MURDER BY MISTAKE a completely unputdownable cozy mystery by VERONICA HELEY

Author:VERONICA HELEY [HELEY, VERONICA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books cozy mysteries and crime
Published: 2024-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Thursday early evening

The police did indeed want to speak to Marge and Ellie, and to the boys. But they took their time getting round to it. Ellie and Marge moved into her big living room which — as in Mrs Summers’ house — had been knocked through into one. From there they could see the coming and going of cars outside, and keep an eye on the boys in the garden. Marge opened a window so they could hear better.

‘That’s the paramedic,’ said Marge, as a man rode up on a motorbike. ‘Come to look at her. He won’t be able to pronounce her dead, so they’ll call the doctor next. Do you fancy a bite to eat, although I’m not sure exactly what I’ve got left in the fridge? All this excitement makes me hungry.’

‘They’ll send for the brighter bobbies next, won’t they?’ said Ellie. ‘And no, thanks, kindly meant, but we’re having supper back home.’

‘Suit yourself.’ A pause. A clink of bottles. ‘You wouldn’t say no to a small sherry, would you?’

‘I’d better not. It would make Thomas jealous if he smelt it on me while he’s stuck with the police. He’s driving, you see. Ah, here comes the doctor.’

‘And some of what you call the brighter bobbies. Not off the local beat.’

‘I recognize one of them.’ Ellie sighed. ‘He’s a detective inspector now, but I wouldn’t have called him one of the brighter bobbies. Unfortunately.’

‘The one with the sticky-out ears?’

‘I wish I’d had that sherry you offered me. But no, better not. That particular policeman would accuse me of being drunk.’

‘He’d better not try that on me.’ Sipping away, Marge glanced up the garden. ‘They’ll be wanting their tea soon. Boys that age, you can’t satisfy them.’

‘They’ll want their telly in a bit, I shouldn’t wonder. I hope their mother makes it soon.’

They watched in silence as a large silver car drew up. ‘Himself,’ said Marge.

Denis, in a silvery-grey handmade suit, powered up the garden path to Mrs Summers’ house, only to be stopped at the door by a uniformed policeman. Denis demanded entry. Was refused. Raised his voice. Demanded to see whoever was in charge. Refused to calm down.

Marge remarked, ‘You realize he hasn’t yet asked what all the fuss is about?’

‘Because he knows. He hasn’t asked where his children are, either.’

‘Because he doesn’t care? Do you think it would be worthwhile reporting those marks of abuse on the children to social services?’

‘He’s supposed to have moved out of their house and is now only responsible for them on certain days during the school holidays. Perhaps, if the mother knew the marks had been spotted . . . ?’

‘She must know. Some mother!’

‘He can be intimidating, you know. I don’t envy her, married to him. Ah, he’s crossed the threshold.’

‘He’s running the risk of being arrested, pushing past a policeman like that.’

‘He’s a clever, slicky Dicky. He’ll say he’s worried sick about the children.’

Marge pressed a small sherry into Ellie’s hand, and she took it. Marge said, ‘You don’t like him.

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