Murder for Good Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Further titles by Veronica Heley from Severn House

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Further titles by Veronica Heley from Severn House

  The Ellie Quicke mysteries

  MURDER AT THE ALTAR

  MURDER BY SUICIDE

  MURDER OF INNOCENCE

  MURDER BY ACCIDENT

  MURDER IN THE GARDEN

  MURDER BY COMMITTEE

  MURDER BY BICYCLE

  MURDER OF IDENTITY

  MURDER IN HOUSE

  MURDER BY MISTAKE

  MURDER MY NEIGHBOUR

  MURDER IN MIND

  MURDER WITH MERCY

  MURDER IN TIME

  MURDER BY SUSPICION

  MURDER IN STYLE

  MURDER FOR NOTHING

  MURDER BY SUGGESTION

  MURDER FOR GOOD

  The Bea Abbot Agency mysteries

  FALSE CHARITY

  FALSE PICTURE

  FALSE STEP

  FALSE PRETENCES

  FALSE MONEY

  FALSE REPORT

  FALSE ALARM

  FALSE DIAMOND

  FALSE IMPRESSION

  FALSE WALL

  FALSE FIRE

  FALSE PRIDE

  FALSE ACCOUNT

  MURDER FOR GOOD

  Veronica Heley

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2019 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  Eardley House, 4 Uxbridge Street, London W8 7SY.

  This eBook edition first published in 2019 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2020 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  Copyright © 2019 by Veronica Heley.

  The right of Veronica Heley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8902-7 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78029-638-8 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4483-0337-3 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  ONE

  Tuesday noon

  Ellie heard the post drop through the front door into the letter box and hastened down the corridor to collect it, only to find someone had got there before her.

  The woman who was currently occupying the flat at the top of Ellie’s big house was ever hopeful that there’d be some post for her and was nearly always disappointed. Now she handed Ellie a wodge of envelopes, saying, ‘More good fortune winging its way to you, eh?’

  Ellie winced because if what Hetty suggested were true, it wasn’t really good news at all.

  Ellie discarded the junk mail, set aside a postcard from a friend on holiday in Prague – not many people bother to send cards nowadays, do they? – and was left holding yet another solicitor’s letter. Like the others, it had been addressed to Ellie’s husband, the Reverend Thomas.

  How many solicitors’ letters did that make? Four or five? They’d been coming thick and fast. At first they’d been as welcome as flowers that bloom in the spring. Now, not so. In fact, the opposite.

  Ellie braced herself to deliver the bad news. Back down the corridor she went and into the library which Thomas used as his study. Although he did take the occasional service since he’d retired from parish work, he still edited a quarterly Christian magazine and made an ever-increasing number of visits to the lonely and sick in the neighbourhood. Ellie sometimes complained that she saw less of him now than ever.

  Thomas was on the phone. He held up his hand to Ellie as she entered, warning her he wasn’t free to speak at that moment.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said to his caller, ‘I’ll see what I can do about it. I’ll drop in later this afternoon, shall I? No, no. Please don’t bother to make … Yes, I know I’m partial to your ginger cake, but … No, really. I am supposed to be on a diet, and my wife will kill me if I can’t do justice to supper.’ He grinned at Ellie, sharing the joke with her and Ellie returned the smile.

  This was a second marriage for both of them and a successful one, too. Thomas was a burly, bearded, teddy-bear of a man, a real poppet to his immediate circle, but no pushover when it came to matters of right and wrong. His biggest grief in life was that his married daughter and her children lived in Canada so he wasn’t able to see them as often as he would have liked.

  Ellie was silver of hair, sweet of temper, and a devoted grandmother. She was also the chair of a charitable trust set up to look after some money that she’d inherited and, although she was inclined to doubt her own judgement at times, she was no wilting angel, either.

  Thomas and Ellie lived in harmony and without ostentation in a big old house dating back to the days of Queen Victoria. They loved the place, while being uneasily aware that it cost an arm and a leg to maintain. Over the years they’d been fortunate enough to employ a series of housekeepers. Usually, though not always, these people had become and remained good friends even after they’d moved out and got on with their lives elsewhere. At the moment homeless Hetty was currently occupying the attic flat and making noises about becoming their housekeeper. Which sounded all right, didn’t it?

  Yes, life should have been a bed of roses for Ellie and Thomas but, as the saying goes, there’s always a crumple in the roseleaf, or a letter from a solicitor.

  As Thomas brought his phone call to a close, Ellie placed the envelope on his desk.

  He blenched. ‘Not another one?’

  ‘It might be a bill. Someone might be suing you for something.’

  He ripped the envelope open, scanned the contents and passed it back to Ellie. ‘I’ve been left a thousand pounds from the estate of a Mrs Pullin.’ He dropped the letter as if it burned him. ‘I haven’t a clue who she was.’

  This was not good news.

  Ellie chose her words with care. ‘You do so much good in the community. Obviously it’s someone you helped and she wished you well.’

  He shook his head. ‘Five times. Five people have left me money. Once was a pleasant surprise. Two was a cause f
or rejoicing. Three was a tad overwhelming, but five! What’s going on? No, Ellie. Something’s seriously wrong. I can’t accept this money.’

  Ellie understood that he was uneasy about the situation but she held the view that someone had to be practical in a marriage and in this case, it had to be her. She said, ‘Don’t be too hasty. This will make up for the rest of the money you lost on the magazine.’

  The previous year Thomas had paid a printer in advance for the autumn issue of the magazine only to discover that the manager had scarpered with the loot. Not only had the magazine lost that money, but Thomas had had to find and pay for another printer at short notice. Being Thomas, he hadn’t charged the magazine with the loss, but absorbed the shortfall himself.

  Normally Thomas and Ellie divided the costs of maintaining their home between them, but since this problem had arisen Thomas had stinted himself of all his little pleasures in life in order to keep paying something – even though not as much as usual – towards the house’s upkeep. Being Thomas, he was meticulous about doing so and, as the debt reduced, he’d been looking forward to being solvent once again.

  A month ago, the first of a series of letters from a local solicitor had arrived with a cheque from a lady parishioner who had recently died. She’d left Thomas two hundred pounds. It had lifted his spirits no end. ‘Bless her! What a nice surprise! How very thoughtful of her!’

  A week later there’d been another cheque, this time for five hundred pounds, left to him in the will of an elderly lady whom Thomas had been accustomed to visit occasionally.

  ‘How about that!’ said Thomas, flushing with pleasure. ‘Remember, I told you about her, Ellie? I was asked to visit her through Age UK. I saw her perhaps once a week last autumn. I thought she’d never forgive me because I beat her at cribbage last time I visited. Poor old soul. She was in chronic pain. It must have been a merciful release! I didn’t hear she’d died till some time later, or I’d have gone to the funeral. How very good of her to remember me.’

  The following week there’d been two more cheques, totalling fifteen hundred pounds.

  They had knocked Thomas for six. There’d been no jubilation in his voice when he’d told Ellie about those two cheques. He’d said how good it was that he’d soon be clear of debt and then he’d gone into his Quiet Room to pray for a while.

  Now he’d received yet another inheritance, this time for a thousand pounds.

  He said, ‘I can’t believe I’m complaining because people keep leaving me money, but frankly, I’d rather they didn’t. It’s my fault I got into debt. I was naive. I made the mistake of trusting a rogue, I lost the money and I should be the one to make up the shortfall.’

  He stuffed the letter back in the envelope. ‘The first two ladies I knew well. It was good of them to remember me in their wills. Surprising, but most acceptable. The ones I got after that … well, that’s where I went wrong. I didn’t know either of the people concerned. All I could think of was how quickly the cheques would help me out of debt. I rationalized my position, saying these people had heard I was in trouble and wanted to do something to help me. I put the money in the bank and told myself that I was a lucky man to have such good friends. But this latest one is too much. I really don’t think I can accept it.’

  Ellie told herself that Thomas had an overactive conscience. She knew how much it had cost him not to be able to pay his way with the expenses of the house, and to cancel a projected holiday to visit his daughter and grandchildren in Canada.

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve earned it? You always go the extra mile for people, far beyond the call of duty. You don’t just visit the sick but spend time with those who are so unpleasant they’ve driven away their nearest and dearest. You help housebound people to get carers to look after them and encourage others to socialize. You listen for hours to people who have no one else to talk to. You’ve earned these windfalls.’

  ‘Not if I can’t remember the person concerned.’

  Ellie tried reason. ‘You remembered the first two. As for the others, well, lots of people leave money to people they don’t know personally. This latest woman must have heard that you did a lot of good in the community and decided to leave you something as a sort of reward. Haven’t we prayed about the loss and asked for help?’

  ‘Do you honestly think this is God’s way of putting my losses right? I know you believe in miracles. Well, so do I. But this doesn’t feel right. I wish I could fall on my knees, crying “Alleluia!” But I can’t.’

  ‘I don’t see what you’re worried about. Somebody has got it into their head that you deserve a little more of the world’s goods, has mentioned it to his or her friends, and they have all decided to do something about it.’

  ‘Five times over, Ellie. Five times!’ He frowned. ‘This latest one, for instance. Pullin. It’s an unusual name. No, it doesn’t ring a bell.’ He pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk and rummaged around till he found his bulky day-to-day diary for the previous year.

  He did have a smartphone but was not comfortable with it. In the past year he’d lost two in quick succession. In consequence Ellie had bought him a big day-to-day diary into which he was supposed to enter information about meetings, visits and telephone numbers. He’d grumbled about having to enter everything twice: once into his smartphone and once into the diary, but he’d mostly managed to do it. Ellie crossed her fingers that he’d put Mrs Pullin’s details into the big diary, too.

  Thomas leafed backwards through the months. ‘Probate is usually granted six months after someone’s death, and it’s only after that the money is distributed to people named in a will. So, six months ago … probably more … sometime last summer … September? No. August, possibly? I’m thinking “cats”. Why am I thinking about cats? Ah yes, here it is. Request from Bernard to visit a Mrs Pullin.’ He drew out the solicitor’s letter again. ‘Yes, it’s the same address.’

  ‘Bernard? That name rings a bell.’

  ‘Minister over Harrow way. I don’t think you ever met him but I took over some of his visiting when he fell ill last year. He died in September, and I went to his funeral. Yes, the funeral was on the first of October.’ He laid the diary down. ‘Pullin. I remember now. I was asked to take communion to her towards the end of August as Bernard couldn’t get out that week and there wasn’t anyone else available due to school holidays. Mrs Pullin had broken her ankle. He told me to knock in a certain way, and she’d let me in. If I remember correctly, she lived on tinned foods herself but bought cooked chicken to feed her cats with. Three cats? Four? I think she fed them better than she fed herself.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s it! That’s what I remember about her. Those cats. Real charmers! She had one cat on her lap and another sitting on the back of her armchair. A third came to sit on my knee, and I had to brush off the hairs afterwards. A long-haired grey that was. What were their names? No, I can’t recall. I remember I told her about our cat Midge, how he’d adopted us, not the other way round, and how he terrorizes all the neighbours’ cats. Then she gave me the history of each one of hers, which got us off to a good start.’

  He leafed forward in his diary, only to shake his head. ‘No, I only saw her the once. I saw Bernard almost every week after that. He was going downhill so fast that they brought in a curate to take over his duties until he died.’

  ‘Well, then,’ said Ellie. ‘Mrs Pullin had met you and liked you and heard you had been unfortunate in a money matter. She remembered you when she came to making her will, and there’s nothing wrong in that.’

  ‘Except,’ said Thomas, ‘that I didn’t tell her about my stupidity. Why should I? And who else knew? You and the accountant, that’s all. I don’t see how she could have got to hear about it. I paid her that one visit, and we talked about cats.’

  This was troubling. Ellie said, ‘Well, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t leave you some money. Lots of people leave money for good causes. They met you and liked you and decided to leave you some money. Wh
at’s wrong with that?’

  ‘In theory, you’re right. But it’s odd that I have never before, in all my years in the ministry, been left so much as a teaspoon. Now not one but five people have decided all at once that Thomas should be blessed with an inheritance.’

  ‘Not a very large one. The first was only two hundred.’

  ‘True, but now we’re into several thousand. I suppose if all these people had known one another, if there’d been some connection between them, one of them might have had the idea of leaving me a little something and told the others, who picked it up and ran with it. Perhaps they all talked to one another on the phone every week or visited one another. I suppose it might have happened that way, but all the same …’

  He looked out of the window. ‘Ellie, if I were of a suspicious frame of mine, I would wonder how it was that five people had popped off after making a will in my favour.’

  Ellie felt acid hit the back of her throat. She’d been thinking the same thing, while hoping he hadn’t. She tried to reassure him. ‘They probably left hundreds of thousands to all sorts of people in their will and the little they left you is small beer.’ Ellie’s own feelings of unease grew. If she thought of the matter as if it had happened to someone else then she, too, would be wondering that. There’d been one too many serial killers in the papers recently.

  No one who knew Thomas could possibly think him guilty of murder, could they?

  Yes, of course they could. There’d been plenty of examples of highly regarded people in the community – trusted professionals, doctors and even solicitors – who’d blotted their copybooks recently. Thomas knew it, and so did she.

  She forced a smile. ‘The first was only for two hundred pounds and the second one for five hundred and you knew both of the people concerned. Nobody would bother killing someone for as little as a few hundred pounds, would they?’

  ‘Murder has been committed for less than that.’

  She knew that, too.

  Ellie imagined having a conversation about this with her friend in the police force.

  Isn’t it lovely, Thomas had such a nice surprise today! And one last week, and the week before, too! Yes, he’s been left quite a bit of money, several thousand pounds, believe it or not, right out of the blue. He barely knew the people concerned …