by Mairi Chong
Alex looked away when he saw her, which indicated to Holly that he had indeed been fooling around with that Cathy doctor-woman. Holly didn’t much care either way. Alex was far too old for her anyhow, and she had only been messing about.
In the beginning, there was the general chit-chat that one might expect, but having suggested the impromptu meeting herself, Holly felt that she should start things off. She waited for Neil to finish with his inane jabber; an elaborate story about his wife’s car being involved in a minor collision due to the ice, or some such rubbish. Holly could tell that no one else was interested, and towards the end of the narrative, the others were beginning to glance around them. Even Alex looked at her in an odd way, making Holly feel quite sick. Finding a lull in the conversation, she cleared her throat.
‘Thanks for coming everyone,’ she began, and Carol looked at her suspiciously, probably for having the nerve to speak up, but also perhaps, for having been able to do so in such a civil manner. ‘It was my idea to meet,’ Holly went on.
The waitress had, by this time, brought teas and coffees. Unable to shake her unconventionality, Holly had ordered a hot chocolate and was horrified to find out exactly what this consisted of. The waitress presented the monstrous goblet as if Holly had won some kind of a prize, stepping back from the table with a flourish. Holly caught Alex’s eye and he was smirking, knowing full-well, she assumed, that she would be unable to ingest the bloody thing without some degree of discomfort or mess.
‘I suggested we meet,’ Holly went on, ignoring the drink for the time being, ‘as we hadn’t managed the Christmas get-together, what with the business over Betty and then obviously my little misfortune.’
Carol nodded. ‘No one was in a fit state for it really,’ she said. ‘But hopefully, things will return to normal. The police called me this morning. I’ve told Tricia already, but I’ve not yet had a chance to say to everyone else, and I knew we’d be meeting up anyway.’
‘So, what’s the story?’ Neil asked, replacing his oversized teacup in its saucer, and spilling the liquid over the side. It seemed that the man was incapable of drinking a cup of tea without disgracing himself.
‘Well,’ Carol began, ‘They said that the funeral is permitted to go ahead now. I’ve already done a bit of research myself.’ At this, Carol looked a trifle embarrassed. ‘It seems that having no family, and no savings to speak of, we might be required to club together a little. Just as part of the charity. That would give her a quiet sendoff.’
‘What, us personally?’ Holly couldn’t help asking.
Carol turned to her somewhat annoyed. ‘For those of us who are in a position to afford it and are willing to do so, then yes. For the others, I wouldn’t dream of expecting it. The charity bosses themselves may well want to contribute anyway.’
‘Well I guess …’ Neil began, but it was becoming farcical and Holly interrupted.
‘I don’t suppose the police mentioned to you, Carol, about the identity of Betty’s killer, did they?’
Carol met her gaze steadily as if challenging her for speaking out of turn.
‘Well Holly, it’s interesting you say that. They never did find any of the bloodstained clothing,’ Carol said accusingly, ‘that you, apparently said you found in the bottom of our skip. There was no evidence of wrongdoing at all.’
The other volunteers looked shocked.
‘Why did you say that?’ Tricia asked, but Holly didn’t answer. She was too busy glaring at Carol.
‘So, I take it, they’re no further forward then? The police, I mean,’ Neil said. ‘Still of the thinking that it was Thomas, or some stranger, or whatever?’
Carol smiled. ‘That’s not quite what they said, but I suppose so.’
There was silence. Holly’s heart was beating so loudly in her ears that it nearly deafened her. ‘But we know that’s untrue, don’t we?’ she said and looked around at the group of volunteers. ‘What about Thomas?’
There was a murmur of acknowledgement, but it seemed that Tricia was confused.
‘You mean crazy Thomas who comes into the shop?’
‘Yes Tricia, that’s who I mean,’ Holly said. ‘Mad, crazy Thomas. The local joke. The comical buffoon that we all like to take a pop at for all of his absurdities. He had an accident the other night, as you all heard. Everyone assumed that he had drunkenly walked in front of a car, but in reality, it was rather different. Run over and left for dead. He’s currently recovering from what might have been life-threatening injuries, had it not been for the quick-thinking of Dr Moreland, our local GP-friend. Unfortunately, for the attempted murderer, despite being half-cut and as unreliable as the buses around here, Thomas didn’t die, and neither did I, when I was deliberately poisoned.’
There was a gasp from Tricia. She covered her mouth, and her eyes were wide and alarmed.
‘Bit of a surprise, Tricia?’ Holly asked cruelly. ‘But surely not. I’m hardly the type to take an overdose.’
The woman looked desperately at Carol, who returned her stare, stony-faced.
‘Surely, it can’t come as such a shock to you,’ Holly went on. ‘Apparently, it was a strong antidepressant. Admittedly, sometimes it’s prescribed for nerve-type pain. Anyway,’ Holly said, turning her gaze back to the rest of them. ‘It puts a different perspective on things certainly. Had it been as simple as a single murder, I suspect that it might have been more easily brushed under the carpet, but given that the person has attempted to kill again twice-over, the police won’t just let things go stale, of that I’m quite sure. Isn’t that right, Alex?’
Alex, who had been scrutinising his hands, looked up suddenly as if he’d been darted.
‘I don’t want to out you, Alex,’ Holly said, ‘but you do have rather a different take on things than the rest of us, having been in the force yourself. Perhaps you’d like to tell us why you retired. Gammy leg, wasn’t it? Did you need very strong painkillers for that?’
Alex shook his head, but wouldn’t look at her. ‘I thought you were different,’ he said quietly.
‘No, I’m not when it comes to murder, Alex.’
Neil put a hand on the other man’s arm.
‘Alright mate,’ Neil said. ‘We don’t think it was you.’
‘That is understanding of you, Neil,’ Holly said, turning to the other man. ‘You find yourself able to empathise, perhaps because you had a few secrets of your own also. I think everyone in the shop is all too aware of your shady dealings. Snaffling off stock for a low price and selling it on privately for your own ends. I suggest that you, more than anyone, should put your hand deep in your pocket and fork out something towards Betty’s funeral.’
They all looked at Holly as if she was quite mad. Even Carbolic, who had been thus far unobtrusive, had managed to inch his way to the table beside them and was clearly listening in. The waitress came across at that point and they all pretended to be normal. She wiped a spill on the table and removed some cups. No one said a word.
When they were alone once more, Carol spoke. Her voice was bitter. ‘You know everyone’s secrets,’ she said, maliciously. ‘It might surprise you to know that Tricia and I did a little digging of our own and found out why you’re not in work yourself currently. You made a few slips up in conversation that gave it away. I know you liked to play down the niceties, but the overinflated ego and intellect did seem rather out of place in a charity shop.’
It was now Holly’s turn to look at the ground, but hating herself for doing so, she finally met Carol’s stare unblinkingly, knowing that her own face must be ashen.
‘Drunk and disorderly,’ Carol said. ‘And training to be a doctor as well. Utterly abhorrent. I assume you have some mental health problem and that’s why you are the way you are. You never fitted in here anyway. Perhaps you should return to your medical school up north. That’s if they’d even have you back.’
‘Oh, they will without a doubt. I’ve already checked,’ she said, and the volunteers all turned to look at Dr Cath
y Moreland, who had just come in the shop. She stood in the doorway, stamping her feet on the mat and smiling. ‘Sorry I’m late, Holly,’ she said. ‘I’ve just been making a few phone calls. I hope I’ve not missed too much.’
35
‘Well,’ Tricia said. ‘I didn’t sign up for this kind of discussion at all. I think we should call time on this supposed get-together.’
Cathy thought it a rather brave statement. But of all of the volunteers, Tricia was the one she knew least about. She watched in silence as Tricia began to collect her things.
‘I’m sorry. We’re not quite finished yet,’ she said quietly.
Everything seemed to go completely still. Cathy’s breathing was the only thing she was aware of for that moment. She ran her tongue over her lips.
‘Well, I don’t want to hear any more of this,’ Carol said, beginning to push her chair back also and to get her coat which was hung on the back.
When finally, Cathy spoke, it felt as if she had been silenced for too long, and the words almost fell from her mouth. She had been so foolish.
‘I took too long,’ she said ruefully. ‘For that, I am very sorry. Please sit-down Carol, Tricia. We must get to the truth. Glainkirk has suffered quite enough already.’
The two women tutted but took their seats once more.
‘I suppose my story starts some twenty years ago. Neil set the whole dreadful thing in motion that day when he spoke about the old psychiatric hospital. It brought back a lot of unwanted memories. Almost all of you had a connection with Fernibanks, as it happens. Some, a deeper connection than others. Neil, you, for example, were a woodwork tutor up there for a short time. Not a huge role, but of course, you too, were first on the scene following the dreadful tragedy.’
Cathy looked around the faces of her listeners, trying to judge how next she should go on.
‘I must admit that I had a bit of luck finding out about the man who died in the fire. We were all quite aware that he was a disreputable psychiatrist. I think there was a suggestion that he might have been behaving in a highly inappropriate way. Not many knew the extent of his corruption though.’
‘What did he do?’ Alex asked.
Cathy turned and smiled. ‘I found out from my senior partner. It seems that the psychiatrist had been experimenting with the use of electric shock treatment. I think that the other doctors were extremely uncomfortable about it, especially when they found out that he was trying the treatment out on non-sedated patients, something that would have been utterly appalling to experience, and even more so in a vulnerable state.’
Alex shook his head. ‘Horrible. How could anyone?’
Cathy looked seriously at him. ‘Someone at the hospital was just as disgusted. The doctor, it seems, didn’t die accidentally in the fire. His remains were found. It was difficult to be clear, but it did seem that he had sustained a head injury, and not only that, he had electrodes on his temples.’ Cathy looked at Alex, afraid to see anyone else’s reactions. ‘He was killed twice-over. Electrocuted and burned.’
There was a stunned silence.
‘A bit like Betty’s death, in some ways,’ Cathy went on. ‘I always thought that it was far too excessive. It indicated anger of such force, that it was almost bordering on insanity. Hit over the head and then thrown in front of a train. I have struggled to connect all of you to the hospital, although I felt sure you must be. Neil, I have already mentioned. Alex, you too were a puzzle, until I learned about your family history of depression. Your mother was an inpatient for a short time, I believe?’
Alex nodded. ‘She killed herself while she was there,’ he said mechanically.
Holly gasped and looked as if she was going to speak, but Cathy continued: ‘Carol, you were a social worker for a spell and presumably you had dealings with the place through your work. Tricia, I hear you were a trainee nurse. I suppose that you all might have seen what was going on up in that hospital and decided to take things into your own hands.’ Cathy took a deep breath but no one spoke. ‘But coming back to the present day, and Betty’s visit to my surgery. I offered the poor woman a deadly diagnosis. Betty only had months to live. She spoke to me about being concerned about something in the charity shop. I wondered if she had, up until then, been keeping an eye on someone. She had realised that they had killed the psychiatrist, but had kept quiet about it all of these years. I think that she had had a conversation in the charity shop with that person recently. She told them that she was dying and couldn’t leave this world without speaking out. She tried to convince them that they should own up. Betty was mildly religious, perhaps she couldn’t conceive of the truth dying with her, even if she sympathised with the killer’s reason for committing the crime. Betty was quite moralistic. She even gave me a dressing down when she thought I was putting my patients at risk by not spreading salt on the icy car park outside. Anyway, when she spoke to the killer, she sealed her own fate.’
Cathy looked around at all of the volunteers.
‘Poor Betty was lured to the railway line. It took me a while to work out how. All it took was knowledge of her beloved pet cat. The murderer had simply to tell the old lady that they had seen her cat down by the tracks and Betty would have been beside herself with worry. Betty, along with her cat basket, the imprint of which I discovered on the grass by the railway, went down that evening after work. She perhaps wasn’t aware of how much danger she was in when she saw her assailant. I certainly hope not. It must have been over very fast. After killing her, the murderer then returned to the shop, the closest place to change. They removed their bloodied clothes, and cleverly left them outside the shop in a binbag, to be disposed of the next morning. It rained that night, and I hear from Holly that the floor was bleached the following day. She also told me that a cat basket had been handed into the shop, also left by the murderer. She came across it in the skip when she was hunting for evidence, but of course, thought nothing of it. There must have been a good bit of tidying up to do, and then there was the quick trip down to the sheltered housing complex where Thomas lived, to leave a little incriminating evidence to throw the police off the scent. I don’t think Thomas was a target in particular. It might have been anyone living up there.’
‘Horrible,’ Holly said. ‘And then Thomas was shouting and stomping around, telling people he knew who the killer was, and me, well, I found the evidence. I had to be shut up too.’
‘Thomas knew a good deal more than any of us realised,’ Cathy said. ‘Remember his obsession with numbers and times, Holly? I found out where that started. It was when he was a boy. I know Neil, you discovered the psychiatrist’s body in the burnt-out building, but someone had been there before. Too young and confused by what he had discovered, and perhaps not even realising at the time that the man was dead, young Thomas Hogg rooted in the psychiatrist’s pockets. I think, if truth be told, he was hoping to find some money, but instead, he found this.’ Cathy reached in her pocket and withdrew a torn scrap of paper. On it was written: ‘Eight o’clock.’ Thomas kept his treasure all these years. He assumed after finding it, that everyone received a time, just before they were about to die. He was always on the lookout for his number.’
The room was silent. Cathy took a deep breath and continued.
‘The psychiatrist had been given a time to meet in the deserted building. I can only assume that he thought it was for romantic reasons, but his assailant had other ideas. He was killed in cold blood. Betty must have seen the assailant fleeing the building. She kept it quiet all these years. She probably had greater reason than most for wanting the man dead anyway but the murderer wasn’t ready to hand themselves in for anyone.’
The room was quite still.
‘So, the police know?’ asked Holly.
‘Oh yes. It couldn’t go on any longer,’ Cathy said. ‘You brought the notebook?’
From under the table, Holly produced the A4 diary that had been on the charity shop counter. Inside was written all the volunteers’ initials and th
e times they were starting and finishing. ‘The writing is faded and a little burned,’ Cathy said, looking at Thomas’s scrap of paper. ‘It’s just possible that a handwriting expert might be able to make a match. I admit it’s a longshot …’
The volunteers remained frozen.
‘And the only other evidence that I found in the skip has now gone,’ Holly began. ‘What about the tablets I was poisoned with? I thought you said that might lead you to who it was?’
Cathy smiled. ‘Maybe as a trainee doctor, you can tell us the side effects of tricyclic antidepressant medication, Holly.’
The girl smiled and nodded. ‘Postural hypotension, tachycardia and dry mouth. In other words, dizziness on standing …’
But she didn’t need to go on. All eyes turned as the chair screamed on the linoleum flooring. Carol’s face was like a mask.
The bell on the door sounded with another customer entering the café, but no one looked to see who it was. The table was mesmerised.
‘I think,’ Cathy went on, ‘that the social work thing confused me. I assumed of course, that you had been up at the hospital in a professional capacity. I, of all people, should have known that just because you were working, didn’t mean you were mentally well.’
When she spoke, her voice was odd and cracked. ‘You’ve no idea what I suffered. None of you.’ Tricia reached out a hand but Carol recoiled. ‘Don’t touch me. I don’t want your sympathy.’ Her face was almost grey, her lips, a dreadful mauve. ‘I went into that place with a nervous breakdown. They were meant to help. Instead, I came out irreparable. That man. What he did to us with his ‘new, experimental treatments’ …’ She looked at Cathy with contempt. ‘You think you understand? You don’t know anything. None of you. Imagine being strapped to a bed, all the while, knowing what was coming. I willed myself to die so it would be over.’ She looked around the group, taking each of them in, her eyes narrowed, full of pain and fury. ‘And then, as if that hadn’t been bad enough, how do you think it was for me? I finished one torment and began another. All these years living in fear. That bitch, Betty! She’d seen me. Said she spotted me running from the building. Her office looked out onto it, of course. She told me it was our secret, that she understood why I’d done it. I thought I was safe. But gradually, I began to realise what she meant. I was never free after that. They might as well have locked me away. She watched over me all these years. Just a raised eyebrow. Just a little remark. That was enough to let me know that she still had power over me. It was torture. Far worse than what that doctor ever did. And then,’ Carol’s voice climbed. ‘And then, she had the cheek to tell me it was time to confess! Time to own up to what I had done. All to appease her conscience when she was dying. She said it to me as if she had done me a favour all these years. Said that I’d had a good life and the police wouldn’t be harsh when they heard why.’
