Murder in House Page 5

  ‘Here’s Dan again,’ said Ellie, also collecting scraps. ‘And this one . . . is this the one you called Anthony again? Or his brother? They look alike, don’t they? Are they at teacher training college as well?’

  Mrs Collins snorted. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. There’s money in that family. Silver spoon, know what I mean? What a shame; here’s a lovely picture of Dan but his left arm’s missing. I think that was taken the day they all went on the river last summer. Hired a boat and went up past Henley, all got a bit high, drank too much, someone fell overboard, can’t remember who now, but no harm done, except they all came back red as lobsters from sunburn. Why has he torn them all up?’

  ‘I expect they remind him of happier times. How did Dan and Ursula come to know this Anthony and Timothy, if they’re so well off, and he isn’t?’

  ‘School. My husband that was, he paid for the boys to go to a private school at first, which is where Dan met up with the Priors. But then money got tight and our boys had to go to the nearest state school instead, which wasn’t bad at all, let me tell you. That’s where Dan met Ursula. Anthony and his lot, they liked having Dan and Ursula around, and some of my other lads who lodge here as well. My husband that was used to say the private school gave the lads an important start in life, because it was all about who you knew. Maybe he was right.’ Mrs Collins blinked. ‘It didn’t do Lloyd much good though, did it?’

  ‘Why don’t you keep that good picture of Dan? You could have it enlarged, put it in a frame?’

  Mrs Collins sniffed, but stowed the picture away.

  Ellie said, ‘Do you think Dan will want to keep these pieces? Maybe Ursula would like them to remind her, eventually.’

  ‘Take them if you like. And tell her from me . . . no, don’t bother. I wouldn’t know what to say. Good luck, perhaps? I suppose I may see her about town some time. She usually comes back for weekends. I only hope my son knows what he’s doing, letting her go like that.’

  ‘I’ll stick them together and take some copies so if you want one, just give me a ring and I’ll pop one in the post to you.’ She tore a page out of the back of her diary, and wrote down her home phone number for Mrs Collins. ‘By the way, what’s Ursula’s surname, and can you give me her address? Dan said to return the ring to her. Unless you’d like to?’

  ‘Ursula Belton. It might be best if you did it. She and her mother live in one of those ground floor flats along the Avenue. I’m not sure of the number, but it’s in the first block of flats that you come to on the left after the library.’

  ‘Anthony, is that you? Dan here. Ursula’s sent me back my ring!’

  ‘Good riddance. I reckon she’s been looking for an opportunity to dump you for ages. Stuffed-up chick, who did she think she was, anyway? You’re well rid of her.’

  ‘I don’t see it that way.’

  ‘Get over it. She never let you have it, did she, little Miss Frigidaire? Well, now you’re free to find out what it’s all about. And once you’ve experienced what a real woman is like, you’ll wonder why you ever stuck with her so long.’

  ‘I never thought she’d take it so hard. What did you say to her, when she went to see you?’

  ‘What we’d agreed.’

  ‘She was different, after that. So angry! I’ve never seen her so angry, not in all the years we’ve known one another. And then she broke down and cried and wanted me to help her find Mia and of course I told her what you said, and she said that was rubbish, and she went on and on at me and said I had to choose, which was ridiculous as I told her, so I rang off. And the next day when I tried to phone her—’

  ‘Her mobile got broken.’

  ‘She wouldn’t answer the landline and when I went round there, she wouldn’t come to the door. That went on all week and now she’s gone back to Portsmouth and sent her ring back and I feel like getting drunk.’

  ‘Why not? Come round this evening and we’ll sink a few.’

  ‘I suppose I might. What else is there to do?’

  FOUR

  Ellie put Ursula’s ring in her coin purse for safe keeping and made her way across the park to the house that her architect cousin Roy had revamped for his wife Felicity and their baby Mel.

  The weather wasn’t improving, but Ellie stopped on the way to buy some bits and pieces for supper. Her new grey skirt was getting decidedly tight around the middle, and as for Thomas, he’d always had an ample frontage, and the sooner he went on a diet the better. It was no good pretending that one could lose weight without dieting, but Thomas wouldn’t eat a plain salad without a lot of dressing on it, so she must make a salad dish appetizing with red, yellow and green peppers, chicory, and tiny red tomatoes to add to the usual lettuce and cucumber. He might well enjoy that with some good balsamic vinegar over all.

  He’d probably want a good solid soup, beforehand. He really ought to have a non-fattening soup made without potatoes or cornflour, but the weather was awful and he must have something starchy to keep him going. She found a soya ice cream that would do for afters; tasty but not fattening.

  It started to rain again as she reached Felicity’s. She’d done more walking than usual, which might be good for her but was somewhat tiring, so she looked forward to a good sit-down and perhaps a bite of lunch.

  Only, Felicity was not alone. She had recently made friends with Caroline Topping, a neighbour who’d also come late to childbearing, and they often popped into one another’s houses for a coffee. Felicity, ripely blonde with a figure that was filling out in response to a happy marriage and her own love of cooking, let Ellie in while jiggling little Mel in her arms.

  ‘Come on in. What filthy weather. I’d forgotten you were coming, but I’ve just made a mushroom risotto that can easily do for three. You know Caroline, don’t you?’

  Ellie did. She blew her nose. Coming in from the cold always started her sneezing. Caroline’s toddler held up his arms for Ellie to pick him up, which she did with only the slightest of groans. Her back was twinging again. This cold weather . . .

  A chaotic lunchtime passed with the three women fielding food and toddlers, spooning in food here, supplying drink, mopping faces and hands, and managing to eat a few mouthfuls themselves between whiles. Ellie enjoyed it, but she had to admit it was blissful when Caroline took Duncan away and Mel was settled down for her afternoon nap. Felicity wiped down surfaces while Ellie stacked the dishwasher.

  Felicity sighed. ‘It’s so dark. I hate January.’

  Ellie said, ‘Buy some daffodils, or one of those sun-effect lamps. Don’t you want a rest when Mel’s asleep? It was the only way I could make both ends of the day meet when Diana was young.’

  ‘I would normally, but I wanted to talk to you before Roy gets home. It’s a something and a nothing. Probably a nothing.’ She made some coffee and sat at the table, stirring the coffee in her cup but not adding any sugar. ‘What do you think about jinxes, Ellie?’

  Ellie tried not to smile, because Felicity was looking so serious. ‘What sort?’

  ‘Prior’s Place.’

  Ellie refrained from comment. She’d a bad feeling about it too. ‘Roy got involved, financially?’

  ‘The building was designed by a much bigger practice, but Roy designed the health centre on the ground floor and basement. It’s really striking, very upmarket, designed to appeal to people with lots of money. I know Miss Quicke advised Roy against putting money into it and you did, too, but—’

  ‘He went and did it, anyway?’

  Felicity nodded. Was she going to cry? ‘He wants to, and I can’t talk sense into him.’

  ‘Your own money’s safe?’ Felicity had been left a wealthy woman when her first, extremely unpleasant, husband had died, and her affairs were now managed by Kate, Ellie’s neighbour at the old house. Kate was much younger than Ellie, of course, but was something of a financial wizard and the age difference didn’t seem to matter.

  Felicity said, ‘Roy has made enquiries about selling or mortgaging the block of f
lats that Miss Quicke left him in her will, so that he can buy into Prior’s Place. I think he’s mad! He says the flats in Prior’s Place will sell like hot cakes and he’ll be able to pay the mortgage off in no time, but of course nothing is moving because of the recession. Also, a couple of people who were going to buy into Prior’s Place have backed out at the last minute, and the gym’s not making a penny yet, and I have the most awful feeling that it’s going to be a white elephant and Roy will lose his inheritance and everything he’s worked for.’

  Ellie refrained, with difficulty, from saying that in her opinion no bank should trust Roy with a credit card for over fifty pounds. He was a kind and generous man, a loving husband and father and a talented architect, but in money matters he had no sense of danger.

  ‘It’s like . . . like they’re cursed,’ said Felicity, in a rush. She blushed. ‘Of course I know that’s nonsense, but when I think about that place, it’s like a dark cloud came down from the penthouse that night and it hasn’t moved, hanging over everything. I do totally understand why people don’t want anything to do with it.’

  ‘You were at the Grand Opening when the boy died?’

  Felicity shuddered. ‘All dolled up, four-inch heels, wearing the latest fashion with a skirt well above my knees – which in this weather is stupid, but I did it because Roy wanted me to look nice and smile at all the important people who might want him to work on something else. So of course I did just that. By eleven o’clock most people had gone. I was tired and wanted to go home, because of getting up in the night with Mel. Only, Roy wanted to stay to the end, so of course we did. There was this horrible man who kept putting his arm around me and squeezing. But that’s nothing, really, is it? I mean, not compared to . . .’

  ‘No. Did you know the boy who died?’

  ‘I saw his picture in the paper after, but there were quite a few young people, not waitresses but college students, friends of the young Priors, showing would-be clients around. Someone said – I think it was Caroline’s husband, he works for the Town Hall you know, and it was nice to see a friendly face among all those important people – anyway, he said the young things were there as sucker bait, and I did see what he meant, because they were concentrating on the middle-aged and elderly people with money to spend.

  ‘The party started off in the Health Club in the basement and the show flat just above it. Lots of important people, councillors, everyone. Speeches, you know. I got stuck with this man who . . . I’ve told you about him already, haven’t I? All I know is that after eleven, after the bigwigs had gone, someone said the young people had gone upstairs to continue the party in the penthouse suite. Apparently they were drinking heavily, things got out of hand and this lad went over.

  ‘It had been such a good party, too, until that happened. I mean, the building is fabulous, and I can see why Roy thought it would be a good investment. Only now he’s so determined to have his own way and won’t see sense, saying what do I know about it because I’ve never had to handle big sums, and of course that’s true because my first husband did it all, and now Kate. I think he’s made verbal promises, maybe even signed something, and I believe he knows he’s being stupid, but won’t admit it.’

  ‘Just like a man.’

  ‘I asked Kate if she could help. She said she’d tried to steer some City money into the project ages ago, after Miss Quicke had said she wasn’t interested in it, but she stopped when Roy told her he could fund it himself. She says it’s unlikely Roy will get a mortgage on reasonable terms for his flats at present, and if he does try to sell them he’s likely to lose on the deal.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You aren’t bothered by my silly notions about a jinx, are you? So would you get your Trust to consider buying into Prior’s Place, to keep things moving in the right direction?’

  Ellie had seen this coming, and didn’t like the sound of it. Her Trust fund was meant for charitable purposes, not to bail out rash relatives. Besides, the other members of the Trust would never agree to such a scheme. ‘What does Kate advise?’

  ‘She says I can’t raise enough to help Roy out at the moment without selling shares at a huge loss, and selling my shares would reduce my income drastically. I mean, I will if all else fails, but . . . you see the problem?’

  ‘Don’t sell,’ advised Ellie. ‘Not yet, anyway. I’ll have a word with Kate and with the other members of the Trust to see what can be done, but I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘Bless you. If only that young man hadn’t thought he could fly! I’m sure the flats would be selling if he hadn’t.’

  Ellie asked Felicity to ring for a cab for her. It was still raining, she had shopping bags to carry, and it was just that bit further to her ‘old’ house, than to the ‘new’. Or rather, her own ‘old’ house – the one in which she and her first husband had lived for so many years – had been built in the 1920s, long after the Edwardian grandeur of the Quicke family house in which she was now living, but the words ‘new’ and ‘old’ didn’t always mean exactly what you intended to say, did they?

  She was grateful that at least Felicity owned her own house outright, which was a blessing in view of Roy’s imprudent financial dealings. Theirs had been a love match and remained one. The marriage was solid, and it was only Roy’s flights of fancy that cast an uncertain glow over their future. How could Roy’s finances be saved? And how could he be persuaded never to risk his capital again in future?

  Miss Quicke had managed to keep him on an even keel by backing one or two of his enterprises with her own money, and refusing to consider others. At her death he’d been left without a guiding hand, and look at the result! It was a puzzle, and Ellie had no idea how to solve it.

  Well, there was one other little job she could manage before she went home. When her cab came, she asked the driver to take the road past the library at the end of the Avenue, and slow down when they came to the first low block of flats. Had Mrs Collins described Ursula’s flat correctly? The sooner Ellie got rid of the ring, the better. She asked the driver to wait while she stumbled through the rain to the first of the communal doors, and checked the names on the intercom system. Yes, there was the name Belton. She rang the bell but there was no reply. Mrs Belton must be out, at work, shopping, whatever. She was on the point of returning to the cab when a disembodied, rather hoarse, voice said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mrs Belton? My name’s Ellie Quicke. Would it be possible for you to spare me a minute? I have something your daughter left with me.’

  ‘My daughter’s not here.’

  ‘No, I realize that.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ The door latch clicked open.

  ‘Just a minute. Got to get my bags from the minicab.’ Ellie put her handbag down to stop the door closing and went back to the cab to fetch her shopping. Since she’d never learned to drive, she used the minicab agency regularly, and kept a monthly account with the firm. With some difficulty she hauled her shopping bags out of the cab and through the front door into the foyer.

  A tall, well-built woman held the first door on the left open for Ellie, smothering a cough in a man-sized tissue. At the moment her hair – blonde going grey – was lifeless, but it had been recently well-cut and tinted. Ellie recognized the drawn, greyish look of the skin, the lack of make-up, the reddened nose. Clearly Mrs Belton was yet another victim of the prevalent feverish cold. The down-turned mouth might also be a result of the cold, or it might be a permanent indication of Mrs Belton’s attitude to life.

  Ellie was ushered through a tiny hall into a square, all-purpose living room. Neat and tidy, the furnishings were a muted symphony of creams and greens. The furniture was not new but pleasantly functional, with magazines and papers neatly aligned on a coffee table. One or two bits of pewter, some Bristol blue glass, a bowl of daffodils, a couple of photographs of a young Ursula in silver frames. Nothing outstanding, except for two large pictures on the walls – or rather, one collage in blues and greens of an underwater scene, and a portrait of her hostess in past
els. Both showed considerable talent.

  ‘Ursula’s?’ Ellie peered at both. Was she beginning to need glasses, or was the daylight fading already?

  ‘Do be careful.’ There was a snap in her voice. ‘One of your shopping bags is about to split.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Ellie let them down on to the floor. ‘I am so stupid. I came out without thinking about shopping, and then, as one does . . .’

  The woman smothered another cough and produced a stout plastic bag from the next room along, which must be the kitchen. ‘Take this.’

  Ellie took stock of her hostess as she transferred her shopping to a stronger bag. Mrs Belton was a different type from Mrs Collins. Also fifty plus but looking younger. Better educated. A slightly self-pitying approach to life? None of Ursula’s bright-eyed, manipulative intelligence, but no fool either.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ellie.

  Mrs Belton didn’t offer refreshments but let herself down on to a chair, indicating that Ellie do so too. ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? At church fêtes? Someone said you’d given a local Holiday Club money for a children’s outing. Didn’t you marry our last vicar, the one who’s just left?’

  ‘That’s so. Your daughter didn’t mention that we met yesterday?’

  Mrs Belton shook her head. The downturn of her mouth appeared to be a fixture. ‘She went back to university early yesterday, leaving me barely on my feet and hardly able to fend for myself. Not that I’m complaining, you understand.’

  She was complaining, of course. Ellie sought for a tissue and blew her nose.

  Mrs Belton said, ‘You have something of hers? You’re lucky to find me at home. I should have been at work today, but I’ve been laid out with flu.’

  ‘It takes it out of you, doesn’t it?’