Murder by Suicide Read online

  With some trepidation, she switched on her husband’s word processor. Manual in hand, she opened a new document and typed in everything she knew about Sue and the handwritten poison-pen letters. She was a fast and accurate typist on an electric machine, and in some ways this was even better, although it did throw up a great many wavy green lines because it took exception to her grammar. A nasty little cartoon figure kept bobbing up, saying, ‘It looks as if you are writing a letter. Would you like some help?’ She wasn’t and she didn’t.

  Ignoring the fact that the typeface was too small and the margins seemed to go in and out at will, Ellie managed to print off the document. Stuffing it into an envelope with the evidence she had gathered so far, she addressed it to herself at the bank and stuck some stamps on it. She would post it in the letterbox on the Green as she went off for choir practice.

  She continued to worry about Aunt Drusilla. Why had the old lady allowed Diana to walk all over her? Perhaps she was going down with something? No. Aunt Drusilla was never unwell. She was legendary for never getting a cold, or flu, or rheumatism, like other people. True, she walked with a stick, but Ellie had always thought that was for effect rather than necessity.

  The phone rang. Ellie fell on it before it wakened Frank. It was Aunt Drusilla at her most imperious.

  ‘Ellie, is that you? I need to see you. At once.’

  ‘I’m looking after little Frank for the day …’

  ‘Get that daughter of yours to look after him. Take a cab over.’

  Well, why not? thought Ellie.

  Diana had a mobile phone. Ellie found the number and keyed it in. No reply, except for an anonymous voice saying that the mobile was switched off. Ellie glanced at the clock. It was getting late. Frank would be waking up soon and needed to have a good roll and crawl around to burn off some energy. Then he’d need his tea. Who did she know who could look after him at such short notice?

  Rose! Of course. If she were only in … Dear Rose was in, and happy to help out, provided that Ellie paid for the minicab to fetch her. Ellie rushed the dishes into the sink, set out everything for Frank’s tea, plus plenty of biscuits for Rose, left a note for Diana and scrambled into her old winter coat by the time Rose arrived in her minicab – which Ellie took on to Aunt Drusilla’s house.

  The tall Victorian house looked threatening in the dusk, and no lights had yet been switched on inside. Aunt Drusilla let her in, wearing a fur coat, with an unexpectedly chic turban on her head.

  ‘Really, Ellie! I thought you’d have put that old coat in the bin before now. Come on. I want you to go round the garden with me before it gets quite dark.’

  Was that what the old bat had summoned her for so urgently? Mm. No, probably not. So what was she up to?

  ‘My old handyman and gardener has retired, giving up at the tender age of sixty-five, if you please. I had this lad come to the door, asking if I needed any work done. I thought I’d give him a try. He cut back the shrubs round the front for me and did a good enough job, but then he suggested he replaced the trellis round the back. I was doubtful, but he said he’d worked for you and that you could give him a reference. I always take up references, you know.’

  Neil, of course. So he’d taken her name in vain, had he?

  ‘I know him, yes. His grandmother’s a friend of mine. Neil’s strong, has had some experience and is anxious to please. I really don’t know yet whether he can tell a rare plant from a weed.’

  Together they looked at the trellis, which topped the ancient brick wall running round three sides of the large garden. In some parts the trellis had disintegrated, overcome by rampant honeysuckle and the too-close proximity of some aged shrubbery. Anyone who tackled the job would need enthusiasm and a strong back.

  Aunt Drusilla poked and prodded at the wall, which seemed sound enough. ‘This boy Neil told me he wanted to set up locally as a contract gardener and was hoping a cousin of his might do the book-keeping for him. He said he was thinking of applying for a start-up grant. I was impressed, but your daughter gave him short shrift. She said she could find me a gardener at a cut-price rate. What do you think?’

  ‘I was thinking I might invest in Neil myself, and if his cousin – she’s called Chloe, a bright girl working at the Sunflower Café at the moment

  – well, if she took on the responsibility for doing the books and he got a grant, then I think he might do well.’

  ‘Your daughter doesn’t think so.’

  There was no reply to that.

  ‘Your dear husband used to attend to all the major repairs for me. I really do not know how I am to manage without him.’

  Aha, thought Ellie, as enlightenment struck. ‘You want me to pay the bill, since he left the place to me rather than you?’

  ‘Naturally. By the way, I’m told the wiring needs renewing throughout the house and the boiler also needs replacing.’

  ‘Let me think about it. I expect the rent you pay will cover everything you’ve mentioned.’

  A short silence ensued. ‘My dear nephew would never have dreamed of asking me for rent, after all I did for him.’

  ‘It’s different now, isn’t it?’ said Ellie calmly. ‘You’re quite right in thinking I won’t turn you out of the house unless you wish to go. But perhaps it might be a good idea to have a repairing lease drawn up? You continue to live here rent free, but do all the repairs that my surveyor thinks necessary. My surveyor, not yours.’

  Aunt Drusilla gave a soundless laugh, and patted Ellie on the arm. ‘You learn quickly. I daresay we can come to an agreement along those lines. Now, what about young Neil? Shall I use him, or shall I allow Diana to get a cut-price contractor in?’

  ‘A cautious “yes” to using Neil. Just keep an eye on him, that’s all.’

  ‘My feelings precisely,’ said Aunt Drusilla.

  They went back indoors, where the daily help had already laid the tea tray in the drawing room. Ellie turned on lights, drew curtains and switched the kettle on.

  ‘What have you done with my great-nephew?’

  ‘Diana was not available, so I found an old friend to baby-sit. Let’s hope he doesn’t wear her out entirely.’

  ‘Diana was sacked from her last job. I checked. She demanded more money than she was worth and became abusive when it was denied her.’

  Ouch, thought Ellie, making the tea. Would Diana have been driven to such extremes if I’d given her the money she wanted? Oh dear.

  ‘She has been living beyond her means, I gather,’ said Aunt Drusilla. ‘Well, selling that expensive house and moving down here might solve her problems, and it might not. I’m prepared to wait and see how she behaves. I have given her a letter of employment with one or two clauses she would have been wiser to read rather than rush over. For one thing, either of us can give a month’s notice to the other without giving a reason, and for another, I employ and pay the contractors and not her.’

  ‘I see,’ said Ellie, thinking that Aunt Drusilla was uncomfortably prescient.

  ‘That girl,’ said the old lady, ‘was foolish enough to say that I was past it and ought to retire to a nursing home.’

  ‘I trust you disillusioned her.’

  ‘Not I.’ Aunt Drusilla’s nutcracker face split in a wide grin. ‘Let her go on thinking it, for the time being at any rate. She’s cheaper than the estate agents who were managing the property before. But I won’t stand for any nonsense. I’ve had the decorators on to me already. That stupid girl thinks my tenants would like bright, modern colours. Well, they wouldn’t. I should know. They want something clean and bland that they can redecorate to their own taste. I told Diana that if she wishes to become an interior decorator, she must find her own clients. What do you say to that?’

  Ellie cleared her plate of the last biscuit. She’d been hungry. ‘I think that’s a matter between you and Diana.’

  ‘Opting out?’

  Ellie laughed, refusing to be drawn.

  ‘You’ve changed, Ellie Quicke. When my dear nep
hew died and you went to pieces, I thought Diana was right wanting you to sell up and go to live near her. But you came through very well … until this recent problem with the anonymous letters. Diana sees them as a perfect excuse to move into your life. What do you think about that?’

  Ellie thought: we’re actually talking adult to adult for a change. Shall I tell her what I’ve found out? Yes, why not?

  ‘It’s a wretched business. I found out today who has been sending the handwritten letters, but I’m not going to the police because …’

  Aunt Drusilla listened, head slightly inclined to one side. Once or twice she moved her lips, but did not interrupt.

  ‘… so I still have to find out who wrote the typed letters. Perhaps someone with connections to the church or my solicitor. You and Diana both received typed letters. How did they know about you, and where to send the letters? Sue won’t tell, but until I find that out and deal with it, I suppose the letters will continue to arrive.’

  ‘Fascinating! You have all the evidence in a safe place, I assume?’

  ‘Waiting to be posted off to myself at the bank, yes.’

  Aunt Drusilla scrabbled in her enormous crocodile-skin handbag. ‘I had another letter myself today. Scurrilous!’ She snorted. ‘No, I remember now. I didn’t keep it. I tore it up and threw the pieces away. You have done well, Ellie. I am very agreeably surprised. I suppose I owe you an apology, too. I sided with Diana over her wanting you to sell up and move north. I was wrong.’

  Ellie blushed. Praise from such a quarter was praise indeed. A little voice at the back of her head said, Now that Aunt Drusilla herself feels threatened by Diana, she wants you to fight on her side, doesn’t she?

  Perhaps so, thought Ellie. And I will.

  She glanced at the clock. ‘I must go. Choir practice tonight, and I have to feed the family first. Also I’ve arranged for a prospective day nanny to call later.’

  ‘With your usual efficiency, my dear.’

  Ellie blinked. She couldn’t remember Aunt Drusilla using a term of endearment before.

  ‘One thing before you go. This Roy Bartrick. I know him slightly. He was enquiring about one of my flats. How do you feel about him?’

  So that was the connection. It explained a lot.

  ‘He’s very charming; a trifle pushy. I’ve enjoyed going out with him and I think he likes me, but I don’t imagine it will go any further. My friend Kate says he’s got a hidden agenda, and I’m beginning to agree with her.’ ‘And the other, the man from church?’

  Ellie laughed. ‘No, really! Aunt Drusilla, if you could meet him, you’d realize how impossible that would be. No. I still miss Frank terribly, you know.’

  ‘Yes, so do I. Well, that is very level-headed of you, Ellie. Keep me informed.’

  Ellie glanced at her watch as she scurried home. On balance it would have taken longer to call a minicab than to walk, but if only she’d learned to drive in her younger days! London traffic got worse every year and there was no denying she was a little frightened of it, even when sitting beside a big, calm driving instructor. When she would get back into the swing of having lessons again, she didn’t know.

  She must get that envelope in the post straightaway, see to supper, pay Rose and … She opened the front door to the sound of young Frank bawling his head off while Diana was calmly working on the computer in the study. Something was amiss. No Rose, for a start.

  ‘Mother, what on earth are you wearing? That coat’s a disgrace. I got back – you’ll have to give me a set of front-door keys again – and this strange woman let me in, gibbering something about your having an urgent meeting out and wanting me to pay her cab fare home. I told her I didn’t know her from Adam, and what’s more she’d got little Frank in a sort of cage made of chairs and the poor dear couldn’t get out …’

  ‘Sounds sensible to me, and yes, you do know her, dear. Rose McNally from the charity shop, an old friend of mine. Aunt Drusilla summoned me urgently and I was at my wits’ end what to do with little Frank …’

  ‘She’s going ga-ga, you know.’ ‘That wasn’t the impression she gave me.’ Ellie rushed into the kitchen and started getting things out of the fridge for supper.

  Diana followed, looking thunderous. ‘I suppose she wanted to complain about me. I gave her some excellent advice, but she’s too stupid to take it. She ought to go upmarket with the decorations and put up the rents at the flats. I’ll have to work on her, make her see sense. Oh, by the way, I’ve cleared all the old files off the computer, because I shall have to use it in future …’

  ‘What?’ Ellie suspended operations on a tomato. Had her notes on the anonymous letters been deleted?

  ‘… and I hope supper won’t be late. I’m due out at half-seven.’

  Ellie stirred rice into a little oil in a saucepan. ‘Diana, I have choir practice at eight, and besides, I’ve got a possible day nanny coming round for you to interview.’

  ‘A day nanny? Do you think I’m made of money?’

  ‘Let me remind you, dear, that I make you an allowance for someone to look after Frank.’ She switched the kettle on to boil.

  ‘Oh, that. Well, I expect I can find a day nursery somewhere, much cheaper.’

  ‘If you can, fine. I couldn’t. So until you do find something suitable, we will use this woman, who comes highly recommended.’

  ‘You found her, so you can be responsible for hiring her. I have to go out, as I said.’

  ‘Not until nine, when I get back.’ She poured the boiling water onto the rice, and turned the heat down.

  ‘Don’t be absurd. I can’t ring up my friend and tell her I can’t meet her just because you’ve got choir practice.’

  Ellie considered weakening, but didn’t. Instead she said nothing at all, which seemed to disconcert Diana. Pushing past her daughter, Ellie picked up an onion and looked for the chopping board, which she kept behind the taps on the sink. It wasn’t there. Come to think of it, the bin had been moved to the other side of the stove, and Midge’s dishes had disappeared again.

  Ellie counted to three. ‘Diana. You’ve been moving things around. I do wish you wouldn’t.’

  ‘Oh, that little toady of a handyman came around wanting you, asking for work. So I cleared away some of the clutter, old papers and sacks from the garden and stuff. He took it to the dump. I said you’d pay him tomorrow.’

  ‘You threw away my chopping board? And Midge’s dishes?’

  ‘That chopping board was a disgrace. You ought to have one of the new plastic ones.’

  ‘They scratch, and you can’t clean them as well as the old wooden ones. Mine may be old, but it’s scrubbed clean. And Midge’s dishes?’

  ‘I told you, you can’t possibly encourage a stray cat with baby Frank around. I told the lad to screw the cat flap shut. He said he couldn’t because it was plastic, but I made him lock it. He can take it out and board it up tomorrow.’

  Ellie had a nasty thought. She dashed back into the hall. The notepad beside the phone had been stripped clean of messages. All the old newspapers had gone, as had her carefully collected gardening magazines and, worst of all, the envelope with the poison-pen letter evidence in it.

  She gasped, struggling for control. It was too much! She ought to love her daughter. Well, she did. But like her? No.

  The immediate future looked bleak. And what was more, young Frank had managed to crawl to the living room door, clutching his grandfather Frank’s silver christening cup which had been on the coffee table. Ellie saw that everything that had been on the coffee table was now on the floor. Little Frank had left a broken vase and a trail of water behind him, plus shredded irises. Now he was screwing his face up, ready to bawl his head off.

  For the first time in her life Ellie seriously considered the benefits to be gained from murdering her daughter. She had a sharp kitchen knife in her hand already. She could make a half-turn, and stab …

  Frank opened his mouth and yelled.

  Diana said, ‘Well
, who’s a clever boy, then? If granny won’t pick him up, then his mumsy will, won’t she! Oh, look what the little darling’s been playing with. Have his toothy-pegs been hurting? That nice cold silver must have helped. How clever of him to think of it! Look, granny! See the marks of his dear little teeth on the silver?’

  Ellie breathed out slowly, counting to twelve this time. She went back into the kitchen, got out a heavy Denby plate and started chopping the onion on it. ‘Diana, we must sit down and have a talk. If you’re going to move back in with me for the time being – and of course you’re very welcome – then we must come to some agreement about certain house rules.’

  Diana reddened. ‘Stewart said you’d want us to pay rent.’

  ‘No, I don’t want rent. I want you to respect my way of life.’

  Diana laughed as if Ellie had said something amusing. She put the toddler down and picked up her mobile phone. ‘Which reminds me, I must ring Stewart. You haven’t forgotten he’s coming down tomorrow for his interview, have you? And since you have made such a fuss about going to your highly important choir practice, I suppose I shall have to cancel my date tonight.’

  Halfway through making the chicken curry, Ellie remembered that Diana didn’t like it strong. Ellie did. She put a trifle more than the usual amount of curry powder in.

  Supper was interrupted by telephone calls for Diana, and only after the second interruption, while Diana was fetching herself another glass of water, did she remember to tell her mother that her stupid old vicar friend had phoned, and would Ellie get back to him soonest. ‘Anything else you’ve forgotten to tell me, Diana?’

  Diana laughed that one off, too.

  It was a rush to get to choir practice in time. Ellie had hoped for a quiet word with her old friend Mrs Dawes, but instead everyone was crowding around Rose’s daughter Joyce, as she formally announced her engagement to the scoutmaster, who was also their replacement organist. Ellie had never liked Joyce much, but was sincere in her congratulations since the girl looked almost happy for once. It must be a handicap to be born with a sharp nose and down-turned mouth.