Murder in Mind (15 page)

And there was Vera who, after her short-lived marriage to Edgar, was now at a loose end. Vera had been one of Maria's star cleaners. She was dependable, bright-eyed, strong, and devoted to a son with behavioural problems. And, there was the empty top floor of Ellie's house.

To Ellie, it seemed that the answer to both their problems was obvious, but she realized that Vera might think differently. Also, Ellie still hadn't got permission to convert the top floor of her house into separate accommodation.

It was time to see what Vera had to say for herself.

Ellie got out of the cab to survey Vera's flat, on the ground floor of a terrace of Edwardian houses. Tiny front gardens. Red-brick. Large bay windows. Trees in the street. Quiet. Perhaps a little depressing? Or was that only in Ellie's mind? The bright promise of the early morning had given way to a clouded sky.

Vera let Ellie in. Superficially, marriage to Edgar Pryce hadn't changed Vera, who still wore her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her clothing – a plain black T-shirt over jeans – was no more expensive than the clothes she'd worn when cleaning people's houses. But she'd lost the ‘bounce' which had once characterized her. Even her blue eyes looked washed out.

The sitting room was shadowy as heavy curtains, though looped back, obscured much of the daylight. Behind them were nets. Ellie disliked nets because they needed so much attention in the grimy air of a city. These were clean, because everything Vera had about her would be clean, but they added to an atmosphere of quiet desperation in the room. The furniture was good and solid. Nothing new; about what you'd expect in a downmarket furnished flat.

On the plus side, the central heating system worked.

There was a framed photograph on the mantelpiece of Edgar in happier days. A radio was playing something cheerful nearby, but there was no sign of Vera's child.

‘No Mikey?' said Ellie.

‘Edgar introduced him to computers and he's never looked back. I'd never been able to afford a computer for him, but Edgar suggested we both went on a beginner's course, so we did. I know how to do this and that now, but Mikey left me far behind. The tutors say he's got some sort of kink in his brain, means he can understand things much faster than normal people. They say that's why he was always in trouble, before. He was frustrated. He's a different boy now. You'd hardly know him.'

‘So that's where he is now?'

‘He's signed up for an advanced course today. The tutors say he's one of only two pupils who can run rings round the rest of us.'

‘How is he, nowadays?' said Ellie, not wanting to refer openly to Mikey's famous tantrums.

‘He's all right. The doctor said he'll get over it. Children do, don't they?'

Ellie remembered what Edgar had said about the boy in his letter. Edgar had loved Mikey and believed that the boy had loved him in return. Edgar had been worried how the boy would cope after his death, and perhaps he was right to worry. ‘What's wrong?'

Vera reddened and shifted on her chair. ‘Nothing. Mikey was really fond of Edgar, you know.' A slight hesitation? ‘It's just that, well, sometimes he refuses to eat.'

No tears. Very composed. Subdued.

How awful. How like Vera to keep on keeping on, not complaining. Expecting nothing. Ellie let the silence roll around them. Was this the time to mention her plan for Vera's future? No, it was too soon.

There was, however, something else Vera might do, if she felt up to it. No, no. The timing was all wrong.

Vera started. ‘I'm so sorry. Would you like a cup of tea? Or would you prefer coffee?'

‘Coffee? I don't mind “instant”.'

‘Come into the kitchen. It's brighter there.'

It was brighter. There were house plants on the window sill and a small radio playing something lively. An ironing board had been set up, with a pile of clothes waiting to be dealt with. There was a Formica-covered table with three chairs around it. Vera produced coffee and biscuits, and they sat at the table.

Ellie said, ‘You asked to see me, and I'm really glad to have the opportunity to catch up with you. How are you coping?'

‘I can't seem to think straight. I mean, it wasn't a great love match, or anything, but I was terribly fond of him. We both knew he hadn't much time, but he'd been so much better that I thought, and he thought, he might go into remission, and we began to think maybe we'd have Christmas together, and he'd be able to teach Mikey to play chess and even, possibly, take him to football matches.

‘He was wonderful with Mikey, you know. I was so worried, I warned him about Mikey's moods, but as soon as I saw them doing weird and wonderful things on the computer together, I knew it would be all right. Do you know, Mikey didn't have but one tantrum all the time . . .' She swallowed. ‘We were lucky, I suppose, that we had those months together.'

Ellie reached out to hold Vera's hand.

Vera was dry eyed. ‘We never slept together. I offered, he said “soon”. But I held him in my arms when I found him, sitting in his chair with the telly on and the newspaper on his lap, fallen asleep. So I held him till he was quite, quite cold. And when Mikey realized, he came to sit on his other side and stroked his hand.'

‘Edgar was a fortunate man.'

‘Not that I was ever his equal socially, of course. I came to look after him, and then he took to Mikey, and Mikey took to him, and when my rent was due and going up, he said would I like to move in, and Mikey said it would be a good idea, because then he could work on Edgar's computer, so we did. And Edgar bought Mikey a brand-new, state-of-the-art computer, and, well . . . I cooked and cleaned for them and listened when they talked about gigabytes . . . Is that the right word? I've never been able to understand what they were.'

Ellie nodded. ‘Me neither.'

‘Then we had those three days at the seaside, not waiting for half-term, and the teachers didn't like it one bit, us taking Mikey out of school, but if we'd waited, we wouldn't have been able to go, would we? Edgar sat in his chair on the beach, and Mikey scrambled around, collecting shells and wanting to look them up on his laptop, and me falling asleep in the sun, would you believe? I even got a tan. He got up out of his chair one day and went along the shore with Mikey, looking for some rare shell or other. I never did work out what, but that didn't matter, did it?'

‘No, it didn't.'

‘And we thought . . . we hoped . . . and he said he was feeling a bit better every day, but I could see . . . and the doctor said . . . But he wanted to stay at home, and I said that of course he should. When his sister came and said those awful things, about me trying to trap him into marriage—'

‘Dreadful woman.'

Vera nodded. ‘I said I'd leave, but if I had, what would have become of him? Because he'd have had to go into the hospice. That's when he said we should get married, so that I could be his next of kin and deal with the doctors for him. So we did. He wrote it all down, what I was to do, where his little bit of money was, and how I should give Mikey all of it for his education if he couldn't get bursaries, and I said I didn't want anything, and he said I was the sort who needed to be needed and so I must go back to work sometime, not to cleaning, but to try for a better job when I felt better. Do you think it was wrong of us to get married?'

‘I don't. I'm only sorry that you didn't have longer together. You made him a very happy man in his last few months, and he's given Mikey a new direction in life.'

‘I wanted to see you, to ask you . . . His sister says it's immoral for me to take family money, and that I should turn everything over to her. One moment I think she's right, and the next, I don't.'

This made Ellie angry. ‘His sister is a greedy harridan, who's already well provided for. Forget her. Have you been able to make any plans for the future yet?'

Vera shook her head. ‘Edgar took six months' rental on this flat, and I could stay on, but it feels . . . I don't know. Mikey hates it. I've promised him we'll look for something better, but I can't seem to get moving on anything.'

True grief. Ellie compared it to what she'd seen at the Hoopers'. Which reminded her of them again. Should she try out her idea? Vera could only turn it down.

‘Vera, have you been reading the papers? Did you hear about the tragedies that have hit the Hooper family? No, I don't suppose you have.' Ellie told Vera what she knew. It took some time, and when she'd finished Vera was counting on her fingers, a tinge of colour in her pale face.

‘One, two, three accidents? Pull the other one.'

‘Agreed. The police are beginning to think so, too.'

‘Who do you think is doing it?'

‘I can't think. I've talked to the three remaining Hoopers, and no one of them seems a likely candidate. Maybe I'm missing something.'

Vera took a deep breath. ‘You want me to go to work for them, to sort the house out for them? But . . .'

Ellie waited. Would Vera want to play the game Ellie had in mind?

‘Well, I could do, I suppose. But . . .' A swift, narrow-eyed glance. ‘That's not exactly it, is it? If it were, you'd get Maria to send them someone really experienced, who . . . What is it you want me to do?'

Careful does it. ‘You may not feel up to it, yet.'

Vera stood to clear away the coffee mugs. She washed them up, frowning. ‘Do the police really suspect murder?'

‘They're beginning to, yes. Each of the deaths, standing alone, can be written off as misadventure or accident. Three incidents can't. The police will be looking at each death, trying to work out who might have caused it, and why. They'll look at motive and opportunity.'

Vera was becoming interested. ‘Who could possibly gain by killing an ex-wife, a teenager, and a toddler? Is this some kind of vendetta against Mr Hooper, do you think?'

‘The police will be looking into that, searching his files, looking for someone he'd crossed in a business matter, perhaps.'

‘You don't need me for that.'

‘No.' Ellie waited.

Vera was coming back to life, her eyes switching to and fro. Vera was no fool.

‘You think that this is being done to get back at Mr Hooper? That someone outside the family is killing them off, one by one? What would they have to gain by it? Money? I suppose each death lessens Mr Hooper's expenses, but no one would kill them just for that, would they?'

‘Agreed.'

‘So it must be a vendetta. In which case . . . I think I see what you're getting at. Why stop at three?'

‘My thinking exactly. Who would you mark down next? The model, Angelika, who is about to leave the household to go back to her professional life? The teenager who is aiming for university? Or Mr Hooper himself?'

‘Mr Hooper, I think. No, that's wrong. If it's a vendetta, and the person aimed at is Mr Hooper, then surely he'd be left till last to make him suffer more?'

‘Then who would you go for next?'

Vera pulled off the band which held her hair back, and shook it out before combing it through with her fingers and fastening it again into a ponytail. ‘Angelika. No, that can't be right, because Mr Hooper's going to be rid of her soon, isn't he?'

‘That's what I thought at first. Then it occurred to me that if the killer really is targeting all the members of the Hooper family out of revenge, he might be anxious not to let Angelika get away. The opportunities for getting rid of her – if that is what the murderer wants – are decreasing every day. He must strike soon, or not at all. I would be very much afraid, if I were her.'

Vera was restless, cleaning around the sink. ‘Have you warned her?'

Ellie shook her head.

‘Oughtn't you to?'

‘On what basis? “By the pricking of my thumbs, Angelika, I think you're next for the high drop”? I don't think she'd believe me. But you're right. I must try.'

‘You want me to go to work there, which I suppose I could do, and act as bodyguard to Angelika?'

‘I'm not quite sure what either of us can do, but I do think we ought to try. This is an opportunity for someone to get into the household and observe what's going on, see if there's anything I've missed. I can be round there some of the time, but I've got meetings to attend, other work to do. If you could be my eyes and ears . . .? You wouldn't have to snoop around or anything, but perhaps if you could keep an eye out for Angelika, or any visitors, or anything unusual? I have an overactive imagination and I keep worrying about gas taps being left on “accidentally” or a fall down the stairs. Drowning in the bath. Overdose of sleeping tablets.'

‘To arrange something like that, the killer would have to be able to get into the house.'

‘I think he or she has access to the house and knows it well. How else would they know where the key to the gym was kept?'

‘Also, they must be aware of the family's health problems or they wouldn't arrange for the child to eat a biscuit containing peanuts.'

‘Or be familiar with the medical history of the second wife, in order to overdo it with the insulin.'

A stare. ‘Who would know all that, apart from family?'

‘That's what I'm trying to find out. I can ask questions but I can't be there much of the time. You could sort out the house and let me know of anything which strikes you as out of place. Have you a mobile phone? Yes, of course you have. Well, you could ring me if you spotted anything unusual.'

‘Or the police?'

‘I'll give you the number of a policewoman who is already suspicious of what's happening.'

Vera chewed her lip. ‘I could only work there in the mornings and I'd have to leave in good time to give Mikey his lunch. I'm not going to take him into that house.'

‘Agreed. There is a possibility, no more than that, of course, but I must warn you that—'