Merciless: a gripping detective thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book 2)

by Heleyne Hammersley

  She flicked the notification sign on the door to Occupied and ushered Caroline inside. It was much more comfortable than either of the two rooms that the two women had met in before. The floor was plushly carpeted in deep green and the large oval wooden desk was highly polished with chairs pushed neatly up to it at regular intervals. Beneath the window was a smaller arrangement of furniture. Two low chairs upholstered in pale green and a coffee table. Maddie led the way to the chairs and pointed to the one furthest from the door.

  ‘Sit down. At least it’s comfortable in here and we can chat for a bit without getting interrupted. What did you want to know?’

  Caroline took a deep breath. She had to pitch this exactly right. ‘Firstly, do you know why he was in so much pain when he was admitted?’

  Maddie consulted her tablet. ‘He had a small obstruction to his bowel. His liver is slightly enlarged, mainly due to the cirrhosis rather than the cancer, but, as the tumours grow, they can cause pressure elsewhere. One of the lobes of his liver was causing some pressure on his large intestine. If it had continued, we would have considered surgery but, after a period of limiting Dennis’s food intake and some gentle movement the problem seems to have resolved itself, for now.’

  ‘So he can go home?’

  ‘He can. But you need to know that it’s only going to get worse. The cancer has started to metastasize; an MRI scan found tiny pinprick tumours in his left lung.’

  ‘He didn’t mention that he’d had an MRI.’

  Maddie smiled sympathetically. ‘I don’t mean this to sound rude but you don’t seem to communicate well with your father.’

  Caroline laughed, a harsh bark, surprised by Maddie’s directness. ‘Believe me, it’s mutual. We’re not what you’d call close.’

  ‘But you’re willing to look after him? To see him through the final stage of this illness? It could take months and it won’t be easy.’

  For the first time since formulating her plan, Caroline was being offered a chance to walk away. She could leave him to the NHS, let them deal with him, put him in a hospice when the time came and allow him a quiet, medicated passing with as much dignity as death would allow. She could go back to her comfortable home and her quiet life, safe in the knowledge that, in time, she’d be free of the guilt and the responsibility without even having to lift a finger. But that wasn’t going to happen. She wanted to see him suffer.

  ‘Not an option,’ she said. ‘It’s my duty to see this through. At least, when it’s over I’ll know I did the right thing.’

  Maddie smiled. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you are doing the right thing. When the time comes, I’m sure he’d rather be in his own bed than in hospital or in a hospice. It’s very kind of you.’

  ‘So, when can I get him home?’

  Maddie tapped again on the tablet computer. ‘He’s been stable for the past seventy-two hours. His medication is minimal. You could take him now if you wanted.’

  Caroline felt her throat constrict. It was too soon. She had nothing in place at the house. She wasn’t ready.

  Maddie must have read her expression. ‘I’m not suggesting that we discharge him immediately. We need to put a care plan in place, with your input of course, and we need to talk to Dennis, to check that this is what he wants.’

  ‘He just wants to get out of here,’ Caroline said.

  ‘I know that. But we need to present him with his options.’

  So it might not be that simple, Caroline thought. They might decide that she wasn’t a fit carer, that he’d be better off in a hospice or some other sort of care facility. She couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or relieved and was about to ask Maddie to explain further when the nurse’s phone rang. She fumbled it out of her pocket, obviously embarrassed by the interruption and looked at the screen.

  ‘I need to take this,’ she said, standing up.

  Caroline pretended to look out of the window, trying to listen to Maddie’s end of the conversation.

  The nurse walked as far as the door but seemed reluctant to go out into the corridor. ‘I know,’ she was saying. ‘I’ll get it but I need more time.’ A pause. ‘Just another couple of weeks. No. No, I can’t afford that. We agreed on the rate. No. No that’s not fair, it’s not what we agreed.’ The nurse went quiet, obviously listening. ‘I have no choice, do I?’ she said, slamming the phone down onto the table.

  ‘Problem?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘No. It’s personal. Let’s get back to your father’s case.’

  She sat back down but her eyes kept drifting to the window or the door. She couldn’t focus and called Dennis by the wrong name twice. Caroline let her waffle for a few minutes and then leaned forward and took Maddie’s hand. ‘I can see that you’re upset. We could do this tomorrow if that’s better.’

  Maddie shook her head but she couldn’t quite manage to fight back the tears that had been threatening since she’d sat back down.

  ‘Is it money?’ Caroline asked quietly.

  Maddie nodded, the movement causing the tears to trickle down her face and fall onto the carpet in large silent drops.

  Caroline watched as they were absorbed by the carpet, leaving slightly darker spots on the surface. ‘I’ve told you that I can help.’

  Maddie shook her head quickly, obviously not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘I can lend you the money today. I’ll just need your bank details. I could probably do it now, on my phone if that’s what you wanted. You need to get out from under this, Maddie. If not for yourself than for Ethan.’

  The other woman flinched at her son’s name.

  ‘It’s honestly nothing to me. I won’t be demanding repayments every few days, and I won’t charge interest. I’ve been where you are, Maddie, and I was fortunate enough to be able to sort it out. Let me share some of my good fortune.’

  Caroline let the silence hang between them. She’d said enough. All she could do was wait.

  Eventually Maddie raised her eyes warily. ‘Why?’

  Caroline frowned, pretending not to understand.

  ‘Why would you do that? Lend me money? What do you want?’

  ‘Nothing, except to help you. I’ve seen people destroyed by their debts. Torn apart. I’ve known people who’ve lost kids, parents, jobs, everything. I was so nearly one of them. This is the first time I’ve been in a position to do something about it for somebody.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Maddie conceded. ‘Can we get back to your dad’s care? There’s a few things we need to discuss.’

  Fifteen minutes later, a tentative plan was in place. Caroline would take Dennis home the following afternoon – if he agreed – and she could be supported, when the time came, by a team of qualified carers who would help with Dennis’s ‘daily needs’ which Caroline assumed would be bathing and dressing. He would be offered a range of medication for his pain and be assessed every few weeks by his GP in order to ascertain if any changes in his medication were deemed necessary. Maddie also gave Caroline a phone number for Macmillan Cancer Support ‘just in case’.

  As Caroline stood up to leave, Maddie grabbed her hand.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll let me help?’

  ‘Yes. For Ethan. I don’t want him sucked down into this and the people that I owe money to know about him. The man on the phone even suggested that I ask my son for money as he’s got a job. They know all about me.’

  ‘Of course they do,’ Caroline said. ‘That’s why this is better. How much do you need?’

  Maddie dipped her head in embarrassment. ‘I owe five thousand to the bank and the credit card companies and these… thugs… ten. I can deal with the credit card debt and the overdraft if I can just get out from under this big one.’

  Caroline knew that it probably wouldn’t be that simple. ‘What’s the interest rate on the ten grand?’

  ‘That’s what he was ringing for. It’s gone up. He wants a grand a month for the next year.’

  ‘Twenty per cent. H
ow about I loan you fifteen grand to get rid of him and pay off some other stuff? We’ll settle terms once you’ve got it sorted out.’

  Maddie’s eyes drifted, obviously imagining what she could do without debt collectors breathing down her neck. She glanced at Caroline but couldn’t hold her gaze – her embarrassment clear in the dip of her head and her flushed cheeks.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, finally capitulating. ‘That would be amazing. If you do that I can clear the rest of it easily. I will pay you back as soon as I can.’

  ‘I know you will,’ Caroline said. ‘I knew when I saw you at GA that you were really determined to sort out your life. You’re strong. Stronger than me. Give me your bank details before I leave and I’ll do the transfer today.’

  Maddie appeared to be about to say something but Caroline changed the subject before they could descend into mutual admiration.

  ‘Now, let’s see if my dad wants to go home tomorrow,’ she said, stepping out into the corridor.

  14

  The house had changed since Caroline’s last visit. As soon as she pushed open the door, she sensed a difference as though the atoms of the hallway had subtly rearranged themselves in her absence. The smell of the kitchen was less oppressive, cleaner somehow, with the odour of fried food covered by a lemony tang, and the tiles around the hall carpet looked less scuffed.

  Caroline looked around, puzzled and then she realised – Bren. She must have been in and done some cleaning while Caroline had been at home. Which meant that Bren had a key. That was something which would have to change. Caroline didn’t know the woman very well. Bren had lived across the road for as long as Caroline could remember but she’d not really been aware of her until she heard that Dennis had a ‘lady friend’. She hadn’t been interested. It was none of her business what he did, and her mother had been dead for years before he took up with Bren, but the older woman could be a problem if she had unrestricted access to the house.

  Much as Caroline resented Bren’s intrusion, she was glad that it was one less job that she would have to do. This was going to be difficult enough without having to do the dusting or clean the bathroom before she brought Dennis home.

  Curious, she inspected the sitting room. The ashtray had been wiped clean and the surfaces gleamed. Bren was obviously a big fan of Pledge. Caroline trudged upstairs – carpet spotlessly clean – and into her bedroom. There the bed had been made up with sheets and blankets, just as she remembered from her childhood – Dennis’s bed was the only one with a duvet. The top sheet had been turned down in a manner that was supposed to look cosy and inviting but, to Caroline, looked like a sanatorium bed – somewhere she could get lost and never be found.

  Sighing loudly, Caroline dumped her suitcase on the floor and sat on the bed. It wasn’t the same one that she’d slept in as a child, this one felt softer, more yielding as she rocked herself backwards and forwards. Her stomach grumbled reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since a hurried breakfast of muesli and yoghurt, and she briefly considered walking down to the local pub for a bar meal. She quickly pushed the thought aside. She didn’t want to turn up at the hospital smelling of booze and burgers.

  The bed did its shaky wobble as she pushed herself upright and decided to see what Dennis had got in his pantry – even though she already knew what to expect. She trotted downstairs and into the kitchen, almost laughing out loud as she saw that she’d been exactly right. Row upon row of regimented tins and jars were stacked on the pantry shelves, their labels facing the front so they could be easily read. She pulled off the top of the old-fashioned metal bread bin, expecting it to either be empty or to be confronted with a mouldy green crust or two.

  ‘Nice one, Bren, you old witch,’ Caroline said aloud as she pulled out a fresh loaf, and a multipack of crisps. She opened the fridge and shook her head in disbelief. One shelf contained tinned meats; luncheon meat, ham, corned beef, and the next one down held packets of chocolate biscuits of the type she’d never been allowed when she’d lived there. Thick chocolate wafers and coated digestives were stacked up with Penguins and Kit-Kats. They’d always been too expensive, too much of an extravagance. It looked like Dennis knew how to treat himself now.

  The fridge door was more as she remembered it. Milk on the bottom, fresh again thanks to Bren, cheese in the plastic-covered top section and, in the middle, blocks of butter and lard.

  ‘If the cancer hadn’t got you, a heart attack probably would have,’ Caroline muttered, picking up a packet of lard and reading the nutritional information. She grabbed a tub of margarine and slammed the fridge door shut. As she did so, her eyes were drawn to the gaps between the fridge and the walls of the pantry. They were narrow but offered the perfect storage solution for another one of Dennis’s vices. Cans of beer and lager were stacked almost as high as the fridge, stretching right to the back wall of the pantry. Different brands, different strengths, jumbled up, in complete contrast to the food tins on the shelves above. These weren’t arranged for ease of selection, they were there for easy access; Dennis could just bend down and grab a can, and he obviously didn’t care which one.

  ‘No secret where I get my love of drink from. Thanks, Dad. And now I’m talking to myself. Maybe there’s some sort of hereditary madness in the family as well. Icing on the bloody cake.’

  She gathered her sandwich makings and dumped them on the table rather than make her lunch on top of the fridge as Dennis would have done. Plates were piled up in the same cupboard where they’d always been and the cutlery nestled in the same partitions in the same drawer – knives, forks, spoons, with teaspoons in the smaller bottom section. Caroline took a knife and smeared margarine thinly on a slice of bread. Then she opened a packet of crisps, grabbed a handful and sprinkled them on top of the margarine. The snack was completed by folding the bread over and squashing it down with the heel of her hand. The perfect crisp butty; childhood comfort food with maximum fat and minimum nutrition. Caroline briefly contemplated smothering the next one in tomato ketchup but decided that was regressing too far and ate it plain.

  After eating, Caroline checked her watch for the hundredth time since she’d arrived. Still only half past one – at least another two hours to kill. She thought about going for a walk, but where to? She could head for the shops but that would only take about ten minutes and Bren had already supplied the essentials. There was a path across the fields next to the quarry that she remembered clearly from dog walks as a teenager – an excuse to sneak off for a quick cigarette before Sunday lunch – but, again, there was no real purpose and she worried that she might just wander for hours, lost in memories.

  Dumping her plate in the sink, Caroline decided on the easiest option – daytime TV. She settled herself in the sitting room, choosing a seat in the middle of the sofa, careful to avoid Dennis’s armchair which would have afforded her the best view of the screen.

  She’d just picked up the remote control when a noise at the back door startled her. She listened, finger poised over the mute button of the remote. A faint knock. Then the distinctive sound of the handle turning and the door clicking open. Burglars? Unscrupulous local youths who had heard that Dennis was in hospital and decided to try their luck? Then realisation dawned and Caroline leapt from her seat just as the living room door was pushed open.

  Bren. All five feet nothing of her stood in the doorway staring at Caroline as though she were an intruder.

  Feeling like Goldilocks caught with her spoon in the porridge bowl, Caroline slowly sat down again. She picked up the remote control and turned off the television, wishing that she could point it at Bren and make her go away just as easily.

  ‘Caroline.’

  Bristling at the familiarity, Caroline forced herself to be polite. ‘Brenda. How are you?’

  The older woman walked into the room and perched on the arm of Dennis’s chair, crossing her arms in a proprietary manner. She was very much as Caroline remembered her. Short, almost as wide as she was tall, with ankles that overflowed
the tops of her shoes like dough in a mixing bowl waiting to be given a final kneading. Her features were sharp and her small eyes were hidden among a nest of fat and wrinkles, giving her face a weathered expression as though she’d spent a lot of time squinting into the sun.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m not the one in hospital.’ It was a simple statement but one loaded with accusation. It was obvious that Bren held Caroline at least partly responsible for Dennis’s illness. Bren uncrossed her arms and placed her hands demurely in her lap where they lay like strange sea anemones, beached upon the bright pattern of her heavy cotton dress. ‘What time are you picking him up?’

  ‘The doctor should have seen him by about four, then he should be able to leave.’

  ‘And you’re staying?’

  Caroline nodded.

  ‘That’s something, I suppose. There wasn’t a problem getting time off work?’

  ‘No. They’ve been quite good, really,’ Caroline lied. ‘I can take a leave of absence for as long as I need.’

  ‘The house is clean for him. I gave it a good do the day before yesterday. It had got really filthy. I’m surprised you didn’t notice when you picked his things up.’

  An accusation. Caroline should have cleaned the house after her last visit. Or perhaps she was such a slovenly housekeeper herself that she hadn’t even noticed the state of her father’s home.

  ‘And there’s fresh bread and milk so you won’t need to do much shopping. You can always nip up to the Co-op if he needs anything else.’

  ‘Have you been to see Dennis much?’ Caroline asked. ‘He said he didn’t expect you to. I suppose it’s a bit difficult with the buses.’

  ‘I’ve managed to get through most days,’ Bren said with a smile that was almost smug. ‘Our Ian’s been taking me.’

  Caroline was startled to realise that she’d forgotten Bren’s son. Two years older than Jeanette, Ian had ‘done well for himself’ and set up his own company. Something to do with computers, Caroline thought. ‘That’s good of him.’