Murder at the Altar Read online

  Ellie glanced at the clock. It was after five now. Aunt Drusilla must be hopping mad. Tough.

  The next two signals showed that people had rung but not bothered to leave a message. Then one from the police. Would she call them as soon as she got back from the hospital?

  And then the one Ellie had been waiting for. Softly spoken, but clear.

  ‘It’s me; Kate. Just to tell you I’m perfectly all right. Hardly a scratch on me, but I thought I’d make myself scarce for a few days. I won’t give you my address and I’m not telling Armand where I’m going, either. I need some space. Bless you. I’ll be in touch.’

  Ellie smiled to herself. Good for Kate.

  Then Diana. Very agitated. ‘Mother, what’s going on? I’ve just had Aunt Drusilla on the phone with some incredible story about your being blown up, or something. I told her it can’t be true, but she said she got it from one of your neighbours who knows her and went round to see if she’d got any news. If you have been involved in an accident, you might at least have let me know. Give me a ring, soonest …’

  Then a loud man’s voice. ‘Mrs Quicke, we’d like your story …’

  Another two hang-ups.

  Then Aunt Drusilla again. ‘Ellie, I would like you to ring me—’

  Ellie fast forwarded. Another newspaper. Then Diana again, ‘Mother, it’s on the evening news. I knew I shouldn’t have left you by yourself. I’ve rung the office and told them what’s happened and I’m coming straight down, as soon as Stewart gets back from work. With any luck, I’ll be with you about half six. I’ve still—’

  And that’s where the tape finished. Ellie cancelled the messages, wondering if Madam would come rushing back to reinstate her now that she was famous. Well, sort of famous.

  But there was an immediate threat which must be averted at all costs. Ellie did not wish Diana to come rushing down. It might even now be possible to stop her.

  She dialled, and Stewart picked up the phone. That was bad news. Stewart must have left work early to look after their little boy.

  ‘Oh, Stewart. Ellie here. I’ve just had a message from Diana …’

  ‘Are you all right? Diana’s been worried sick about you.’

  ‘Cuts and bruises. Honestly, I’m just fine and there’s absolutely no need for Diana to come down. I know how busy you both are.’

  ‘She’s well on her way by now. She left, oh, about half an hour ago.’

  ‘In my car?’ Ellie could not prevent the acid creeping into her voice.

  Pause. ‘In her car, yes. Why?’

  ‘Oh, I just wondered.’ Ellie was feeling a trifle lightheaded. She knew it wasn’t fair to take it out on poor easygoing Stewart. She suspected that she was going to regret being so tough, but for once she felt she might as well assert herself. ‘If she is coming down, then I’ll get the garage to assess what the car is worth and you can let me have a cheque in due course, right?’

  ‘But I thought …’ Some heavy breathing.

  ‘That’s all,’ said Ellie, and put the phone down. It rang again immediately.

  ‘Mrs Quicke, I represent—’

  She broke the connection and took the phone off the hook. Someone was still banging on the front door and ringing the doorbell. She was getting a headache with all that banging. She thought of going into the sitting-room to see if she could catch some news on television, but then she realized the curtains weren’t drawn in there, and she was still in her dressing-gown, with her hair all over the place.

  Right. Into the kitchen. Someone was peering in through the back door. The nerve! She pulled the blinds down as a flash went off in her face.

  How dare they!

  She turned on the wireless, loudly, to cut out the interference from outside, while she investigated the contents of the fridge. Not much there. She cooked some onions, threw in a small tin of corned beef. Rice. Some frozen peas. It didn’t take long. She sat at the kitchen table, thinking that after taking a couple of aspirins she would go to bed.

  Except that she supposed Diana was on her way. Luckily she hadn’t stripped the beds in the spare room since Diana and Stewart were here last. And if Diana expected a meal, she would have to think of something to give her … eggs, perhaps?

  Humming a little hum, she went upstairs – her left knee and hip were still sore – and going into the dark front bedroom, looked down on what was happening outside her house. Several strange cars were lined up outside. Waiting for her to emerge?

  Journalists, she assumed. No sign of Diana yet. She drew the curtains and put on the lights.

  The knocking from the back door had ceased.

  Good.

  She felt very tired, but knew that if she lay down on the bed she’d fall asleep, and Diana would soon be arriving. So Ellie had a good wash, brushed her hair and dressed in casual, warm clothing just as the banging started up on the front door again. Peeping through the curtains, she saw Armand standing below. He looked frenzied. Some of the journalists were leaving their cars to converge on him. For pity’s sake, Ellie felt she must let him in before they ate him alive.

  As she opened the door Armand fell in, gasping. Ellie just managed to close the door behind him against the invasive horde. Her eye fell on the phone, still off the hook. She’d forgotten something – what was it?

  Armand looked dishevelled, a lock of carroty hair fraying over his forehead, his tie pulled down. His top shirt button had been wrenched open, and he was breathing rapidly. He started to speak but she picked up the phone, motioning him into the kitchen. He bared his teeth at her, and didn’t move.

  ‘Leave that!’ he said, trying to take the phone off her. ‘Where’s my wife!’ He was very angry.

  Ellie was getting tired of being pushed around. ‘Let go of me or I’ll scream and bring the press in. You don’t want that, do you! I’ve a message to ring—’

  He wrested the phone off her and slammed it down. It immediately rang. She put out her hand to pick it up. He swung at her, open handed, but she managed to duck it in time and pick up the receiver.

  ‘Ellie, my dear. Are you all right?’ She couldn’t place the voice for the moment.

  Holding Armand off with her other hand she said, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Your old friend Archie, of course.’

  Archie? Archie Benjamin, Frank’s friend from the PCC.

  ‘Oh, Archie. Good of you to call. I have someone here at the moment. Armand. My next door neighbour, you know …’

  Armand was seething, taking two short steps down the hall and two back.

  ‘… And I’m expecting my daughter Diana to arrive any minute …’ It wasn’t a bad idea to let Armand know that she was expecting friends.

  ‘I was worried about you. Someone said you’d been blown up, taken to hospital …’

  ‘Reports of my death have been grossly exaggerated.’

  ‘What?’

  Of course, she’d forgotten that he’d no sense of humour.

  ‘I’m all right. Just bruised. If you don’t mind, Archie, I have to ring the police right away … yes, yes, really I’m quite all right. Thanks for calling.’ She replaced the receiver and turned on Armand.

  ‘Now, Armand, let’s behave in a civilized manner, shall we? Why don’t you go and draw the curtains in the front room so that the press can’t see in, while I phone the police. After that I’ll be happy to talk to you. If you don’t, I shall open the door and call the press in. And I’m sure that’s the last thing you want.’

  He bared his teeth at her. His eyes had gone small and sparklingly black.

  ‘Where’s my wife? What have you done with her?’

  The phone rang again. Armand reached a long arm and took it off its hook.

  ‘Now!’ he said. ‘Answer me, woman!’

  ‘The answer is that I don’t know where she is. I told the police. I went out to help her unfreeze the lock on her car door. She hadn’t got a scraper for the frost on the car windows. I said I thought I had some de-icer in the cupboard he
re, and started back to the house to fetch it. The next thing I knew I was in the gutter, deafened, unable to speak. Cut and bruised.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about you! What about Kate?’ He got her by the upper arms and shook her.

  He projected violence like a force field. Ellie could understand why Kate had been so afraid of him. She was – almost – afraid of him herself.

  ‘Kate screamed. Then she picked up her handbag and went back to the house.’

  ‘She must have told you what she was going to do …’

  ‘No. Not a word.’

  ‘She’s here, isn’t she? Hiding upstairs!’ Armand let go of Ellie and started up the stairs, shouting for his wife.

  Ellie rubbed her arms where he’d gripped her and wondered what she should do next. Phone the police. Of course. Frank had the number of the local police station in the phone’s memory. Number nine, if she remembered rightly.

  She replaced the receiver and pressed the number nine.

  ‘Kate, where are you! Come out!’ Doors banged. He had gone into the front bedroom, was opening wardrobe doors.

  ‘Police station, who’s calling?’

  ‘Mrs Ellie Quicke. I was involved in the incident this morning in which my neighbour’s car was blown up. I’ve been at the hospital all day, and returned to find a message on the answerphone to ring the police.’

  ‘Just a moment. I’ll put you through to the incident room …’

  Armand was coming down the stairs, taking them two at a time. His anger had intensified, if anything. He saw that Ellie was on the phone and assumed she was phoning for help.

  ‘Bitch!’ he said and, snatching the receiver out of her hands, threw it to the floor and pulled the telephone cord out of its socket.

  ‘That was rather stupid of you!’ said Ellie, trying to keep calm. ‘I was through to the police. They’ll be wondering now why I was so abruptly cut off in the middle of my call to them.’

  ‘You shut up!’ Armand threw open the door into the sitting-room with a bang and charged in. Switching on all the lights and seeing it uninhabited, he hurled a couple of chairs to the ground and kicked the coffee table over.

  Ellie winced. She considered her options. It appeared to her that she stood between a homicidal maniac and the press. Which was worse? Lifting her big coat and handbag from the hall stand, she opened the front door just as the bell rang.

  To a chorus of photoflashes, not one but two newcomers stood and gaped first at the press straggling down the path, and then at her.

  10

  Diana dumped her overnight bag in the hall. ‘Mother! What is going on!’ Archie Benjamin hovered on the doorstep, holding a large pink-flow

  ered azalea and a bottle of wine. He seemed lost for words. ‘Come in, quick!’ Ellie pulled Archie into the house and slammed the

  door shut in the face of the first journalist to reach them. She put on the

  chain, and leaned against the door.

  ‘My dear Ellie!’ Archie perspired, despite the chill wind that had blown

  in with them.

  Diana glared at him, resenting his familiarity. At that moment Armand

  erupted from the living-room.

  I am so tired I can’t be bothered to be frightened any more, thought

  Ellie. She said, as if this were a normal, everyday event, ‘May I introduce

  you? Gentlemen, this is my daughter Diana, whom you may or may not

  have met when she stayed with me for some days over the funeral.

  Diana, this is my next-door neighbour Armand, who has come here in

  search of his wife … whose car was blown up this morning and me with

  it. Diana, this is Archie Benjamin, a great friend of your father’s, from the

  church. You probably did meet him at the funeral.’

  Archie tried to find somewhere to put his plant down so that he could

  shake hands with Diana but she was past observing such civilities. ‘I

  dare say, but …’

  Armand was beyond observing the civilities, too. He had failed to find

  his wife but he did have just enough control left to realize that attacking

  Ellie physically in the presence of her daughter and Archie Benjamin

  was going to be counter-productive.

  Approaching Ellie, he spat some words low into her ear. ‘I’ll be back!’

  He wrestled the chain off the door and flung himself outside. Ellie neither knew nor cared whether he was attacked by the waiting journalists. She thought him well able to take care of himself and indeed in a few seconds she heard his own front door bang. Perhaps the journalists

  would turn their attention to him now.

  She had other problems to solve.

  ‘Mother, ring the police and get rid of that rabble outside!’ ‘I can’t, dear, unless I can get the telephone working again.’ She

  pushed the telephone cord back into the socket, replaced the receiver

  and the phone rang at once. Somebody was making use of the latest

  technology to ring as soon as the line was free. So she couldn’t get a

  line to ring out. She took the receiver off the hook.

  Diana whipped off her coat and gave Archie a withering glance. ‘Mother

  is perfectly all right now I’m here, so you needn’t stay.’

  Ellie wondered why Diana had to be so rude all the time. In her fatigue,

  she felt a distance growing between herself and the others. Little as she

  liked him, she didn’t want Archie to go away feeling offended – as indeed

  he appeared to be at the moment, pursing his lips at Diana, and screwing up his eyes at her.

  ‘Archie, Diana is right. I shall be quite safe with her here to look after

  me. But there is something you can do for me if you will. I was speaking

  to the police when Armand interrupted me and they’ll be wondering if I’ve

  been the victim of another murder or something. When you get home,

  would you ring them for me? Tell them what’s happened, say that I’m

  perfectly all right now but could they do something about the journalists

  out there?’

  Archie preened himself. ‘Of course, dear lady!’ He darted at Ellie and

  kissed her cheek. Ellie was too tired to react quickly, but a second later

  she did recoil. Diana saw the kiss but not the recoil, and her eyebrows

  almost met in disgust.

  Ellie let Archie out and replaced the chain on the door, saying to Diana,

  ‘Darling, it’s lovely to see you, though you really need not have hared

  down the motorway just for me. I really am all right, you know. Just a little

  tired. Would you like to go upstairs and dump your things? I’m afraid

  your bedroom is just as you left it last week, but I’m sure you won’t mind

  that at such short notice …’

  ‘Mother, who is that dreadful little man?’

  ‘I told you, dear. A friend of your father’s. He’s the church treasurer and

  wants to retrieve some of the minutes your father put on his computer.

  He’s very thoughtful, really. Lovely plant. I’ll deal with it in the morning.

  Do you think you could draw the curtains in the living-room while I see

  what I can find you for supper?’

  ‘I snatched a sandwich at a motorway stop. Mother, you can’t possibly

  stay here. Pack an overnight bag, and we’ll go to a hotel somewhere.

  You can pay by credit card—’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  Ellie wondered what it was about drawing curtains that was so

  unpopular. She’d asked Armand to draw the curtains, and Diana. Neither

  of them had done it. She went and did it herself, keeping behind the

  material so as not to be photographed by the journalists outside. ‘Don’t
be silly, mother.’ Diana had followed her in, and was at least

  righting the furniture. ‘You can’t stay on here, and that’s flat. Stewart and

  I discussed it at length after the funeral. You’ve never lived alone and you

  can’t be expected to cope now. We’ve found a nice little one-bedroom

  flat for you, fully furnished and at a reasonable rent. You can stay with us

  till you’ve recovered, and then move in. The flat’s vacant at the moment,

  luckily. As for your furniture, well, if there’s anything small that you particularly want to keep, I daresay that will be all right. Stewart and I will

  have Grandad’s bureau, of course …’

  Ellie sank into a chair, leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘Diana, you

  are not listening. I’m not going anywhere. I like it here. I have all my

  friends here. Why should I move?’

  Diana exhaled noisily. ‘Mother, if you could see yourself, you wouldn’t

  say that. Of course you don’t want to leave this house, but there comes

  a time when common sense makes it necessary to do so. Now don’t

  let’s argue about it. Off you go to bed and I’ll bring you up a nice hot

  drink.’

  Ellie hated hot drinks last thing at night. She thought, I’m too tired to

  argue, about hot drinks or about moving. We can have it out in

  the morning. She inched herself to her feet, feeling all her bruises complain, and made her way to the stairs.

  Diana said, ‘I’d better ring Stewart, if I can get through. He always

  worries when I have to drive on the motorway.’

  As Ellie reached the landing, she heard Diana jiggling the phone and

  finally managing to dial out.

  ‘Stewart, it’s me. Yes, a good journey but bedlam here, with journalists

  camped outside and a horrid little man trying to pay court to my mother,

  yes, really! And the phone’s been jammed, so I hope you haven’t been

  trying to get through …’

  A pause while she listened to Stewart. Ellie smiled to herself, feeling

  a little guilty but not very, knowing what was coming.