Murder My Neighbour Read online

  One day soon perhaps she would only feel pity for the damaged creature who’d tried to kill her.

  Saturday afternoon

  Two weeks to the day after they’d left London, Thomas and Ellie journeyed back to Ealing. Ellie would have liked to prolong their holiday, but Thomas had begun to worry about work. He’d tried to hide it, of course, but he’d been spending more and more time on the phone and on his laptop.

  Home at last. As they stepped out of the minicab, Rose flung open the front door to greet them. ‘Welcome back, lovely to see you, did you have good weather, but oh, mind that cat, she’s not ours of course, but she’s been coming round begging for titbits and it’s true I have been letting her have a saucer of milk now and again, but if Midge sees her there’ll be another fight . . .’

  A tiny brindled cat with white paws pressed herself against the front door and had to be picked up by Rose so that Ellie and Thomas could get in with their luggage.

  Once they were in, Rose put the cat down and shooed her out of doors before saying, ‘Don’t you look pretty, Ellie, and isn’t that a new outfit? I do like that colour on you, and will you look at that socking great ring! Now that’s what I call a sapphire, fit to knock your eyes out. Yes, I can hear the little cat yowling, but we can’t let her in, and don’t let Midge out of the front door or he’ll have her for starters. Tea will be up in just a minute. Mia wanted to make some of her chocolate cake, but I said no, it had to be a Victoria sponge to greet you on your return.’

  Rose was back on form. There was colour in her cheeks for the first time for months. Perhaps the break had been good for her, too.

  There was a fresh bowl of sweet peas in the hall and, through the conservatory, Ellie could see that the garden was full of colour. It was good to be home.

  She was pleased to see there was no pile of post waiting for her to deal with on the hall table. Thomas had said Pat and Stewart were dealing with all her correspondence, and there was no need to think about it till next week.

  Thomas gave Rose a smacking great kiss. ‘Ah, it’s good to be back. I’ve missed your home cooking.’ He patted his front, which made both Ellie and Rose laugh, since he certainly hadn’t lost any weight while they’d been away.

  Ellie went upstairs, unpacked and admired her revamped bathroom – yes, there was real gold-plating on the taps – and the changed layout was impressive. Even the tiles were different. Why hadn’t she thought of putting in a walk-in shower before? There was a new towel rail, too, with hot water running through it, wow!

  She must remember to congratulate Thomas on his plan to change everything.

  She stood in the middle of the room and slowed her breathing. Was the shadow of the past going to reach out and paralyse her again? No, it wasn’t. With a rush of thankful praise she said aloud: ‘Thank you, Lord.’

  The phone rang downstairs. She tensed. What if it were Diana, checking to see if her mother had returned? What was Ellie going to say when she next met Diana?

  Dear Lord, give me courage. Help me to grow . . .

  SIXTEEN

  The doorbell rang. Ellie walked down the stairs, fearing that it might be Diana . . . but it was only that nice DC Milburn, who said, ‘Sorry, Mrs Quicke, I know I shouldn’t interrupt when you’re only just back. I’ve been round several times to see you, and Rose told me you’d be returning today.’

  ‘Come in, and tell me all about it.’ Ellie led the way into the sitting room and sank into her favourite chair by the fireplace. The French windows were open to the garden, and there was another bowl of sweet peas on the occasional table at her elbow. A pretty white orchid flaunted its petals on the mantelpiece. Where had that come from? Ah, she remembered, and smiled to herself. Fritz, of course. ‘Do sit down. I hear you got someone for the murder.’

  The girl grimaced. ‘Not exactly. We’re holding Terry Pryce on a charge of theft, and that’s what I wanted to see you about. We need you to come to the station to see if you can identify your ring and the china box.’

  ‘Good. You didn’t find Thomas’s Kindle? I suppose it’s long since been sold on. Oh well. You’re not holding Terry for murder, then? I must say he convinced me he didn’t know where Mrs Pryce was. What did the autopsy tell you?’

  ‘Some time before she died – maybe as much as an hour or even two – she’d fallen and hit her temple. We found an area of wallpaper in her bedroom where blood had been spilled and someone had tried to wash it away. We assume this was where the first injury took place.’

  Ellie remembered Vera’s saying how distressed Mrs Pryce had been when she’d spilt coffee on the wallpaper – on the other side of the bed. Poor woman . . .

  The DC continued: ‘The pathologist says that head wounds usually bleed profusely, but this first injury wouldn’t necessarily have been fatal. He thinks she may have been stunned for a while, but managed to get back on her feet. We think she was well enough then to wash the blood off her face and change into her housecoat. Perhaps it was she who tried to clean the blood off the wallpaper, too.’

  Ellie remembered the odd angle of Mrs Pryce’s neck as she lay in the freezer. ‘So she had another fall later, one that did kill her?’

  ‘Yes, we think she probably fell down the stairs some time later and broke her neck.’

  ‘So her death might have been an accident.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘One accidental injury is acceptable, two . . . ? Would a jury go along with that? Do the police want to downgrade her death to manslaughter?’

  A gesture of frustration. ‘Terry swore he was nowhere near the house on the night she died and produced an alibi; a stag night in Amsterdam, would you believe?’

  ‘Dear me. I thought he might be gay.’

  ‘He does give that impression, and the civil ceremony was between two of his male friends. The only problem is that the celebrations lasted over several days, involved a huge intake of alcohol and no one can be sure he was there all the time. He might have come back, trying to get money out of his great-aunt, and done the deed before returning to the party in Amsterdam. We’re working on his alibi. The inspector is certain we’ve got the right man.’

  ‘That’s good news, if it was him,’ said Ellie. ‘I’m really glad you’ve found my ring and my aunt’s little box. Did he confess to stealing them, and how did you trace him? Ah, I remember; Mrs Pryce’s stepdaughter Edwina gave me his home address, and I passed it on to you.’

  ‘I went round to his house only to spot a yellow car answering to your description outside his flat. So I phoned Ears – I mean, the inspector – and he came storming down and took Terry to the station for questioning. The inspector was so sure that we’d got our murderer that he, well, he let the news out that we’d cleared the case up before we realized Terry had a reasonably good alibi. So . . .’

  ‘Egg all over faces?’

  A guarded smile. ‘Then the chief super came back from her course, and she . . . Well, fireworks, you know? Faced with a charge of murder, Terry denied everything but the theft, so we’ve got him for that. He told us who he’d sold the goods to, and how much for. The jeweller still had your ring and the little box though I’m afraid the Kindle was sold on to an unsuspecting customer the following day.’

  ‘Thomas has bought a replacement Kindle already because he needs it for work. It was an opportunistic thing, wasn’t it? Terry didn’t come here planning to steal anything, but to see if he could borrow some money. Did he tell you why he needed it so badly? He spun me a wild story about his sister which I didn’t believe even at the time.’

  ‘He shares a flat with a man who’d developed a drug habit and got Terry into it, too. They were both heavily in debt to their dealer, who’d threatened them: pay up or else. Terry really was desperate.’

  Ellie leaned back in her chair. ‘Are the police going to write Mrs Pryce’s death off as accidental? But no; how can they? There’s far too many unanswered questions. If her death was an accident, then why bother to cover it up? Who put her body in the freezer? Who
drove her car away, emptied it and left it at the airport? And who phoned around to make her excuses, in order to give the impression that she’d disappeared of her own accord?’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘Who else are you looking at now? The stepdaughter, Edwina, seemed a bit odd to me, but she’s far too puny to have picked up Mrs Pryce, carried her to the garage and dumped her in the freezer. And anyway, why should she? If she’d seen or caused the accident, she would have left Mrs Pryce where she was and called for an ambulance. It wasn’t in her best interests for Mrs Pryce to disappear. I assume she inherits under the will?’

  ‘Something, yes.’ Caution, here. ‘You’ve heard all about that, haven’t you?’

  Ellie shook her head.

  The DC looked as if she had something else to say, but changed her mind at the last minute. ‘Do you fancy anyone else for it, Mrs Quicke?’

  ‘Why ask me? There’s a son, I believe, and a granddaughter. But the same problem arises; why try to hide the body? What about Jack, the window cleaner?’

  The DC took out her notebook. ‘We heard there was one, but the inspector doesn’t think he’s of interest. What’s his full name, and where does he live?’

  ‘No idea. He probably does a round of houses in that area once a month. Some householder will be able to give you details.’

  ‘You don’t fancy Fritz the gardener for it?’

  Ellie smiled, shaking her head. ‘He’s a bit of a rogue, but not in that league. He was fond of her, you know.’

  ‘The inspector favours him for it.’ Non-committal. ‘We’ve had him in a couple of times for questioning. He’s admitted to trespass and to theft of tools and such like from Mrs Pryce, and to using her water supply without permission, which can be construed as theft.’

  ‘Oh, poor Fritz. No, you can’t be serious.’

  ‘The inspector is. He’s talking to all of Fritz’s other employers, uncovering a long list of minor offences. The man admits he was always hanging around, that last week of her life. What’s more likely than that she confronted him with his petty thefts and he pushed her down the stairs, perhaps not meaning any harm . . . and then put her body in the freezer until he could dig a grave for her later?’

  ‘Nonsense. It was a woman who phoned the retirement home to cancel her stay there, and it was a woman who phoned Hoopers to rearrange the removals, bring in a cleaning team and take the house off the market.’

  ‘We don’t say he did it by himself. We assume his wife helped him.’

  ‘No, no. He hasn’t got that sort of mind. Besides which, he has a little van that he runs around in. If he’d caused her death, he could have put her in that and taken her off somewhere to bury her—’

  ‘Or have driven her car away himself?’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘We assume that she was in the middle of packing up her car with her personal possessions on the night she died, when she was interrupted by someone probably asking her for money—’

  ‘Assumptions, again.’ Though it did sound likely, didn’t it?

  ‘You’ve said yourself there was probably quite a bit of saleable stuff in her car; a laptop, a briefcase, jewellery? I wondered if she might have possessed a fur coat or two. She was the kind of lady who wouldn’t have bothered with political correctness and would have worn fur coats whatever people said, wasn’t she?’

  ‘None of that was in the car when you found it?’

  ‘It had been emptied of all personal items and valeted professionally before being left in a long-stay car park at the airport. Edwina Pryce has given us a list of the things she thought Mrs Pryce would have packed to take with her. Apart from the stuff you’ve mentioned, there should have been some valuable Victorian jewellery, a carriage clock in a leather case and a couple of small but valuable seascapes, not to mention silver candelabras and photograph frames containing pictures of her husband and parents. All those were saleable. Fritz would have seen that the car was full of valuables, and he could have driven it away to dispose of them at his leisure—’

  ‘Leaving her body behind in the freezer? Oh, come on.’

  ‘Yes, because he planned to bury her later in her own garden.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he do so?’

  ‘Because the window cleaner fitted padlocks on the doors next morning and he couldn’t get in.’

  ‘Nonsense. Fritz knew how to remove padlocks with a screwdriver. It was he who removed those on the doors in and out of the courtyard, so that he could tend his vegetables in the back garden. If he’d known Mrs Pryce’s body was in the garage, he could easily have got in there and done something about it. But he didn’t.’

  ‘I’m only telling you the way the inspector is thinking. The other suspect is, of course, the cleaner Vera.’

  Ellie shot to her feet. ‘What? That’s even more nonsensical.’

  ‘Ah, but you’ve forgotten her little boy, who by all accounts has behavioural problems. Suppose Vera took him there after school that last day, perhaps innocently enough, to see if Mrs Pryce were coping all right? The little boy might have demanded something from the old lady, and when he didn’t get it, gave her a push . . . down the stairs.’

  Ellie told herself it was no good to lose her temper. ‘Then why not call a doctor?’

  ‘She was protecting the boy from the consequences of his actions, of course. That’s why she hid the body in the freezer and drove off in Mrs Pryce’s car.’

  ‘Vera did not know where Mrs Pryce’s body was. Believe me, she didn’t. And in any case, Vera doesn’t drive. I’m not listening to this. Would you please go?’

  ‘I think this was a two-person job. She had help.’

  Ellie deflated, staring into space. A two-person job sounded right. She’d been thinking it had needed a strong man to put the body in the freezer, but two women . . . ? That was just about possible. Also, it had been sloppily done, leaving a fold of Mrs Pryce’s housecoat outside. Panic. Yes.

  But it couldn’t have been Vera. Ellie would stake her life on that.

  The DC got to her feet. ‘You’ll think about what I’ve said, won’t you? And perhaps you’ll remember some little thing which might help to prove or disprove our theories?’

  Saturday afternoon

  An exclusive jewellers

  ‘These two rings and the diamond earrings was give me by an old lady as I used to ferry around and run errands for. A neighbour, like. They’re worth a pretty penny, aren’t they? A couple of thousand each, say?’

  ‘Mm. The settings are dated, but the stones look good. How did you come by them, did you say?’

  ‘There’s a problem, is there?’

  ‘Have you any provenance, Mr . . . er? That is, a piece of paper in her writing to show that she’s given them to you?’

  ‘I don’t do business with those as doubt my word. You give them back to me.’

  Saturday evening

  Ellie wandered into the kitchen, only to be told by Rose to make herself scarce, as she was busy. Midge the cat turned his back on her; as far as he was concerned, she’d deserted him for half his lifetime and he wasn’t prepared to kiss and make up.

  There was no sign of Mia, who was, Rose said, out visiting old friends. Ellie drifted down the corridor to her office, where a pile of letters had been dealt with and left for her to read. For information only. Pat had left her a note saying there was nothing there which required urgent attention.

  Two envelopes marked ‘Private & Confidential’ had been propped, unopened, against Ellie’s computer. She eyed them with dislike and left them where they were. After all, Thomas had said she needn’t do any work yet, hadn’t he?

  She could hear his voice, faintly, as he talked on the phone in his study. No doubt he was making up for lost time and ought not to be interrupted.

  Out into the sunny garden she went. The gardener had mowed the lawn recently, and someone had dead-headed the roses. There was nothing for her to do.

  Instead of being gra
teful, she felt, well, excluded. As if she were no longer essential to the life of the house and those who lived in it.

  She glanced up as two parakeets squawked their way across the sky on their way to the nearby park, and then dropped her eyes to the gables of Mrs Pryce’s house. She wondered who had inherited it and what they’d want to do with it. She supposed it would be torn down soon and the neighbourhood made hideous with the screeches and bangings of a new build. Stewart was probably right, and an ugly block of flats would shortly rise in what had once been Mrs Pryce’s rose garden. Ellie shrugged. Not her problem.

  Thomas came out of the house and put his arm around her. ‘Everything all right?’ He meant, was she coping now she was back home?

  ‘I’m fine. Rose won’t let me into the kitchen, Mia’s out visiting friends, Pat says there’s nothing for me to worry about and Midge won’t talk to me.’

  He laughed. ‘Is your internal clock out of kilter? Mine is. But it’s still broad daylight and not time for supper yet. Let’s have a gentle stroll, work up an appetite.’ They’d done a lot of walking while they’d been away, and had agreed it was good for them.

  For a moment Ellie hung back; suppose Diana was waiting for them outside? She set her teeth. Well, if so, she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the pavement, because Thomas would be beside her. ‘Yes, a walk would be a good idea.’

  There was no Diana outside. Good. As they passed the first few houses, Ellie thought to herself that one or two of them needed their windows cleaning – which reminded her to ask Rose who cleaned their own windows. Not Jack the Lad, presumably. Someone like him, though? Rose always dealt with that sort of thing. They could have walked towards the shops or in the direction of the church, but instead they went round the block and so, of course, by the Pryce house.

  ‘That’s odd,’ said Thomas as they passed it.

  ‘What?’ Incident tape was no longer blocking the drive.

  ‘Nothing.’ Yet he was frowning. ‘I thought I saw a light . . . It must be a reflection, or the sun shining through the hall from the back of the house.’