Murder In Law Read online

  Susan hit her forehead. ‘Bother. I did say I’d ask Lesley if you could go home. I’ll ring her now. Where’s my phone?’

  Where had she left it? Oh, couldn’t this wait till after she’d given the children their tea?

  Rafael said, ‘Lucia, sit down and eat or go up to your room, just as you please. I’ll see if I can get through to Lesley.’ He took out his own phone and saw there were messages on it. ‘Oh. What does he want …?’

  Coralie arrived with two children with clean hands and faces. Both smelling sweet. Both hungry. Jenny climbed on to Rafael’s knee. He ignored her as he took his messages.

  Lucia seated herself, carefully coaxing tears on to her cheeks and pressing a tissue to her eyes. Susan served some pasta for the littlies and Lucia. Coralie said her mum wanted her back for supper, but she’d stay till they’d got the children bathed and tucked up in bed.

  The children ignored Lucia. As usual.

  Rafael shot up out of his chair. ‘What? Say that again!’ He tried to put Jenny down, but she resisted, wailing loudly.

  Lucia said, ‘Oh, shut up, you are horrible child!’

  This stirred Evan to action. ‘You’re the horrible one. I hate you!’

  Rafael handed Jenny over to Coralie, saying, ‘I’ve got to take this,’ and set off down the corridor to his study.

  Jenny wailed, kicking and shouting. Her face turned bright red.

  Susan took Jenny from Coralie, and held her tightly … oh, that hurt, but she could stand it, couldn’t she? Poor little Jenny. Poor little mite. Susan didn’t think the child had ever had much attention from her father even before he declined into a wheelchair. Diana had always been busy, and a series of nannies didn’t seem to have tackled the problem. A child without love grew up to be an unloving adult.

  ‘There, there,’ said Susan, rocking Jenny in her arms. Jenny was heavy. Susan manoeuvred herself into a chair, ably helped by Coralie. At first Jenny fought Susan, and then gradually, as tears flowed, she accepted the love which Susan was offering, and relaxed. One-handed, Susan began to feed Jenny, while Coralie dealt with the others.

  Rafael came back down the corridor, still on his phone. He beckoned to Susan to come out of the kitchen, but she was pinned to her chair by Jenny who refused to move, so he shrugged and returned to his study, leaving the women to clean everyone up. He didn’t appear when the children were taken into the big room for playtime, and he didn’t even surface when they were taken upstairs for a bath and bed. Fifi made herself keep awake as long as the others. Fifi was not going to miss anything, was she?

  Lucia helped a bit with getting the children in and out of the big bath, moaning the while that she shouldn’t be asked to look after children when she wasn’t being paid for it. Neither Coralie nor Susan bothered to reply to that, as they had another problem to solve.

  Rafael had brought back the two small beds which Evan and Jenny had been sleeping in at home, but fitting them into a room which already contained a largeish double bed and Fifi’s cot was a problem. Perhaps it would be possible for Rafael to take down the double bed and store it somewhere else for the time being? But where?

  Eventually it was decided to leave the two small beds on their sides on the landing and to put Evan and Jenny together into the big bed. Unfortunately Jenny refused to sleep in the big bed. She wanted her cot.

  Susan checked with Lucia, who said Jenny had been promoted to a small bed recently and her old cot had been disposed of.

  Jenny threw a tantrum. She wanted her cot.

  Susan and Coralie gave in, thinking that the children had been through enough trauma recently. If Jenny wanted to revert to babyhood for a while, then so be it. Fifi could sleep in the top part of her baby buggy and let Jenny have her cot.

  Fifi went out like a light. The other children were read to and persuaded to close their eyes and pretend to be asleep, until they actually did just that.

  The adults tiptoed out, exhausted and more than ready for an evening meal.

  Finally, it was grown-up time.

  Coralie was collected by her father. Lucia announced she was going out for a walk as she didn’t care to be with people who didn’t appreciate her … and she left, taking Susan’s umbrella without permission in case it rained, which it might well do.

  Only then did Rafael emerge from his den to join Susan in the kitchen for a belated supper. But there was no time to talk, for he’d brought his laptop with him and was engrossed in whatever he was reading on it. He forked food into his mouth, and said, ‘That was good,’ without interest. He did remark that looking after three children under five was more tiring than running a marathon and he didn’t know how Susan coped.

  Susan wanted to hit him, particularly since he’d hardly done any of the childcare. He took his dessert back to his study. Susan cleared up after a fashion.

  She was draggingly tired. She hurt. She thought of going to bed straight away but couldn’t face climbing the stairs.

  She wanted to subside into their big, squashy settee with Rafael beside her. She fantasized that she could put her feet up, perhaps have a chocolate or two, and find a non-worrying programme to watch on the telly. Nothing demanding. Politics were out, as were programmes about incest or murder. Definitely nothing about murder.

  She sank on to the settee by herself and closed her eyes. It had been a long and tiring day. And, her milk had dried up. She dozed, until she felt a small body nudge her leg. She cracked open her eyes.

  Evan was there, holding Hippo and looking up at her with eyes that seemed far older and wiser than his years. He wasn’t smelly, thank goodness. He looked as if he’d been crying but wasn’t going to admit it.

  She said, ‘Bad dream?’

  He nodded.

  She let him climb up beside her. She put her arm around him and felt his head burrow into her shoulder. Hippo didn’t smell too bad, up close. She pronounced the magic formula, ‘There, there.’

  He didn’t relax. The bad dream still had hold of him.

  ‘There, there. Can you tell me about it?’

  A long silence. Then: ‘Daddy’s crying. Hippo doesn’t like it.’

  It was Susan’s turn to stiffen. How could the little boy have heard …? No, he was imagining it. That big door at the top of the stairs would have stifled sound from two floors below, unless …?

  She said, carefully, ‘It was a bad dream. Gone now. What do you do when you get a bad dream? Do you tell Lucia?’

  ‘No. Lucia says, “Go back to bed and don’t bother me!” She’s always watching telly, or on her phone. She bangs her door shut and locks it.’

  Lucia deserved to get the sack if she didn’t comfort a child who’d had a nightmare!

  ‘So what do you do next?’

  Silence.

  Oh. My goodness! Surely he hadn’t wandered downstairs on the night his father was attacked! Pray God he didn’t see what happened! Oh, dear Lord, no!

  TWELVE

  Saturday evening

  Evan shifted to lie more comfortably against Susan. ‘When Daddy cries in the night, Hippo says we can open the door on the landing and see if Mummy’s light’s on down below. If we see the light, we hold on tight to the banisters and we go down the stairs one at a time, and then we climb into bed with Mummy and the bad dream goes away.’

  Good for Diana.

  Susan stroked the little boy’s back. He began to relax. She said, ‘You’re safe now.’

  ‘Hippo doesn’t feel safe exactly. He doesn’t like it when Daddy cries.’

  How terrible for a child to hear their parent cry!

  ‘It was just a bad dream, poppet.’

  He lifted his head. ‘Not a dream. Mummy explained. Daddy’s sad because he’s poorly. Jenny and I must be quiet, not bother him. I asked Mummy why the doctor not make him better, and she said he takes his medicine when I close my eyes and go to sleep. So Hippo and I go to sleep in her bed.’

  Now for the fifty-million-dollar question.

  ‘What happ
ened if you got a bad dream and Lucia wouldn’t help you and your mummy wasn’t in her room? Has that ever happened?’

  He nodded, but didn’t speak.

  She said, ‘Did it happen the other night? Were you brave enough to go right down the stairs to see if your daddy was all right?’

  ‘Hippo was frightened. Men shouting.’

  Susan shivered. ‘You went down? How far?’

  ‘To the top of the stairs by Mummy’s room. Mummy’s light wasn’t on, but there were lights in the hall and lots of shouting. Daddy was shouting, too. And then it was quiet. I could hear man breathing like this, in and out, in and out.’

  ‘You didn’t see anyone?’

  A wriggle. Silence.

  Finally, he said, ‘I hid behind Hippo, but he looked up and saw me. He said, “Go back to bed. Don’t come down again!” So I went back upstairs. In the morning Lucia was there and we had breakfast and I told Hippo it was a bad dream. I went to nursery but Lucia made me leave Hippo behind and I missed him while we were there, and when we came out we went to McDonald’s and then we walked and walked and we tried to go home but there were strange people there and it was another bad dream … and then we came here.’

  ‘The man in the dream, the one who told you to go back to bed. Did you see his face?’

  He shook his head. ‘He was all in black. All over. Like a spider.’

  ‘But you recognized his voice?’

  A nod. ‘And his smell. He smells funny.’ He yawned hugely.

  ‘Cigarettes? Coffee smell?’

  He’d lost interest. ‘Where’s Mummy? Is she staying with friends? She often stays with friends.’

  ‘She asked us to look after you for a bit, while she finds another place for you to live.’

  ‘We’re not going home, then?’

  Susan shook her head.

  He said, ‘I like it here.’

  Another long silence. Susan thought he’d dropped off to sleep until he said, ‘Hippo doesn’t like hearing Daddy cry in the night. He won’t be crying where he is now, will he?’

  ‘If he is, he’ll soon stop and be happy again. When you think of him now, think of him smiling at you. Then the bad dreams will stop.’

  His whole body shook in a deep sigh. ‘You said a prayer to Fifi when you tucked her up in her cot. You didn’t say one for me or Jenny. Granny always says a prayer when she tucks us up in bed.’

  Susan had felt embarrassed about saying a prayer as she’d laid Fifi down to sleep. She didn’t always do it. She wasn’t all that sure she believed in prayer. But somehow, under the circumstances, it had seemed the right thing to do. She said, ‘Let’s take you back up to bed now, and we’ll say a prayer for Jenny and another for you, and then you’ll be able to sleep without any more bad dreams.’

  He scrambled down, still holding Hippo and took her hand. ‘All right. Hippo feels better now.’

  She took him back upstairs, popped him into the big bed, gave him a cuddle, said a little prayer over him and Jenny, checked that both girls were fast asleep, and dragged herself back downstairs, thinking she would get a hot drink and tumble into bed herself.

  Fat chance! As she reached the hall Rafael emerged from his study, holding up his laptop and shouting, ‘I’ve cracked it!’

  Rafael was pleased with himself. He didn’t notice that Susan was flagging but gave her a whacking great kiss, twirled her round till she was dizzy and said, ‘Shall we tell Lesley now or in the morning?’

  Susan assumed that was a rhetorical question since he’d flung himself at full length on to the big settee and beamed at her. His attitude proclaimed that he was the One and Only, the Solver of Mysteries-which-had-proved-too-hard-for-ordinary-mortals, and he expected the little woman to provide him with an appropriate amount of praise.

  Susan tried to oblige. ‘Really? How did you crack it? And did you know that Little Evan used to—’

  Rafael waved her words away. He wasn’t listening, was he? ‘On the internet. You can find out all sorts of things if you only know how. I realize it’s a bit of a closed book to you and you don’t—’

  ‘I can text and take photos.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Well, one of these days we’ll sign you up for a couple of beginners’ sessions on a laptop and lo and behold! A whole new world will open to you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Susan, feeling worn out and trying not to show it. ‘But sometimes people just tell me things. Evan has just—’

  ‘Never mind about that. Look what I’ve found!’ He turned his laptop towards her and opened the lid.

  She looked. She couldn’t make head nor tail of the names and numbers on the screen. ‘What am I supposed to be seeing?’

  Rafael was only too happy oblige. ‘Paper trails. People try to hide them but there’s always something, if you know how to look. Now here’ – he honed in on something in small print – ‘is where I started. Evan’s Estate Agency, established et cetera, nice photo of him taken twenty years ago, looking as if he were born to the silver, member of the golf club, and so on. Here’s another of Diana, not so successful, looking as if it pained her to smile. Premises, et cetera, recent sales, properties much in demand, terms and conditions, et cetera. Looks prosperous, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Susan, who didn’t trust estate agents as a matter of principle and would never, ever, have put business Diana’s way.

  Rafael scrolled down till he came to ‘Properties recently sold’, saying, ‘We don’t need to look in detail at those houses but at a quick glance I can tell you that not much has been sold by them in recent months, except … Look at this one.’ He pointed to a modern house in one of those new estates where the car rules OK, and there isn’t a bus, a school, a doctor or a shop for miles. He said, ‘Got it?’

  Susan hadn’t.

  Rafael explained. ‘All right. Let’s make it easy for you. Let’s look at the board outside this house which is for sale on Diana’s website. See? “A Betterment Project for Winston Enterprises”. Now, Winston Enterprises is a multinational concern, lots of companies reliant on importing cheap goods from the Far East and selling them here for high prices. The City reports they’re doing well. Their chairman is a man called Charles Winston – originally Weinstein – and the managing director is his daughter … see here? Yes, Cynthia Cottrell is his daughter. Their headquarters are in a tax haven and Cynthia lives with Keith in a gated mansion out in the country to the west of London.

  ‘Let’s scroll down through their various companies. In every case we find Cynthia’s name lurking somewhere on the board of directors, but no Keith Cottrell until we come to … yes, here we are: “A Betterment Project, Homes for Today. Managing Director, Keith Cottrell: Chairman, Cynthia Cottrell”. So let’s look at Homes for Today in detail. Here they are … Nice picture of Keith Cottrell looking responsible and trustworthy. Here’s one of Cynthia … professional photograph … straight from the beauty parlour … looks good for her age, doesn’t she? A tough cookie.

  ‘Now, let’s look at their website. “Proud to present … Brand-new housing estate convenient to the A40 … Another out near Denham … Plans in preparation for … Sales through …” Get it?’

  Susan got it. ‘Keith appointed Diana’s agency to sell the houses on an estate which is being built by Cynthia’s firm. I wonder what Cynthia feels about that.’

  ‘And how do you think Keith Cottrell will feel about being dragged into a murder enquiry? Is he going to stand by his dearest Diana and risk losing his nice lifestyle, or is he going to run for cover back to his wife?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘His anxiety to meet up with Diana seems fed by fear of the way the situation might work out, rather than by passion to fall into her arms again. He’s not going to stand by her. But he did urgently need to see her. I’m sure she’s got something on him. Something he sent his heavies to retrieve from her house the other night?’

  Rafael said, ‘Or that Cynthia sent? She put up with his behaving badly so long as it wasn’t in the public
eye, but she doesn’t want to lose him. She wouldn’t want him dragged into a murder enquiry any more than he would. So yes, why shouldn’t it be her who sent the heavies in? Or, indeed, her father. Want to see what he looks like?’

  Rafael tapped keys and the picture of a silver-haired man with a thick neck appeared on screen. Beautiful suit. Heavy-lidded eyes. Carrying too much weight for his height but you wouldn’t want to bump into him in the street or you’d be sent flying.

  Susan shivered. ‘Mafia man?’

  Rafael closed his laptop. ‘Case solved. Ellie said we’d crack it, and we have. We can leave it to Lesley to arrest whichever one of the three she fancies. The police should give me a medal, right?’

  She didn’t want to rain on his parade. Well, she did, actually. His air of Superior-Man-solving-a-problem-too-difficult-for-his-Little-Woman grated on her. She said, ‘Yes, you’ve discovered that each of these three might have a motive to search the house for Diana’s secret, whatever it is, but where does that get us?’

  That didn’t faze him. ‘Forensics will cope with that. They’ll find out who the heavies were from DNA left at the scene. Lesley will call the heavies in for questioning. No doubt they’ll be only too happy to divulge the name of whoever it was who employed them rather than face a charge of murder. Their employers can be prosecuted under the conspiracy label.’

  ‘Unless the heavies have been so well paid that they refuse to talk. Can’t the Winston-and-Cottrell lot afford their minions’ silence?’

  He looked wounded. ‘Oh, come on! Why the sour face? Don’t you want this whole nasty affair cleared up and Diana out of our lives?’

  ‘Sorry. Yes, of course I do.’

  Couldn’t he see that everything had got on top of her? Moving in and finding out she was pregnant again? Then the children arriving, and Lucia, and everyone expecting her to cope, regardless?

  At that point Susan had to stop and laugh at herself, because she’d observed this situation before from the outside. It was always happening to Ellie, wasn’t it? People in trouble saw that she was strong and expected her to carry their burdens when in actual fact she often felt like dissolving into a puddle of tears, rather like Alice in Wonderland. Though Alice did manage to get out of the puddle, didn’t she? And she, Susan, was not Ellie. No way! Oh dear, she really was so tired.