Murder in House (11 page)

Ellie reddened. ‘I'll wait.'

‘Perhaps you'd care to sit over there?' He was being elaborately polite. Ellie wondered if forced politeness were worse than rudeness, but now that she was here, she would wait and see what she could find out. So she sat. And waited. The seat was hard. Several people came in from outside and spoke to the desk sergeant. And left. Policemen and women drifted in and out of the building. Some were in plain clothes, others in uniform. Some looked over her head, one or two of those leaving the station glanced her way and then averted their gaze. She imagined those might know who she was, and have been told not to pay her any attention. Or was she getting paranoid? No one came to speak to her. Perhaps DI Willis thought Ellie would give up and go if she ignored her? Ellie was annoyed with herself for not having brought a book to read.

How long should she wait?
Please Lord, is this where you want me to be right now? Because if not, there's a thousand things I need to be doing
.

She got out an old envelope on which she'd made a list of things to do. Some of them she'd already done, and she ticked them off.

Rose. Rose had not gone upstairs to her bedroom last night, but had curled up in her big armchair downstairs. In consequence she was so stiff this morning that she could hardly move. Oh dear. Ellie tried to help Rose get her circulation going again, but wasn't a nurse and didn't know which bits to rub.

Rose herself had been flustered and upset, worried that she was causing Ellie more work, and saying that she'd be up and climbing those stairs again in next to no time.

‘Dear Rose.' Ellie was much distressed. ‘We can't have this. How would it be if we got your bed downstairs and set it up over there in the corner, so that you can watch your telly in peace and quiet when you want to go to have a rest? Just until you feel like climbing the stairs again.' It was a big enough room to take the bed, with a little reorganization.

‘What luxury to watch the telly in bed.' Rose was greatly relieved, as they both skated over the fact that she was probably not going to climb stairs ever again. ‘But won't it be a lot of trouble for you to arrange?'

‘I shall enjoy it,' said Ellie, laughing to see Rose perking up. Ellie fetched down some of Rose's clothes, helped her to the toilet, and got her dressed. Then, with some tea and toast inside her, Rose settled down at the kitchen table to make a shopping list of food for the week. Ellie guessed she'd probably have to do the list all over again in due course since Rose, once such an efficient housekeeper, was now inclined to ask for onions when she meant potatoes.

Ellie blew her nose fiercely once she was out of the kitchen. When their two splendid cleaners arrived – only five minutes late but keen to get on with it – Ellie took them up to Rose's bedroom, only to discover that the bed she'd been using there had an iron frame that refused to come apart and therefore couldn't be taken out through the doorway and down the stairs. Luckily there was a divan bed among the jumble of furniture in the farthest of the unused bedrooms, and they managed to manoeuvre that, and a small cupboard with hanging-space, down and into Rose's sitting room. Old-fashioned pieces, but practical.

Ellie made sure that all Rose's favourite bits and pieces were taken downstairs, plus her clothes. She asked if the cleaners might stay on that afternoon, to clear out the room that Thomas had taken over for his prayers. The odd bits of furniture he didn't need could be stored in the only other unused bedroom, which was rapidly taking on the appearance of a junk room.

Ellie had her own personal assistant who helped her deal with correspondence that couldn't be handed over to her Trust fund. Pat had, however, also gone down with this flu-like cold, so there was a stack of mail, which Ellie opened and then decided to ignore for the time being.

After that she checked on Thomas and his secretary, whom she left hard at work but listening out for the locksmith, who'd said he'd come at half nine and hadn't arrived by the time she left at ten.

Before she'd left, Ellie had spent some time with glue and Sellotape, fitting together the torn-up photographs she'd taken from Dan's room, and making photocopies of them. The more she'd looked at the pictures, the more her eyes had been drawn to the smiling face of the little dark-haired girl called Mia. Mia the missing.

On her way out, she'd phoned Stewart to say she'd like to check on the progress at her old house in person, and could he meet her there this afternoon? And then perhaps he could come back with her to the big house to see about putting in a shower downstairs? Stewart would probably have to rearrange his day to do this, but she didn't often interfere in his schedules, and he made no demur.

When she'd finally got out of the house, she'd stopped by the post office to put some more money on to her old mobile phone and send it off to Ursula. Now, looking at the new one as she sat at the police station, she hadn't a clue how to make it work. It seemed to be leering at her, thinking no doubt that she'd never be up to taming it. Which was probably true.

Suppose she were to buy herself another plain and simple one? Diana need never know. Oh dear, Diana. Problems. And what about Roy overreaching himself financially? She really ought to get out of there and tackle him.

A puff of air stroked her cheek as the inner door opened again. DI Willis: her hair now more ginger than mahogany, her mouth tight with displeasure. ‘Are you still waiting, Mrs Quicke? I heard you had a query for me. I can only give you a few minutes, but I'm sure . . . would you like to come through?' She issued the invitation through gritted teeth, but held the door open for Ellie to pass in front of her.

Ellie told herself not to be intimidated. The DI was an intelligent, hard-working officer who had a lot on her plate, and if she thought Ellie a bumbling, ineffectual waste of space who happened – most unfortunately for the DI – to stumble across cases that Ellie hadn't the training or intelligence to solve, then so be it.

Ellie in turn thought the DI had had a charm bypass, but told herself that this was not in itself a good reason to dislike the woman.

‘I hear you've got married again,' said the DI, implying that this was the oddest thing she'd heard in a fortnight.

‘And you?' enquired Ellie, who was pretty sure no man had ever invited the DI into his bed. She was sorry, as soon as the words escaped her, but admired the DI's restraint as she showed Ellie into the usual small, grey interview room without further comment.

‘Oh, well . . .' The woman was actually blushing?

Ellie was astonished. Was she going to have to revise her opinion of the DI? Well, well.

But to the matter in hand. Settling herself, Ellie said, ‘I wanted to talk to you about the young man who took a dive off Prior's Place early in January.'

The DI raised both eyebrows in a don't-waste-my-time gesture. ‘It was an accident. Case closed. Is that all?'

Ellie hadn't expected anything else, had she? ‘I'm also interested in the case of the disappearing student.'

The upright line between DI Willis's eyebrows deepened, and for the first time she looked uncertain. ‘Name?'

‘Mia Prior.'

The DI exhaled loudly. ‘Mia Prior? Oh, now! Come on, Mrs Quicke! You cannot be serious. I have the greatest respect for you,' she lied through her teeth, ‘but Mia's disappearance is no mystery.' She got to her feet. ‘Now, I'm very busy, so if you have no fresh information?'

‘I believe I do.'

‘What is it?'

‘A girl called Ursula Belton—'

‘The name rings a bell.' She sighed. ‘I'd better fetch the files.'

She wasn't away long. Ellie had got out her new phone and tried to ring Thomas to tell him she'd be a while, but couldn't even work out how to switch it on. She did hope the locksmith had come. And that the cleaners had made up the bed for Rose downstairs. And that Diana hadn't tried to get in.

The DI returned to slap a couple of files on to the table. Seating herself, she leafed through the thinnest one, and looked up. ‘Ursula Belton called at the station last week, to report that a girl called Mia Prior had disappeared. The parents were interviewed by one of my sergeants. The parents said that although Mia had an innocent face she slept around, that she'd been finding the restrictions placed on her at home too much for her, and so had packed her things and lit off with a bike-riding boyfriend.'

Ellie gaped. ‘Mia's not like that. Why would her parents say she was?'

She shrugged. ‘There it is. Dead end. The girl's old enough to kick over the traces if she wants to.'

‘What you're saying is that if a girl is given a bad name, no one cares if she disappears?'

‘Fact of life.'

Ellie winced. ‘Yet I've been told that as of the night of the party during which Lloyd died, Mia had no particular boyfriend and was definitely not sleeping around. Surely you can check this out with other people; perhaps with fellow students at her university?'

The line between her eyebrows deepened. ‘The parents should know what goes on with their daughter. Besides . . .' She focused on a note in the file, then closed it. ‘We can't waste time on girls who choose to disappear. End of story.'

‘I don't understand why you've closed the case without investigating it properly. Or do you know more than you're saying? You've some information that I haven't?'

A momentary expression of discomfort passed across the DI's face. ‘No comment. You have no fresh evidence, so that's it.'

‘I know that Mia and her best friend, plus best friend's fiancé and their friend Lloyd, were invited to the Grand Opening at Prior's Place. Young and pretty things of both sexes were paraded before prospective buyers. Heady stuff, influential circles, money no object. Drink flowed. My informant—'

‘This same Ursula Belton, whose take on Mia is contradicted by her parents?'

‘She's a strong, stable personality from a middle-class professional background. Struggling to make ends meet as a university student, but nobody's fool. Ursula says that up to the time when she left for the airport with her fiancé – she was going abroad for a holiday – all was well. She says that Lloyd was a strong, practising Christian who hardly drank at all, and that Mia was her best friend, a hard-working student, a good friend, and fancy free.

‘I think the party got out of hand after Ursula left. The youthful sales staff moved upstairs, away from restraining adult influences. And then something happened. I'm not sure what, but Lloyd went over the balcony and Mia dropped out of sight. My question is: were the two events connected, and if so, how?'

The DI raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Very well. Let's go through the motions. You think that Lloyd made up to Mia at the party, and that his death upset her enough to take off into the blue?' She opened the second file, read, and frowned. ‘Statements were taken from three young men. Lloyd didn't normally drink much, but he'd guzzled some vodka that night. He was out of his tree, got into a fight, took a swing at someone, missed and went over the balcony. All three lads were duly horrified, expressed regret, etcetera.'

‘No one asked Mia to make a statement?'

The DI rifled through the pages. ‘Names were taken of those present at the time.' She ran her finger down the list. ‘No, she wasn't among them.'

Ellie tried to think straight. ‘Mia was there at eleven. When did Lloyd fall, and how long did it take for the police to get there afterwards?'

‘After midnight . . . they seem to have sent for an ambulance first. Yes. The ambulance men called the police, but it all seemed straightforward. Yes, there was time for the girl to leave before the police got there, but in view of the other witnesses' statements, I see no point in taking the matter further.'

Ellie took a deep breath. ‘I don't want to think the worst, but did Mia die, too? How do we know that she did make it safely home after the party? Or did she just disappear into thin air?'

The DI consulted the file again. ‘She didn't leave home for a week after that, the parents said.'

‘How can we be sure of anything they say, since they lied about what she was like?'

‘Allegedly.'

‘All right, allegedly. Did anyone else see her back at home? You see, if she'd been mixed up in something, her stepfather would want to hush it up, wouldn't he? He would want to avoid a scandal at all costs, after having invested so much money in Prior's Place.'

‘Step . . .? There's nothing here about his only being the stepfather.'

‘Both Mr and Mrs were married before. Mia was her daughter, the boys were his sons. Were the boys asked about her disappearance?'

‘Not that I can see. Mrs Quicke, what makes you think violence was involved?'

‘When Ursula confronted the Prior boys about what had happened to Mia, they manhandled her and destroyed her mobile phone. Isn't that indicative of something not quite right? What's more, Ursula believes Lloyd was murdered. Not accidentally killed, but murdered.'

The DI folded her arms on the table. ‘According to her own version of events, Ursula wasn't there when things went wrong, so how can she say it was murder?'

Ellie sucked in her breath. ‘I know, I know. She says it's gut reaction, and I know that's not evidence.'

‘If the girl wishes to make a formal complaint about her treatment at the hands of the Priors, then we will of course investigate. Is she likely to do so?'

Ellie shrugged. ‘I don't think so.'

The DI continued to frown. ‘You're wasting my time, Mrs Quicke.'