Murder in House (2 page)

She tore off a piece of kitchen roll and blew her nose for the umpteenth time that morning. What if going out in this awful weather meant she developed pneumonia? Or Thomas did? She put a pack of tissues in her handbag.

Thomas folded her into the light but warm overcoat he'd bought her for an extra Christmas present and kissed the tip of her nose, which tickled and made her laugh. Her stomach rumbled. Oh well. Better get it over and done with.

The church wasn't one that she knew well, though she'd attended a wedding there some years ago. It wasn't anything like the pretty, mid-Victorian church in which Ellie had worshipped for many years. Far from it. It was one of those brick edifices built in the twenties, seemingly designed to keep builders constantly in work on repairs, since there were flat roofs and chapels and fiddly bits sticking out here and there. Hard to heat.

Thomas used his borrowed key on an unobtrusive door at the side of the church, and let them directly into the vestry.

The girl had made herself very much at home. She didn't look to be in any kind of distress, but was sitting on a folded-up sleeping bag, with a colourful holdall beside her. She had clear skin, innocent of make-up; was warmly dressed in jeans, a couple of heavy sweaters and good-looking boots . . . and was engaged in straightening her long, honey-coloured hair with battery-operated tongs. She had the electric fire on, was hooked into an iPod, and had poured herself out a cup of something from a Thermos flask. A number of small candles had been lit and placed around the room. Ellie wondered if they were from the church's store, or if the girl had brought them with her.

Thomas gave a giant sneeze and slammed the door on the outside world.

The girl turned brown eyes from Thomas to Ellie and back again. She didn't shift her position in any way. She didn't speak, either, but she did unhook one ear from her iPod.

Thomas mopped himself up. ‘This is my wife, Ellie Quicke, who is good at sorting out people's problems. She wonders if you'd like to tell us what's troubling you over lunch.' He was hungry. So was Ellie.

Apparently, the girl was not. She looked Ellie over, but her remote expression didn't change. ‘You don't have to worry about me. I'll leave the place tidy and let myself out in the morning.'

Ellie blew her nose. Coming in from the cold always set her off. ‘I didn't see any banners up outside the church. What are you doing a sit-in for? It must be something serious.'

‘I don't expect anyone like you to understand.' The girl shrugged, implying that no one of Ellie's advanced age could be expected to understand the problems of youth.

Ellie gritted her teeth. Did this young girl think no one in the world had ever got themselves into trouble before? Such arrogance! For two pins she'd sweep out and leave the girl to it.

Yet Thomas had wanted her to help. He'd foregone his lunch to get her here, so she supposed she must make an effort. She looked the girl over. As Thomas had said, she sounded well educated, she didn't seem short of a penny, and she was set on having her own way.

Thomas seated himself on the vicar's swivel chair, and swung round so that his back was towards them. Ellie loosened her big coat, and sought for the pack of tissues she'd put in her pocket. No tissues. Had she dropped them somewhere? Ah, in her handbag. She held back impatience. ‘I'm dying for my lunch. So is Thomas. But I suppose if you're having a sit-in, we'd better sit it out with you.'

‘No need for that.' The girl put the tongs away in her bag. ‘I'm doing this for me. A sort of detox. I'd rather be alone.'

Thomas swivelled round. ‘A hermit job? Isolation, peace and quiet? Trying to shut out the world's noise and listen to what God is saying to you?'

‘God?' She considered the matter. ‘I'm not sure I believe in God. I'm doing this for someone else. Someone who did believe in God. And then I'll have closure and can move on.'

Ellie indicated the impedimenta the girl had brought with her. ‘Shouldn't you be doing it properly? Without all these creature comforts?'

‘Thought about that. But no. He wouldn't have wanted me to catch my death of cold or anything. I just need to be here, where he used to come. Just for a day and a night. He wouldn't have minded being left in the church in the dark, and anyway, I brought these candles with me, just in case.'

Ellie made a guess. ‘He . . . whoever he is . . . is dead?'

The girl nodded. Her eyelids contracted and for a moment Ellie thought the girl would cry, but she didn't. Tough love?

‘A boyfriend?' The girl was attractive in a big-boned sort of way. Not beautiful, exactly, but she had an interesting face. Of course she would have a boyfriend.

The girl shrugged. ‘No. He's still alive, but you can go off people, you know.'

‘You went off him . . . when? After this other boy died?'

‘Maybe.' She brought her knees up to her chin. ‘I promised myself I would do this for him, and I don't break my promises.'

Ellie made her voice soft. ‘Other people break their promises, perhaps?'

The girl closed her eyes and turned her head away from them.

There was quiet in the vestry. No one moved. Ellie could feel another sneeze coming on, and fought it down.

Thomas sneezed so ferociously that he almost fell off his chair. A gust of wind hit the window and made it rattle.

Ellie's teeth chattered. ‘That's enough. Thomas, you'll catch your death if we stay here much longer. We've got lunch waiting for us back home, and I'm taking both of you home with me, right now. After we've eaten, Miss-whatever-your-name is, we can discuss your problem and, if you still want to, we'll bring you back here to finish off your vigil in peace and quiet.'

‘Sorry!' muttered Thomas, into his handkerchief. ‘Thought my cold was clearing up, but it seems to be getting worse.'

‘Pleurisy, pneumonia, I'm not risking it,' said Ellie, bending down to pack the girl's stuff away into her bag. ‘Put your coat on, girl. It's murder outside.'

‘It was murder, anyway,' said the girl. ‘He was murdered.'

‘Was he, now?' said Ellie, startled. ‘Well, you'll have two more deaths on your hands if we don't clear out of here and get warm. So let's get back to civilization.'

The girl didn't move until Thomas switched off the electric fire.

‘My name's Ursula. That's all you need to know.' After two helpings of everything, the girl was relaxed enough to give her name, but no more.

‘Coffee? Tea?'

She shook her head. ‘Thank you for lunch. Shall I help you stack the dishwasher? Then I'd best be getting back to the church.'

Thomas grumbled. ‘You led me to believe you'd talk to Ellie, if I got her along to the church.'

Ellie sent Thomas a wifely look, question and reproach nicely blended.

The girl looked at Ellie with a dozen doubts showing. ‘That was before I'd met her. I'm sure she's a very good cook and means well, but . . . well, this is not exactly the usual sort of parish problem. It was nice of you both to give me lunch, and I must say I feel better for it, but it isn't helping me get through this. I'll phone for a cab. If you'll let me borrow the key to the church, I'll pop it back to you first thing tomorrow.'

Thomas gave a giant sigh, and blew his nose. ‘You know very well I can't let that key out of my possession and I really don't want to go out again, with this cold on me, but
—
'

‘Certainly not,' said Ellie. ‘You'll catch your death. Ursula, I understand that you've decided to perform some sort of penance. Only you know if that's sensible or not, but it is not sensible to put other people at risk of catching pneumonia, is it? Is it right for you to take Thomas out into this dreadful weather when he's so unwell?'

The girl thrust out her lower lip. ‘You're twisting everything. You dragged me here. I didn't ask to come.' She was stubborn, but retained her good manners. She'd been well brought up.

Ellie reflected that you could sometimes press the buttons on a well-brought-up girl by asking her to help you. ‘Well, before you go, could you just help me get Rose up the stairs to her bedroom? She was my aunt's housekeeper – more of a friend, really – who stayed on to look after Thomas and me after my aunt died. She used to be such a bustling little person, but she's not well at the moment and I'm not sure I can get her upstairs by myself. Thomas would help me, but she really doesn't want a man doing things for her.'

Thomas gave her a Look, but heroically refrained from challenging the lie, and began to stack dishes.

The girl stiffened. ‘She doesn't want men around her? Well, I suppose I can understand that. Of course I'll help if I can. But then I must go.'

Ellie led the girl into Rose's sitting room next door. Rose had fallen asleep in her big chair again, her plate of food almost untouched. Ellie suffered a jolt of anxiety, as she often did nowadays when she came upon Rose asleep. So frail, so tiny.

Ellie touched Rose's shoulder and the faded blue eyes opened. ‘The potatoes were quite nice, dear, but I must let you have my recipe for them sometime. Miss Quicke always says I make the tastiest of roast potatoes.'

‘Yes, dear. Shall I help you up to your bedroom for your afternoon nap?'

‘No, no. Quite happy where I am. But perhaps a cup of tea when you're making one? In a cup, not a mug. Don't bother just for me, though.'

Ellie led Ursula back to the kitchen. ‘That's the first time Rose hasn't gone upstairs for her afternoon nap. I think perhaps we ought to make up a bed for her downstairs. And don't say she ought to be in a home. She looked after my aunt beautifully, and made her last years very happy. Now it's our turn to look after her till she picks up again.' Back in the kitchen, she put the kettle on. ‘So, what's all this about a murder?'

Ursula tossed back her hair. ‘It wasn't murder. Of course not. He fell, that's all.'

‘I'll take some tea in to Thomas and Rose, then we can sit down comfortably and you can tell me all about it.' Ellie was rather afraid the girl would take herself off as soon as Ellie left the room but no, she had seated herself at the kitchen table when Ellie returned.

‘Who was it who died?' said Ellie, putting sugar and milk into her coffee. ‘Not a boyfriend, you said?' At first she thought the girl was going to maintain her silence, but a noisy burst of sleet hit the window, making both women look up. Perhaps this reminder of the horrible weather made up the girl's mind.

‘Not a boyfriend, no. One of the crowd. A party in the new year. He had too much to drink, got into a quarrel, took a swing at someone, toppled over a balcony and that was that.'

‘You used the word “murder”.'

Silence. Long eyelashes were lowered, eyelashes the same colour as her hair, both true honey blonde. ‘I was stupid, thinking I'd get some sort of message from God if I stayed on alone in the church. I suppose if the usual vicar had been there, he might have had something nice to say about my friend and that would have made me feel better. If you hadn't interfered . . . well, it's done now, and I'll be off.'

She shook back her hair, making up her mind to some new course of action. ‘Of course it wasn't murder. The police said it wasn't and they should know, shouldn't they?'

‘You disagree?'

Ursula treated Ellie to a look in which calculation overlaid doubt. ‘Your husband said you were good at solving mysteries. How about investigating a disappearance, a broken engagement and an accidental death which was really a murder? All in one neat little package.'

Ellie felt like slapping the girl. Her manner was almost – but not quite – insolent. ‘Accidental death: the non-boyfriend? A broken engagement: you're not wearing a ring. A disappearance: the boyfriend to whom you were engaged?'

Ursula pulled a thin gold chain out from under her sweater. She undid the clasp and slid a gold ring from it on to the table. It wasn't a modern ring by any means. Perhaps Edwardian? A lovers' knot was the only decoration, and there was no jewel on it. ‘Perhaps you'd like to return it to him for me.'

Ellie blinked. ‘What . . .? Who . . .? No, I
—
'

‘Daniel Collins. Park Gardens. He'll understand. No message.'

Ellie stared at the ring. She picked it up. It was warm from contact with the girl's skin. The front doorbell rang, and someone used keys on both locks to let themself in. Ellie's attention switched from the ring and she rose from her seat. ‘What . . .?' Only Thomas, Ellie and Rose had both keys to the front door.

‘Yoohoo!' Yes, that was her daughter Diana calling from the hall. Could Diana and little Frank be arriving so early? But how could Diana have got hold of keys? Ellie glanced at the clock, and realized they were on time. It was she who was running late. The dishwasher hadn't been started, Thomas was probably having a nap in his study, and there was no cake made for tea.

Diana, fashionably gaunt and trendy, appeared in the doorway, unbuttoning her coat. She was followed by six-year-old Frank who made a dash for Ellie, knocking her back into her chair. ‘Is it going to snow? I like it when it snows. Can I have a sledge for when it snows?'

Ellie laughed and kissed him, saying it didn't often snow in London. Remembering her visitor, she tried to disentangle herself from Frank as Diana said, in her sharpest voice, ‘Watch it!'

‘Don't go, Ursula!' Ellie got to her feet. Too late. The girl was no longer in her seat, and Diana was staring out into the hall.

‘She pushed past me. How rude!'