Page 70 of She Saw What He Did

‘I wonder if we should have phoned ahead,’ she said thoughtfully.

The front path was tidy and bordered with pretty petunias. Ellen rang the doorbell and they waited patiently but no one answered the door. There were no sounds from inside the cottage. Ellen looked at Weis. He rang the doorbell again and lifted the knocker. The sound reverberated through the cottage. A face appeared at the window and Ellen recognised it as Abby. A few seconds later there was the noise of the doors being unlocked. It seemed to take an eternity and then finally the door opened. Ellen was taken aback at the sight of her. She looked thinner than when she last saw her. Her face was drawn and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her blonde hair was dry and dragged up in a messy bun. She looked washed out and Ellen could have kicked herself. They should have phoned first. Abby stared into Ellen’s eyes.

‘Hello Abby,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry if we’ve taken you by surprise.’

‘Has something happened?’ she asked, her voice quivering.

‘We’d just like a chat about your cleaner, Maria,’ said Weis.

Abby’s face turned paler.

‘You’d better come in,’ she said, stepping aside.

‘This is Chief Inspector Colin Weis,’ said Ellen, gesturing to Weis. ‘He’s helping us with the murder enquiry.’

Abby opened the door a fraction more and Ellen and Weis stepped into the hallway. Abby closed the door and shot a bolt across. Ellen was surprised to see the number of locks on the door. They seemed out of place in such a quaint country cottage. Surely the crime rate was low here. It’s not like they were in the heart of London. Weis had also noted the locks and raised his eyebrows.

‘Come through,’ said Abby.

Ellen noticed her voice shook. Weis stepped over some toys and followed Abby into the living room. It was quaint but untidy. A large painting hung over the mantelpiece. It was a modern art piece and Ellen cocked her head to study it. She never had understood modern art. Ellen was surprised at the mess. Abby struck her as a methodical, everything in its place, type of person. Half-empty mugs littered the coffee table amidst an assortment of papers.

‘I’m sorry to hear about your accident,’ said Ellen warmly. ‘Are you both okay?’

‘I hurt my shoulder,’ shrugged Abby, ‘otherwise we’re fine. These things happen.’

Ellen looked around for Abby’s child.

‘Sam’s at nursery,’ said Abby, reading Ellen’s mind.

‘Right,’ said Ellen. ‘We wouldn’t want to wake him up.’

‘Her,’ corrected Abby, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Sorry I have a shocking cold,’ she apologised.

Ellen glanced into the kitchen where an empty bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the kitchen table. Ellen was surprised. She remembered the Millers being quite insistent that they didn’t drink.

‘Can I get you tea or coffee?’ Abby asked. Ellen thought she seemed distracted.

‘I’m fine thank you,’ said Ellen.

‘Not for me,’ said Weis.

‘Please, sit down,’ said Abby, sweeping toys and biscuit crumbs from the sofa.

‘Thanks,’ said Weis.

‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ said Weis ‘Your cleaner was murdered last night.’

Abby fought back tears.

‘Yes, I saw it on the news.’

‘When did you last see Maria?’

Ellen thought Abby’s face coloured. She avoided Weis’s eyes and turned to Ellen.

‘It must have been over a week ago. I didn’t see her this week because I was in London on business.’

‘So she came to clean this week?’ asked Weis.

---