Murder in Mind Page 3

  Nirav gave a little cough. ‘She found out that Mr Abel told an interested buyer the truth about a house he was showing, and the buyer dropped the price by thirty K. She was furious.’

  Oh dear. What could Ellie say? ‘I suppose my daughter was looking out for Mr Hooper’s best interests.’

  Nirav hunched a shoulder. ‘If you put it that way. The word is that Mr Hooper thinks the sun shines and lets her do what she wants.’

  ‘Mr Abel is thinking of leaving Hoopers?’

  ‘He’s resigned, though I don’t think he was given any choice in the matter. He’ll be leaving when he’s worked out his notice. Mr Stewart says he thought you’d be interested, but . . .’ Another wriggle.

  Ellie leaned back in her chair. ‘Nirav, would you like to take the coffee things out to the kitchen for me?’

  Nirav scrambled to his feet and retreated.

  Ellie looked at Stewart, who nodded. ‘I’ve heard similar stories from other sources.’

  ‘If it’s true that Mr Abel is looking for another position, then what do you think about offering him one? The more money and property that drifts our way means that more and more work gets piled on to your shoulders; there are only so many hours in the day, and you have family responsibilities, too.

  ‘Look at today’s meeting; in the old days you only had to deal with the properties to let, but now you’re being drawn into some of the other aspects of the trust’s affairs. Some time soon I’d like to talk to the other directors of the trust about inviting you on to the board, and I think we should make you General Manager of the company that looks after the properties to let.’

  He looked both pleased and worried. ‘Yes, I can see that . . . but are you sure, Ellie? I’m no financier and—’

  ‘Neither am I. That’s what we have Kate for. You’d like it, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I would. But—’

  ‘So we’ll need someone else to do all the nitty gritty of the lettings office for us. Not Nirav; he’s too young and inexperienced. We have no one else in the office who could take it on, have we? On the other hand . . .?’

  Stewart caught on at last. ‘I see where you’re heading. Well, I’ve heard nothing but good of Mr Abel. An estate agent who speaks the truth? As rare as hen’s teeth. Hah!’

  ‘We will have to advertise the position, but if we made it known in the trade that we are looking to take someone on, don’t you think that Mr Abel might apply? That way, we wouldn’t be accused of poaching but we’d acquire someone whom we can trust.’

  He ironed out a smile. ‘I tell Nirav you’re planning to increase my responsibilities, which means I’ll have to shed some of my workload, which in turn means we’ll be looking for an experienced man to join the firm. Nirav tells his engineering friend, who tells his cousin, and Mr Abel hears about it. How long do you think it would take for the word to get through? A couple of days?’

  Ellie smiled, too. ‘Tread cautiously. Spread the word but don’t make any direct approach because we don’t want to upset Mr Hooper any more than we have to. As for little Nirav; how trustworthy is he, do you think?’

  ‘He’s got a mind like a corkscrew, but at the moment it’s in his best interests to be straight with us. He’s ambitious. He wants to move into the lettings side, but so far I’ve said no. He’s desperate for accommodation for himself and his girlfriend, who I’m told is about to become his wife very soon. I’m thinking of offering him a short-term let on a flat which is a bit run-down, but which the maintenance team can’t get round to for a couple of months. All right?’

  ‘Brilliant. Now, when may I come to see your beautiful little daughters, and is my grandson playing in a football match this weekend? He told me he’s first reserve and hopes to play, and I’d like to come to watch, if it doesn’t rain.’

  Thursday noon

  The children’s playground in the park was packed on this bright sunny day. Au pairs chatted to mothers and the occasional house husband, while keeping an eye on the toddlers. Scooters and buggies had been parked to one side, awaiting the return of children who would be cross and hungry after expending their energy on the brightly-coloured attractions.

  A clown appeared with a bunch of balloons and a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Roll up! Birthday treat!’ The clown was white-faced with a red, smiling mouth. A padded red and black suit disguised its figure as it handed out balloons and biscuits with white-gloved hands.

  ‘More!’ demanded a fat-faced child with crumbs around her mouth.

  A small boy objected. ‘You greedy pig! You’ve had one already.’

  The girl snatched the biscuit he’d been about to eat and ran off, cramming it into her mouth. The clown gave away the last of the biscuits and left the park.

  The greedy child’s au pair was talking to a friend and failed to notice that anything was wrong till it was too late.

  Friday morning

  It was not until after Ellie had cleared away the breakfast things, talked the weekend menus over with Rose, made out a shopping list, taken down the curtain which needed repair in the dining room, and done a stint in her office that she had time to sit down with a cup of coffee in the kitchen and reach for the local Gazette.

  She’d forgotten about the Hooper girl’s death and was shocked when she saw it featured on the front page.

  ‘Look, Rose.’ She held the paper up. ‘“Teenager’s Tragic Accident. A bright and bubbly girl, the light of our lives.” It says the Hooper family’s prostrated, but they always say that, don’t they? Diana gave me the impression that Evan was shocked but not devastated. Oh, look, it says that her mother was . . . No, that can’t be right. The local paper often gets things wrong though, don’t they? The dead girl was too old to be the daughter of Evan’s current wife, wasn’t she?’

  Rose reached for her reading glasses. ‘She looks a proper little madam. I know that sort. Think they can get away with anything, just because Dad’s got money.’

  ‘It says here that her school friends are all in tears and have placed dozens of messages on Facebook. That’s the way it takes them nowadays. Fame for a few days on Facebook. Poor thing, what a waste of a life.’

  ‘What I want to know is, what was she doing in the gym in the first place? Trying to lose weight?’

  ‘These young things think they can never be too thin. It says here that she was on a treadmill and set the counter too fast.’

  ‘Catch me getting on one of those things. Instruments of torture.’

  Ellie had to smile. ‘I suppose I ought to do something about my weight, but . . . yes, I agree. Pretty girl, wasn’t she?’

  Rose snorted. ‘I bet she wasn’t naturally a blonde. That’s a professional hairdo if ever I saw one. Look at those eyelashes; they’re never natural. They retouch all those photographs, don’t they?’

  ‘Mm, she does look older than fourteen, or is it fifteen?’ Ellie tried to remember what Diana had said about the girl. ‘I expect she was at a private school. Yes, it says here; St Augustine’s. There’ll have to be an autopsy and an inquest before they can bury her, I suppose. There’s a sister, isn’t there? It must be dreadful to have a sibling die on you like that.’

  ‘I wonder if Her Royal Highness will attend the funeral.’ Rose did not care for Diana.

  Ellie put the paper aside. ‘Well, we must get on. Rose, no need for you to bother, but I thought I might look at what furniture we’ve got in the end room upstairs. If we can find enough beds, we could get at least one of those rooms ready for our visitors, couldn’t we? Do you suppose we could hire some furniture if we’re short?’

  ‘I don’t know why you want to bother. You know Thomas said they could go to a hotel.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I’d like them to feel they’re welcome here. After all, Thomas has seen very little of them since they went to Canada, and he’s only twice been over to see his grandchildren.’

  ‘What is young Frank going to say to this lot coming in and taking over his bedroom?’

>   ‘I’ve talked to him about it, and he understands how it is. He wants to know if they’ll bring him an American football jersey. I’d better remind Thomas to arrange it. First things first. I’ll go up to see what we’ve got in the way of furniture. Then I’ll take that curtain to be mended and do the weekend shopping on the way back.’

  She went upstairs, past the bedrooms in regular use, to the very end of the corridor, where there was a large room which had been unused – save as a dump for spare furniture – for as long as she could remember.

  She quailed. There were no curtains, or carpet. Well, that might be a roll of carpet and underlay over there . . . and yes, there was a huge box here which . . . Brilliant, curtains! But alas, sadly dusty and . . . Oh dear, frayed at the edges. They fell apart as she lifted them up.

  Some dust sheets had been inadequately draped over a mound of furniture, but lifting up one edge, she spotted a double bed – in pieces and very old-fashioned – some chairs which weren’t in bad condition, a small wardrobe and a chest of drawers which needed repair.

  She despaired. Leaving everything as it was, she investigated the bathroom next door, which only Frank used nowadays. He liked the solid feel of the cast-iron bath and its claw feet. Terribly old-fashioned, of course. So old-fashioned it was almost fashionable again.

  Next along the corridor was Thomas’s sanctum. Had she time to spare for a few minutes’ peace and quiet? Yes, she’d make time.

  She went in. The room was sparsely furnished with a couple of chairs, a small table holding various Bibles and reference notes, and an embroidered Victorian picture of Jesus as shepherd, carrying a lamb over his shoulder. There was a blind at the window and a mat on the shining floorboards. Despite its lack of luxurious furnishings, it had a welcoming look to it.

  Ellie only visited the room occasionally, but Thomas used it every day as a place in which to think, to meditate, to pray.

  If she commandeered this room, she could put his daughter and her partner in here and . . . No, she couldn’t. This room was perhaps the most important in the whole house to Thomas, and she was not even going to hint that he might move out for a while . . . Even though he was supposed to use the library for his den, and never did.

  No, she must make up her mind to it. She could not use that room for guests. She sat down, trying to calm her mind.

  Dear Lord, all this fuss and palaver. I fear I’m losing sight of what’s important in my life. Sorry about that. But if you could spare a moment to . . . No, I can’t ask for help on household matters, that’s absurd. Although I am rather worried; have we enough bed linen to go round?

  Sorry, sorry. Again. I’m being stupid. I should be asking you to keep an eye on Rose so that she doesn’t fall ill again. And on Diana. And on . . . well, you know how many people I have to worry about, and you don’t need reminding . . . or perhaps you do? Only, I haven’t got the time at the moment. Yes, I know I ought to make a bigger space for you in my life, but . . . please forgive me. Is that the time? Must dash.

  THREE

  Friday noon

  Ellie descended the stairs, struggling to hold on to the bundle of curtains she’d disinterred from the box in the junk room.

  The doorbell rang. She tried to shift the unwieldy bundle under one arm as she opened the door. For a moment she failed to recognize her visitor. When you don’t expect the police to call, it’s a shock to find them on your doorstep, isn’t it?

  ‘Let me help you with that,’ said Detective Constable Milburn, deftly relieving Ellie of the bundle as it slipped out of her arms. ‘Is it a bad time to call?’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ said Ellie, trying to think why this likeable woman was on the doorstep. She hadn’t done anything wrong lately, had she? ‘Come in. Time for a coffee? Do close the door behind you. It’s going to rain any minute, by the look of it. Thomas hasn’t got another parking ticket, has he? It’s dropping elderly people off outside the tube station that does it. He can’t seem to grasp the fact that he can no longer stop the car there. But you aren’t in the traffic department, are you?’

  ‘No,’ said the DC, smiling. ‘But I did want to pick your brains, if I may.’

  ‘Gracious! Are you sure? I’m not exactly Brain of Britain, you know.’

  ‘Eyes and ears of the world, that’s you. And I really do need your help. Shall I put this lot down on the chair here?’

  Rose appeared from the conservatory, brandishing her little watering-can. Rose liked Ms Milburn. ‘Coffee and cake? Ellie, if you think you’re going to use those curtains, you’ve got another think coming. Phew! The dirt! Shall I put them out with the rubbish?’

  Ellie tried to brush herself down. No matter how good your cleaners were, empty rooms attract dust if not attended to at frequent intervals. ‘Yes, Rose. Thanks. And I’d love a cuppa. Sorry, Ms Milburn. We’re expecting visitors and I’m trying to get the junk room for occupation. There’s a double bed up there which might do, but I’m at my wits’ end to . . . And these curtains fell to pieces as soon as I picked them up so they won’t do, either. Sorry. You wanted to talk to me about something. Come and sit down and tell me what’s troubling you.’

  ‘It’s the Hooper case.’ Ms Milburn followed Ellie into the sitting room. ‘I thought you might have heard something, know something. All gossip is grist to my mill. What do you know of the family?’

  Ellie felt her nerves tighten, but kept her tone light. ‘I read about the death in the paper this morning. Shocking. I’m afraid I don’t know really know the family. I’ve had some business dealings with Evan Hooper in the past, and my daughter’s estate agency has been absorbed into Hoopers; beyond that, no.’

  ‘You’ve never met any other members of the family?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘You’ve heard about them?’

  ‘I think – but this is only gossip – that there’s an older boy. Is he at college or something? And another couple of girls? That’s the extent of my knowledge.’

  ‘Didn’t you think that two deaths in the family was rather odd?’

  ‘You mean that one was an accident but that two looks like carelessness?’ Ellie did a double take. ‘What do you mean, two deaths?’

  ‘Or, murder.’

  ‘Murder?’ Ellie sank into her big, high-backed chair by the fireplace. ‘Two? Now, hang on a mo, the paper reported the death of a teenager this morning. Can’t remember her name. Oh, Fiona. I think. Electrocuted, was she? Something to do with the treadmill in her gym?’

  The DC sat down, only to have Midge the cat landing on her with intent. Midge knew that there was likely to be cake on the tray Rose was bringing in. Midge liked cream, and he knew Ellie wouldn’t give him any, but perhaps the visitor would?

  ‘That’s right. Fiona. We received a call at twenty hundred hours on Monday evening from the ambulance service. One of my colleagues attended and was met by Mr Hooper, who led the way to their gym in a conservatory at the back of the house. The constable found a fifteen-year-old girl lying there, dead. A doctor was already there, who confirmed that life was extinct. There’s a strict procedure to be followed in any case of a fatal accident, you know, and my colleague followed it to the letter.

  ‘Forensics arrived, took photographs, dusted for prints, etc. My colleague took a statement from Mr Hooper, who was shocked, horrified and angry. Fiona was his daughter by his second marriage. Mr Hooper had been alerted to the death by his third wife, a model calling herself Angelika with a “k”, who’d found the body and gone into hysterics. By the time my colleague got round to her, Angelika had recovered enough to give him a statement. To give them their due, neither Mr or Mrs Hooper asked for a solicitor to be present, and both said they wanted to help the police find out what had caused the accident.

  ‘Angelika says that she is the only person who uses the gym normally, but she had given her stepdaughter Fiona permission to use it if she wasn’t around. Angelika says she had gone into the gym to fetch a sweater she’d left there earlier in the
day and found the body. When pressed as to her exact actions, she said she’d gone in, heard the treadmill working overtime and was livid that someone had been misusing it. She turned the speedometer down and switched the machine off. Then she saw the body and started screaming.

  ‘Mr Hooper heard her. He arrived, couldn’t find a pulse – which wasn’t surprising as the girl had been dead for some time – and called the ambulance. The ambulance people called the doctor. The doctor called the police. The police took statements from everyone in the household: that’s Evan Hooper, his wife Angelika, another teenaged daughter and an au pair. Oh, there was a toddler, too, but she was safely tucked up in bed by that time and asleep.’

  ‘Isn’t there a son, as well? Or am I imagining it?’

  ‘No son visible. My colleague asked for backup and the DI was summoned, who reassured the family that there would be the very minimum of fuss as it was obviously a dreadful accident. It appears that Fiona had recently been trying to get her weight down. She was allowed into Angelika’s private gym to use the equipment without supervision and must have set the speedometer too high. Being alone, and for some reason unable to adjust the rate, she panicked, misjudged her step as she tried to get off and spun out of control across the room. Bashed her head in on the wall opposite.’

  ‘Tragic,’ murmured Ellie, worrying where this tale might end up. All roads seemed to lead to Mr Hooper, and she didn’t like that, not one little bit.

  ‘There was no reason to suspect anything was other than it appeared to be. But now this other death . . .?’

  ‘I hadn’t heard of another one.’

  ‘Abigail Hooper, two years and two months, child of Angelika and Evan Hooper. She died in the play centre at Pitshanger Park on Thursday morning.’

  ‘Oh, that’s dreadful. What a terrible thing. The poor parents!’

  Ellie knew the play centre well. It had its own small but adequate building in the park and a small enclosed play area laid out for toddlers. It was run by two women with some local assistance. They charged just about enough to keep them going, with a bit of help from the council and local charities.