Murder in Mind (24 page)

‘Are the girls all right?'

‘Shocked. In tears. They need putting to bed with hot milk. I'll pick you up at the corner, shall I?'

‘There's a reporter still hanging around, out front. With a motorbike. See if you can get one of the firemen to go out and talk to him, so that you can get away without him following you.'

Trust Thomas. In a little while he drew up in the car with the girls in the back, both drooping.

Ellie slid into the front seat and said, ‘Can you drop the girls off at home and take me on to the hospital? I must have a quick word with Diana before I can relax.'

Neither of the girls spoke on the way home, or when they were extracted from the car and let into the house. Vera was there, welcoming them in, so Ellie felt they were in safe hands.

Thomas took Ellie on to the A & E entrance at the hospital, saying he'd drive round the block and be back to pick her up in ten minutes. Ellie waited her turn till someone on the reception desk was free to speak to her. Being a Monday night, not too many drunken accidents had been taking place and the place was comparatively quiet.

When it was her turn, Ellie asked the nurse if it were possible to speak with Diana. ‘She's my daughter, you see, engaged to Evan Hooper, who was brought in earlier suffering from concussion. He's being kept in overnight. I don't suppose she'll complain, but she's pregnant and I'm worried about her maybe having to sit up in a chair overnight.'

A sympathetic nurse produced Diana, who was indeed looking tired.

‘Mother? Why . . .?'

‘Quickly, dear. Lots happening. Thomas and I have taken the girls back to sleep at our place, because . . .' Was Diana up to getting more bad news? ‘The thing is that there were reporters all round the house today—'

‘I know that.'

‘One of them, a girl, they say . . . although . . . Anyway, a fire broke out after we all left—'

‘Fire!'

Ellie guided Diana to a chair. ‘Yes. It's quite bad. The ground floor is gutted and the rest badly affected. They're keeping one of the fire engines there overnight, to make sure. It was probably arson.'

Diana slumped. Closed her eyes. ‘What
is
going on?'

‘The police would like to know that, too. It does look as if someone has got it in for the family, doesn't it?'

Diana kept her eyes closed for a moment longer. Then straightened up. ‘Evan's very poorly. I don't think he needs to hear about this for a while.'

‘Agreed. Freya wanted to come and sit with him, but she's exhausted.'

A flicker of a smile. ‘I suppose she's the best of the bunch.' Diana hauled herself to her feet. ‘I must get back to him. He frets if I don't hold his hand all the time.' Her head held high, she returned to her vigil.

The sympathetic nurse hovered. ‘I'll make sure your daughter gets some rest once Mr Hooper is settled for the night. There's a bed we use for relatives.'

‘Thank you.' Ellie went outside to wait for Thomas, who turned up within the minute.

‘Home, now?'

‘Home.'

Tuesday morning

T
homas was an early riser.

Ellie was not. She'd not slept well, worrying about her guests, and the series of deaths in the Hooper family, and Diana and . . . well, everything.

The alarm went off at the end of the seven o'clock news. Ellie heard Thomas groan and mutter as he got out of bed. By this time of the day he was usually up, dressed and in his quiet room, saying his morning prayers. But not today.

Ellie hunched herself under the duvet. The central heating ticked. Oh? Was it really that cold outside? It had been a blustery, rainy night.

She sighed and struggled to sit up.

‘Are you awake?' asked Thomas, which wasn't as silly a question as it sounded, for Ellie was on autopilot for the first hour in the morning. Her eyes would be open and she'd be dressed and preparing breakfast, but her brain wouldn't be engaged, so to speak.

‘Urrgh.' A qualified ‘yes'.

Thomas had showered and dressed. He smelt sweetly of good soap. He sat on the bed beside her and gave her a gentle kiss.

‘Urrrm.' She loved his bearded kisses. She prised her eyes open. ‘Urrgh?'

‘Three-day seminar in Oxford, remember? I overslept. I won't bother with breakfast but I'll grab my notes and be off. I thought of cancelling, but . . .'

She shook her head. No, he mustn't cancel. The Hoopers should all be safe for at least one more day. No one except the police knew where the girls were, and a man had to do what a man had to do.

‘I'll ring you twice a day. I'm booked to stay at a hotel; I'll leave the details in my study. If there's the slightest hint of trouble, I'll come back. Right?'

Brace up, Ellie! You'll manage.

He said, ‘We can't throw them out.'

She shook her head.

He stroked her cheek. ‘I see you as an angel with a flaming sword, protecting them from harm.'

The thought of her sixtyish self, rather more than plump and not particularly tall, brandishing a sword and, possibly, clad in shining armour, reduced her to giggles.

He laughed, too. ‘Freya might be able to stay with a school friend.'

She shook her head. Her tongue was stiff. ‘Half-term.'

‘My family must go to a hotel when they arrive. I'll confirm today.'

She shook her head again. ‘Betsey's going to work out something. Give it another day.'

He was dubious, but nodded. ‘You'll ask Vera to move in?'

‘If only we'd got the planning permission for a flat upstairs in time! I can't really ask her to bunk up with Mikey in that one small bedroom.'

‘You'll think of something. I like Mikey. It will be an education having him around.'

She pulled herself up on the pillows. ‘Yes, but they need their own place, and Vera ought to be going back to college or training for something.'

‘You'll sort it.' Another kiss, this time on her forehead. ‘Don't ring me, unless there's a disaster.' He dragged on his dog collar – formal wear, today – and reached for a jacket. ‘Oh. One other thing. Would it help if I moved my study into the library? Give me more space. Then I could have my quiet room in the study, and that would give you another bedroom upstairs.'

She shot upright. ‘That's your own special space. I told Betsey on no account was that room of yours to be disturbed.'

A grin. ‘It doesn't take long for a room to be imprinted with prayers. Can you arrange it?'

She swung her legs out of bed. And groaned. ‘What was the weather forecast? Is it going to rain again?'

He drew back the curtains. ‘I wasn't paying attention. It looks all right. Wear your best, official, going-to-chair-a-meeting dress and your diamond rings. Throw your weight around.'

‘Anything else?'

‘Who do you think is responsible for what's been happening to the Hoopers?'

She reached for her dressing gown. ‘I did have an idea about that; I thought it might be the unsatisfactory son, Philip. But it was a woman journalist who set all the alarm bells going yesterday, so now I haven't a clue.'

‘Trust your judgement. Then test it.' With one more quick kiss, he left the room to start on his busy day – away from her.

Was it a good idea to ask searching questions at breakfast? Perhaps, because people were still muzzy from sleep at that time and might reply without thinking.

Angelika looked her usual immaculate self, but every now and then she frowned . . . and then massaged her forehead to smooth out any possible wrinkles.

Freya looked as if she'd lost weight.

Mikey had taken up his position at Ellie's side once more. His bright eyes observed everything.

Ellie and Vera cooked and served between them, while Rose fluttered around trying to find some herbal tea for Angelika who said she never drank tea or coffee.

Ellie threw the question out in a quiet, unthreatening voice. ‘What about Philip?'

‘Who?' Angelika looked blank. ‘Oh, you mean
Philip
? Evan's eldest? Yes, of course. We ought to let him know what's happened.'

Freya shook her head. ‘I suppose we ought, though I don't know what he can do. Dad has refused even to have him in the house recently, though he said he'd continue to pay Philip's bills.'

Angelika sipped herbal tea. ‘I suppose he could drive us around. Evan says Philip's got a driving licence and some sort of van or car.'

‘What precisely is wrong with him?' said Ellie.

‘Dunno, exactly,' said Freya. ‘He's a lot older than us. When Fiona and I were growing up we just accepted that he was a bit odd. He had his own nanny. She was supposed to be our nanny, too, but she always paid him far more attention than us. Then one day there was the most terrible row. We could hear Philip shouting and screaming from our bedrooms. Fiona and I wanted to see what was happening, but when Dad saw us hanging over the banisters, he sent us back to our rooms. After that Philip went away to boarding school and we had a different nanny. She was much nicer to us.'

‘What was the row about?'

Freya shrugged. ‘Dad said Philip had a problem with his nerves and that he'd be happier in a structured environment with people to look after him who would see that he took his medication. He did come back for the odd weekends in the holidays, but mostly he went off to camps and on study trips. Fiona thinks – thought – he was cool, and he is good-looking in a way. He drops in now and then to see us when Dad's not around, and occasionally he meets us in town for a snack. Fiona fancies him, but I can't seem to get on his wavelength. He says I'm too serious, and I suppose I am.'

‘He wasn't much at home when you were growing up, then?'

‘Not after the great row, no.'

Angelika said, ‘Evan introduced me to Freya and Fiona early on, but I didn't realize that there was a boy as well till later. I first met him when I was out shopping with Fiona one day, and we all had a meal together. He kept staring at me, but not in the usual way. Men often stare at me, but not like
that
.'

She wriggled her shoulders. ‘I thought he was a bit creepy. I told Evan, and he explained that Philip wasn't well. He said he paid for Philip to be properly looked after in a quiet environment, and that I didn't have to bother about him in any way. I knew he came round to the house sometimes to see Fiona, but I kept out of his way when he did.'

Freya was thoughtful. ‘You're right, Philip ought to be told what's happened. I mean, suppose he took it into his head to go the house and found it . . .?' She shuddered.

‘He has keys to the house, then?' asked Ellie.

‘Of course. If he saw the mess the house was in, he wouldn't know that Dad was all right. Well, in the hospital, anyway. We ought to let him know.'

Angelika shrugged. ‘Have you got his address? I haven't.'

‘Uh, no. The last I heard he was at some kind of horticultural college, down in Surrey. I remember Dad complaining about the fees, because I think it was the third or fourth time that Philip had started to train for something and left without finishing the course. He's never been able to support himself. Such a shame. I suppose I could look in Fiona's room to see if . . .' Her voice trailed away, remembering what had happened to Fiona's room.

‘Wait a minute,' said Angelika. ‘Wasn't he working for some charity or other after that? I'm pretty sure Evan said something about it. Gardening?'

‘Which one?'

Neither of them knew. ‘What does he look like?' Ellie tried to make the question sound offhand.

Angelika said, ‘Oh, tall and thin. Skinny, really. Deep-set eyes.'

‘Red hair but not auburn,' said Freya. ‘More ginger. He's the only one of us who's got the red-haired gene. Takes after his mother, I suppose. When I was little, I used to think he was like a stick insect, all hands and feet.'

Ginger hair. Didn't someone say the clown who'd given Abigail a peanut butter biscuit had ginger hair? No, no. It had been a wig, hadn't it? If only she'd taken better care of that photograph!

She said, ‘Did Monique have ginger hair?'

Angelika looked surprised. ‘Mm? No idea. Never met her.'

Freya screwed up her eyes. ‘She used to send us – Fiona and me – wonderful Christmas and birthday presents when we were little. Expensive. We had to write thank-you letters back. I can't remember ever meeting her. She could be a redhead, I suppose.'

‘Why do you want to know?' asked Angelika.

‘Because,' said Ellie, choosing her words with care, ‘I wondered if it would be easier for Philip if his mother broke the news to him, rather than people he doesn't know very well.'

‘That's not a bad idea,' said Angelika. ‘Let her break the news.'

Freya said, ‘Did Dad say she'd moved to the south somewhere? Brighton? Hove? Dad will have the address on his computer or iPad or address book or something. In his study . . . ouch! Change of subject; when can we ring the hospital?'

‘Yes, we must ring them,' said Angelika. ‘When do you think we might see if anything is left of the house? Mrs Quicke, can you drive us round there soon?'

‘Sorry, I don't drive.'

Both girls looked amazed. Angelika said, ‘Well, I could take your car and—'

‘Thomas has taken the car to Oxford for a conference.'

‘You mean, he's not here to help us today? He's not retired?'

‘Not exactly, no. I'll ring the hospital in a minute, and then we can decide who does what. For a start, is there anyone you'd both prefer to go and stay with for a few days? A school friend, Freya?'

‘My two best friends have gone away for half-term. I was supposed to be going with them until Fiona died, and then obviously Dad said I couldn't.'