Free Murder My Neighbour by Veronica Heley

wondering . . .’
    The bishop was plump, with a fat smile and rimless glasses. Ellie disliked him at sight, while telling herself she had no reason to do so.
    â€˜Ah, the little lady of the household. Yes, coffee would be much appreciated.’
    She thought he was the type of man who avoided professional women and condescended to those who weren’t. He probably thought of them as ‘man’s little helpmeets’, had been vehemently against them being ordained, and believed the skies would fall if they ever became bishops.
    Thomas sent her a look in which sympathy and irritation were nicely blended. Sympathy for her, and irritation for the bishop. She hoped. Half rising from his seat, he said, ‘I’ll make it, Ellie. I know you’re busy.’
    Ellie managed a smile, somehow. ‘Not at all. It won’t take a minute.’
    She shut the door, considered kicking the wall, decided it would hurt too much as she was wearing open-toed sandals, and dutifully went away to fulfil the bishop’s order.
    She found her two cleaners in the kitchen having their elevenses with the gardener, as they always did on or about noon. On seeing her, the gardener lumbered to his feet, threw her a wounded look and disappeared – as well he might, considering he ought to have tied back that rambling rose himself, so that Rose didn’t try to do it.
    Ellie glanced around. The cleaners’ first job on Tuesdays was to deal with the kitchen quarters, which they had done. There was no sign of Rose or of Mia.
    Ellie told herself to get her priorities straight. Coffee for the bishop. Check on Rose. Talk to the cleaners.
    She said, ‘Thomas’s visitor would like some coffee, and so would he. Do you think you could you make some and take it into them? And let the rest of the cleaning wait, as I need to pick your brains about something.’
    Ellie didn’t usually have time to sit down and talk to the cleaners because she was always so busy, rushing around the place. Rose saw to it that they were appropriately deployed around the house and that they had their break at half time. Rose was interested in everybody and everything, and she often passed neighbourhood gossip on to Ellie, who sometimes listened with half an ear and sometimes didn’t listen at all.
    Ellie popped her head round the door into Rose’s sitting-cum-bedroom and found her dozing in her big chair with the television on. Rose’s colour was good. She started awake when she heard Ellie come in and said she was just having a little rest and was that all right?
    Of course it was.
    â€˜And Mia?’
    â€˜Out shopping for food.’
    Ellie nodded and returned to the kitchen, trying to recall what Rose had told her about their two cleaners.
    Vera was the big, bony blonde. She had a long horse-like face, an amazing capacity for moving heavy furniture, and a son reputed to be autistic – or was it Attention Deficit Disorder that he had? A difficult child in some way. No husband or partner apparent.
    Rose liked Vera; said she was reliable and thorough. Blue rosette for Vera.
    Pet – short for Petula – was a Humpty Dumpty. She wore the kind of tracksuits which emphasized large hips. She had no children as yet, but was always hoping she’d get lucky one day. Was she saving up to try IVF? Ellie had heard that it was costly and didn’t always work.
    Pet’s husband – who was even fatter than her, said Rose – worked as a night porter in the local hospital and, as Pet got up early to clean, they didn’t seem to spend much time together. Rose said you had to watch Pet or she’d scamp her work.
    When coffee had been made and taken through to the men, Ellie seated herself at the table for a chat. ‘Vera. Pet. I did a very silly thing yesterday. I let a young man into the house who said he wanted to find a Mrs Pryce who lived in the next road. He said he’d tried the retirement