Murder In Law

by Veronica Heley

  Susan looked out of the window to see Rafael on his motorbike drawing up outside, closely followed by a small furniture van. Hooray! The rest of the children’s things had arrived!

  NINE

  Saturday lunchtime

  Rafael cut off the engine, hauled his bike on to its stand and took off his helmet to open the front door … Whereupon a gale swept him, laughing, into the hall. ‘All hands to the van. I suggest the two beds come in first, and the scooter last.’

  He picked up Jenny, and said, ‘Hello, you!’ And then: ‘Ugh, you pong!’ He handed her on to Lucia, who had appeared, looking more waif-like than ever. Rafael said, ‘Clean her up, will you?’

  ‘Where you want this, love?’ Two large men swept in on a gale force wind and dumped various articles into the hall for the women to sort out and despatch in different directions.

  Susan stowed an indignant Fifi into her buggy and wheeled it into the big room so that the baby could, hopefully, have a nap in peace and quiet. Coralie directed traffic while Marcy, unasked, cleared the table and made tea in Susan’s largest pot. Finally the contents of the van had been transferred to the hall, mugs of sugared tea had been drunk, and the thumping and bumping ceased.

  Rafael paid off the men and closed the door firmly on the outside world, saying, ‘I’m getting back to that builder today. We can’t go through the winter without a porch.’

  Lucia hovered, keeping Jenny out of the way but otherwise not helping. ‘It’s not my fault. Jenny will not use her potty, no matter how much I tell her.’

  Rafael patted Jenny’s cheek. ‘You’ll do it for me, won’t you, Poppet!’

  ‘Me, Cuckoo!’ said Jenny. ‘You, Cuckoo, too.’

  Rafael said, ‘Probably, yes, if you can get yourself into clean pants. Take her away and clean her up, Lucia.’ Shedding his leathers, he went into the kitchen, took a seat at the table and accepted a mug of tea. ‘Well, ladies! Council of war, yes? Hi, Coralie. And you are …?’ He raised his eyebrows at Marcy. ‘Let me guess, you’re the cleaner who knows all Diana’s little secrets.’

  ‘Ex-cleaner,’ said Marcy, ‘and yes, I do know some.’

  Susan subsided into a chair, wondering why Rafael hadn’t kissed her when he came in. Was it because she really had become a fat slob? She told herself not to cry. That would be stupid, especially in front of the others.

  Susan said, ‘Yes, we’ve been exchanging information. Marcy confirms that Diana has acquired some provocative underwear and clothing. Marcy also says Diana didn’t always sleep in her own bed on a Thursday or a Friday. According to the DC who oversaw Diana’s packing, the bed hadn’t been slept in the night that Evan was killed. Diana probably thought Evan didn’t know, but I’m wondering … we found her computer in his bedroom after he was killed. She’d left it on charge in her study, so I’m thinking he might have taken it to see if there was anything suspicious on it.’

  Marcy said, ‘Aren’t you the bright one, eh, Susan?’

  Susan dimpled at the compliment. How nice it was to be appreciated. ‘We know that Diana’s short of money. We also know that if anyone gets in her way, she accuses them of something nasty. Look at the way she sacked Lucia, and she got rid of Marcy by saying she’d stolen and pawned a diamond ring! Diana likes to be the one in control. I’m wondering if she’s the same with her lover. Has she perhaps got something on him, something he might find it inconvenient to be made public? Something she kept in the safe in the hall or on her laptop?’

  Rafael said, ‘She’s certainly made enough fuss about both.’

  ‘So now I’m wondering if her lover might have arranged for a “burglary” to take place in order to retrieve whatever it was she had on him. He wouldn’t act himself, but if he’s in a position to employ others, he might suggest that one or two layabouts might “do him a favour” by faking a burglary at Diana’s. The intruders probably had no intention of waking Evan. They broke in at the back and started to look for the safe. It’s interesting to note that they didn’t know where the safe was because they began by taking the pictures off the wall in the front room.

  ‘Then, disaster! Evan woke up and armed himself with a golf club. This changed the scene entirely. One or more of the intruders was carrying a knife and bingo, there was an unexpected and messy ending to what was supposed to be a quick in-and-out job. Does that sound right?’

  Three nods from around the table.

  Susan said, ‘The only thing is, we don’t know who her lover is.’

  ‘I do,’ said Rafael. ‘The rumour mill threw up his name straight away. It’s King Kong.’

  Coralie wasn’t into silent films. ‘Who’s “King Kong” when he’s at home?’

  ‘Where were you brung up, Coralie?’ That was Marcy.

  ‘The name’s familiar,’ said Susan, whose mother had rather liked to watch old films when they were repeated on the telly. ‘But what’s a great hairy ape from a silent film got to do with Diana?’

  Rafael picked up Jenny who had presented herself at his knee, smelling sweet. She’d brought her tablet and was intent on showing him something on it. He told her to be quiet for a moment and, for a wonder, she was.

  Rafael said, ‘“King Kong” is the nickname that people at the golf club gave to a man called Keith Cottrell because he’s got extra-long arms and is somewhat hairy. He’s a big brute of a man but light on his feet. My informant says Keith is managing director of a prosperous building business: modern houses on new estates in the Home Counties. Keith’s rise in life is supposed to be due to his marrying an older, wealthy woman called Cynthia whose father started the business. He also says Cynthia wears killer heels and he wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her.’

  Without a change of tone, he said, ‘Is there anything to eat in this house?’

  ‘We’ve eaten,’ said Coralie, investigating the freezer. ‘Will a pizza do? All right by you, Susan?’

  Susan nodded, Coralie popped the pizza in the oven and Marcy made another pot of tea.

  Lucia drifted in, looking lost. Coralie gave her a mug of tea and told her to sit down, which she did. Someone or something bumped at the back of Susan’s chair.

  Evan had taken the brake off the buggy and pushed it into the kitchen. He said, ‘Fifi’s woken up. Can we take her to the park?’

  ‘In a little while,’ said Susan. Fifi was almost hidden under Evan’s hideous Hippo but seemed happy about it. Susan rescued Fifi and gave her a cuddle. Evan reclaimed his Hippo and eyed the biscuit tin.

  Coralie slid slices of hot pizza on to a plate for Rafael, who was encumbered by Jenny. ‘No, Cuckoo. No. My turn to eat. No, you’re not sitting on my knee, not till I’ve got some food down me.’ Despite Jenny’s protest, he slid the child down on to the floor, and turned to Lucia. ‘Can you describe the man you saw with Diana yesterday morning?’

  Lucia looked scared. ‘No. Too quick.’

  Susan sipped tea without looking at Lucia. ‘We’ve heard he was ginger-haired and rather short. Almost like a dwarf. Was that the man you saw?’

  ‘Oh, no. He was big, really big. And dark-haired.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Susan. ‘With a beard.’

  ‘No beard, no.’

  ‘Ah, but his car was one of those long, low, expensive jobs in red, one that has seats for just two people.’

  ‘No, no. It was black and had four doors and there was a sticker with a funny face on the back.’

  ‘But the car was some years old. You could tell that from the registration number, couldn’t you?’

  Lucia shook her head. ‘Too far away.’

  Coralie and Marcy refilled everyone’s mugs of tea. Evan managed to manoeuvre the biscuit tin near enough to help himself.

  Rafael congratulated Lucia. ‘Good for you, Lucia. That was most helpful.’ And to the others, ‘He drives an Audi, last year’s model, black.’

  ‘There’s no proof that it was him,’ said Susan.

  ‘No. But you’ll tell Lesley, won’t you?’

&n
bsp; ‘Park,’ said Evan, who had his mother’s single-mindedness about such important things as biscuits, favourite toys and playing in the park. ‘I want to take Fifi to the park. I want to show her how I ride my bike.’

  Coralie cleared the tea things away, saying, ‘Well, why not? Yes, Evan; the park. Lucia, you can take Jenny in her buggy, I’ll wheel Fifi and Evan can come alongside on his scooter. No, not on your bike yet, Evan. Bikes take a lot of getting used to. You should have a helmet when you ride your scooter, too. Susan, did you find—?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘I don’t think there was one. Do you need a helmet to ride a scooter? I’m not sure.’

  Evan thrust out his lower lip. ‘Don’t need helmet.’

  ‘You do for the bike. Not sure about the scooter.’

  Susan said, ‘Show Fifi how fast you can go on your scooter.’

  Evan scowled but didn’t insist. Perhaps he really wasn’t that sure of himself on the bike, anyway.

  Rafael was amused. ‘And what am I to do?’

  Coralie knew the answer to that. ‘Go back to work and find out more about King Kong. Susan’s going to put her feet up for a bit.’

  Rafael studied his wife with something in his eyes that she couldn’t interpret. He looked hangdog, as if he’d done something wrong and expected her to call him to task about it. Almost beseeching. Or was he thinking that he really had married a fat slob, because she did feel as if she were exactly that at the moment.

  He got to his feet. ‘Yes, of course. Someone has to earn a crust around here. Tell Lesley about King Kong, won’t you?’

  Susan tried to leap to her feet, but had to cling to the table to steady herself. ‘Hang about. Rafael, have you got some money we can lend Lucia and Marcy? Diana’s short-changed both of them. Coralie needs paying, too.’

  He nodded and disappeared down the corridor to raid the safe in his study, returning with a bundle of notes, which he handed to Susan. ‘Get receipts. Minimum wage OK, everyone?’ He collected his jacket and helmet and departed, letting in a blast of cold air as he opened the front door.

  ‘Cuckoo!’ Jenny tried to follow him but Lucia managed to hold on to her long enough for him to escape.

  Fifi dropped Hippo and wailed till Evan picked it up and gave it back to her. She chewed happily on one of his ears and Evan beamed!

  Susan thought, Uh-oh. Is Fifi teething again?

  Coralie produced a notebook and tore sheets off. ‘Set me down for a day and half, if that’s all right with you? That’s how many hours?’ She counted on her fingers.

  Lucia put out a hand, rather as if expecting it to be slapped away. ‘Two weeks wages, please?’

  Marcy slapped dirty mugs and plates into the dishwasher. ‘Two weeks for me, too. Tell you what, this place could do with a tidy up, and then I need to see what’s going on next door. It’s going to take more than a few hours to hoover up over there what with the dust the builders make. And don’t talk to me about plumbers! There’ll be dust an inch thick for weeks.’

  Susan paid them all off, getting receipts detailing how much work they’d done for Diana and how much for Susan.

  Coralie pointed to Evan and Jenny. ‘We’ll all go wee-wee before we go out, right? And does Fifi need changing? Lucia; see to her, will you? Marcy, let’s haul the children’s beds upstairs before we go walkies, and where we’re to put the easel I do not know. Oh, and Susan, there was a delivery man came when you were out, wanted to leave something, said it had been wrongly addressed but now he’s found out it’s supposed to be for next door. He left a card. I said you’d have to get in touch for a convenient time to deliver as I hadn’t got the keys, and that wretched plumber had gone off somewhere mid-morning, though I see his van’s back now.’

  Marcy set the dishwasher going. ‘I’ll clear up around here and help Coralie make the children’s beds upstairs while you have a rest, Susan, and then you can take me next door and we’ll see what’s what there.’

  So Susan handed Fifi over and wafted herself upstairs … or rather, hauled herself up, holding on to the banister, and collapsed on to her bed, with Jenny’s thin cry of ‘No potty, no potty!’ in her ears.

  She wondered if she should thank someone for sorting out her problems so neatly. Rafael was a brilliant provider and would probably stick to her even if he had only married her because she was a favourite of Ellie’s. No, that wouldn’t work. He’d married her because he’d liked her shape, and her cooking and … She’d make him a nice steak and kidney pudding for supper. She hadn’t had a satisfactory oven while they’d been staying at his flat, and she ached to get her hands working on some pastry …

  How about those two crazy, bossy women who’d moved into her life? Phew! But Coralie and Marcy had come just at the right time to help her, when she was feeling – let’s face it – rather down and out. And Lucia could be trained to be helpful, perhaps.

  Praise be! Susan wondered about making the sign of the cross but she wasn’t a Catholic and believed everyone worshipped in their own way, and that way really wasn’t her thing, so she didn’t. She heard the front door open and even upstairs she felt a draught of cold air … then the door slammed shut and the house was silent, except for Marcy humming to herself as she went around putting the bedrooms to rights and …

  Susan dropped into sleep, just … like … that.

  Saturday afternoon

  Susan woke when Marcy put a mug of tea on a coaster at her bedside, saying, ‘They’re all back and the plumber from next door is wanting a word.’

  Ah. The plumber had discovered that Diana had been sleeping there last night and wanted to know what Susan was going to do about it?

  The smell of bread being toasted drifted up to Susan as she drank her tea and put herself back together to meet this new challenge. She knew Rafael was dissatisfied with this particular firm of plumbers and didn’t intend to use them again despite their having offered him a thinly disguised bribe. They wouldn’t try anything like that on her, would they? Well, she’d be prepared for it if they did.

  She went down to find the children all around the table – Fifi in her own highchair and Jenny in hers – being fed and watered by Coralie with Lucia acting as second-in-command, and Marcy ready to leave.

  Coralie said, ‘I’ve been looking in the freezer. Fish pie all right for you this evening, Susan? With steamed veg?’

  Susan nodded. She would cook a steak and kidney pie tomorrow. She kissed Fifi, who seemed perfectly happy playing with whatever it was Coralie had found for her to eat. Where were the keys to next door? She found them, Marcy said they’d better put their coats on as if she knew anything next door would feel like the Arctic because builders and plumbers never shut doors, did they?

  It felt strange to walk into Ellie’s house. The hall was empty, echoing, redolent with fresh paint. The grandfather clock was silent. It probably hadn’t liked being moved around while the decorators did their work. The parquet flooring was dull and dusty and might need professional attention. The telephone shelf still held an old-fashioned telephone, plus an untidy pile of junk adverts and papers.

  Marcy ran her finger along the back of the one and only chair in the hall and said – yes, she actually said – ‘Tut!’

  The conservatory straight ahead looked desolate. When Ellie left, she’d taken all the plants out and left them on the patio outside to be watered by the gardener, who was supposed to have come regularly to look after them and to mow the lawn. Judging by what Susan could see of the meadow outside, he hadn’t been round much. Most of Ellie’s beloved plants looked dead.

  Perhaps it would be a good idea to spend some money on getting Ellie some new plants? Susan made a mental note to contact the gardener, override whatever excuses he’d come up with and get him moving again.

  Marcy stood in the doorway to the living room and heaved a great sigh. The walls were freshly painted, yes. Good. The furniture had all been piled into the middle of the room and covered with a dust sheet or two. Also good. But the f
ull-length velvet curtains had been taken down from the windows and dumped on the floor without any protective dust covers … as had some pictures.

  The room opposite – which was a library-cum-study for Thomas – showed little signs of having been visited by painters, builders or plumbers. Except for the dust. There was a week’s work here, wasn’t there?

  Susan put her hand on Marcy’s shoulder. ‘Courage! You can do it!’

  Marcy raised her eyes to heaven. ‘The hoover used to be kept in the scullery beyond the kitchen. Do you think it’s still there?’

  A rhetorical question.

  Susan tried the light in the downstairs shower and cloakroom. It didn’t work. She must ask Rafael to get the electrician to look at it. The next room along was to be Ellie’s new study. Yes, there was new paint on the walls, but desk, chair, filing cabinets, everything that Ellie would need was stacked in an untidy mound in the middle of the floor.

  The kitchen looked comparatively clean. Presumably the painters/plumbers/builders had been using it as their headquarters. Ellie had decided to retain the old cupboards and large wooden table but they’d been spruced up and a new floor laid. The room looked like a feature in an upmarket country kitchen magazine. All that needed doing here was setting crockery and cooking utensils back in their right places and stocking the fridge and freezer. An open door to the old utility room showed that brand-new appliances had been fitted there. And yes, the hoover was still in the scullery.

  The plumber was having a break with a flask of tea and a sandwich from a plastic box. He took his feet off the table when they entered and choked on a large mouthful before managing to say, ‘There’s a bloke upstairs. Walked in through the back door bold as brass. Said he was a friend of the owner’s. I looked, and someone’s smashed the glass in the back door. You want to get that put right before night, don’t you?’

  Susan wanted to run away and hide. This was the sort of thing Rafael ought to be dealing with. She said, ‘Oh dear. Do you know someone who can put the back door to rights?’