Murder for Good

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Isn’t there even enough in the bank to pay someone to clear the house for you?’

  Dawn shook her head. ‘Wanna see the rest of the house? Our stepmother didn’t do any decorating and precious little maintenance since my dad died, which was ten years ago come December. My darling niece had her friends in for parties and wouldn’t have moved out but that my brother refused to pay the water bill so she had to go. No water for the loo, you understand? Once she’d gone, he paid the water bill and the gas, and I forked up for the electricity but not for the landline phone. We had to let that one go.’

  Dawn beckoned Ellie to follow her, and in silence they went up the stairs, up and up, two flights to the attic, which was cobwebbed and gurgled with old-fashioned pipes from a huge water tank. There were also mountains of junk interspersed with bits and pieces of furniture and old suitcases.

  Dawn said, ‘My grandparents’ stuff. They died when I was little. My dad didn’t like to throw anything away.’ She tapped a dust-covered round table. ‘Woodworm, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  Ellie said, ‘There might be something here worth sending to auction. It wouldn’t cost you anything to get someone round to see if there’s anything of value.’

  ‘You think? It’s all rubbish. I wouldn’t give it house room.’ She led the way down to the bedroom floor. ‘My Lady Muck and her boyfriend took the big room at the front, and goodness knows who slept in the other rooms, but the best thing for the bedding would be to send it to the dump.’

  Ellie was forced to agree. What a mess! There were blankets and tatty eiderdowns instead of modern duvets on the beds. The sheets and pillowcases were all soiled, and probably the mattresses, too. Ugh.

  The fittings in the bathroom were ancient. Somewhere a tap dripped. There was a nasty smell of something in the back bedroom, and mould on the landing wall.

  The house shouldn’t have been put on the market before a plumber had dealt with those problems. Likewise, the house ought to have been cleared of furniture, and a team of cleaners brought in to make the place look decent. A report on the structure of the house from a surveyor would also have been a good idea.

  One thing was clear: Dawn was not going to be able to wave a wand and transform the house into a saleable proposition without some expenditure of money and, if the house was sold as it was, then it would go for a fraction of its potential.

  It occurred to Ellie to wonder if the trust might be interested in buying it. The rooms were all of a fair size and if money were to be spent on it, the house could become an attractive proposition.

  ‘Seen enough?’ Dawn led the way downstairs, looking at her watch. ‘Time flies when you’re having fun, eh? I ought to be on my way if I want to miss the rush hour on the Underground. Now where did I leave my bag?’ She led the way back to the kitchen.

  Ellie had been thinking that she liked Dawn’s guts, and that it would be good to help her if she could think of a way to do so. She said, ‘Look, my husband wasn’t happy about being left money by someone who was all but a stranger to him. Suppose I ask him to lend you something towards clearing the house and getting a plumber in?’

  Dawn’s face lit up with hope for a moment, and then she shook her head. ‘No. Why would he do that for me? I don’t know the people who came from the church.’

  Ellie crossed her fingers. ‘I think my husband would regard it as only fair to help you out. He got a thousand pounds. What do you say?’

  Tears stood out in Dawn’s eyes. ‘Would he? Why would he do that?’

  ‘Because he’s a good man.’

  Dawn sniffed. ‘There’s not many of those around.’

  ‘True. I’ll talk to him about it, shall I? Meanwhile, would you like to let me have your address and telephone number?’

  Someone fumbled a key into the front door and threw it open. A voice bellowed, ‘Dawn? You still here?’

  Dawn said, ‘That’s my brother!’ She called out, ‘Bob? We’re in the kitchen. You’ve come to see how bad it is, have you? Your Bryony should be shot for leaving it in such a state!’

  SEVEN

  Thursday, noon

  Bob Pullin was a lanky man in a cheap grey suit and a poor complexion. His breathing was noisy. ‘You leave off our Bryony,’ he said. And then, ‘What’s that smell? Haven’t you had the plumber in to fix it yet?’ And, on seeing Ellie, ‘Who’s this? Some friend of yours that’s come to see if there’s any pickings for her, eh?’

  Ellie recognized a bully when she saw one.

  His appearance on the scene caused the voluble Dawn to become nervous, plucking at her tightly permed hair. ‘No, no. This is Mrs Quicke, from the church. One of those that got left some money.’

  ‘Is she, now?’ He assessed Ellie for her rateable value and managed to produce a smile for someone who didn’t buy her clothes in a charity shop.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellie. ‘I came to say how much we appreciated the windfall.’

  Dawn fidgeted. ‘She helped me with the washing-up—’

  ‘Which I’m afraid I didn’t quite finish,’ said Ellie.

  ‘And she offered to give us some of the money back,’ said Dawn. Was she hoping to soften her brother’s mood?

  ‘Did you, now?’ The smile widened and became unctuous. ‘Well, now, that’s decent of you. Our stepmother gave the church money every week, regular as clockwork, so it’s only right some should come back to her. How much, did you say?’

  Ellie didn’t like the man. He was not, in her estimation, someone you would trust with other people’s money. Or rather, you could trust it to disappear as quickly as a pickpocket could whip away your wallet. Ellie had had no qualms in offering to help Dawn without putting paperwork through a solicitor, but this man was a different kettle of fish. She rephrased her offer.

  ‘I understand you are temporarily embarrassed pending the sale of the house. I can see that putting it on the market as it is, the price will be way below what you could get if you had it cleaned up and the plumbing attended to. I might be able to organize a firm of cleaners to come in and—’

  ‘Dawn’s doing the cleaning up,’ said Bob.

  Dawn looked ready to cry. ‘You know I can’t. They gave me time off today, but I can’t expect more. I’d lose my jobs and—’

  ‘Well, if I can have the afternoon off to look after our affairs, then so can you. What sort of jobs have you got, anyway? They pay tuppence. Not like my job. You can’t expect me or Mamie to stop work to clear up here, when—’

  ‘It’s your Bryony’s fault that the house is in such a mess!’

  ‘She had to live somewhere, didn’t she?’

  ‘We’d have done better to go to a lettings agent!’

  Ellie hastened to intervene in what was clearly an ongoing quarrel. ‘I do understand the difficulty. The sooner you get the house in better nick, the better the price you’ll get for it. I know a plumber and a firm of cleaners who could start work here within days. I could advance you money to pay for them – up to a certain limit – on the understanding that you repay me when the house is sold. Agreed?’

  Dawn got the message. She didn’t like it, but she understood that Ellie’s offer would have strings attached. In subdued tones, she said, ‘Oh, would you? That would be—’

  ‘Dawn!’ Bob was not going to let her take over negotiations. ‘I think you’d better leave business matters to me. Mrs, er, Quicke, is it? It’s only right and proper that you should wish to help us out. You pay the bill to put the house in order, and we’ll be forever grateful. No need for paperwork. A “gentleman’s agreement,” right?’

  Ellie thought Bob would think ‘gentlemen’s agreements’ were for suckers. Bob Pullin was too sharp for his own good.

  Yes, Ellie liked to help those who deserved it, but in her estimation Bob Pullin did not come into that category. She said, ‘Your stepmother very kindly left some money to my husband, who brought her communion when she couldn’t get out herself …’

  No need to say it had only been the once that
Thomas had seen Mrs Pullin.

  ‘And I think Thomas would like to do something for Mrs Pullin’s family in return for her kindness to him. On a business footing, of course.’

  Bob’s eyes narrowed as he realized Ellie was not going to be a pushover, as he’d first thought. He said, ‘She left money to all sorts. People we don’t know from Adam. If she hadn’t done that we’d have been quids in and there’d be no need for us to ask for charity. We appreciate you kindly giving the money back to us.’

  Ellie produced what she hoped was a steely look. ‘It wouldn’t be charity. It would be a loan, properly signed and witnessed. If you agree that it would help you to get a better price for the house then I’m prepared to organize it for you. I’ll pay for a plumber and house cleaners. You’ll get someone from the auction house to take what furniture is of value and have house clearers to do the rest. There’ll be a cap of a thousand pounds on how much I spend, right?’

  Sotto voce, Dawn mumbled, ‘It wouldn’t be necessary if Bryony had only looked after the place better.’

  ‘You keep out of this, Dawn.’ Bob’s colour rose, but he wasn’t going to admit his daughter was at fault. ‘She did her best. She’s busy, going to interviews and doing her photo shoots—’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ muttered Dawn, but quietly enough that Bob could ignore her interjection if he wished. And he did wish.

  ‘So,’ he said, turning on Ellie. ‘Your card, if you please. Now, when can you get the cleaners and your plumber started?’

  Ellie saw the trap and neatly avoided it. ‘Not till we’ve got a loan agreement signed by all three of us. I won’t spend more than one thousand pounds, to be repaid when you get the money from the sale of the house. That might take months, as you know. Shall we add five per cent interest to the loan?’

  He yelped. ‘Five per cent?’

  Ellie raised her eyebrows. ‘You think six or seven would be more usual?’

  He almost gobbled. ‘Five per cent. Of course. I’ll get our solicitor to draw something up, next week. Yes, sometime next week. I can’t keep taking time off to attend to these details. You can start your people tomorrow, right?’

  ‘I’ll get my solicitor to draw an agreement up,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ll contact you as soon as it’s ready and bring it round for you both to sign. At that point you can let me have a key, and I’ll start the plumber and the cleaners off. Meanwhile, you’ll tell the estate agents that you’ve temporarily taken the house off the market to have some work done on it, because you’ll only get rubbish offers the way it looks now. Next, you’ll get the auction people in to look at the best of the furniture and organize a house clearance firm to take away the rest. Agreed?’

  Bob looked sour, so Dawn intervened. ‘Oh, come on, Bob. You know she’s right.’

  ‘And if,’ said Ellie, smiling sweetly, ‘you don’t repay me when the money comes in, I shall have no compunction about involving the police. Understood?’

  Bob shuddered. ‘We’ve had enough of them. I still don’t understand how she came to stab herself like that, but I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.’

  Thursday afternoon

  Ellie trudged home, trying to make sense of what she’d learned. She hadn’t found any connection between Thomas and the people who’d left money to him. She hadn’t found any connection between these two deaths, either. Both had been followed by an autopsy, and both had been declared accidental.

  The only difference was that in Mrs Pullin’s case there’d been some police involvement. But it hadn’t resulted in further investigation, so …?

  Ellie decided that none of this was in the least alarming, unless she found that any of the other deaths had been subject to an autopsy. And if that happened …?

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  It was past her usual lunchtime and she was hungry, so she went straight to the kitchen when she got in. Thomas didn’t seem to have been in to make himself a sandwich. She’d left some of her homemade soup on the stove for him to heat up but that hadn’t been touched, either. Perhaps he’d had to go out somewhere? But when it got this close to putting the magazine to bed, he usually stuck to his computer till it was done.

  Ellie went down the corridor to the study. Thomas wasn’t there, but his part-time secretary was and she wasn’t looking as serene as usual.

  ‘You want Thomas? I don’t know what’s the matter. We were getting on famously this morning until he went to fetch the post. He came back looking quite ill and I said, “Shall I get you something?” He said, “No, I’m perfectly all right,” when it was clear to me that he wasn’t. Not all right, I mean. He said he’d go and sit in his Quiet Room for a few minutes and he hasn’t come back and there’s I don’t know how many pages he’s got to sign off today.’

  The Quiet Room overlooked the drive at the front of the house. It was a space set aside for sitting and thinking. Diana’s little boy, young Evan, liked to have his afternoon nap there, and Ellie also spent time in it when she had to think through a particular problem. Thomas used it every day to say the daily office.

  He was sitting there now, holding an envelope in one hand, and a letter in the other. He looked as if he’d lost weight since that morning.

  Ellie felt a pang of fear. Was he ill? Was he dying of some deadly disease? How could she ever manage without him? She said, ‘Are you all right?’

  He closed his eyes. Shook his head. Didn’t speak.

  She sat down beside him. ‘I saw the Pullin family. The house is in a mess and they haven’t the money to clean it up, so I said you’d lend them some of your inheritance to get the cleaners in. It’s a loan not a gift, to be repaid when they eventually manage to sell the house. Mrs Pullin accidentally cut herself and died of blood loss. The police were satisfied that it was an accident.’ And then she said, ‘Something’s happened?’

  He held a letter out to Ellie. It was a solicitor’s letter from a firm in the north of England, enclosing a cheque.

  The cheque was for twenty thousand pounds.

  Ellie couldn’t believe it. Was this the money that Diana had referred to? The inheritance that someone at the golf club had been rattling on about?

  Thomas cleared his throat. ‘This is the sixth cheque. At least I did know this man. He was an old school friend. We used to meet up in town for a meal two or three times a year. I don’t think you ever met him. He ended up as dean of a theological college in the north. We used to argue something chronic about forgiveness, and how some people can and others can’t, and whether it’s all a question of faith or grace, or of letting time do its work.

  ‘What else can I tell you about him? He never married. His father manufactured soap. The family sold the business after the war. He used to make jokes about coming clean. After he retired he spent the winter months in New Zealand, visiting cousins. He stopped over in several places, Hong Kong and so on, on his way back, caught some bug or other and died on arrival. I went to his funeral. It was well attended. I didn’t go to the reception afterwards because I had to get back here for a meeting of some sort. He was a good man.’

  Ellie felt considerable relief. At least Thomas knew the reason why this cheque had come his way. She said, ‘Diana came this morning. She’d heard through someone at the golf club that you’d received a large inheritance.’

  ‘Had she?’ A long, long sigh. ‘If it’s got round the golf club then it’ll be everywhere tomorrow. Well, that’s torn it. We thought we had time to investigate these windfalls while we could keep the matter to ourselves, but if they’re common knowledge then there’s no time to waste. I’m not waiting for the police to start asking questions. I have to go to them myself.’

  ‘No, Thomas. That’s not right. You know where this last cheque came from and the circumstances surrounding it. Whatever you do about the other cheques, this one is genuine and you can keep it.’

  He managed a smile which was more like a grimace. ‘So you agree with me that the others aren’t genuine?’r />
  Ellie was silent, because that was exactly the conclusion she’d been coming to herself.

  Thomas’s secretary appeared in the doorway. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but Diana’s on the landline asking if anyone’s at home. She’s rung the front doorbell but can’t get any answer.’

  Ellie groaned. ‘The wiring to the bell must have come apart again. I’d better see her. Thomas, don’t do anything till we’ve spoken again, will you?’

  He lumbered to his feet, holding on to the arms of his chair. He’d been sitting in one position for too long. ‘Look at the time! I should have been … There’s still a lot to do today. Ellie, we have to talk about this. Seriously.’

  ‘I agree. We’ll talk as soon as I’ve got rid of Diana.’

  She saw him off down the corridor and hurried back to the hall. Opening the front door, she found her daughter there, fuming at being kept waiting. And yes, the wiring leading from the doorbell to the battery inside was hanging loose. Again. Thomas had tried to fix it. And so had the last handyman who’d been in to look at a sash window that was sticking.

  Ellie decided she’d have to get an electrician in to deal with the wiring in the porch. The man they’d always used in the past had retired. She would have to ask around to find someone who could be trusted with a screwdriver, and who didn’t inflate his bill. Perhaps she could use one of the men employed for such jobs by the trust?

  Diana stalked in. ‘About time! Didn’t you hear me?’

  ‘Sorry, no. The wiring has—’

  ‘Old houses need a lot of attention. I’ve told you till I’m blue in the face, it’s about time you realized that and downsized.’ She marched straight through to the sitting room. ‘We need to talk.’