Read Online Murder in House by Veronica Heley - Free Book Online Page A

cab when a disembodied, rather hoarse, voice said, ‘Yes?’
    â€˜Mrs Belton? My name’s Ellie Quicke. Would it be possible for you to spare me a minute? I have something your daughter left with me.’
    â€˜My daughter’s not here.’
    â€˜No, I realize that.’
    â€˜Oh, very well.’ The door latch clicked open.
    â€˜Just a minute. Got to get my bags from the minicab.’ Ellie put her handbag down to stop the door closing and went back to the cab to fetch her shopping. Since she’d never learned to drive, she used the minicab agency regularly, and kept a monthly account with the firm. With some difficulty she hauled her shopping bags out of the cab and through the front door into the foyer.
    A tall, well-built woman held the first door on the left open for Ellie, smothering a cough in a man-sized tissue. At the moment her hair – blonde going grey – was lifeless, but it had been recently well-cut and tinted. Ellie recognized the drawn, greyish look of the skin, the lack of make-up, the reddened nose. Clearly Mrs Belton was yet another victim of the prevalent feverish cold. The down-turned mouth might also be a result of the cold, or it might be a permanent indication of Mrs Belton’s attitude to life.
    Ellie was ushered through a tiny hall into a square, all-purpose living room. Neat and tidy, the furnishings were a muted symphony of creams and greens. The furniture was not new but pleasantly functional, with magazines and papers neatly aligned on a coffee table. One or two bits of pewter, some Bristol blue glass, a bowl of daffodils, a couple of photographs of a young Ursula in silver frames. Nothing outstanding, except for two large pictures on the walls – or rather, one collage in blues and greens of an underwater scene, and a portrait of her hostess in pastels. Both showed considerable talent.
    â€˜Ursula’s?’ Ellie peered at both. Was she beginning to need glasses, or was the daylight fading already?
    â€˜Do be careful.’ There was a snap in her voice. ‘One of your shopping bags is about to split.’
    â€˜Oh dear.’ Ellie let them down on to the floor. ‘I am so stupid. I came out without thinking about shopping, and then, as one does . . .’
    The woman smothered another cough and produced a stout plastic bag from the next room along, which must be the kitchen. ‘Take this.’
    Ellie took stock of her hostess as she transferred her shopping to a stronger bag. Mrs Belton was a different type from Mrs Collins. Also fifty plus but looking younger. Better educated. A slightly self-pitying approach to life? None of Ursula’s bright-eyed, manipulative intelligence, but no fool either.
    â€˜Thank you,’ said Ellie.
    Mrs Belton didn’t offer refreshments but let herself down on to a chair, indicating that Ellie do so too. ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? At church fêtes? Someone said you’d given a local Holiday Club money for a children’s outing. Didn’t you marry our last vicar, the one who’s just left?’
    â€˜That’s so. Your daughter didn’t mention that we met yesterday?’
    Mrs Belton shook her head. The downturn of her mouth appeared to be a fixture. ‘She went back to university early yesterday, leaving me barely on my feet and hardly able to fend for myself. Not that I’m complaining, you understand.’
    She was complaining, of course. Ellie sought for a tissue and blew her nose.
    Mrs Belton said, ‘You have something of hers? You’re lucky to find me at home. I should have been at work today, but I’ve been laid out with flu.’
    â€˜It takes it out of you, doesn’t it?’
    The woman bridled with importance. ‘I’m a speech therapist. Mustn’t risk passing on germs.’
    Ellie blew her nose again. ‘Ursula didn’t go straight back. My husband found her in St Mary’s