Stone Cold Dead Page 16

‘Ah!’ I said, nodding. ‘Have you told Inspector Slater?’ I guessed not. I didn’t think it worth mentioning that his retrieved handle was probably one lost by a holiday boat, as it surely would not have been tossed into the top lock, if Clare had been killed—or at least knocked unconscious near the pound, some little distance away.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘I only got it up a couple of minutes ago.’

  So I told him to stand guard over it, while I located Slater. The most likely place was in the bar lounge, and there he was, at the same table as he’d used before, and with WDS Tomkinson sitting facing him.

  Slater, clearly, had finished with his interviews. He was filling in a report, with the assistance of his sergeant’s notes. This would have been done more correctly at his office desk, but if he stayed here he could expect less interruption and would be keeping in touch, and might, with a bit of luck, be offered a drink from time to time.

  I said, ‘I think we’ve got your murder weapon, Ted. Colin’s found it. Come and see.’

  He scrambled to his feet. ‘Think you’ve got...where...where?’

  Colin was waiting on the bridge, right opposite the swing doors. He was looking modestly pleased with himself.

  ‘This?’ asked Slater, staring down at it.

  ‘Seems likely,’ I told him. ‘It was slotted on the rack and pinion down by the pound, yesterday. Thrown in the top lock after use. D’you think?’

  Ted Slater grunted. He was nobody’s fool. ‘Then why toss it in here? Why not in the bottom lock? It was right there.’ Like a flash, he was on to my own thoughts on it.

  I shrugged. ‘Can’t say. Perhaps the attacker used it down by the pound, shoved poor Clare into the water, and walked up this way with it in his hand before getting rid of it. Kind of absent-minded.’

  ‘Hmm!’ He eyed me up and down. ‘I know what went on at that houseboat, Patton. I thought to ask. Nosy of me. And somebody called Pierce was probably there, so equally probably might have had Clare with him, possibly under duress. They were sisters, you know, Clare and that woman on the boat. And they’d most likely come this way. How does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds lovely, said like that. But it doesn’t work, does it? If he was with Clare—if they were heading for the houseboat—how the hell would he know there was a weighty instrument, down there by the pound? The storm was probably still blowing, and only the amber light was on. It’d be a blank nothing, down there. And why kill her then? They wouldn’t even have reached the boat. No, Ted, it won’t do. Definitely not.’

  ‘All the same...’ He smiled so pleasantly at me that I thought for the moment that I’d pleased him. ‘All the same, I’ll have to have a word with this Pierce character.’

  ‘Yes, I think you will,’ I agreed.

  But I felt that I would have to see him myself, first.

  ‘Oh...and by the way, Ted,’ I went on, ‘I’ve found her cap. It was in the canal, further along.’ I gestured in the direction we had taken. ‘It’s drying in the kitchen. But it does indicate she walked down the lane from her car, and she was probably carrying something bulky, if she didn’t have a spare hand to hold her cap on. It was very windy, you know.’

  He stared at me, cocked his head, and stared some more.

  ‘You know, Patton,’ he said, ‘I quite enjoy these little theories of yours. But thank you. I was worrying about her cap.’

  When I left him, he was staring down at the winding handle, which would probably more accurately be called a key. Then he turned and headed for the bar. He would have to phone somebody to come and collect it.

  This would mean that Colin would be somewhat disappointed in his intentions. He would not have a rescued winding handle to show to his employers.

  It was time I went back into the kitchen to see how they were getting along with Bruce. He was now all silky and soft—and no doubt longing to find somewhere filthy in which he could roll, and remove his disconcerting cleanliness.

  I said casually to Amelia, ‘How’d you fancy a little trip in the car, love?’

  ‘If you wish, Richard. But where?’

  I ran my hand up my neck. ‘Well, I did promise myself I would try to see Helen this evening, but now something’s cropped up that’s made it necessary to go elsewhere in the evening, so...I thought it would do no harm to ask ’em at the hospital whether I can see Helen. They can only say no. But I’d feel better with my wife at my elbow, in case they think I’m Helen’s husband.’

  ‘Yes.’ Amelia eyed me with her head tilted. ‘You look like a wife-beater I must say. All right, we’ll go and see what the situation is.’

  ‘Can I come?’ asked Mellie, who had been listening carefully from just behind Amelia’s shoulder.

  I glanced at her. My wife has an ability to nod with her eyes. ‘Certainly,’ I told Mellie. ‘But…what about Ray?’

  She pouted. ‘He’s had to go away. He said he’s on duty.’

  It was a strange time to report for duty, in the middle of the afternoon, but I didn’t say so. It could be that he had his own private mourning to do. In that event, he would have had to invent an excuse. If that had not been satisfactory to Mellie, it would explain her obviously depressed state. Or had he been fool enough to admit to any sort of intimacy with Clare? Surely not! But young men in love are notoriously unstable. He might have considered it as starting with a clean slate, though his slate would’ve needed quite a scrubbing.

  I eyed Mellie cautiously. Was she capable of an attack with a winding handle? She most definitely was—and she would know where to put her hand on one, should the occasion arise. In this event, though, the occasion, if it had arisen, had done so after the event.

  ‘Duty calls,’ I told her cheerfully. ‘If you’re going to marry a policeman, I’m afraid that’s one of the obstacles to be overcome. They do shifts. If they get on the CID, they work all hours, and the higher the rank, the more the hours. You have to allow for that and take it into account.’

  ‘But I love him,’ she said pitifully, as though that made any difference.

  ‘Of course you do. Give me five minutes, love,’ I went on to Amelia, ‘and I’ll be with you. Mellie, d’you know Haughton Grange Hospital?’

  ‘Oh yes. Of course. I was born there.’ As though she’d remembered it from that time. ‘Fine. That’ll save us getting lost.’

  I took sufficient time to make myself respectable. Nothing gains the approval of hospital sisters so much as a clean and neat human, preferably in one of their beds.

  They were waiting by the car. Mellie had Bruce with her.

  ‘They won’t allow dogs inside their hospital,’ I told her.

  ‘He wanted to come.’

  ‘Hmm!’ I said.

  Amelia took her usual seat beside me, Mellie and the dog in the rear. I was a little concerned about Mellie and Bruce. They were becoming much too fond of each other, and if things worked out as I rather hoped, Bruce would eventually be restored to his proper mistress. It didn’t seem fair to put the responsibility of choice on the dog.

  Haughton Grange was a newish hospital, low and sprawled, but not too large. The car park was adequate at this time, and we had no difficulty finding somewhere to leave the Granada. Bruce we had to leave in it, though he wouldn’t make a very fearsome guard dog. Before we reached the main entrance, he began his howling.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Amelia.

  Mellie looked worried. ‘I’ll go back to him.’

  ‘I’m not sure you’d like it inside an Intensive Care unit, anyway,’ I told her encouragingly.

  So that was settled satisfactorily. I handed the keys to Mellie, and she returned to the car. Bruce stopped howling.

  ‘There wasn’t much point in bringing them,’ said Amelia.

  ‘Well no. But it gives Mellie something to think about, other than Ray. I don’t think that engagement is going to last long, my love.’

  Inside, there were direction signs everywhere, so that there was no need to ask our way. We simply followed the sign
: Intensive Care—Females. On the way there I explained why I thought Mellie was on a bit of a loser with Ray. I told her about his exploits with Clare, rather more explicitly than I had before.

  ‘Hmm!’ she said. ‘Doesn’t sound good, does it?’

  ‘It does not. I think this is it.’

  The sister’s office was immediately on the left, just inside the rubber swing doors. Sister Morris was probably in her thirties, looking rather young for her responsibilities. I explained who we were, and in what way we had an interest, and asked if we might see Helen. If not, we would go away.

  ‘She’s coming along fine,’ she told us. ‘There were multiple bruises, some of them old, the only worrying damage being a cracked rib. But it didn’t puncture her lung, as we feared at first, and she’s reacting to medication splendidly. Her breathing is much easier. There was a broken wrist that had to be set, and two of her front teeth had been broken. We had to extract the roots. She will not recognize you, of course, but you can explain to her. If it was you who found her, Mr...’

  ‘Patton.’

  ‘Yes, if it was you, she may recognize you. We mustn’t expect too much, though. Please don’t encourage her to talk. Ask her no questions, and don’t encourage her to ask her own. I’ll send someone with you...Oh, Nurse Simpson, would you take Mr and Mrs Patton to see Mrs Pierce. She’s...’

  ‘I know where she is, Sister.’

  ‘I was about to say: she’s not to be excited.’

  ‘No, Sister. Of course not.’

  And was there the hint of a wink from Nurse Simpson as we thanked the ward sister and turned away?

  She was seven beds down on the right. A good sign, that was. If your bed is too close to the swing doors, that might mean that you could be expected to require emergency treatment.

  ‘Somebody to see you, Helen,’ said the nurse. ‘Now you be a good girl and don’t overexcite yourself.’

  We found two chairs and sat by her bed. Helen seemed much improved since I’d seen her. Gone the flush and the shivering, and there was more natural colour to her cheeks. She was on a drip, to her right arm, and with a drain tube in her right nostril.

  ‘You may not remember me, Helen,’ I said. ‘I’m the one who found you in the houseboat. I want to tell you that we’ve taken charge of Bruce. He’s in the car, and full of health. There’s no need to worry about him.’

  She whispered something. I bent close. ‘Denny...’ It was more a sigh.

  I said, ‘We know about Dennis. I’m going to see what can be done about him. Not to worry. Arnold can’t reach you here.’

  Another whisper. It sounded like, ‘Please...’ I’m hopeless when people say please. And I knew what she meant.

  ‘I’m going to have a word with your husband,’ I said, spreading confidence all over the place. ‘I’m going to persuade him. Then I’ll bring Dennis to see you.’

  All this, for the light of hope it brought to her eyes. The plastered wrist lay on the bedcovering, and helped me a lot. The still-swollen lips, the bruised eye, now black, the empty gap where two teeth were missing...these all helped. I was now more certain of my justification.

  I felt Amelia’s fingers digging into my arm. There were going to be words spoken.

  ‘Sir,’ said the nurse, ‘I think that’s enough.’

  We got to our feet, and Amelia replaced the chairs as I bent over to whisper a final word or two.

  ‘You’ll see. I’ll bring Denny.’

  We left. I thanked Sister Morris. She smiled and said, quite mysteriously, ‘You’re not the first.’ I told her we would be back again, later. Amelia was silent, all the way out to the car park. Then...

  ‘Richard, I don’t want you to go near that man.’

  She usually forbids me. Somehow, this sounded more serious. I caught her arm, and drew her to a halt. We had to clear this out of the way before rejoining Mellie.

  ‘What else could I promise, love?’ I asked. ‘That the police would see to it? Oh yes, they would. Fine. They’d go to visit that lout—and they’d be able to do absolutely nothing. A domestic dispute, it would be called. Inform the Social Services people? Oh yes, the police could do that. And they could do nothing. If the lad hasn’t been too ill-treated, they’d have no complaint to make. If he has, then it’d be a Home he’d go to. Taken into care, they’d call it. And Helen wouldn’t want any of that. If we leave it as it is for Helen to recover enough to return home to him—it would simply start all over again, only with even less chance of her ever being free of him. So...what else can I do but fetch Dennis away? Tell me, and I’ll consider it.’

  ‘Damn it, Richard, you’re being a fool.’ She shook my arm angrily.

  ‘I know.’

  She halted me, her hand clasped on my arm. ‘Then promise me...you won’t go alone.’

  ‘Promise. I’ll not go alone.’

  She seemed satisfied with this, perhaps thinking that I’d be taking Ray with me. But Ray wasn’t available, and in any event was a policeman. I wanted no police authority in this. But I would not be alone.

  I didn’t tell her who I’d decided would be the best person to take along.

  Chapter Ten

  In the bar, after we’d had time to tidy ourselves, I explained the whole situation to the group.

  Ted Slater and his WDS were outside at the locks, with two men, who had arrived in a small van. It was now dark outside. They had come to take away the winding handle, it seemed, and there’d been a right old upset about that, while we’d been away. There was nothing positive to indicate that the handle had been used as an offensive weapon, nothing but the rather thin circumstantial evidence that it had been on its rack down by the pound, and had been taken from there. But they were taking it away, and this had naturally brought Inspector Slater into head-on conflict with the old dears. What right had he to confiscate property that wasn’t his? Could he specify his right to do so?

  ‘It could be evidence in a murder enquiry, ma’am—ladies and gentleman.’ Palely polite, was Ted.

  He was on a very shaky foundation with this, as the handle must have been fingered, one time and another, by everyone at the house, and, during the past years, by scores of travellers who’d found it easier to locate than their own, so that it would be liberally covered with prints.

  But poor Ted was in a delicate situation. Apart from interviews, he’d been able to do very little towards producing a murderer. There was nothing of a routine nature that he could pursue. Means and opportunity had been the same for everybody here. Motives were numerous, but were, apparently, being jealously guarded. Yet he had to be seen to be doing something.

  All this was most upsetting, and it was fortunate that the three visitors had not been in the district at the time of Clare’s death, otherwise they would have had to make statements, and submit to fingerprinting.

  But now...he was impounding the winding handle. The impression given was that this constituted the collapse of the family’s remaining resources, and they would have to part with an extra hundred acres or so of meadowland in order to break even. They protested loud and long. That which was lost and is found, I suppose.

  But eventually Slater had his way, and he and his men, who’d enjoyed it all immensely, departed with the handle, hermetically sealed in plastic, and a set of fingerprints from all but the later visitors. Including Amelia, mine already being on record.

  After we’d all washed our hands, and Gerald had recovered most of his equanimity, we had a relaxing cup of tea in the bar, and we were asked about our trip to the hospital. But it was Amelia who told them all about it, as an independent witness, as she put it.

  She told them that Helen Pierce was on her way to recovery, that was to say that she was winning the fight against the infection, and when her cracked rib healed, and her broken wrist healed, and when she had a small plate to replace the missing teeth in her upper gums, and when the various bruises and bumps had worn out their welcome, and provided, of course, that her legs were all right, a
s we hadn’t seen her legs, then she would be fit to return to her husband.

  ‘Return?’ said Adolphus, glancing from one to the other of his sisters.

  ‘They do, you know,’ I told him. ‘You’d be surprised. There are a great number of women who get divorces on the grounds of cruelty, and remarry the same man, and repeat the divorce and remarrying, and so on.’

  ‘Surely not!’ said Victoria, appalled.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ echoed Alexandra.

  ‘Gerald,’ I said, ‘you’ll know that, even though you don’t handle divorce cases.’

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ said Gerald expansively. ‘My fellow solicitors—we meet for lunch from time to time—they have encountered this.’

  ‘How very strange.’ Adolphus twisted his lips in distaste. He hadn’t had a wife to batter.

  ‘And it seems to me,’ put in Ruby, ‘that there’s nothing to be done about it.’ Her mind was firmly fixed on our own specific situation. ‘But didn’t I get the impression that you intended to have a few words with the husband? Wasn’t that what you suggested, Richard?’

  I couldn’t remember being specific about it. ‘That was my intention,’ I nevertheless admitted. ‘A few words.’

  ‘Then I don’t see the point of it.’ Adolphus was uncomfortable. ‘A few words.’ Nothing like this had entered his sheltered life, or those of his sisters. I had no doubt that, of all their tenants, there must have been occasions of matrimonial upset, but their agent would have dealt with all that. It would not have brushed against them.

  ‘But you see,’ I tried, though not optimistic that they did, ‘there’s the little lad. The father has him. It might be a good idea to find out what the lad wants. You get what I mean?’

  They all looked around at each other, wondering whether the rest of the group were as ignorant as themselves as to the stresses of life.

  ‘We haven’t heard about a little boy,’ Victoria declared emphatically. ‘Nobody’s told us there’s a little boy involved, have they, Alexandra?’

  ‘Not in my hearing.’

  ‘There you are then.’ Victoria nodded to me.