Murder With Mercy Page 12

  ‘If she was helped to commit suicide …?’

  ‘Did someone put a gun to their heads? Or hold pillows over their faces? No. The most you can say is that someone, when asked to do so, provided them with extra pills. No one is saying that the women who committed suicide were forced to take them, were they?’

  ‘They might have taken them by mistake, thinking them to be harmless.’

  ‘I grant you that would be murder.’

  Lesley grimaced. ‘Murder with mercy? Names, Ellie. Please.’

  ‘I’ll think about it and let you know.’

  Once she’d seen Lesley off the premises, Ellie searched for Mikey. He was not in the kitchen, but the washing machine was doing what it ought to, and Rose was happily peeling potatoes for the night’s meal. Wait a minute, weren’t they having a lasagne? With potatoes?

  Oh well. There’d be some frozen green vegetables in the freezer, and they could easily be cooked at the last minute. And for pudding? They’d have cheese or fruit and lump it. Or maybe ice cream.

  Mikey wasn’t in Rose’s bed-sitting room and neither – she checked – was his sleeping bag. He wasn’t in Thomas’s quiet room, nor in his study at the end of the corridor. He wasn’t anywhere on the ground floor.

  Ah. She knew where he’d be. Upstairs in bed with his mother, which would ensure he couldn’t be questioned. Yes, there he was. Asleep. Or pretending to be asleep. In his own sleeping bag, on top of his mother’s bed.

  Vera was still in the grip of flu. She opened bleary eyes, tried to smile at Ellie and made as if to get up … and fell back with a grimace, hand to head.

  ‘Don’t worry about anything,’ said Ellie. ‘Is it time for you to take some more painkillers? And I’ll bring you up another jug of lemonade. You concentrate on getting well again.’

  Mikey slept through it all.

  Well, he didn’t open his eyes, even when Ellie laid her hand on his forehead. She thought he was warm but not feverish. She stood over him, wondering what was best to do. He was an imp and an angel and deserved a good telling off, but she suspected he was going to run rings round her if she tried. Perhaps Thomas would have more luck when he returned from setting the world to rights.

  She went downstairs to make some more lemonade and carried it back up to the top of the house for Vera. Neither Mikey nor his mother seemed to have moved while she was away. Midge the cat was now sitting in a sort of hollow between mother and son. Oh well.

  So many trips up and down the stairs. It would have been easier if Vera and Mikey had been put to bed in the guest rooms at the end of the first floor corridor, but Ellie hadn’t anticipated the problems of having to look after people in the attic, had she?

  The landline phone was ringing as Ellie reached the hall, and she sank on to the hall chair to take the call.

  ‘Hugh here. I know it’s a bit late, but would you like to come over to the site? The men are working overtime to catch up so they’re still around.’

  He wasn’t asking a question, but issuing a summons. Ellie winced, hearing rain beat against the front of the house. Hadn’t she done enough for one day? Rose needed help in the kitchen, or who knew what would be on the table for supper? Mikey needed watching twenty-four seven, and Thomas would be home soon, needing the consolations of the fireside. Plus it was still raining.

  She held back a sigh. ‘I’ll get a cab and be with you in fifteen minutes.’ If she could find her old mac, and perhaps some strong boots? Where had she left her umbrella?

  Dusk had fallen with a heavy hand. Street lights hardly alleviated the gloom. Traffic swished through the rain, gutters overflowed. Tempers didn’t just fray, they disintegrated.

  The site was not looking its best under these conditions, but security lights illuminated the scene to some extent. Ellie followed a lorry through the gap in the fencing which protected the site from vandals and petty theft. The forecourt was waterlogged, with piles of unidentifiable but no doubt essential components stacked around. Men in hard hats scampered here and there, shouting incomprehensible directions to one another. Polish? Ah, but there was an Indian, a Sikh by his turban … which headgear was now sensibly covered with a blue bath cap.

  Hugh’s site office was in what had once been the mansion’s garage. The strip lights in there were so bright that they made her blink. Hugh himself was on the phone, but brought the conversation to a close when he spotted Ellie. No smiles today.

  ‘Like to visit the scene of the crime?’

  Ellie couldn’t think of anything she’d like less, but she nodded and followed him across the covered courtyard – in the process of being reglazed – and into what had once been the kitchen quarters of the old house and had been transformed into communal sitting rooms for the guests who would soon grace the premises. The kitchens themselves, plus the laundry and maintenance rooms, were all now to be found in the basement. Painters and decorators were everywhere. So many, in fact, that it seemed they would be falling over one another in their haste to get the job done. Where the painters had finished, carpets were being laid. Where the carpets were down, curtains and blinds were being fitted and furniture unpacked.

  The lift was not working, so Hugh led the way up the grand staircase to the first floor … and then to the second … and on to the top floor with its pretty dormer windows … one of which overlooked Ellie’s own garden in the next road. Hugh paused to let Ellie catch him up on the top landing. She was breathing heavily by the time she reached his side. Too many stairs to climb in one day. All right, she knew she ought to do something about her weight, but really …!

  Through open doors she could see electricians attending to light and power fittings in a number of newly furnished bedrooms, while their en suites next door were being cleaned by a couple of heavily muscled young women in skimpy vests and jeans. Polish cleaners?

  The landing was littered with boxes of tiles and discarded cardboard. Mirrors, bathroom cabinets, light fittings and glass shelves stood around, partially unpacked. Through a newly decorated bedroom they went into a small en suite beyond. Bath, washbasin, toilet, bidet and heated towel rails had already been plumbed in, but the walls were only now being tiled, the floor hadn’t yet been dealt with and the cladding for the bath leaned against the wall.

  A burly man in his early sixties, wearing a peaked cap instead of the regulation hard hat, was rapidly and efficiently tiling the walls over the bath. He was being assisted by a gormless-looking younger man with a prominent Adam’s apple and a sniff, whose only function appeared to be handing over materials to the man actually doing the work. The younger man’s jeans were worn so low that Ellie wondered how on earth they were kept up. Both workmen suspended operations when Ellie and Hugh stepped through the doorway.

  ‘Mrs Quicke, this is Preston and his apprentice, Dave,’ said Hugh. ‘Preston’s already told me what happened yesterday, but I said you’d like to hear it yourself.’

  ‘All these interruptions. I’m falling behind,’ said Preston in a toneless voice which grated. The voice of one severely deaf? Ah, yes. He wore hearing aids in both ears. He might be working on a bathroom but he himself didn’t look all that clean.

  Sniff, went his assistant.

  ‘If you please,’ said Hugh, in a mild tone which nevertheless brooked no argument.

  ‘What?’ said Preston.

  Hugh repeated himself, in a loud, clear tone.

  Preston turned on Dave. ‘You carry on. I’m watching you, mind!’ He addressed a point above Ellie’s shoulder. ‘I can’t see what good this will do. We caught him red-handed, using a wrench to loosen that nut down there.’ He gestured to a fitment on the wall under the bath. ‘If he’d not been stopped, he’d have flooded the place. I shouted. He shot out of the door and took a tumble down the stairs. I never laid a finger on him. He’s a liar if he says I did.’

  Sniff. ‘That’s the truth, innit!’ echoed the gormless-looking assistant.

  Ellie measured distances with her eye. She hadn’t realized there
were two people involved. But, if there were, then it was easier to see how Mikey sustained his various injuries. She told herself to tread carefully.

  She said, ‘Do you two always work together?’

  ‘What?’

  She repeated the question, a little louder.

  Preston nodded. ‘My nephew. I’m learning him the trade.’

  Ah. Hugh had once mentioned that there were some family members on the workforce, which made it necessary to use tact if he had to deal with minor infractions of rules.

  ‘You travel together to work?’

  ‘What?’

  She repeated the question, louder and enunciating clearly.

  ‘He lives next door but one. Some days I gives him a lift, some days he comes on his own. Yesterday he come in with me.’

  ‘So you arrived together. You came up the stairs together?’

  He leaned towards her, frowning. Had he understood? Yes, for he nodded. ‘We come up together.’

  ‘You’d been working in here the day before?’

  ‘What?’

  Sniff.

  Ellie redirected the question to the gormless Dave, who said, ‘We finished tiling next door, see, then started in here. But there weren’t enough tiles. Behindhand, we were.’

  Preston grinned, catching on. ‘And you not helping, holding us up.’ Still that monotone.

  She tried a smile. ‘A good workman is careful to pack up his tools at the end of a day’s work, and to take them home with him. I’m sure you do that, don’t you? Dave?’

  ‘A course.’

  ‘You’d never leave your tools behind overnight, would you?’

  Preston looked bewildered. He was not following this.

  ‘What? A course not.’

  ‘Of course not. So where did Mikey find a wrench first thing in the morning, before you two got here?’

  Dave blinked. Chewed on his lip. ‘Dunno. I suppose someone was careless.’

  ‘More than careless. Criminally negligent. I think perhaps some questions ought to be asked as to who was responsible for leaving a wrench around? A wrench that might have been picked up and used by any vandal who walked on to the site.’

  Shifted feet. Sideways looks.

  Hugh was taking it all in. Not interfering. Good.

  Preston’s tone was aggressive. ‘We found him with a wrench, interfering. Then, as the boss weren’t around, I took him down the station and handed him over.’

  Try a different tack.

  Ellie turned on the sniffing assistant. ‘Do you both carry knives?’

  Preston didn’t react, but the lad’s hand went to his jeans pocket, wavered, and returned to duty.

  Ellie said, ‘I expect you both do, for work. That’s right, isn’t it, Dave?’

  The lad shot a look at his uncle and nearly dropped the tile he was holding. ‘I suppose.’

  Ellie pointed. ‘That last tile you put on is crooked.’

  Preston understood that all right. He inspected his nephew’s work. ‘Stupid git. What did I tell you about keeping the lines straight?’

  ‘Which of you hit the boy first?’ said Ellie.

  A tinge of colour came into Preston’s sallow cheeks. ‘Fecking nuisance, underfoot, poking and prying. Got what he came for, didn’t he? Dave! Out the way. Let me do the job or we’ll not be done this fortnight.’

  Hugh indicated to Ellie that they should retreat. Back through the bedroom, and the landing, and down the stairs they went. Both preoccupied. When Ellie opened her mouth to speak, Hugh hushed her. ‘Wait till we’re in my office.’

  Yes, of course. There were workmen everywhere. Most glanced sideways at Ellie. Normally, she’d be greeted with smiles and a nod because they knew her position with relation to the hotel and many of them had been involved in carrying out suggestions she’d made about this and that. So why the sideways looks? They must know Hugh had invited her to talk to Preston and Dave. They would all know what Mikey had been said to have done. How did they feel about it? Difficult to tell but, at a guess, they were closing ranks behind Preston and Dave. Understandable, if unhelpful.

  Back in his office, Hugh closed the door behind them and offered a cup of tea and a seat, both of which Ellie declined.

  She said, ‘In my opinion, Mikey caught them using their wrench to loosen the nut on that fitment under the bath. They were startled. Hadn’t expected to see him. They reacted without thinking. One of them struck out with his knife, a reflex action more likely to come from the lad Dave than from his older, more experienced uncle. Mikey put up his arm to protect himself, and the knife sliced through his clothing but fortunately did hardly any more damage than that. It was probably Preston who clouted the boy on his jaw, picked him up in a bear hug and threw him down the stairs.’

  Hugh propped himself against the back of a chair. ‘I agree, although I can’t see why they should turn saboteur.’

  Ellie couldn’t, either. It was a puzzle.

  Hugh rubbed his chin. ‘The men are getting restless; every delay jeopardizes the bonus they have every right to expect at the end of the contract.’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying, and I don’t envy you, trying to sort that out. Has Preston always been that deaf?’

  ‘It’s got a good deal worse this last few months, which was one of the reasons why we were letting him go when this job finishes. We’re taking the nephew on the strength instead.’

  She was getting angry. ‘Dave will be a liability, not an asset, won’t he? You know perfectly well that they were in it together, and even if you can get rid of Preston, you’ll still have a rotten apple in the workforce. What Dave did once, he’ll do again.’

  He spread his hands. ‘I’m aware of it. Give me some proof …?’

  She couldn’t.

  TEN

  Thursday evening

  ‘I’m home!’ Ellie had passed Thomas’s car in the drive on the way in. She’d been afraid her front door key would play up again, but it had behaved itself for once. Good. She expected to hear Thomas’s cheerful voice as she disposed of her umbrella and mac. She was dying to tell him all about her day, and she desperately needed to ask his advice. How disappointing it was that Hugh had been unable to get the truth out of Preston! Ellie wasn’t sure what to do next. Meanwhile, Mikey’s future looked grim.

  The house seemed quiet. Unnaturally so?

  Ellie found Rose dozing in her big chair in her room, with the telly on but muted.

  The lasagne was bubbling away in the oven, and a big pot of potatoes ditto on the hob. No green vegetables? Thomas would eat lasagne with potatoes, of course, but must not be encouraged to do so. She could get some beans from the freezer at the last minute to go with the lasagne. As for the potatoes? Well, potato and leek soup could be made tomorrow. Good winter food.

  So, where was Thomas? Not in the sitting room, where he sometimes fell asleep in his La-Z-Boy chair in front of the tele-vision while waiting for the six o’clock news. He was not in his quiet room, nor in his study.

  Stairs. Again. She pulled herself up the first flight. Thomas was sitting on their bed, fully dressed, staring into space. He was frowning and barely registered her presence when she touched his forehead. A high temperature. A headache.

  ‘Be all right in a minute,’ he mumbled.

  Flu. Thomas didn’t like to give in to minor ailments but he did get fearsome colds, which sometimes went to his chest. She’d have to order him to bed, or he’d try to keep going and make himself really ill.

  ‘Into bed with you. Have you taken any painkillers?’

  His frown deepened. ‘I think so. I came over with the shivers, driving back. Lucky I didn’t have an accident. Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine. There, now. Undress, get into bed and relax. I’ll fetch you something to drink and look in on you later, when you’ve had a nap.’

  ‘Someone phoned.’ A deeper frown. ‘Can’t remember. Wrote it down. I think.’ He began to undress. She left him to it.

  More stai
rs. Vera had got as far as shrugging herself into her dressing gown and was with Mikey in her sitting room on the top floor watching television. Vera looked dreadful, Mikey looked half asleep.

  Vera tried to smile. ‘Isn’t it silly? I keep falling asleep. But I’m much better. I’ll be up and about tomorrow. Just a bit shaky, still. Mikey’s been looking after me beautifully, but I’m afraid he’s going down with it, too. Says he doesn’t want any supper.’

  ‘Take your time.’

  Mikey looked at Ellie from under heavy eyelids and didn’t respond when she asked how he was feeling. Maybe he had flu, too. Maybe he was just pretending to be ill. Or maybe he really did have concussion and ought to be in hospital.

  What to do for the best? The doctors were all busy with flu victims, but Mikey’s injuries were something else. If Ellie did nothing and he got worse, she’d never forgive herself. Vera wouldn’t forgive her, either. Ellie decided that it would be better to be safe than sorry, and to call for help. If the doctors thought she was a silly old woman fussing unnecessarily, then so be it.

  She phoned the helpline for the NHS.

  The anonymous voice on the other end of the line listened to the symptoms displayed by Thomas and Vera, and said in a sing-song voice that Ellie was doing the right thing, but to contact them again if she noticed any worsening of their condition. When it came to a description of Mikey’s injuries, the sing-song voice changed its tune. Someone would be with her as soon as possible, taking into consideration all the many calls on their time at the moment.

  Ellie made more lemonade. Double quantity. Some for Thomas, some for Vera and some for Mikey. Suppose Rose were to go down with it, too? Ellie shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about. Please, Lord. Let us keep fit. Please?

  Up the stairs we go. Take it easy. More haste, less speed, and she’d drop one of the jugs of lemonade if she went too fast. Oh, but her legs were getting so tired. Maybe all this climbing of stairs might make her lose weight. In her dreams!

  As she descended the stairs again, the doorbell rang. Two paramedics, efficient if weary. This was just another routine visit to them. Up the stairs. Check on Thomas. ‘No, missus. Everything’s fine. Not to worry. Yes, if his cough turns nasty, contact your doctor for some antibiotics.’