Murder With Mercy Read online

  Ellie got to the top and seated herself beside Vera. Suddenly, she wanted to cry.

  Rose said, ‘Well, now! A good morning’s work, but Thomas ought to go back to bed, and Vera needs to rest, too. Mikey, if you don’t shut up, I’ll …’ She aimed a blow at him.

  He ducked, laughing. The cat Midge wandered up the stairs, not wanting to be left out. Mikey picked him up and gave him a cuddle.

  Ellie said, ‘Back to school tomorrow, my lad.’ And then, ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’

  Thomas’s colour was poor. ‘I was praying, all the time. But yes, perhaps it might be as well to have a little nap now.’

  Ellie helped him back to bed. By the time she’d got Vera settled as well, there were sounds of movement down below. And the phone was ringing.

  She went down to answer it.

  Diana, almost hysterical. ‘Mother, I’ve been trying to get you all morning. Where have you been? Why don’t you answer the phone?’

  ‘Business, dear. Are you all right? The baby not come yet?’

  ‘I’m on my mobile. We’re on our way to the funeral at church. I wanted to wait for you to come with us, but Evan insisted we have to be there in good time. Look for us when you arrive.’ Diana disconnected, and Ellie returned to the dining room to find out what had been resolved.

  Kate was, predictably, on her way out. ‘All settled, Ellie. Grand total of her bills is roughly equivalent to the price she paid for the flat she’s just bought. She’s signed it over to the trust, which wipes out her debt and covers her solicitor’s fees.’ Kate checked the time on her watch, compared it with the grandmother clock in the hall and opened the front door. ‘Must go, or I’ll be late.’ She vanished.

  Ellie murmured to herself, ‘I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date.’

  Zach appeared next, brushing back his hair, stowing away his glasses. ‘All settled, Mrs Quicke. My client insists that Terry Pryce put her up to the whole thing, and that it was he who paid Preston to delay the work at the hotel. She has signed a statement to that effect. This should clear your ward, Michael Pryce. Hugh has a copy for the board of directors. I have persuaded her to drop her suit against you.’

  ‘Well done, Mr Zach. Are you giving Ms Pryce a lift somewhere?’

  ‘Out of your way, you mean?’ Zach was not without a sense of humour. ‘Yes. I’ll drop her at her manicurist’s with the proviso that she can’t charge that bill, or any more such bills to the trust.’

  He held the front door open. Edwina stalked through the hall, ignoring Ellie completely. The door closed behind them.

  Hugh was next. ‘Preston and Dave are dismissed as from now, and I’ll see if I can clear up exactly what happened when Mikey was nearly run over.’

  ‘But you know exactly what happened, Hugh. You’ve known—’

  ‘Suspected, yes. Been able to prove, no. It was one of our workmen’s vans which we saw, and it did have a string of flowers wound around the driver’s mirror. It was either Preston or Dave who drove it at Mikey but I’m not sure which. One of them went to collect the load of tiles which we needed to finish that bathroom, but by the time I’d brought Mikey round here and returned, they were both back at work. Nobody else noticed which of them had taken the van out. It was raining, everyone was busy. I’m sorry. That’s the nearest I can get without involving the police.’

  Ellie was silent. She could see why he was avoiding that.

  He said, ‘I’ll get the workmen together and tell them what’s been going on. I’ll tell them that Preston and Dave are out and that Mikey was the hero who saved the day. I’ll make sure the police dismiss all charges against him. One more thing; I’ve suggested to Head Office, and they’ve agreed, that it should be not only you, but you with Vera and Mikey, all three of you together, who cut the ribbon and hand the building over on Opening Day.’

  ‘Splendid. It was Edgar Pryce who suggested the house be turned into a hotel, so it’s only fitting that his wife and son should do the honours. Well done, Hugh.’

  He twitched a smile. ‘I’m sorry it all took so long to sort out.’ He went off to face his workforce.

  Ken Greenbody was now the only one left, putting away his papers, closing his laptop. He looked as weary as Ellie felt.

  She said, ‘You did well. Thank you.’

  ‘Part of me thinks that Edwina ought to be hauled off to the police station with Terry and charged with everything under the sun, not excepting parking on double yellow lines and spitting in the street. I told her we’d do that if she caused any more trouble, but I’m not sure she can take it in.’

  ‘Her punishment is that she’s going to have to live on a much reduced income. She won’t like that. Every day she’ll be reminded of what she’s lost.’

  ‘Of what she never ought to have had.’

  ‘Poor woman,’ said Ellie. ‘It must be awful to be her. I’ve never heard her say a kind word to anyone. Think how horrible it must be to live like that.’

  ‘You, Mrs Quicke, are almost too good for this world.’

  ‘Er, not quite,’ said Ellie. ‘Part of me is jumping up and down and screaming with joy that she’s been cut down to size. It’s only a tiny, weeny bit of me that feels sorry for her.’

  Ken laughed. He looked at his watch. ‘Shall we go? We might even get to the church in time, but if not, we’ll turn up at the house, shall we?’

  ‘Give me a minute to change my tights, and I’ll be right with you.’

  Monday at noon

  Ellie and Ken reached the church just as the second hymn was announced. The place was packed, and they had to search for seats. A good turnout for Anita.

  Family flowers only. Donations to Cancer Research.

  Jolly hymns. Good-oh. No dirges, by request.

  Ellie looked round and saw some familiar faces. Evan and Diana were at the front, where there was space for his wheelchair.

  Ellie hoped that Anita was at peace now and that Freddie would not exactly ‘get over it’ quickly, but ‘come to terms’ with what his wife had done very soon.

  Ellie hoped the police wouldn’t bother him any more but, remembering Lesley Milburn’s interest, she suspected the affair would drag on until some new and greater crime pushed it off the police radar.

  The last hymn thundered out, and the coffin was taken out and put into the hearse. Out of sight, out of mind? Well, not exactly. Anita had been much liked and would, hopefully, be remembered for her bright personality rather than for the manner of her death.

  Freddie and a large woman – presumably the bossy sister? – stood at the door to receive condolences as the mourners left. Freddie seemed content to stand in his sister’s shadow. He looked as if he hadn’t slept much recently. Small talk. Everyone looking subdued. Everyone looking at their watches. A general move back to the cars. Relief. Only immediate family were going on to the crematorium. Everyone else was expected back at the house.

  Diana spotted Ellie and waved. ‘Got a lift? See you at the house, then.’ Diana climbed into a black taxi, which had Evan’s wheelchair already inside.

  Ken Greenbody made sure Ellie had done up her seat belt. He looked at his watch. ‘I’m peckish, aren’t you? I believe there’s food laid on back at the house. Time enough for a sandwich and a glass of something, and then I must get back to the office. Will you stay on after I leave, or shall I drop you off at home when I go?’

  Ellie stifled a yawn. ‘I won’t stay long, but I’ll probably get a lift back with my daughter.’ She wondered if Freddie had switched on his Christmas lights yet. Or not. Probably not.

  No, he hadn’t. His house was warm and full of flowers. It was a dark and dismal day, but someone had had the common sense to switch on all the lights and bump up the heating. A couple of small children ran around. The offspring of relatives? In Freddie’s absence at the crematorium, an elderly relative received the guests.

  A glass of not very good wine. Platters of canapés. Ellie hoped there’d be something more substanti
al as they passed through into the dining room.

  Diana arrived, with some difficulty managing to push Evan in his wheelchair. ‘Mother, I hope you’re not going to set a bad example to Evan and drink too much.’

  ‘Fiddle faddle,’ said Evan in a sharp voice. He grinned at Ellie and gave her an enormous wink. ‘Watch this space. I’ve just remembered a rather risqué joke which Anita told me a while ago. I shan’t leave till I’ve passed it on to Freddie.’

  ‘Not appropriate,’ said Diana, who seemed to be perspiring. She looked sallow, and when she’d parked the wheelchair, she held on to her lumbar region with both hands.

  Ellie was separated from them by an influx of guests. ‘Hello there!’

  Who was this? Ah. Marcia double-barrelled, looking by turns solemn and full of mischief. ‘Nice to meet you again,’ said Ellie, truthfully.

  Marcia treated Ellie to another wink. ‘We shall see … eh?’

  More people came in, moving Ellie on to where a large female in a purple outfit stood blocking the way to a conservatory at the back of the house. The conversation level was rising, and it was becoming hard to hear what people said unless you leaned close.

  ‘I’m Pauline,’ said the purple outfit. ‘I remember you from the golf club. Eleanor, isn’t it? I never forget a face. Your poor dear husband couldn’t get you on to the golf course, could he? What a shame. I think a wife should take an interest in her husband’s activities, don’t you?’

  ‘Did yours?’ asked Ellie, thinking she didn’t have to suffer insults in silence.

  ‘Until he passed away.’ The woman lifted her glass to make the rings on her fourth finger dance. ‘Then my sciatica took over. After that, I had shingles, and you’ve no idea how I’ve suffered from that. Three times it’s returned, and though they say each time it should be less painful, I really can’t agree. There are days when …’

  Ellie thought she could identify Pauline as the visitor Evan liked the least, because she went on about her own afflictions, and not his.

  Platters of sandwiches and yet more canapés were brought in. Very welcome. Ellie managed to lose Pauline in the crush. She looked around for Diana. There was something about her daughter which disturbed. Not much, but enough to want to keep an eye on her.

  The events of the morning were catching up on Ellie. She needed to sit down. There were chairs lined around the walls but they were all occupied. What about the conservatory? Yes, there was a two-seater settee, rather worn but with large cushions. An elderly woman was sitting on it, but there was room for Ellie. ‘Are you keeping this seat for someone?’

  The woman shook her head. ‘I need to speak to a friend before I go, but I haven’t seen him yet.’

  Ellie produced a social smile and seated herself with a sigh. She wanted to lie back and close her eyes but if she did she’d fall asleep and that would never do. Perhaps she was going down with flu?

  There was something odd about the woman. Ah yes. Tobacco brown boots, brown handbag, and a navy coat and hat. Navy did not go with brown. If you had a navy coat, you usually wore navy or black accessories, not brown.

  Odd, really. The woman was otherwise well-turned out. Her hair had been expertly cut; the blouse showing at the neck of her coat was a Liberty print. She’d been a beauty in her day and hadn’t resorted to Botox or a face lift to delay natural ageing. Ellie didn’t think she’d met her before.

  She made small talk. ‘You’ve known the family long?’

  ‘My dear husband was their doctor until he died, and Anita was one of my best friends. I miss her terribly.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Cancer. So sad.’

  ‘You knew her?’

  ‘My husband was a member of the golf club. We met on social occasions, as one does. I admired her spirit.’

  ‘She always knew her own mind.’

  ‘Such a pity,’ said Ellie, not really thinking what she was saying. She didn’t like her wine much. Should she tip it into a plant pot nearby?

  ‘No, no. Don’t say that. She knew what she was doing.’

  Ellie felt something cold at the back of her neck. She didn’t turn her head, but let her subconscious work out what the woman had implied. Or maybe not even implied. What she’d hinted? Ellie told herself that she couldn’t possibly know that this was the woman who had helped Anita to die. It was ridiculous even to suspect her.

  Ellie turned to look at the woman, who looked back at her without embarrassment. Knowledge passed from eye to eye. Yes, this was the person who had helped Anita to die, and who was not ashamed of it.

  Ellie’s mouth felt woolly. She grimaced. ‘Not very nice wine. Though I suppose I ought not to complain.’

  ‘We don’t do enough complaining nowadays. That’s what I think. Why put up with things when they go wrong?’

  ‘You may be right.’ Ellie couldn’t think what she ought to do with what she’d discovered. Or thought she’d discovered.

  What could she do, anyway? Stand up and scream that this woman was a murderess? Well, not a murderess, exactly. But someone who … hang on! Had a crime of any sort been committed?

  ‘I’m Ellie Quicke,’ she said.

  ‘I know who you are. Evan told me about you. You were in his wedding photos.’

  ‘You know Evan well?’

  ‘Well enough.’ The woman began to rock to and fro, her face contorting. ‘It’s hard, very hard. I tell myself I can do it, but it is hard.’

  ‘Do what?’

  The woman was still, her eyes wide. A little wild. She smiled, and her skin broke into a hundred lines. She was older than Ellie had thought at first. ‘I brought some whisky for him. He likes that.’

  Ellie looked at the expensive brown handbag which the woman was clutching to herself. ‘In your bag? Your brown bag?’

  ‘I couldn’t find the navy one, and the black one is … hush!’ She put her finger to her lips.

  ‘You brought a special drink for Evan?’

  ‘My name’s Rosemary. What’s yours?’

  Rosemary? That was the name of another member of Evan’s harem, wasn’t it? Someone Ellie had been asked to visit, only she’d never got round to it, what with the flu and all. ‘Ellie. Ellie Quicke. Evan is my son-in-law.’

  ‘I don’t think much of his new wife, do you? She’s a burden round his neck. It’s terrible to live in pain, and for such an active man to be confined to a wheelchair, it must be hell on earth.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellie, watching the woman, ‘he’s been through a bad patch, but there are signs of improvement. His life is not yet over.’

  ‘He said it was, and I believe him.’ The woman nodded, emphatically. ‘Yes, yes. It’s the best way. The only thing to do. I have to help him. Only, I didn’t think there’d be so many people here. I may have to wait and visit him at home, but … I’m getting to the end of the day.’

  ‘Getting tired of it all?’

  Another emphatic nod. ‘One more and that’s it. I shall be glad to have finished with it, I can tell you. It’s a burden I’ve carried for too long. What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Ellie Quicke. Evan is my son-in-law.’ Was the woman suffering from short term memory loss?

  ‘He told me about you, I think.’

  There was a stir, and Evan forced his wheelchair through guests into the conservatory. ‘Ah, there you are. Enjoying yourself, Rosemary? Ellie, Diana says to tell you she wants to go home, but I told her to hang on a bit and we’ll all go together.’ He was in high spirits. He flourished a cut-glass tumbler which had definitely not contained the inferior wine offered to most of the guests. ‘Good stuff, this. I’ll just get a top up. Want one, Ellie? Rosemary?’

  ‘I brought one for you,’ said Rosemary, diving into her bag and producing a miniature whisky bottle. ‘Never say I forget you.’

  ‘There’s a friend for you! Forget-me-not,’ said Evan, pouring the contents of the miniature into his glass. ‘That’s what we used to call you. I can’t remember why.’

  Ellie couldn
’t think what to do. Had Rosemary given Evan unadulterated whisky, or … what? Should she snatch the glass out of his hand and pour it on the floor? No, no. Too melodramatic, and difficult to get the stain out of the carpet.

  She tried to get out of the settee but the cushions were soft and yielding and she didn’t make it. ‘Please, Evan. Don’t drink any more.’

  He took that the wrong way, lifting the glass to his mouth. ‘What! You, too? I’ll drink as much as I like.’ He took a sip.

  ‘Evan, stop! Rosemary put something in it.’

  ‘Did she?’ He looked at his drink. ‘Looks all right to me. Rosemary knows what I like.’

  ‘Rosemary is in love with death.’

  Evan froze.

  Rosemary shook her head, ‘No, no. You’ve got it all wrong. Drink up, Evan.’

  ‘She helps people to die,’ said Ellie, trying once more to rise.

  Rosemary caught Ellie’s arm, pulling her back down again. ‘Don’t you interfere. We know what we’re doing, don’t we, Evan?’

  Evan stared, narrow-eyed, at his glass. Then at Rosemary. ‘Why would you …?’

  Ellie tried to pull away from Rosemary, whose grasp on her arm was surprisingly strong. ‘Evan, suppose you exchange your glass for Rosemary’s? If the whisky she’s brought is harmless, it won’t hurt her.’

  Patches of red stood out on Rosemary’s cheeks. ‘Don’t be absurd. I don’t like whisky.’

  Evan held his glass up to the light. ‘It looks all right to me.’

  Rosemary insisted, ‘It’s good whisky; the best. I bought it for you specially.’

  Ellie said, ‘Pour it away, Evan. To be on the safe side.’

  TWENTY

  ‘Ridiculous!’ Rosemary was now as pale as she had been flushed before. ‘Evan, let me have your drink. I’ll pour it back into the bottle and use it another time.’

  It was impossible to pour the contents of a tumbler back into a miniature bottle and they all knew it. Evan, puzzled, held on to his glass.