Murder With Mercy (17 page)

Ellie wasn't fooled. These two couldn't be fobbed off with any old story. They were backed by the Might of the Law and would be obstructed at her peril. ‘I'm Mrs Quicke,' said Ellie. ‘I own this house, and Vera is my part-time housekeeper. Do come in.'

They entered, stamping water off their shoes, shedding outer clothing but retaining the briefcases. Ellie did not lead them through to the sitting room, but ushered them instead into the room which she used for business meetings, which was still in disarray following the meeting earlier that week …

‘Do take a seat.'

They sat, eyes everywhere. Briefcases were set upon the table, forms produced and laid out.

Ellie waited. She knew why they'd come, and she wasn't sure how to handle it. Mikey was a young rogue and deserved a spanking … except that one was not allowed to spank children nowadays, was one? Children at risk could be wrenched away from their families and friends and school, and put into care perhaps at a considerable distance away, where they would learn a whole raft of new tricks from unsuitable new ‘friends'. A good spanking might hurt at the time but would certainly drive the point home that transgressions met with instant punishment … But no. Not allowed.

Yet at that very moment, Ellie, grinding her teeth in annoyance at finding herself in this position, would dearly have liked to box the lad's ears, or worse! She, who had never lifted a finger to her own daughter … But that was another story, and she mustn't think about Diana now.

‘Yes?' she said, deciding not to offer coffee.

‘We wish to speak with Ms Vera Pryce, about her son … Michael.'

‘She's in bed with flu. So is he, which is why he hasn't been to school this week.'

That was almost not a fib. Almost.

‘Really?' The older woman was definitely the one in charge. Papers were consulted. ‘We understand his attendance at school has been unsatisfactory. We have the figures here.'

The man spoke up: ‘And you are what relation to him? Grandmother?'

‘He is no relation of mine, but under the terms of Vera's late husband's will, I am responsible for … Well, it's difficult to explain exactly, but I have a duty to look after the boy and his mother.'

‘We understand that she has no husband, and that the boy's father is also conspicuous by his absence?'

‘She was bringing the boy up by herself, working as a cleaner to support them both, when she met Edgar Pryce and she became his carer. They got married, and Mr Pryce adopted Mikey before he died. He asked me to keep an eye on them afterwards.'

‘Ah. She has a new boyfriend, I assume? A live-in boyfriend?'

‘No. Certainly not.' Ellie felt her blood pressure rise. ‘Has someone suggested that she has and that she's been neglecting her son? If so, that's slander. Or do I mean libel?'

‘Calm down. We have to make these enquiries, you know. Now, you state there is no boyfriend, living in or otherwise?'

‘No.' Ellie told herself that losing her temper was not going to help matters.

‘Very well. We have noted what you say.' A piece of paper was slid across the table to Ellie. ‘Now, this is his school record of attendance for the current term. It doesn't look as if you've kept much of an eye on him, does it?'

Ellie looked and found her earlier inclination to box Mikey's ears fell far short of what she'd like to do to him now. Tarring and feathering? Hanging, drawing and quartering?

She said, inadequately, ‘The little devil! How on earth has he managed to keep up with his school homework, if he's been absent so much?'

‘By being there part of each morning or afternoon session.'

‘Ah.' Ellie leaned back in her chair, frowning. ‘He's a bright lad, you know. Says school's boring. I've been wondering if he ought to try for a private school, somewhere that he'd be stretched.'

‘Can Ms Pryce afford that?' Cynical.

‘No, but under the terms of his adopted father's will, I'd be responsible for the fees.'

Another piece of paper was scrutinized. ‘I suppose that will be up to the courts to decide. It appears he has been charged with various offences in connection with sabotage at the Pryce Hotel.'

‘The hotel consortium will not be pressing charges.'

Eyebrows were raised. ‘A statement has been made, and unless it is withdrawn, it is not up to the hotel to decide whether or not he should be prosecuted. Even if it is withdrawn, the Crown Prosecution Service may still decide to act.'

What could Ellie say, except that she was going to have a long talk with Mikey at the earliest possible opportunity? They'd warned him what might happen … after the event.

‘So the question is,' said the woman, ‘whether or not to remove him from his present unsatisfactory surroundings, in which he plays truant at will and spends his time performing acts of vandalism amounting to thousands of pounds worth of damage.'

Ellie managed to say, ‘The case against Mikey is not proven,' and knew she'd failed to convince.

Arched eyebrows again. ‘We have sufficient concerns about the boy to take the matter very seriously indeed.'

‘What about his injuries? You can't ignore them.'

The woman was forgiving, patience itself. ‘I understand he tumbled down the stairs when he was caught.'

‘That's not what the doctor at the station said. And what about the knife wound?'

Startled. Notes were consulted. ‘There's nothing here about a knife. We take a poor view of children carrying knives.'

‘It was used
on
him, not
by
him.'

A smooth smile. ‘No doubt all will be made clear in due course. But if he was carrying a knife …' A doleful shake of the head.

Ellie set her teeth. ‘He wasn't. He was attacked with a knife. The doctor can confirm it.'

‘I'm afraid we don't have the doctor's report here.'

No, they wouldn't have it, would they? Ellie wondered, uncharitably, whether Ears had directed it to be ‘misfiled' or ‘mislaid'. Oh, surely not. He wouldn't go as far as that, would he? Or would he? She said, ‘Fortunately, there is another way you can check. I was so worried about him that I called the paramedics in to look at him last night, and they took notes of his injuries: suspected concussion; bruised ribs; a punch on the jaw. And they were concerned about sepsis on the knife wound.' She might as well pile it on.

They looked annoyed. This interview was not going to plan.

Ellie said, ‘Look, I realize he's been a naughty boy bunking off school, and I can assure you he's going to get a right royal rollocking about it, but he has a stable home here, looked after by his mother, by me and by my husband – who is a minister of the church – and by our housekeeper. We are all sensible adults who care for him. Can't you leave it at that?'

‘I'm afraid we don't see it quite that way.' The woman gathered her papers together. ‘It's no good your pretending that his circumstances are acceptable, because clearly they are not. Now, we'd like to see Ms Pryce and inspect the accommodation she is currently occupying in this house.'

Problem, thought Ellie. Mikey might be up and bright-eyed, watching the telly or on his computer. Or he might be in bed, feeling poorly. On his past form, you couldn't guess which it might be. If they found him up and dressed, watching telly …? That would not be good.

What could she do about it?

Well, how about some delaying tactics?

She led the way back to the hall and gestured towards the kitchen quarters. ‘Our elderly housekeeper has a bedsit and bathroom facilities along here. You wish to see them?'

Without waiting for their answer she led the way into the kitchen.

Rose squawked. She was dressed, sort of, in a mismatched Fair Isle jumper and plaid skirt, and was making herself a pot of tea.

Ellie was soothing. ‘It's all right, dear. They're not burglars. Just a couple of social workers come to see where Mikey lives, what sort of accommodation he and his mother have, and how he's doing. I've told them he's in bed with flu but they have to see him for themselves.' She introduced her visitors. ‘This is Rose, an old family friend who is also our housekeeper.'

Rose didn't know the worst of what they had on Mikey but she knew enough to respond with a bright nod.

‘Now, Rose, don't you disturb yourself,' said Ellie. ‘I was on my way up to see to our invalids when our visitors came, with some more lemonade for them. Thomas – that's my husband – is down with it, too, I'm afraid.' She turned to the social workers. ‘Lemonade is about all they've been able to get down themselves this last couple of days. Do you need to see Rose's accommodation? She has her own bed-sitting room here, shower room, toilet and so on. And this way we have the larder and laundry room.'

She opened doors for them to have a peep in and indicated the door to the back stairs. ‘We don't use those much nowadays. Now back to the hall …' She led them down the corridor opposite. ‘Here we have the dining room, which is the room where we met … We really only use it for business purposes nowadays. On the left is my study, to the right there's my husband's quiet room, and this is my husband's study at the end.'

She threw open doors, urged them to look into each room and waited for them to do so. Time counted here. Rose wasn't good with stairs at the moment. It was probably wrong to hope that she'd taken the hint and … Well, on with the job.

‘Now, back to the hall. As you can see, there is the conservatory ahead while to the right at the back of the house we have our sitting room. Mikey is welcome to visit all of these, and does so.'

The social workers exhibited impatience. ‘But where does …?'

Ellie started up the first flight of stairs, stopping where she'd abandoned the two jugs of lemonade. ‘Could you carry one of these for me, do you think? I'm not as young as I was.' She handed one of the jugs to the man, who accepted it with an air of bewilderment.

They reached the landing. Ellie said, ‘Now when I first asked Vera to move in to help Rose, she and Mikey occupied rooms at the end of this corridor, but—'

It was the social workers' turn to squawk as a shambling, bear-like figure wobbled out of the master bedroom, holding on to his head.

‘My husband, the Reverend Thomas,' said Ellie. ‘He's also gone down with flu, so I wouldn't get too close, if I were you.'

They both took a step backwards.

Ellie said, ‘Thomas, my dear; I've brought you up some lemonade. You should be in bed. What's the matter?'

He peered at the visitors with half-closed eyes. ‘Visitors?'

‘Some people who want to see what's up with Mikey. Nothing for you to worry about.' She steered him back into their bedroom, leaving the door open so that the social workers could see for themselves what she was doing. She deposited her jug of lemonade on the bedside table. ‘Shall I pour you out some more lemonade? When did you last have some painkillers?'

‘Got to get up … Can't take time off!'

Ellie took his arm and pushed him gently back on to the bed. ‘You're not fit. It won't hurt if the magazine is a day late. What do you pay an assistant for, if not to do the things you can't, anyway? I'll have words with her, and we'll decide what ought to be done and what we can leave till you're better.'

‘Grrrr!' But Thomas allowed the duvet to be drawn over himself.

Ellie shut the door on him and said to the social workers, ‘He really cares for Mikey, you know. They spend a lot of time together. Now, as I was saying, along the corridor here is the guest bedroom, en suite, and the room I keep for my grandson when he has a sleepover … and at the end are the rooms which Mikey and Vera occupied before their flat upstairs was ready.' She led the way down the corridor, opening doors and waiting for them to inspect the rooms, which they did without comment.

‘Now,' said Ellie, turning back to the stairs. ‘One last flight to the top floor, where Vera and Mikey have a self-contained flat all to themselves; that is, if you except the cat Midge, who goes wherever he wishes. Watch that he doesn't trip you up, won't you?'

As the two visitors laboured up the last flight of stairs, the woman said, ‘Don't they have a separate entrance?'

‘Unfortunately, the council keep turning down my application for an outside staircase. Something to do with the parking, although Vera doesn't have a car. If you can do something about it for them, I'd be grateful.'

‘You allow them part of the garden for their own use?'

‘We designated a part for them, but Mikey doesn't like boundaries and goes where he wishes. We don't object.' Oh, perhaps she shouldn't have said that about boundaries. Had she made enough noise down below, to tell Mikey what to do? Would Rose have managed to get up the back stairs in time, to warn them what to expect?

T
hey reached the top landing at last. It was light and airy up here in Vera's flat, even on a day when it was spitting hail outside. Ellie opened doors in turn. ‘Kitchen. Bathroom.' Neither were quite as immaculate as usual. ‘Normally, Vera looks after them beautifully, but she's been confined to bed for the last few days.'

The two social workers opened the fridge and checked the contents of the freezer. Vera kept them well-stocked, so they couldn't find fault there. They poked and pried into cupboards. Ellie seethed. She wanted to hit them, but told herself that would be counterproductive.

Ellie said, ‘Vera's an excellent cook. We usually eat all together downstairs in the big kitchen in the evenings, but of course she cooks for herself and Mikey as well.'

The man deposited the jug of lemonade on the counter and washed his hands at the sink. Had the jug been sticky? Ellie rather hoped that it had.

Once they'd finished there, she led them to the next door. ‘This is their sitting room.' No sign of Vera or Mikey. Disarranged cushions on the settee. The television was probably still warm, but not on at the moment. Some books had been strewn around. Midge the cat was curled up asleep on the biggest chair.