Murder by Suicide Page 22

  ‘Me, send anonymous letters? Oh, really!’

  ‘Perhaps I should rephrase that. You hand-delivered at least some of the letters. You were seen, and your car registration number noted down.’

  ‘Nonsense. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’ She tapped a number into the telephone and turned away, examining perfect, pinkpolished fingernails. Ellie waited. The conversation was short. Mr Weatherspoon wished to remind the client that he had not yet received certain papers. Oh, they were in the post, were they? Splendid.

  Harriet replaced the phone, and tried to stare Ellie down. ‘Still here? I can’t think why. You have no further connection with this firm and no right to be here. If you don’t leave, I shall be forced to take measures.’

  ‘Such as?’ Ellie helped herself to a sheet of A4 from a stack on top of the filing cabinet and held it up to the light. ‘Ah, here we go. Excellent quality paper, with the watermark ‘Zeta’. See? A perfect match. Also the font you use on your correspondence is the same as on these anonymous letters.’

  ‘A common enough watermark for a common type of paper. We get it from the Printing Press here in the Avenue, as do dozens of other businesses.’

  ‘I checked. This is very expensive, heavy paper, and only two of their customers use it. One is a retired doctor I’ve never heard of and you are the other.’

  ‘You have absolutely no proof …’

  ‘I have enough to take to the police, unless we can sort this out between us. How do you know Sue?’

  There was a sudden flash of awareness in Harriet’s eyes. ‘I don’t know any Sue.’

  ‘Her husband John works at the charity shop, and I happen to know that he’s also a client of Bill’s.’

  ‘Oh, that John. Why didn’t you say? I don’t think I’ve ever seen his wife.’

  Ellie put the envelope containing the evidence of Sue’s involvement on Harriet’s desk. The phone rang and Harriet answered it, but kept her eyes on the envelope. This time she informed the caller that Bill was with a client, but she would ask him to ring back as soon as he was free. Harriet flicked at the envelope. ‘I see an envelope addressed to you. So?’

  ‘This envelope contains some very nasty poison-pen letters, together with proof that the letters came from a pad which John took home.’

  Harriet’s hands stilled, then she made a grab for the envelope. Ellie held on to it. Harriet let go, and slowly and deliberately leaned back in her chair.

  Ellie said, ‘Your reaction proves you knew all about the letters Sue was writing.’

  With startling suddenness, Harriet lunged for the envelope again and whisked it out from under Ellie’s hand. Harriet rushed across the room to the office shredder and switched it on as Ellie tried to stop her. ‘Don’t do that!’

  ‘Get off me!’

  Harriet blocked the way to the shredder with her body while Ellie tried to wrestle her away. Harriet’s elbow caught Ellie in the stomach just as the door to the street opened and Melanie returned. At the same time Bill opened his door to show a client out.

  ‘What the …!’ That was Bill.

  ‘Effing’ ell!’ said Melanie.

  ‘Get … her … off … me!’ Gritting her teeth, Harriet tried to jam the whole envelope into the shredder, which refused to take such a bulky package.

  ‘Ellie, what is this?’

  From the floor Ellie gasped, ‘Stop her! She’s trying to destroy evidence!’

  ‘Harriet? What’s going on?’

  Harriet snarled as Bill laid his hand on her arm. Melanie revealed her quality by leaning past Harriet to switch off the shredder.

  ‘You … !’ Harriet tore the much-abused envelope open, releasing the scraps of gaily-coloured paper and throwing them into the air. The remains of the pad slipped to the floor as Harriet tried to catch the tornup scraps and jam them into the shredder. Her hair had fallen over her forehead and she looked demented, a domestic pussy cat turned feral.

  Bill shouted, ‘Harriet! Calm down!’ in a parade-ground voice.

  Everyone froze – Ellie bent over on the floor, Melanie with her hand on the shredder switch, Harriet holding a double fistful of coloured paper, Bill with his mouth agape, his client wide-eyed behind him. All Ellie could hear was the sound of people breathing hard. And brains whirling.

  ‘Well!’ said Bill’s client, amused. ‘How the other half lives, what?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bill, in a restricted voice. ‘Let me show you out. A storm in a teacup, an office spat, merely. I’ll ring you later today …’

  ‘Next week, you said.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Next week.’ He showed his client out.

  The phone rang and Melanie leaped to answer it. Harriet slowly put down the fistfuls of paper and returned to her seat. She looked both shaken and stirred. Ellie got to her feet, dusting down her no-longerpristine white coat.

  ‘Well, Harriet?’ asked Bill.

  Harriet’s voice cracked. ‘Sorry, Mr Weatherspoon. I ought not to have let her in. She’s made up the most awful story about me. She needs a doctor, I think.’

  Ellie bent down to retrieve the evidence. She also rescued the typed letters, which had drifted to the floor in the mêlée. Melanie was answering both phones at once. A capable girl. Harriet picked up her notebook and stared at it. Then she began to cry in great, gasping sobs.

  Bill gazed at her and then said, ‘Melanie, will you make us all a cup of coffee when you get off the phone? Ellie, Harriet, shall we all go into my office and get this cleared up?’

  Wearily, Ellie followed him into the well-known room. There was a bunch of carnations on the windowsill and a brightly coloured landscape calendar on the wall. Fine china cups and saucers advertised the fact that the last client had been treated to coffee. Harriet came in, still crying, keeping her eyes down.

  It was about the best thing she could do, thought Ellie. Men like Bill always feel protective about women who cry. I can’t do that. She shoved the torn-up pieces of paper and the typed letters onto Bill’s desk and flopped into the chair just vacated by his client. Bill seated himself and stared at the two women, without touching the papers. Harriet continued to weep. Noisily. Annoyingly.

  Bill pushed a box of tissues at Harriet, and said, ‘There, there. Calm yourself, Harriet. There’s nothing to cry about. Mrs Quicke will apologize for upsetting you, and leave.’

  So I’m ‘Mrs Quicke’ now, am I? thought Ellie. She leaned forward and began to sort out the torn letters, forcing herself to speak in a matter-offact tone. ‘What we have here are pieces of some rather horrible poisonpen letters, written in biro by someone literate. Also the pad from which they came. You see the stain down the side of the pad matches a stain down the side of some of the letters. Here is a list of names on a piece of paper which has come from the same pad. The list is signed with the name “John”, but it is in a different handwriting from the letters. This is John who helps at the charity shop, whom you’ve known for ages. I expect you’ve got samples of his handwriting in your files.’

  Harriet said, in a strangled voice, ‘I’ve never seen them before in my life.’

  ‘I expect that’s true,’ said Ellie. ‘But you knew about them, all the same. Bill, I traced the handwritten letters back to John’s wife Sue, and went to see her about them yesterday. Sue admitted writing them and then tried to attack me. Luckily, John came back at that moment and he’s taking her to the doctor for treatment. Sue threatened me, saying that “the others” would get me. This morning I had a telephone call confirming this, from someone who spoke in a disguised voice.’

  ‘Indeed!’ said Bill, still hostile. ‘Well, that’s all very sad, but I don’t see why you should upset Harriet by accusing her of having anything to do with it.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t!’ said Harriet in a muffled voice. ‘The woman is deranged.’

  ‘Then why did you try to destroy the evidence?’ asked Ellie.

  Bill winced. ‘Ah. Harriet?’

  ‘She’s mad. You ca
n see what sort of woman she is, from the letters.’

  Bill leaned over to study the coloured scraps of paper. Silently, Ellie handed him the typed letters.

  ‘You see, Bill, that the writer of these typed letters is familiar with my legal affairs. Also, the paper is unusual. Only one other person in this area uses it, apart from you. The typeface is the same as the one you use. Also, Harriet has been seen delivering letters to my house. I came here hoping to have a quiet word with her about it. I can’t think why she should have sent me these letters, though I’m sure she did and that she has some connection with Sue … otherwise, why would she try to destroy the evidence?’

  Silence. Bill might have been carved out of rock. Harriet watched him over her tissue.

  Ellie thought: I’ve lost. She felt worn out, but continued, ‘I’m not going to go to the police about it. I don’t think there will be any more letters from Sue, who is a very sick woman. In coming to see Harriet, I just wanted to ensure that this whole nasty business stops here. I don’t like being threatened, or being sent wax dolls that look like me, with pins through them. I don’t like being rung up by people threatening to get me. I don’t like my friends being persecuted, and my reputation attacked. I just want it to stop, Harriet. OK? I’d be satisfied with a letter of apology from you, admitting your guilt. I intend to put everything in the bank as a guarantee that it will never happen again, to me or to anyone else.’

  Bill was in shock. ‘Harriet? You didn’t, did you? No, no. You couldn’t …’

  The door opened to reveal that very intelligent girl Melanie, carrying a tray of coffee cups.

  Ellie had an idea. ‘Melanie, can you confirm that Harriet has been fobbing me off whenever I’ve rung Bill in recent months? I’ve rung so many times, only to be told he’s out or away.’

  Melanie looked for guidance to Harriet.

  ‘Tell us, Melanie. We need to know,’ said her boss.

  Melanie looked as if she might burst into tears, too. She struggled with herself for a moment, then decided to tell the truth. ‘Yes, Mr Weatherspoon. She did block Mrs Quicke’s calls. And sometimes when you asked her to get Mrs Quicke on the phone, Harriet didn’t even try to get through, but told you Mrs Quicke was out or away. Sorry, Harriet, so sorry.’

  ‘Harriet? Why?’ A very puzzled and distressed Bill.

  Harriet shot Ellie a vicious look. ‘Well, if you must know, it’s all her own fault. She waltzes in here playing Lady Muck and you’d do anything to help her, even if it means setting aside other people’s work. Her, with her pretty clothes and big blue eyes and all that money that she doesn’t deserve and hasn’t worked for, and all the men flocking around her, and everyone knows she’s no better than she ought to be and I can’t think why they don’t see what a little whore she is, and I hate it when you look at her like that and you never look at me like that and I shall die if you give me the sack …’

  Bill looked shaken. ‘Harriet, I would have gone on oath to swear to your integrity. I can’t believe that you … but this betrayal of trust! Harriet, how could you?’

  ‘You say you trusted me, but you refused to see me as a woman! I was just your secretary, someone to look after you, but never to be looked after! Can’t you see how I feel about you? Are you so blind, you can’t see?’

  The words sank into the plush green carpet and died away.

  Melanie noiselessly removed herself. As she opened the door to the outer office, Ellie could hear both phones ringing. The door shut. Ellie wondered what Melanie would say to those who rang, asking for Bill. There was another client sitting on a chair outside, too. Ellie got to her feet. Some fresh bruises seemed to have joined the ones she’d collected at Sue’s house.

  Bill also stood up. ‘Ellie, I don’t know what to say. May I ring you later? You can trust me to deal with Harriet. As for the evidence that you’ve gathered, if you don’t wish to take it to the police – and I think we’d all be grateful if you didn’t – then I’ll have Harriet add her bit and see that the whole packet is locked up here for the time being. Do you agree that’s best?’

  Ellie nodded.

  Bill came with her to the outer door, with a pleasant handshake for his next client, and a promise to be with him shortly. ‘Supper tonight, Ellie? Pick you up at half-seven?’

  Ellie nodded again. She needed a long sit down and a large pot of tea before facing anybody else. Come to think of it, she might feel better if she ate a good meal. What with the strain of having Diana around and the hustle and bustle of the last few days, Ellie couldn’t remember when she had last had a good meal. Sunday night, probably. Was that only two days ago? So much had happened since.

  She wouldn’t mind a short talk with Chloe about her cousin Neil, either. And perhaps she would go and buy herself a new dress or something. Another coat? It was best not to think in detail about what had just happened. Too alarming. She made for the Sunflower Café.

  16

  The busiest part of the lunch hour was over and Ellie managed to get a table by herself at the back. ‘Nice coat,’ said Chloe as she materialized with the menu. ‘But did you know you had a black streak down the back? Sausages is off. Best is liver and bacon, freshly cooked.’

  ‘Thanks, Chloe. I’ll have to get the coat cleaned. Liver and bacon would be lovely, with a large pot of tea straightaway.’

  Ellie leaned back in her chair, pushing away thoughts of the poison that had spewed out of both Sue and Harriet. Ellie had always thought of herself as a well-meaning, likeable sort of woman, the sort who helped out in emergencies. She shuddered. She could make allowances for Sue because she was obviously a couple of pies short of a baker’s dozen, but Harriet …!

  Perhaps the worst of it all was that she’d had absolutely no idea that she had aroused such hatred in someone. It was a shock to realize that in her ignorance – or perhaps the right word was pride? – she hadn’t even noticed how she’d been hated. Ellie was ashamed of herself. How could she have been so blind?

  After she’d eaten some of the excellent meal, she went on to wonder how Bill could have been so blind. The answer to that produced a sour face. Bill had always had a soft spot for Ellie and perhaps, if she had encouraged him after Frank had died, he might well have wanted to deepen their friendship. Oh dear. Perhaps Harriet had been right all along and Ellie had been toying with men without realizing the harm she had been doing.

  Without meaning it, certainly.

  She sighed. Put her knife and fork down. Poured another cup of tea. Grinned a little.

  What would her dear old Frank have said, if he knew that his pliant little wifey had become a sex object? Well, not precisely a sex object. Too old and too rounded for that. Except that Roy had seemed to think … feel … and she had felt it, too.

  Roy. Another sigh.

  Diana and Stewart. A bigger sigh. Ellie faced the fact that she dreaded going back to her house to find it taken over by Diana. She had an idea about that which might work, but it would cost a lot of money to carry out and anyway, would Aunt Drusilla play ball? She must think about it.

  Chloe removed dirty plates. By now the café was almost empty.

  ‘That was lovely, Chloe. Just what I needed.’

  ‘Make the most of it. I’ve got my ticket for Australia, leaving on the first of March.’

  ‘What does your boyfriend say about that?’

  ‘Bob’s sulking, doesn’t want me to go. I said I’ll be back in six months. I’m starting uni in the autumn, got my place in the halls of residence and all. He doesn’t like that idea any better. I told him, “You’re a dinosaur, Bob.”’

  Amused, Ellie said, ‘You’ve got him wrapped round your little finger.’

  Chloe laughed. ‘He wants to buy me a ring to wear while I’m away in Australia. I said, “What, and get mugged for its value?” No, there’ll be no ring. It’s best for us to have some time apart, see how we go. He thinks he loves me. I think I’m comfortable with him, and maybe we will end up together. But how do I know wha
t he’ll get up to while I’m away? There’s a couple of very pretty girls in the house where I live, you know.

  ‘Oh, by the way. Message from Neil. He’s going to move into my room when I go, get away from Gran. Don’t blame him. It’d drive me round the bend living in that titchy house – and the meals she serves, you can hardly see the meat for chips. Not that I’m against chips in general, but greens and salads ought to get a look-in as well.’

  ‘Tell me, Chloe. Neil has been talking about setting up as a jobbing gardener, getting someone to do the books …’

  ‘Not me. Hopeless at it. One of the girls in the house is thinking about it, yes. Business degree, cool head. Yes, I think he might do all right. He said you’d given him some work and he’s picked up a few other customers as well. He’s honest, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

  ‘I was wondering how much he knew about gardening.’

  ‘Some. He’ll learn. He’s bright enough – should have gone to college, but for that bitch my uncle married. You should see her, bottle-blonde and itsy little voice. Barbie doll, you know? Or perhaps I’m being hard on Barbie.’

  Ellie laughed, paid the bill and left. She always felt better after a chat with Chloe. She looked in the windows of the dress shop in the Avenue. Everything seemed to be size twelve and under, in black or grey. Ellie went in anyway.

  She came out without buying anything. Then she remembered there was a seconds boutique just opened at the other end of the Avenue. Nice manageress, six foot tall with a cleavage to marvel at. There wasn’t much in a size sixteen but you could browse at your leisure without having the shop girl turn up her nose and say, ‘I’m afraid we don’t stock clothes in your size, madam.’

  *** An hour later Ellie dropped the dirty white coat and the dress she had been wearing at the cleaners and made her way home via the fish shop. She had found a lightweight, pale blue wraparound coat and under it was wearing a new cream dress with matching jacket. She needed the jacket on that blustery day. She also treated herself to a sheaf of brilliant yellow mimosa at the florist’s. When the sun wasn’t out, it was good to have lots of yellow flowers around the house.