Murder in House (8 page)

So Ursula hadn't taken her mother fully into her confidence? Well, considering that her mother had been in bed ill, her decision seemed reasonable. ‘You say Ursula wasn't there when the accident occurred?'

Mrs Belton sniffed. ‘I told her, be sensible, you can go to parties any old time, but you have to be at the airport in the early hours of the morning, so why not give it a miss? But she wouldn't listen. Off she went to the party with her rucksack, wearing a minidress that showed far too much, but there you are, they will do it, won't they? Daniel took her to the airport, and she texted me when she got there, saying that her flight was on time.'

‘When did you hear of Lloyd's death?'

‘It was in the local papers, wasn't it? Ursula showed it to me last week, got really worked up about it. I had to tell her not to shout. My ears hurt! Honestly! These young people take things so hard, wind themselves up with conspiracy theories about people not drinking when he obviously had. I told her, when she's seen as much of the world as I have, she wouldn't get into such a state about a young man falling off the wagon. These things happen, big party, everyone at it. If he wasn't used to drink, then the vodka probably had more of an effect than it would have done otherwise.'

A note of grievance entered her voice. ‘I thought she was settled with Daniel, that they'd be married and I'd be having the place to myself next summer. I had plans to . . . I deserve a life of my own now, don't I?'

‘Your daughter also talked about a disappearance. Do you know anything about that?'

A shrug. ‘She had a friend called Mia. A little dark girl, almost gypsyish to look at. Tiny little thing. She was quite bright, studying some strange language, it may have been Japanese. Apparently she went off with some unsuitable man or other after the party, as girls do. Ursula wouldn't accept that, oh no! Tried to ring her, went round to see the family, but the girl's dropped out of sight. Youngsters . . .' She sighed. ‘They never think that we worry about them. A shame, really. Mia might have talked some sense into her, instead of this.' She gestured to the ring.

‘So Mia really has disappeared. Have the police been informed?'

‘She's old enough to decide what to do with her life. I suppose the group is breaking up now. Pity. They have so many advantages that I never had. I had to work hard from the moment I left school. Nowadays they have these gap years and travel all round the place, having a whale of a time.'

‘New York for a holiday . . .?'

‘We should be so lucky.' She gave Ellie a twisted smile that morphed into a coughing fit. Ellie waited while Mrs Belton dragged herself into the kitchen for a glass of water. She reappeared, holding a packet of pills. ‘Time for a pill.' Her voice was fading from exhaustion.

‘You shouldn't think of going back to work this week, and you shouldn't go out in the cold. Do you have a neighbour who can do some shopping for you?'

‘Oh, her. We don't speak.'

‘Well, can I fetch you something from the shops?'

‘I'll go back to bed for a bit, I think. Ursula left me with a whole lot of frozen meals, not that I fancy them in the least. Junk food! I can still hardly believe what Ursula's done. They've been together for so long.'

‘Better to break it off now than after they're married.'

‘I suppose.'

‘I'd like to ring her, if I may. Tell her what's happened about the ring.'

‘She's got no mobile at the moment. Dropped it, clumsy girl, will have to get another, though I should think she's fairly broke at the moment, what with the trip to America and all. I'll let you have the emergency number for students at the University, if you like. You can leave a message for her there.'

Mrs Belton consulted a telephone book and wrote down a number on a piece of paper for Ellie. At the same time, Ellie wrote down her own home number for Mrs Belton. ‘Just in case she rings you before I can get hold of her.'

Mrs Belton gave Ellie's phone number one glance, and screwed up the piece of paper, saying she only needed to look at telephone numbers once to remember them.

Considerably intimidated by this evidence of a superior intellect Ellie, who had been known to forget her own phone number at times, got herself out of the flat, pulled out her mobile and asked the cab company to send someone round to pick her up straight away. Then she tried the number Mrs Belton had given her and left a message for Ursula to ring her, reversing the call.

FIVE

E
llie got home to find the house dark except for a light in the hall. She remembered just in time that she couldn't use the front door because Thomas had bolted it, so made her way past the coach house that Roy had converted into his architect's offices, and let herself into the kitchen quarters through the back door.

What a sight! A splendid party was in progress round the kitchen table, with Rose presiding over their biggest teapot. Thomas – girded in his favourite apron with cats on it – was grilling a couple of pounds of sausages, while a frail-looking man in a dog collar sliced buns lengthways. Hot dogs were in the course of preparation, presumably. Ellie thought of the salad stuffs she'd bought to make them a sensible meal, and accepted she'd lost the battle for dieting before a shot had been fired.

‘Just in time!' cried Rose, who looked tinier than ever, but was flushed with enjoyment. She'd even dressed herself, after a fashion, in a purple cardigan over a fuchsia pink T-shirt and a decent skirt. No stockings, but she did have her bedroom slippers on. Ellie smiled, because Rose was obviously feeling so much better.

A large, fair-haired man backed out of the larder, holding up various jars. ‘Is this the right mustard?' Stewart: little Frank's loving father, Diana's ex-husband, and the invaluable manager of the Quicke properties to let. He saluted Ellie with the Dijon mustard. ‘I dropped in to see you with an update on the old house, and got roped into making tea. Hope you don't mind.'

‘Of course not. Especially if you've got some news for me.'

‘All the utilities are back on. The decorators started two days ago, and are scheduled to finish within three days if we promise overtime.'

‘Promise anything you like. Well done, Stewart.'

‘I wish I could stay to eat with you,' said Stewart, looking longingly at the sizzling hot dogs, ‘but Maria will kill me if I fail to do justice to supper at home.'

Maria wouldn't, as they all knew, but Ellie smiled forgivingly as he retrieved coat and briefcase and made his way out of the kitchen door into the night.

‘Feed a cold, and starve a fever. Comfort food coming right up!' Thomas pierced sausages to make sure they were cooked all through. ‘Shed your coat, Ellie. I'm cooking tonight. Oh, and this is my friend Peters from St Mary's.'

‘It's good to meet you at last,' said the dog collar. ‘I rang to thank Thomas for taking the service yesterday, and he invited me round. He said you'd want to ask me about Lloyd.'

She did, indeed. So after a fairly raucous high tea, which finished up with lashings of Rose's Bakewell tart and cream, they adjourned to the peace and quiet of the sitting room.

The Reverend Peters swallowed pills. ‘The antibiotics are kicking in at last, thank the Lord. Pleurisy's no joke, especially at my age. Forgive me if I leave soon. I still tire easily.'

‘I'll run you home,' said Thomas, patting his frontage as a signal to the cat Midge to make himself at home there.

‘Of course you mustn't overdo it,' said Ellie, handing them both a cup of good coffee. How many cups had she had that day, and would she be able to sleep on them? ‘Can you tell me about Lloyd before you go?'

‘A bright mind. Old for his years. Thought for himself. He'd been brought up a strict Methodist by Welsh parents. In their late teens, some youngsters slough off whatever religion they've learned at their parents' knee, in favour of experimentation. Sometimes they turn their backs on religion altogether. Lloyd had gone through such a phase and come out the other side. He approached me after a morning service about a year ago and started asking questions. I run a discussion group for young people on Wednesday evenings and he joined that. He knew his parents would have preferred him to go to a Methodist church, but he felt at home with us. Just before Christmas he asked me to prepare him to take communion, and he was thinking – I don't know whether he'd have gone through with it – but he was thinking that one day he might train for the ministry.'

‘Did he drink at all?' asked Ellie.

The Reverend Peters shook his head. ‘A half pint occasionally. He said he'd tried getting drunk and it hadn't done anything for him, so he didn't bother nowadays. As for drugs: never. And, of course, as he was a student he had to be careful with his money.'

‘Sex?'

Again, a shake of the head. ‘I don't think so. He said there was a girl in the group he went around with – something to do with his digs? Anyway, he said he really fancied her, but she was already spoken for. He said there'd be plenty of time later to find someone he really liked, someone he could commit to. He had – not tunnel vision exactly – but I would say he was a remarkably single-minded young man. He had two goals: to get a good degree and teach, and to find out what God wanted him to do in life. He said everything else could wait.'

‘What did you think when you heard he'd got drunk and dived off a high roof?'

He looked anguished. ‘When I saw the paragraph in the local paper, I thought it must be some other person of that name. I rang his digs and was told that yes, it was him, that he was being cremated. We couldn't even have a service for him at our church. Human nature never fails to surprise me. He's the last person I would have thought . . . well, it's all over. I suppose I misread his character, that the front he put on for me was a false one.'

‘Ursula didn't believe the official version, either. Was she the girl he liked so much, do you know?'

He shook his head. ‘He didn't give me a name. Old-fashioned in some ways. I liked him all the better for it. Ah me. I must admit, I grieve for him and for myself that such a bright star should have fizzled out like . . . like a damp squib.' He tried to laugh, coughed, blew his nose. Stood to depart. A stooping, elderly cleric, disillusioned but soldiering on. ‘Must go.'

‘I'll run you home,' said Thomas, dislodging Midge to get to his feet.

When he'd gone Ellie cleared up in the kitchen and saw Rose settled in front of her television set.

Turning the volume up, Rose said, ‘Wouldn't Miss Quicke have enjoyed it this evening? She always said that what this house needed was filling with lots of people.'

Lots of people. Ouch. Again Ellie thought of the vast, unoccupied attic storey and wondered if she were being selfish in not allowing Diana and Frank to take over there.

She was restless until she heard Thomas return and let himself in through the kitchen quarters. He was unsettled, too, though he took her arm and made her sit down in the big chair in the sitting room, saying, ‘Now, tell me what's going on.'

She told him, watching his face the while. She told him about Daniel and his reaction to the return of his ring, and then what had happened when she spoke to his mother . . . and finally about the conversation with Mrs Belton.

‘. . . Oh, and Roy's in deep trouble financially. He promised to put money into Prior's Place and now he's trying to raise a mortgage on the block of flats that my aunt left him, or to sell it. In the current state of the market, he's going to lose hand over fist. Felicity wants the Trust to bail him out, but I'm not sure that I should. I don't think the trustees would let me, anyway.'

‘No, I don't suppose they would, but I suppose you'll want to try.' He fidgeted, frowning, sighing, shaking his head. ‘This Ursula business, though. What a mess. I don't know what to think.'