Free Murder in Time by Veronica Heley Page B

was one of my cleaners for years. I found her honest, hard-working, quick-witted and reliable. She had a short and tragic marriage, nursing a dying man who left her in rented accommodation and badly provided for. Before he died, he asked me to find some way of helping Vera get to college. My husband and I have a big house on the far side of the Avenue, not far from where you were brought up. Our housekeeper is an old friend but getting on in years, so I asked Vera if she’d like to move in with us and help out. She and her son—’
    â€˜Ah. I thought you were going to miss him out.’ So he knew Vera had a child?
    â€˜It would be hard to miss him out. Vera and Mikey have a flat at the top of the house, and they’re, well, family. Vera’s a great girl who’s pulled herself up by her bootstraps. He’s an imp, a mathematical genius. Vera’s now putting herself through college, part-time. A business course.’
    His tone was polite but distant. ‘I’m glad to hear she’s making something of herself at last. A business course? Splendid.’
    Ellie set her teeth at his condescending tone. ‘Twelve years after she was supposed to start, yes.’
    He got the point all right. He put the empty mugs on the tray. ‘Another cup?’ And removed himself. To think?
    Ellie followed him into a sparklingly clean kitchen. A frozen meal for one was defrosting on the side, next to a coffee-making machine. A glazed back door gave a glimpse of a whirligig clothes drier, festooned with white shirts, in the middle of a neat lawn. ‘You knew she’d had a son?’
    â€˜I’d heard.’ His hands were busy. He was making himself a coffee. His brain was probably working overtime.
    Ellie said, ‘Can you bear to talk about what happened?’
    â€˜I regret. No.’
    â€˜For old times’ sake?’
    For a moment he allowed her to see his pain. ‘After what she did to me?’
    â€˜Or was done to her.’
    He frowned, not understanding. Didn’t he know what had happened in the garden that night?
    He made a visible effort to control himself. ‘Mrs Quicke, I really can’t help you. The police at the time couldn’t find the person who killed my father. You say there’s new evidence which incriminates Vera? I thought she’d left long before my father returned home, but I can’t give her an alibi for that evening. You must look elsewhere.’
    He finished making his coffee and poured it out before exclaiming, ‘Now look what I’ve done!’ He took a step back. ‘I never drink coffee after four in the afternoon.’
    â€˜You feel the need for it?’
    He pushed the cup away. ‘No, I don’t. Mrs Quicke, what’s going on? Why, after all these years …? So much pain.’ He tried to laugh. ‘My mother will go spare if it’s all raked up again.’
    Was he trying to distract her by mentioning his mother? Well, Ellie thought, she should make use of the opening he’d given her. ‘Tell me about her.’
    She thought he’d refuse at first, but he’d been jolted off balance. Leaning against the kitchen cupboard and looking out on to the garden, he said, ‘My mother. Well, she’s a fragile-looking, self-centred little person with a will of iron. She can’t understand why anyone should upset her by opposing her wishes.’
    A deliberately cool tone. He loved his mother, yes. But there was a good deal of frustration mixed with the love. And pain? Yes, pain.
    He said, ‘My father indulged her, avoided doing anything to upset her. “Take care of your mother, now; she’s having a bad day.” That sort of thing. She felt she’d married beneath her. She’d brought money into the family, you see, and was sister to a baronet who didn’t even bother to use his title. She’d hoped that young Dr McKenzie would end up in Harley Street, but he