Murder With Mercy

by Veronica Heley

  Evan said he was desperate for company so of course she agreed to visit. He said he’d ring her back when he knew exactly when he’d be free, which was a bit of a facer if he really was so much alone. But there, perhaps someone had come into the room and he didn’t want her to know that he was contacting such an old friend. Yes, that would be it. Diana must have come in, and he’d not wanted her to hear. Well, well. Concealing the truth from his new wife so soon?

  Or really desperate.

  If he didn’t ring back, she’d have to find some way of getting to see him.

  SEVEN

  Thursday morning

  A nasty, wet, windy morning. Also, a business morning. Ellie usually wore comfortable casual clothes around the house but on business meeting mornings she felt obliged to make an effort. Even if no one else was impressed, dressing formally made her feel better able to play the part of the head of her charitable trust. True, others would make all the necessary decisions, and only occasionally was she called upon to do more than dispense coffee and, even more rarely, to adjudicate. Thomas said she was an excellent captain because could have steered the good ship Lollipop with one finger on the helm while her crew worked their socks off to earn her approval. Ellie thought he exaggerated.

  The meeting would start at ten, but before that … Oh dear, it was going to be a busy day, wasn’t it? Thomas had risen early and by now must be down in his quiet room, saying the office for the day. Rose might or might not be up and about. Ellie pulled on a good white blouse and a navy skirt. That outfit wasn’t quite warm enough, but she found a blue and white woollen waistcoat to go over it. She slipped on some dark-blue brogues, which were comfortable and still new enough to look smart, and climbed the stairs to the top floor to check on the invalid.

  Vera was blearily awake, eyes at half mast, temperature still far too high. Ellie cajoled her into taking a shower while she herself changed the bedlinen and found a clean pair of pyjamas for the invalid. Mikey was – thank goodness – sprawled across his own bed, fast asleep. Still too warm for comfort. Did he have flu, was he going down with it? Mindful of the doctor’s words about concussion, Ellie shook the boy awake and made him open his eyes. He yawned in her face, curled himself into a ball and retreated from the day. Ellie lifted his arm and inspected the scratch on it. Healing nicely. No need for stitches or a bandage. She moved him into a more comfortable position and pulled the duvet over him. He still didn’t wake up.

  Should she leave him in bed, or try to make him go to school?

  Best be on the safe side. She’d ring the school and tell them he was sick.

  Down to the ground floor. Rose was up and about but not dressed. Rose had filled the dishwasher but not set it running. Was there enough other crockery and cutlery for breakfast? Well, it didn’t matter if plates didn’t match, did it?

  Thomas came bustling in, rubbing his hands. He’d been out to check on his car, parked in the drive outside. ‘There was a frost last night, but the car’s all right. I must remember to renew the antifreeze. Shall I cook breakfast?’

  The phone rang. Diana. ‘Just ringing to check. You can sit with Evan this morning, can’t you?’

  ‘No, dear. Thursday is my business morning. Remember?’

  ‘But I’m relying on you to—’

  ‘Sorry, Diana. I really can’t. It takes all morning. I’ve got a pile of other work to see to but I said I’d pop in to see him at lunchtime, and I will.’

  ‘You’ll check on those other women as well?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  Ellie put the phone down, and it rang again. This time it was Hugh, the project manager from the hotel site. ‘Mrs Quicke, I was up at Head Office all day yesterday, and I’ve only just heard about the boy being taken to the police station. Is he all right? I’d like to come round and talk about it.’

  She looked at her watch. Bother, she’d forgotten to put it on this morning. ‘I was going to ring you. Can you come straight away? I’ve a meeting at ten.’

  Thomas, pulling on his car coat, carrying a Thermos of hot coffee, kissed her ear. ‘Won’t be late. Hopefully. Is Vera all right? And the boy?’

  She nodded at Thomas and said to Hugh, ‘See you in a minute.’

  As she put the phone down, it rang again. Lesley Milburn. ‘Sorry to ring so early but there’s been a development which you need to know about. Not good news, I’m afraid. May I come round?’

  What could it possibly be? Could they prove that Mikey really had done some damage at the hotel site? Were they going to charge him with it? Her brain went into spasm. The business meeting … She couldn’t cancel. Vera was still too poorly to be asked to do anything. Mikey was asleep. Rose was up and about. Evan must be visited.

  Ellie stilled her breathing. Surely nothing bad could happen if she put off talking to Lesley for a few hours? ‘I’m tied up all morning and early afternoon. What about teatime? Half three, say?’

  ‘Can’t you make it any earlier?’

  Ellie suppressed panic. Could she rearrange everything? ‘No, I really can’t.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I suppose it won’t make much difference. By the way, did that girl Petra come to see you about a job?’

  ‘I gave her some advice, but I don’t think she was prepared to take it.’

  It was going to be a difficult day.

  Ellie phoned Mikey’s school and got the secretary, a frosty personage whose function was to intimidate all parents and prevent them, if possible, from speaking to the genial head teacher. Ellie foresaw a difficult interview with the head at some point, but for now she simply reported that Mikey had gone down with flu and wouldn’t be in that day. She did not try to explain about the police involvement. No doubt the subject would come up later.

  Hugh rang the doorbell as she replaced the phone. He shed his coat, making no attempt at small talk.

  ‘Tea, coffee?’

  He shook his head.

  She led the way into the sitting room, wishing she’d had time to tidy up before he came.

  He said, ‘I’m heartsick over this. I wouldn’t have got the police involved if I’d been there, but it’s gone too far for me to stop it. Normally, I’m on site all day and every day but first there was this meeting at Head Office, which was bad enough, and then they phoned me from the site to say there was a problem. Someone had underestimated the number of tiles needed for the bathrooms and we need another two hundred but our accounts people have unaccountably failed to pay their last invoice so the supplier refused to play ball. I had to spend hours trying to sort that out, and by the time I got back to the site it was too late. In fact, it took a while to find out why the men were so edgy, and when they said … I couldn’t believe it. I rang the police station, and they said you’d taken the boy away.’

  ‘Eventually, yes.’

  A heavy sigh. ‘I couldn’t get a straight explanation out of the men. They said to ask Preston, but he’d gone home after he’d taken the boy to the station, so I went over to his house to talk to him about it. He’s a good workman, or has been, can turn his hand to most things, probably retiring after this job’s finished. I’ve never had cause to question his integrity before. He says he caught the boy red-handed under one of the baths, with a wrench, trying to undo a nut. If he’d succeeded, there’d have been a slow drip of water, not easy to trace … and the damage …’

  ‘And the damage to the boy?’

  He stared. ‘What damage?’

  ‘In his statement to the police, Preston says the boy tumbled down some stairs when he was caught. This was supposed to explain why he’d been clouted on the jaw, had massive bruises on his upper arms, and oh, yes, don’t let me forget it, a knife cut which slashed through his jacket and sweatshirt. Luckily, it only scratched his forearm.’

  Hugh stared into space. Then focused back on Ellie. ‘Mikey doesn’t carry a knife?’ He made it a query, but he knew the answer really.

  She said, ‘Of course he doesn’t. Workmen often carry knives, don’t they?’


  Hugh licked his lips. ‘You’re saying … No, no. Why would Preston …?’

  ‘Unless …?’

  Hugh didn’t want to consider the prospect of one of his own men turning traitor on him. ‘Preston said the boy acted sullen when he realized he’d been caught. I suppose he might have hit his head when he tumbled down the stairs.’

  ‘Possibly. He’d certainly been clouted on his jaw. The doctor at the police station checked him out for concussion and said it probably wasn’t, but organized photographs to be taken of his injuries. His mother had gone down with flu earlier that day. The boy was running a high temperature. He’s been asleep more or less ever since. I’m hoping it’s only flu.’

  Hugh passed a big hand over his face. ‘What a mess.’

  ‘Suppose we turn the scenario around? Mikey came across one of your men in the act of sabotage, and whoever it was reacted by lashing out at the boy.’

  ‘Not Preston.’

  ‘If it wasn’t Preston, then why did he take it upon himself to haul the boy off to the police?’

  He stared at her, and she stared back.

  ‘No, no. I can’t believe it.’ He didn’t want to believe it. ‘Suppose … suppose Preston found Mikey looking at a leak which had been started by someone else? Preston jumped to the wrong conclusion and overreacted.’

  ‘I’d like it, too … if it weren’t for the knife. Preston – or someone – went for Mikey with a knife.’

  Hugh kneaded his cheek. ‘I don’t like that.’

  ‘You can’t ignore it. Mikey has a knife slash through his jacket and his sweatshirt. It’s a defensive wound. He’d held up his forearm to ward off a blow. The thickness of his clothing saved him from a nasty cut down his forearm. He’s scratched, and will need a new jacket and sweat shirt, but that’s all.’

  ‘I can’t see Preston lashing out with a knife. He’s a family man. He wouldn’t.’

  ‘Then … who?’

  ‘Preston wouldn’t have used a knife on a boy. I’ll have another chat to him. Perhaps he did overreact when he found the boy where he ought not to have been, but I’m sure he wasn’t responsible for the boy’s injuries.’

  Ellie had a feeling that Hugh was waltzing around the issue, concealing some information, hiding something? But why? And what?

  He said, ‘I’ll go down to the station and say we are not going to press charges.’

  That was fine as far as it went. ‘And I’ll see to it that Mikey pays no more visits to the site – when he’s recovered.’

  He shifted uneasily. ‘I must remember to get that rope cut that Mikey uses to get over the wall. What with this and that, I forgot about it this morning.’ He scratched the back of his neck. ‘You must understand that Preston is one of the old guard. He’s worked for me full time on a number of projects over the years, and I’ve never known him overstep the line. It’s uncharacteristic. I’m sure we’ll find there’s some perfectly simple explanation for what happened. Preston and Mikey may have stumbled across the damage at the same moment. Or perhaps the boy tumbled down the stairs and hurt himself on his own. Preston picked him up and—’

  ‘And knocked six bells out of him? Again, I say, if not Preston, then who?’

  ‘I don’t like to think that any of my men … You say you’ve got evidence? What sort of evidence?’

  She hadn’t really got anything, had she? ‘Photographs of the boy’s injuries were taken by the police at the station.’

  ‘You can’t prove Preston did it.’

  ‘Agreed. I suppose it depends exactly what Preston accused the boy of doing, when he made his statement to the police.’

  ‘What does the boy say?’

  ‘Nothing. He’s too ill to talk.’ Crossing her fingers.

  Hugh shook his head. ‘I’ll ask if anyone else witnessed the incident. I’ll get Preston to write out a full account of what happened. The worst of it is that it’s thrown us behind schedule again, so there’s going to be even more questions asked at Head Office.’

  The front doorbell rang. There was a bustle out in the hall; voices were raised, doors were opened and shut. The business meeting was about to start in the dining room. Ellie looked at the door, wondering whether to make her excuses to Hugh or to her fellow trustees.

  Hugh made up her mind for her. He stood up, holding out his hand. ‘Tell the boy … I don’t know what you can tell him, except that I wish him well. All right?’

  ‘Thank you, Hugh.’ She shook his hand, helped him on with his coat, and saw him off the premises.

  What next? The answerphone light was winking again. What was it Lesley Milburn wanted to say to her? Did Preston’s formal complaint accuse the boy of an offence so serious that Hugh would be unable to stop things going any further?

  Well, she couldn’t think about that now. She had a business meeting to attend. She put her head round the dining room door, saw everyone was there but that no coffee had yet appeared. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

  Where was Rose, who was always ready to feed and water visitors? Not in the kitchen. Ellie returned to the hall, to see Rose halfway up the stairs, panting and holding on to the banister. ‘Sorry, Ellie. Long way up. I thought I heard the boy cry out but my legs gave way. Old age is a terror, isn’t it?’

  Ellie managed to pull Rose to her feet and helped her down into the hall with an arm around her waist. ‘Go and have a rest in your own room, my dear. I’ll see to everything.’

  ‘Just like you.’ Rose creaked her way along. ‘You think you’re Superwoman. Come to think of it, a nice little lie down would be just the ticket. I’ll be back on my feet again in no time.’

  Ellie eased Rose on to her bed, switched on the telly with the sound turned low, and almost ran back into the kitchen. The breakfast things were still on the table but the dishwasher had run its course. She put the kettle on to make a cafetière of coffee, while throwing cups and saucers on to a tray.

  Stewart, who had once been married to Diana but was now thankfully and happily remarried with a new family to look after and love, came in to see if he could help. Much to Diana’s disgust, Stewart was now the highly valued general manager of the trust. ‘Rose said there was some kind of crisis? Is there anything I can do?’

  Ellie was fond of Stewart. ‘Find the sugar and the milk jug. Crisis? Yes, you could call it that. Stewart, could you make the coffee and take it in? Vera and Mikey are down with the flu and I need to check on them before I do anything else.’

  Ever practical, Stewart buckled to, while Ellie started up the stairs, slowing down and breathing hard before she got to the top of the first flight. If she was finding it hard to cope, she wasn’t surprised that Rose had given up.

  Vera was still in bed and, if possible, looked worse than before. Her temperature was still high, and the sandwich someone had made and put beside her bed was uneaten and going stale. She half opened her eyes to give Ellie an approxim-ation of a smile, and said, ‘Mikey all right?’

  ‘He’s down with flu as well. I’m looking after him. Don’t you worry about anything except getting well. Have you taken some aspirin? Have you enough to drink?’

  Vera nodded and drifted off into sleep again. Best thing for her.

  Next door, Mikey was lying in bed, eyes open, not moving. The cat Midge was lying, curled up, on his tummy. Ellie touched his forehead. Warm, but not hot. He hadn’t got flu, had he? Or had he?

  ‘Are you well enough to get up?’

  He shook his head a fraction.

  ‘I told the school you’d got flu, but I don’t think you have. Mikey, I know you’re in trouble and I want to help. Hugh’s been round, anxious for you. We need to talk about what happened. I haven’t told your mother anything, she’s too poorly to be bothered, but at some point I do need to hear your side of events.’

  He shook his head again and closed his eyes. He had his own small television set and computer. What was the betting he’d be out of bed and switching them on, the moment she left the room? She wasn’t a b
etting woman.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  No. Well, Vera kept her freezer and fridge well stocked, and there was a microwave as well as a conventional oven in their kitchen. The boy wouldn’t starve.

  Ellie descended the two flights of stairs, trying to clear her mind of everything that had been happening recently in order to concentrate on the business of the trust.

  Ellie had never been particularly interested in luxury for herself, but had inherited sizeable estates from her first husband, from his aunt and, latterly, from her good neighbour Mrs Pryce. She had set up the charitable trust to deal with these bequests.

  This morning’s meeting ought to be routine but she was the chair and must keep her wits about her. It wasn’t fair to the others to have a chair whose mind was occupied with thoughts of sabotage and/or how many painkillers you could take for flu in any twenty-four hour period.

  Today there were only three other people at the meeting: Stewart himself, who had overall responsibility for the administration of the trust; Kate, their financial guru; and Pat, Ellie’s part-time secretary, who took notes and saw that everyone did what they’d promised to do from one week to the next. All three were well on top of their jobs and zipped through the agenda with ease.

  Despite her best intentions, Ellie let most of the meeting pass by in a daze. She was pretty sure she hadn’t missed anything … until Stewart uttered the name of that time-wasting spendthrift, Ms Edwina Pryce.

  He passed a letter on headed notepaper to Ellie. ‘The Pryce woman has got a new solicitor who’s alleging that you are behind the series of ‘accidents’ which have caused the work at the hotel to fall behind schedule. He claims that you are acting against the best interests of the hotel and have placed the Pryce family’s future in jeopardy.’

  ‘What? Wait a minute! I had a letter from her solicitor the other day but—’

  ‘She proposes that you resign from the board and transfer your shares in the hotel to her by way of compensation. What’s going on, Ellie?’