YOU'RE DEAD: Three Gripping Murder Mystery Suspense Novels

by Diane M Dickson

  There was a small sound in the garden. A rattle in the shrubs. Probably that bloody Mao rooting in the bins again. She peered through the damask drapes. There didn’t seem to be anything untoward in the darkened grounds.

  She settled back to her magazine. Again there was a rattle. She opened the back door and stepped onto the brick patio. There against the far wall, there was a darker patch of shadow.

  She had never been the nervy type and so Phillipa didn’t mess about feeling scared.

  “Hello, you over there by the wall. I see you, what do you want? I have already called the police so you might as well bugger off.”

  The figure drew nearer, a tall broad shape in the moonlight. “Police eh, I don’t suppose you have.”

  Stepping into the light the dishevelled man grinned down at her. He was unshaven, scruffy and redolent of unwashed socks and sweaty armpits. The greasy cotton cap on his head covered long brown hair and his trainers gaped and sagged around his feet.

  “Who the hell are you?” Phillipa was slightly disconcerted by the nerve of this intruder but she had the staff at her back and her mobile in her hand.

  “Never mind that, where’s Ma?”

  “Ma?”

  “Yes, where’s Ma? Are you some sort of housekeeper or sommat?”

  “I’m Matron.”

  “Get you. I asked where Ma is. I need to speak to her.”

  “Just exactly who are you and who the blazes is Ma?”

  “I’m Robert and Ma is Mrs B, the woman who lives here. I need to speak to her. I know she will probably say that she doesn’t want to see me, but I need to see her now.”

  The world tilted as Phillipa gripped the door frame and tried to get her breath back. Her heart pounded against her chest wall and her stomach lurched. Robert.

  Chapter 12

  The tall figure standing a few yards away started to sway, years of training took over from the confusion swirling in her brain. Phillipa stepped quickly forward and supported the fainting man.

  Holding him almost upright with one hand around his back and the other draping his arm across her shoulders, she drew him into the sitting room. He flopped back against the cushions of the settee and covered his eyes with a grubby, work-roughened hand.

  “Here, drink this.” Robert opened his eyes and taking the glass of water drank it back in one long swig, the muscles in his throat rippling. Sighing, he flopped forward letting his arms hang between his knees, his head lolled loosely in front of his chest.

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “Hmm, I’ll be okay in a minute. Thanks for the water. Can you just give me a moment?”

  “Do you want another drink? Are you dizzy, sick, what? Seems to me that you nearly fainted, is that something that happens often? Are you ill, over-tired?”

  “Hmmm, just a moment that’s all if you would and then I can talk.”

  She brought another glass of water and he took it gratefully. “Would you like tea?”

  “Oh yeah, great, that would be really good. Do you mind? This is really kind. I hope I didn’t scare you. You know, before.”

  “Well you did give me a bit of a fright but it’s okay now.”

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see Ma and I knew that if I came to the front door she probably wouldn’t open it and I thought that maybe if I came in the back way. This place has changed though. This flat is new.”

  “Yes I built it on. Look, before we go any further there is one thing that you really have to know. I’m afraid Mrs Bowling, your mother. Well, I’m afraid that she has been dead for over three years. I am really sorry.”

  “Dead. Oh, dead, I see. But you, why does there have to be a nurse if she’s dead?”

  “No, I’m not her nurse. Well actually I was but that was a long time ago of course and in the hospital. I’m Matron now. This place, erm, well this is now Bowling Clinic. It’s a nursing home.”

  Robert glanced around and then back at Phillipa. “How does that work then, what is it, some sort of memorial? Did she leave a trust or something? That doesn’t really sound like Ma. She wasn’t known for her altruism.” With this he gave a short laugh.

  “No, that’s not it.” Phillipa was spared the need to try to explain by Robert sliding down on the settee with a groan.

  “Sorry, sorry. I feel lousy again. Look I’ll get out of your hair for now. I’ll have to come back though. I need to find out what happened and so on.”

  “You’re not really well enough to go anywhere just now I don’t think. Look, we have a spare room, why don’t you stay here? You can have a shower. Well you don’t have to do that now if you don’t want to.” Phillipa blushed at the blunder but really she was very aware of the animal smell of him and the ingrained grime on his hands and arms.

  “Could I do that? That would be really great, brilliant in fact.”

  Back in the sitting room some fifteen minutes later Phillipa swigged back the remainder of the red wine, now quite warm and disgusting but she needed the jolt. Robert up in the quiet back room grinned to himself as he snuggled down under the luxurious duvet, warm, clean and very pleased with his night’s work.

  Chapter 13

  Knocking briefly on the door, Phillipa marched in with the breakfast tray. Robert was in the shower. She sniffed with disapproval at the stale smell which had already sullied the lovely room. A pile of dirty clothes was thrown in the corner. She left the tray and withdrew.

  Tossing and turning through the night she hoped she had now come up with a viable plan and a believable story. She would use vagaries and fudging and pray that Robert was still inclined to have nothing to do with his mother and her life. She would try to stay away from out-and-out lying but of course if that were necessary then so be it.

  Later when his tray had been returned to the kitchen and the staff reported that the “new patient” was sitting in the day room, she strode down the hall, straightened her shoulders and went into attack mode.

  “Good morning, I do hope that you’re feeling better today. Was everything alright with your breakfast?”

  “Really great, thanks.” He bestowed a charming smile on her. Now that his hair was washed and he had slept for a few hours she realized he was rather handsome. A little bedraggled and roguish, but easy on the eye for all that.

  “When you’re feeling rested I think it would be a good idea for us to have a chat. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m happy to clarify anything for you. Would you like me to arrange for your clothes to be laundered?”

  “No, don’t bother about that. It’s hardly worth it and to be honest I need to be getting on. But if you have time now I would like to try to understand a bit about what has happened here.”

  The thought of him putting those smelly, grubby articles back on appalled her. However, acknowledging that it was none of her business and the sooner this was all finished the better, she let things stand. Perching on the edge of the chair next to him she pasted on her sympathetic face.

  “First of all let me say that I am very sorry that I had to give you that information about your mother. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He gave a short spurt of ironic laughter. “Loss, yeah right. I guess you didn’t know Ma at all well.”

  “Not really, I nursed her for a very short while. I was there with her when she died.”

  “Three years ago, you said. What was it, heart, cancer, what?”

  “Erm, complications following her admission to hospital with pneumonia.”

  Phillipa leaned forward and looked earnest. “I do know that you had, well, not been on good terms with your mother. A neighbour made some comments. I suppose that makes this very difficult for you. Not having had the chance to make amends and put things on an even footing is often hard when there has been a death.”

  “We hadn’t spoken for over ten years. We didn’t see eye to eye about plans for my future. She wanted me to go into banking like my father. I wasn’t prepared to die at my desk from a stress-induced s
troke at age forty-seven. I went abroad, did some travelling, volunteering, the usual sort of dispossessed son sort of thing.”

  “Ah, I see. You never got in touch then?”

  “No.”

  “Have you any siblings?”

  “No, there’s just me.”

  “Hmmm. Well all I can say is that, at the end it was peaceful. She died in her sleep.”

  “Right. Well that’s good I suppose. But that doesn’t really tell me anything about how all this happened. How come this place is, you know, like this?” He swept his arm round in an arch.

  “I run the place. I took it on when your mother died. She had made it clear that it was something that she would like the house to be used for.”

  He burst into a loud shout of laughter. “Oh come on, that’s just not possible. Ma, wanting the house to be a nursing home. You have got to be kidding me. Who owns it anyway? You say you run it, who actually owns it.”

  Phillipa gulped, her heart raced. How was she going to carry this off? In the dark of the night in her room this had made sense but now it was very difficult. In her pocket she poked at the false call button on her phone. A discreet buzz sounded from the region of her hip. She took out her mobile phone.

  “Yes, Matron here. Oh, right I’m coming.” She stood up. “Sorry Robert an emergency, I have to go. Can we continue this later?”

  “Yes, sure. Off you go. Oh can you arrange for a cup of coffee for me?”

  “Yes, of course, certainly.” The cavalier way that he issued the request rang an alarm bell and caused a spurt of anxiety; Phillipa rushed from the room and down to her flat where she plopped onto a chair. A vague premonition told her that all was not going to go her way after all.

  In the dayroom Robert stood up and strolled to the window. He was grinning broadly. He had her on the run, oh yes, this was all going swimmingly. He sketched a mock salute. Here’s to you, Robert. You’d be proud if you could see me now.

  Chapter 14

  “Hello there, busy are you?” Phillipa jumped as Robert appeared at the private doorway to her accommodation. He was still wearing the clinic-issued dressing gown.

  “Oh, it’s you. Sorry this is private here, I don’t allow patients in.”

  “No, well I can understand that, but of course I’m not a patient am I?”

  She tried a smile, it was forced and nervous. “No, no of course it’s just that, well you know, the dressing gown and everything.”

  “Hmm, anyway are you free now, can we continue our ‘chat’?”

  “Come in, come in. Sit down; did you have your coffee?”

  “Yup, very nice. You run a tight ship here, everything very calm and well-ordered. I barely recognise the house though. Whoever owns it must have spent a fair amount.” She stared straight at him, her mind whirling. What the hell was she going to say? Suddenly she made a decision.

  She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase here. I own the clinic. I came to it by default. When your mother died she had the deeds to the house with her.” At this point she was going to try to give away the bare minimum, but backed into a corner as she was there was no other way that she could find except to stick as tightly as possible to the facts. Robert sat down, crossed his arms and looked at her calmly, his almost unblinking gaze was disconcerting and Phillipa found herself desperately looking for something on which to fix her eyes.

  “Well, erm, as I say Mrs Bowling, your mother, had the deeds of the house on her. The records showed no next of kin. There was no mention of a son, you. Anyway I knew that if the state claimed this place it would be sold off and probably made into flats by a developer and it was just exactly what I wanted to enable me to open this clinic.”

  She paused and waited. Robert said nothing, just stared. A couple of moments stretched between them. “Well anyway, yes, I suppose I shouldn’t have done it but I did. I spent a lot of money on the redevelopment and all my time and three years to get it as it is. I didn’t know about you, obviously if I had I would have tried to find you or at least somebody would.”

  “Okay, so basically what you are telling me is that you stole this place and have been using for your own ends?”

  “Well, I don’t think that I would have put it quite like that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would, but I would.”

  “I’ve worked so hard on this place, it’s my life. You didn’t want it, did you? You’d gone off and cut off all contact with your mother.”

  “Okay. Let’s not get over-excited here. I can see that you have worked hard, you must be quite well off though. It must have cost a mint to do the place up and get it going. Maybe you could just give me my dues as if you’d bought it from me.”

  “What, no I can’t. No, I haven’t got enough. Anyway it was never yours.”

  “It was more mine than yours. I would have to get advice but I’m sure that with no-one else it would have come to me. I don’t expect there was a will. Ma didn’t hold with solicitors, banks and so on.”

  At the mention of solicitors even in a negative way Phillipa’s stomach lurched. “Wait, no wait maybe we could arrange something. You could have an income from the clinic, move into one of the rooms, I don’t know but surely something.”

  “Tell you what. I’m going to go and have a nap now and let you have a little think and then we’ll continue later.” He left abruptly and the heavy door swung closed behind him with a thump. Phillipa perched on the edge of the settee, buried her head in her hands. It was all coming down around her.

  Chapter 15

  Gently turning the door knob, Phillipa glanced back down the hallway. All was quiet. Most of the patients were resting and the staffing was at a minimum now in the late afternoon. All the medical treatment had been completed and the procedures for settling people for sleep wouldn’t start until much later.

  Pushing the door carefully she peeped through the small gap. Robert lay on top of the bed. She tutted, she didn’t allow this. Patients were either in bed or out. She put aside her irritation; she had to keep reminding herself that this was not a patient. This was a huge threat to all that she had accomplished and all that she had hoped to achieve.

  He slept with his face towards the door and one hand cushioning his cheek. His dark hair flopped on the pillow. His dark hair.

  She ran back to the flat and grabbed the keys for the attics. Running up the back stairs she tried to keep her thoughts under control and her nerves calm. She closed and locked the door behind her and then pulled down the big box of photographs.

  Throwing aside some old albums she found what she was looking for. A large wooden box with a hinged lid. On the lid someone had stencilled a label. ROBERT - SCHOOL.

  The photographs cascaded to the floor as she upended the container. She had been through this box for the first time three months ago when she was trying to establish the facts. It hadn’t been down in the study when she “took over” the house but already kept here in the dark. Now it made sense. It must have been stowed here after the split between Robert and Mrs Bowling.

  There were years’ worth of pictures. Robert as a five-year old in a new, stiff-looking uniform. Robert on a trip to the zoo with his class aged about ten. Robert in a new blazer – now long trousers had taken over from school shorts. Robert in cricket whites, rugby gear, in the school play. Robert in a dinner suit as a teenager looking smart but coy. All the pictures any family has of a beloved child throughout a school career. A couple taken later but not in any uniform, riding on a tractor somewhere, astride a motor bike with crash helmet cradled in his arms. All pictures of Robert, his blonde hair shining. Every single one showed a blonde boy.

  She picked out some of the later ones and put them into her pocket. The others she replaced in the box, pushing it back onto the shelf. Okay, hair changes as a person ages, hair can be died or fade, but if a boy is still blonde when he has reached his late teens is it really likely that in his thirties it would have become almost black? There were the glasses
as well. In all the photographs Robert wore glasses but of course in these days of contact lenses and optical surgery that wasn’t so reliable.

  Back in the flat she peered at the pictures through a magnifying glass. The more she looked the more she became convinced that the boy in the images was not the person now snoozing upstairs on the dishevelled bed.

  Chapter 16

  She ripped the backs from some of her photograph frames, none were of family but she had kept a couple of reminders of her own career: one in uniform the first time she had been on duty; her graduation picture of course; and one of Bowling Clinic the day that they had opened.

  She replaced them all with pictures of Robert at various ages. She was hoping against hope that whoever he was, the man upstairs hadn’t noticed these on the other couple of visits to her living quarters.

  She was about to go to check on him when there was a discreet knock on her door.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry to bother you Matron.” It was one of the nursing staff standing respectfully on the threshold.

  “Ah, Nurse Chang, what can I do for you?”

  “Matron, I thought that you should know that Mrs Dennis, the patient in room 12, postoperative hysterectomy...”

  “Yes.” Phillipa acknowledged the reference to the elderly patient who had been with the clinic for a couple of weeks. Old and terminally ill she was pretty demanding but very rich.

  “I’m afraid that she has become incontinent. The last two days. You said that you must be notified.” The little nurse was plainly very much intimidated and probably wondering why such an obvious complication of this patient’s situation should be reported to the most senior of staff.

  “Thank you nurse.” Damn, that on top of everything else was not what she needed at this point in time. Up to now Phillipa had found it very easy to deal with patients like this. An addition to the bedtime drink for a night or two kept them in bed and seemingly deteriorating, and then an extra addition when the time was right and off they went. It was a kindness, just like Mrs Bowling way back when. Phillipa’s worst nightmare would be incontinence and inability to be anything other than clean, fragrant, fresh and wholesome. She could never in her wildest dreams imagine wanting to live in a world where the more basic bodily functions weren’t completely under control and of course she naturally assumed that everyone else must feel exactly the same.