie nodded. Perhaps that was the best that could be hoped for.

  Pat shuffled bits of paper. ‘Mrs Belton rang. Ursula’s mother. She wants to come round to inspect everything, which I suppose is understandable but not helpful at the moment. She’s on about a wedding cake, but we haven’t had a wedding cake delivered for Ursula, have we?’

  Rose stowed Ellie’s purchases in the fridge. ‘I’ll cook the fish when we come back from the rehearsal. As for wedding cakes, there’s one come for Diana. Five tiers with bride and bridegroom figures on the top. What you’d expect.’

  Mia held up the basket by its new ribbon loop. ‘Is this long enough, do you think? Ursula said she didn’t want a cake. I’d have ordered one for her if I’d thought about it early enough.’

  Ellie switched on the kettle. ‘Thanks, Pat. I appreciate your standing in for me. Do you want to go off early? I don’t think we’ll be getting any work done today. Time for a cuppa, everyone?’

  ‘Yoo-hoo!’ A hard, clear voice. Diana!

  Everyone froze.

  Rose dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘What does she want?’

  ‘To sleep here overnight,’ said Pat. ‘Didn’t I say? She rang earlier to make sure the guest room would be free.’

  Rose muttered, ‘That’s supposed to be Mia’s room.’

  Mia shrugged. ‘Well, I’m not using it, so of course she can have it. I like sleeping above Rose’s room.’

  Rose pulled a face. ‘Well, I’ve no time to go round changing sheets, so she’ll have to lump it.’

  Ellie made herself a cup of strong tea in a mug, added milk and – at the last minute – some sugar. She also took the last biscuit from the tin, thinking that she was going to need all the carbohydrates she could lay her hands on. ‘I’ll deal with her.’

  As she passed through the door into the hall, stepping sideways to avoid Mr Balls, something gauzy and light came floating down from the landing above, followed by a high-heeled sandal. Mia’s bridesmaid’s outfit? Ellie looked up to see Diana on the landing throwing the second shoe down.

  Mr Balls took the phone away from his ear and stared as the fabric slowly settled on the floor. A cleaning woman carrying a box of polishing materials looked up and exclaimed in horror. The second shoe caught on the bridal arch and hung there, swinging to and fro.

  Diana brushed one hand against the other. ‘I don’t know what that’s doing in my wardrobe. I need the space, so you can find somewhere else to put it.’ She vanished down the corridor.

  Ellie picked up Mia’s dress, rescued the sandals and mounted the stairs. She took the outfit into Mia’s bedroom above the kitchen, carefully hung up the dress and placed the shoes below it. No great damage done, except to her temper.

  She found Diana in the pretty guest room overlooking the garden, unpacking her wedding gown, shedding layers of tissue paper around . . . which someone else would have to pick up.

  Ellie threw up the bottom half of the sash window. No Midge. She sent up an arrow prayer. Dear Lord, can You keep Midge safe for us, please? Of course I realize he’s a streetwise cat and is probably staying away to show his disgust at this disturbance in his routine. But there are fast cars zipping up and down the road and . . . Enough!

  You know what I’m really asking You for now.

  Patience. Wisdom. In spades.

  And if You can spare a thought for my poor daughter, because my throat aches to think of what she’s heading into . . .?

  Well, that’s about it. Oh, I forgot. Please. And amen.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ Diana at her most acid. ‘Cross because I’ve turfed the orphan child out into the storm?’

  Ellie shook her head.

  Diana hung her dress up, admiring it as she did so. She had brought a large suitcase with her, plus the box which had contained her dress, plus an enormous handbag. Once the dress was in the otherwise empty wardrobe, she began unloading toiletries from her bag on to the dressing table. She twitched a look at her mother. ‘Why the long face?’

  ‘I paid a visit to Valerie this morning. She’s recovering well from the last beating he gave her.’

  Diana’s busy hands stilled for a moment, and she met her mother’s eyes in the mirror. ‘She irritates the life out of him.’

  ‘She’s sent the children away. Two of them show signs of abuse. Apparently they didn’t get good enough school reports to satisfy him.’

  A shrug. ‘No skin off my nose.’

  ‘Oh, he doesn’t go for the face, usually. He hits the boys around the buttocks and legs. Valerie must have been specially “irritating” to get it in the face. How long do you think it will be before he starts on you?’

  ‘He won’t. Believe me, if he raised his hand to me he’d rue the day.’

  ‘Tough talking, but once you’ve been worked over once or twice, you won’t dare cross him. That’s what Valerie says, anyway.’

  Another shrug. ‘Valerie is history.’

  ‘Not exactly. She’s still his wife. She hasn’t divorced him yet. She’s waiting for him to commit bigamy, and then she’ll call the cops, her solicitor and the tabloids. If you let her.’

  ‘What!’

  Silence. Ellie le
t her words sink in.

  Diana produced a light laugh. ‘You’re joking, of course.’

  ‘You didn’t know? You signed papers to say you were divorced—’

  ‘He did too.’

  ‘Only, he isn’t. He’s taking you for a ride. What I can’t make out is why. Why go through all the rigmarole of a false registry office wedding? Why the charade of the big reception—’

  ‘He loves me.’

  ‘—Unless perhaps he means to cancel the registry office booking at the last minute, saying the paperwork hasn’t come through in time? Then, with all the preparations for the reception so well advanced, he’ll persuade you to go through with the rest of it, make vows before everyone, get you to commit yourself to him publicly.’

  Diana picked up her mobile phone, considered it, and laid it back down again. ‘Even if there’s been some sort of mistake and he’s trying to cover up the fact that the divorce papers haven’t come through yet, we can always get married later.’

  ‘You admit the possibility of error on his part?’

  A shrug. ‘I know he’s so keen to marry that he’d do anything to . . . Not that I mean anything, precisely.’

  ‘Ring him and see if he’s still on track for the registry office.’

  She lifted her phone, and put it down again. ‘It would mean I didn’t trust him.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’ Now Diana was getting angry. She started to rub cream on her face to remove her make-up. ‘Admit it; you’ve never liked him. You’ve never understood him – or me.’

  ‘No, I don’t understand him. For instance; why did he kill Mrs Summers?’

  ‘What?’ The jar of cream dropped from her hand, bounced off the dressing table and landed up on the floor. Another mess for someone to clean up. ‘How dare you! What makes you say that? Ridiculous!’

  ‘He had motive. It was she who tried to rent a big house for you, giving false references and a cheque that bounced. He can’t have been pleased when she was found out. She might well have found herself arrested for fraud, if she hadn’t so conveniently died, because she wouldn’t have taken the blame, would she? She’d have told the police who’d put her up to it, and then he’d have been arrested, too.’