Murder in Mind (18 page)

Freya shivered. Reaction. ‘Oh. Oh.'

Vera looked out of the back window. ‘They're following us. A car, and a scooter.'

The driver put his foot on the brake as they approached some lights . . . and then shot forward as they turned to red. Executing a right turn, they lost the car . . . but not the scooter.

Ellie hadn't managed to fasten her seat belt, nor had Angelika. Both fell forward off their seats and regained them with difficulty.

‘Why is this happening?' said Angelika. ‘Why us? Why me?'

‘Why Abigail?' said Ellie.

Vera's phone beeped. A text. ‘Mikey hasn't enough money to stay for lunch. What shall I do?'

‘Tell him . . .' Ellie improvised. ‘Tell him that when we've dropped the girls off, the driver will take you on to pick him up.'

‘Where are we going?' Angelika was on the verge of tears.

The driver called out, ‘Ready to go? I am double-parking outside my cousin's place, and see . . . he is waiting for you!'

‘Out, out, out!' cried his co-driver. He thrust the big doors back and in one swift movement pulled Angelika out into the road. Angelika dropped her other handbag, but before she could pick it up, Freya jumped out after her, only to be fielded by the restaurant owner, who rushed her into the safety of the foyer. Angelika wailed as Vera leaped down into the road, picked up the dropped bag and followed them, but Ellie struggled to get out . . . The step was so high . . . She couldn't . . . And then she was picked up and deposited inside the door of the restaurant by . . . someone . . .

A dimly-lit restaurant, spices in the air.

‘This way, this way! Come!'

Through to the back, past customers looking somewhat surprised, down a flight of stairs, and up another . . .

‘Where . . .?'

Through a kitchen, shining and clean . . . and out into the open, grey sky above, a sprinkling of rain in her face, and . . . ‘Hup!' Someone was pushing and lifting her into another people carrier, scented with Indian food. Ellie sprawled forward into a seat as the car door slammed behind her and the driver – a different driver – moved off down a narrow lane between the back of shops and a high wall and turned right into a quiet street. And picked up speed.

Angelika wept.

Freya barked out a laugh, eyes wide. Half frightened, half elated to have escaped.

Vera read out another text. ‘Mikey wants to know how long I'm going to be. They're shutting the place up.'

‘Where to, missus?' The driver.

Ellie tried to think straight. ‘Freya, which hotel would you like to go to?'

Freya blinked. ‘Hotel?' Freya didn't seem capable of making any decisions.

Angelika leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, cheeks wet with tears. Angelika wasn't going to be any help, either.

‘Driver, drop us off at my place; you know the address? After that, we can think what's best to be done.'

Vera added, ‘The driver can take me on to pick Mikey up, right?'

‘Right.'

Everyone was quiet. Ellie eased her seat belt on. Vera had done hers up. The others hadn't bothered.

No one seemed to be following them.

They turned into the drive and decanted before Ellie's front door. She found her key and let them into the house. Peace and quiet. At last.

Except that there was a rumble of voices from Thomas's study.

Oh. Rethink. Ellie had assumed he'd be free and able to help her. He'd said something about a meeting, but surely it wasn't today? Was it? Which meant he
wouldn't
be able to help her sort this lot out.

Vera got the luggage inside. The driver insisted on adding some brown paper bags which contained the promised takeaway food. Ellie didn't think she could face curry at that moment, but thanked the driver profusely.

Angelika subsided on to the hall chair, still clutching an evening dress and a handbag. Her portfolio slid to the floor, and she let it go.

Freya got as far as the stairs and sat, dropping everything except her teddy bear. She lowered her head to her knees.

‘Tea, I think,' said Ellie, trying to think straight. ‘Then you'll want to freshen up.'

Rose. Where was Rose when she was needed?

Ellie said, ‘Stay here,' to the girls and hurried down the corridor into the kitchen. No Rose. But the television was on in Rose's bed-sitting-room next door. Rose, telly on, was fast asleep in her big armchair.

Of course. Rose always had a nap after lunch. She needed it.

Ellie could have done with a nap at that moment, too. Vera appeared, looking over Ellie's shoulder. Ellie hesitated. Should she wake Rose?

No. Rose needed that time to herself and wouldn't be much use if she was woken before she'd had a good rest. Ellie closed the door on her.

Vera said, ‘Do you want me to stay and help for a bit?'

‘I'd love it, but what about Mikey?'

They returned to the hall, where nothing had changed, except that the cab driver was hovering. ‘Is this all right, missus? Want me to take someone on elsewhere?'

Ellie straightened up with an effort. ‘You drivers have been wonderful, all of you. I don't know how we'd have got away without you. I'll ring the office later and tell them how much I appreciate what you've done. I don't think we need anything more now. At least . . . Vera, you'll need to collect Mikey, so take the car on and—'

Vera was the only one who still appeared capable of making decisions. ‘You can't cope on your own, Mrs Quicke. If the car could collect Mikey – I can text him the number of the car so he doesn't get into the wrong one – he'll be as good as gold if you let him have the run of the computer in your office. Then I can help you sort this lot out.'

‘Bless you, my dear. Brilliant idea. Driver, can you cope? Vera will give you the details.'

‘Of course.'

Vera filled the driver in while Ellie sagged, leaning against the wall. What to do next? However was she going to get this lot sorted out? If Thomas were free, he could advise her, but . . . No, she couldn't interrupt when he was working.

Freya lifted her head, tears on her cheeks. ‘What about Dad?'

Angelika put both her hands to her head. ‘We did ask him to come with us. Why was he so stubborn?'

Freya was bewildered. ‘I don't understand. I went out for a run, and they caught me on my way back, shouting at me, wanting to know if it was me or Angelika who'd killed Abigail. How could they think that?'

Angelika shuddered. ‘I was so frightened! Reporters aren't supposed to break into houses, are they?'

No, they weren't. Ellie opened the door to the downstairs cloakroom. ‘I'm sure you'd like to freshen up, both of you. Angelika, would you like to go first? Freya; there's a shower and toilet next to the kitchen that you can use. Through that door there.'

Freya got to her feet and staggered. Held on to the newel post. Steadied. ‘What about Dad?'

‘I'll ring the police, find out what's going on,' said Ellie, guiding Freya through the door. ‘When you've both finished, come into the sitting room – that's the room at the back here. We'll have a cup of tea and work out what to do next.'

‘I'll make some tea as soon as I've sent this text,' said Vera, closing the front door behind the driver.

Ellie fell into the big chair in the sitting room.

Silence.

She felt her eyelids droop.

She jerked awake. She struggled to take her handbag off, and searched for Ms Milburn's telephone number. Tried it once more.

It went to voicemail. Ellie couldn't think what she wanted to say. Made an effort. ‘Ellie Quicke here. I've got the Hooper girls. They're worried sick. Please, ring me.'

She snapped the phone off. Angelika was right. Surely reporters were not supposed to break into houses? They could doorstep people, even follow them, photograph them. But break in? Yet she'd heard someone break a pane of glass to get into the conservatory, hadn't she?

Which reminded her. She tried ringing Evan Hooper's home number. Foolish, really. If it worked, he would either be on the phone, or it would be off the hook. But the line was dead, still. Which meant either that there'd been a convenient fault in the line or someone had cut it.

Angelika wafted in, looking pale and willowy, carrying her remaining oversized handbag. Face freshly made up. Hair brushed out into a shining fall. She looked good enough to put in front of a camera, just as she was, but the whites of her eyes were showing. If she were a horse, she'd be about to bolt. ‘Where are we? Is this your house, Mrs Quicke?'

A nod.

‘Not Diana's?

‘No, Diana doesn't live here.' Ellie remembered that she'd promised to ring Diana. Well, she'd do it later.

‘I don't understand why the police didn't come to protect us.'

‘There was some confusion about the number we rang. I expect they got there just after we left.'

Freya came in, still clutching her teddy bear. She was clean and fairly tidy, but bruises were setting on her cheek and upper arm. ‘They kept asking which of us had killed Abigail!' She shuddered. Sat down. Stared at the floor.

‘I don't understand anything.' Angelika, a whine entering her voice. ‘Why didn't Evan stop them?'

Vera carried in a tray of tea things. ‘There's some portions of curry, if anyone would like one, but I thought we'd like some tea to start with.'

Angelika said, ‘I don't eat curry.'

Freya closed her eyes and slowly slipped sideways in her chair. Stirred. Muttered something. Made as if to sit up. Subsided. Asleep, still clutching her teddy bear.

‘Best thing for her,' said Vera, distributing cups of tea to the others.

Angelika rummaged in her handbag. ‘I can't believe it. I can't manage without them! Someone will have to go back for them for me.'

‘What's that?' asked Vera.

‘My hair extensions. I can't go out on a shoot without them. They were in the bathroom.'

‘Soon,' soothed Ellie, thinking Angelika had got her priorities wrong. Perhaps she always did get her priorities wrong. Career versus child. Career versus husband.

Angelika wept, loudly. ‘Why did you drag me away? It's all your fault. You've made me leave my beautiful home and all my lovely clothes, and my new make-up box, and I'm sure the police would have been round in a minute and stopped those horrid men making such a racket. It's all your fault!'

Ellie took a deep breath and let it out again. Yes, put like that, she'd acted hastily.

Angelika was working herself up to a first-class tantrum. ‘And my car. Why didn't you let me bring my car? I could have brought away ever so much more of my things if you'd only let me bring my car.'

Vera murmured, ‘Oh dear,' and picked Ellie's cup up for a refill.

Ellie conceded, painfully, that she'd overlooked Angelika's car. It hadn't even crossed her mind to ask about a car. ‘I'm sorry. Yes, you're right.'

Angelika's mouth turned ugly. ‘You rushed me away without giving me time to think, when it was all quite unnecessary. I'm sure the reporters didn't mean us any harm. They'd have asked a question or two and the police would have turned them out, and . . . goodness knows what Evan will be thinking, when we left him all alone to cope!'

Ellie recognized the truth in what Angelika was saying. She couldn't think now why she had felt it was essential to get the two girls away. Angelika was right, and she should have got the girls to lock themselves into their bedrooms and wait to be rescued.

‘You panicked!' said Angelika. ‘And now look at the mess we're in!'

‘Nonsense.' Vera wasn't having any of this. ‘Behave yourself, Angelika!'

The blonde turned on her. ‘How dare you! Who are you, anyway? And why are you here?'

‘Stop it, both of you,' said Ellie, tiredly. ‘You'll wake Freya.'

‘What do I care about Freya!' Angelika took refuge in another rush of tears.

Ellie took out her mobile phone again. ‘Hush, now. Let's see if we can find out what's happened. If the reporters have gone, I'll organize a car to take you back straight away.'

‘I should think so, too!'

Ellie's mobile rang under her hand.

Diana. ‘What's going on, Mother? Here I am, trying to hold the fort while you can't even be bothered to talk to me, when I specifically asked you to—'

‘Have you been in touch with Evan?'

‘What? What do you mean? Has the whole world gone mad? Of course I've been in touch with him. Or rather, I tried to reach him on his mobile, only he's not picking up.'

‘Oh dear.' Sinking feeling.

‘I'm wondering if he's been taken ill—'

‘Diana, get off the phone. Now!'

Ellie cut her daughter off. Waited for a count of five, and was looking out Ms Milburn's phone number when her mobile rang again. This time it was the very person she most wanted to speak to. Ms Milburn herself. ‘Mrs Quicke, where are you?'

‘At home. My home.'

‘Do you have the Hooper women with you?'

‘Yes. We—'

‘We're coming over, right away.'

‘Yes, but what about Evan?' The phone went dead.

Slowly, Ellie dialled the Hooper landline. With the same result. Dead. ‘Angelika, do you know your husband's mobile phone number?'

Angelika stared. Scrabbled in her handbag. ‘It's on my mobile.'

Ellie's phone rang again.

Diana. ‘Mother, what the—'

‘The police are coming round here. Now. Perhaps they can tell us what's happening.'

‘This is ridiculous. Where's Evan?'

‘That's what we'd like to know.'

Pause for thought. ‘Who is “we”?'

‘Evan's wife and daughter. They're safe here with me. Evan stayed behind, and I can't get through to him. I think the phone line has been cut.'