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

by Heleyne Hammersley

  ‘Did Maddie know Dennis’s daughter? Did she speak to her when Dennis was here?’

  Gemma looked bewildered. ‘I suppose so. If the daughter was his primary contact then she would have done.’

  ‘But you don’t remember them having any other contact? Maddie never mentioned Caroline Lambert in any other context?’

  Gemma shook her head. ‘Not that I recall. It would have been unusual. We’re discouraged from anything other than a professional relationship with patients and their families.’ She began picking at a bit of loose foam that was bursting out of the seat cover next to her leg. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone.’

  ‘We need to try to piece together her last movements in order to work out what happened,’ Hollis said. ‘You say she was in work on Tuesday?’

  Gemma stopped picking at the seat and stared at Hollis gratefully. It was instinctive in her to try to help, Kate could see that, it was part of her job, her training. Hollis had struck just the right tone.

  ‘Yes. She worked from nine to six on Tuesday. I was on from eleven.’

  ‘So you saw her leave?’ Kate prompted.

  ‘She left just after six.’

  ‘Did she look like she was going home or going out somewhere?’

  ‘She wasn’t dressed up or anything, if that’s what you mean. She looked like she’d just changed out of her uniform like normal.’

  ‘Did she mention any plans for the evening?’

  ‘No. But, like I said, she was a private person. I just assumed she was going home but she might have had plans I… oh…’

  Gemma sat back in her seat suddenly, struck by a memory. Her eyes lost focus as though she was struggling to remember something important.

  ‘She was on the phone that afternoon. In here. I came in on my break to make a cup of coffee and she was sitting there.’ She pointed to where Kate was sitting. ‘She was hunched over a bit like she didn’t want anybody to overhear her.’

  Hollis was scribbling frantically. If Cooper could work her magic with her contact at the phone company she might be able to find out who had been calling.

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘It must have been around four. That’s the time I take my tea break when I’m on eleven to eight.’

  ‘And you didn’t hear the conversation?’

  Gemma shook her head. ‘She was talking really quietly. She seemed a bit agitated. I put the kettle on and got a tea bag but she was gone by the time I turned round. I didn’t see much of her after that. Like I said, it was a bit of a rough day.’

  ‘That’s really helpful,’ Hollis reassured her, snapping his notebook shut and sliding it into the pocket of his suit jacket. He stood up to leave but Kate hadn’t quite finished. The Dennis Lambert case was still niggling at her and she couldn’t let it go.

  ‘Did you ever see Caroline Lambert here after her father had been discharged?’

  Gemma frowned, clearly thrown by the sudden change of subject. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘And Maddie didn’t mention her, or her father?’

  ‘Not that I recall.’

  It could be a coincidence, then. That hen’s tooth in any investigation. Just sheer chance. The nurse appeared to be baffled by her questions. It didn’t feel right, though. Kate’s instincts were telling her that there was something here. A link was a link for a reason and she couldn’t afford to ignore it. ‘Who was Maddie’s boss?’

  ‘Good question,’ Gemma said with an attempt at a smile. ‘Ultimately the head of oncology but there should be a doctor with oversight of this ward. Should be. Maddie and another NP were practically running the place themselves because we’re a bit short of consultants. I can give you the number for oncology.’

  Kate remembered Nick Tsappis’ card in her pocket. ‘That won’t be necessary. Thanks.’

  Gemma checked her watch. ‘I’m really sorry but I have to get back to work. Not that I feel much like it. I wish I could’ve been more helpful.’

  Kate thanked Gemma for her time and led Hollis back to the corridor, trying to make sense of what they’d just been told.

  ‘What did you make of that? Maddie was Dennis Lambert’s nurse.’

  Hollis grinned at her. ‘Seeing ghosts and shadows? It’s not that big a town and the hospital covers a wide area. Most people end up here at one time or another.’

  There was something solid and reassuring about Hollis’s certainty. He hadn’t seen what she had. He’d seen a coincidence that he could easily explain. Nothing sinister, nothing to follow up on, nothing to get concerned about.

  Kate set off back towards reception, convinced that he was right, that she was really seeing shadows. And then her phone rang.

  DECEMBER

  Dear Caroline,

  You’ve been there for a few weeks now so I’m not surprised to hear that everything’s getting on top of you. I’m here if you need to talk. We can meet up whenever you want. I wonder if you just need to get it over and done with. Is it really worth spending any more time in that house? You’re strong enough at the moment but will you be in a few days? A few weeks? Think about it. He’s not worth making yourself ill over. None of this is, really. I know that you’re determined to see this through but don’t you think it’s gone on long enough? Please think about getting it over with soon. For your own sake.

  Love

  J

  19

  She hated him. It was such a simple emotion and such a release to finally admit it to herself. At first she thought it was fear, then loathing, then an abhorrence of his state. But she’d finally been able to name it. It was hatred. Everything she’d felt had been distilled, crystallised and refined until it was diamond hard and as clear as ice. She hated him.

  At least she didn’t have to hide it from him. There were whole days when she ignored his pleas for a drink or something to eat and others where she gave him everything he wanted and watched in disgust as he ate and drank. Twice he’d begged her to kill him and twice she’d refused, decreasing the morphine dose until his pain was unbearable but keeping him mildly sedated so he couldn’t escape the agony.

  It was only fair. He deserved to suffer. He wasn’t going to get an easy, dignified death: he was going to linger. She knew that the whisky was partly responsible for his pain; that his liver was struggling to metabolise it so she kept giving him small amounts; just enough to mix with the Diazepam and keep him sluggish and bedridden. And in pain.

  Sometimes he had moments of perfect clarity. He knew exactly where he was, what was wrong with him and what she was doing. That’s when he cried like a child and begged for release. Sometimes he called her by her mother’s name, confused and desperate. She learned to ignore his pitiful whimpering and his incoherent rambling. But she was getting tired. She wanted it to be over. She needed a plan for the end.

  A light knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Bren. Caroline had told her that she could continue to visit Dennis but only by prior arrangement. She couldn’t have her interrupting one of their heart-to-heart sessions where Caroline told him what a bastard he was and yelled at him until he agreed.

  Wearily, she rose from the kitchen table and opened the back door. Bren looked like she’d been out for the morning. Her hair was freshly styled and partially covered with a mauve headscarf, her make-up slightly overdone, as if she’d wanted to make an effort for somebody. Her chins wobbled with the humiliation of having to knock.

  ‘You said one o’clock,’ she said to Caroline, stepping forward without being invited in.

  ‘I know. He’s asleep.’ Caroline pushed the door further back, allowing Bren to manoeuvre her bulk inside.

  ‘You said I could see him, so I intend to,’ she said belligerently. ‘We had an agreement.’

  Caroline laughed in her face.

  ‘An agreement. Is that what you call it? I only allow you in here out of pity. Pity for you for wanting to help him, and pity for him because he’s got nobody else but you and me.’

  Bren snorte
d. ‘If I’d had my way, he wouldn’t have had you here. He was fine until you stuck your nose in.’

  Caroline sat back down at the kitchen table, regarding the older woman with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She was right. Without her intervention, Dennis would probably still be going for walks round the block or even popping into the pub. Did Bren have an inkling that Dennis’s condition wasn’t just the natural progress of his disease? Caroline doubted it. She’d no evidence that Bren was especially perceptive and she wouldn’t allow her any time alone with Dennis – supervising her visits extremely closely.

  Bren removed her coat and headscarf and draped them across the back of the other kitchen chair then stared at Caroline expectantly. ‘Well. Are we going to make small talk or can I go upstairs and see him?’

  ‘Do what you want. I told you he’s asleep. Feel free to go and have a look. If he’s shit himself again you can also feel free to clean him up and wash his pyjamas.’

  Bren reared back as though she’d been slapped. ‘How dare you talk about him like that? That man brought you up and now you talk about him as if he’s a naughty child. I ought to wash your mouth out, you disgusting woman.’

  Caroline stood up, toe to toe with Bren. Caroline towered over the older woman by a few inches so Bren had to step back in order to look her in the face.

  ‘Why don’t you try it,’ Caroline said with a smile. ‘There’s soap on the sink. And when you’ve done you can go up and say goodbye to your precious Dennis because it’ll be the last you’ll see of him. I allow you in here, Bren, when I don’t have to. You have no rights in this situation, and it’s only through my generosity that you’re still in this kitchen talking to me. So, if you want to keep coming back, a little respect might be the way forward.’

  Bren glared up at her, mouth opening and closing like a landed trout.

  ‘So? Do we have an understanding? This is my house and I’ll say what I want. If you don’t fucking like it you know where the door is!’

  The older woman went to pick up her coat and headscarf but then seemed to change her mind. She took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full five feet and said, ‘I’d like to see Dennis, please.’

  It was a minor victory but one that Caroline relished. Bren knew exactly where she stood and was aware of the consequences of her actions. It might just keep her in line for a while, and keeping her in line was a necessity.

  Caroline pushed past the older woman and trudged down the hallway.

  ‘Come on then!’ she shouted from the bottom of the stairs, aware that their raised voices may have awoken her father. ‘I haven’t got all day.’ She was halfway up the stairs before Bren appeared at the kitchen door.

  ‘I see he’s still only on paracetamol,’ she said.

  ‘I see you’re still a nosy cow,’ Caroline retorted, irritated that Bren had used her few seconds alone in the kitchen to do some snooping. Just as well Caroline kept the Diazepam and Oramorph in her bedroom and disposed of the empty packets and bottles deep in litter bins around the area. She couldn’t tell if Bren’s spluttering was further outrage or from the effort of climbing the stairs.

  Caroline stood outside Dennis’s bedroom door and ushered Bren across the threshold. The older woman sniffed loudly as she stepped inside the room, obviously trying to insinuate that she had a bloodhound-like sense for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing to find – Caroline made sure of that. Anything in the least bit incriminating was long gone by the time Bren arrived for her visits. She knew that Bren was assessing everything about the room, cataloguing and checking everything against her memory of the bedroom and of Dennis. Not that he bore much resemblance to the man she had known.

  The decline had surprised Caroline with its speed. She’d expected something less perceptible – a gentle easing down into lethargy and disinterest but, since she’d started the sedatives, Dennis had gone from being reasonably mobile and alert to the snorting, snoring husk that lay in the bed. She’d tried lowering the dose, alarmed at the sudden deterioration but a lighter touch left him more argumentative and more determined to have his own way. At least the sedatives did little for the pain and she could be sparing with the morphine if he wasn’t fully compliant.

  ‘How long has he been asleep?’ Bren asked.

  ‘A couple of hours,’ Caroline lied. She had no idea. She’d helped him to the bathroom, given him a cup of tea with Diazepam mixed in like sugar, and left him to get on with his morning. She’d been out to buy bread and milk, safe in the knowledge that he wasn’t able to leave his room and, when she’d got back, she’d read the paper and had a couple of mugs of coffee. An hour before Bren had been due, Caroline had zipped round with the vacuum cleaner, put the soiled bedding on to wash and run a flannel across Dennis’s inert face. Good enough to look like she was being a dutiful caring daughter.

  ‘Is he eating properly? He looks thin.’

  Resisting the urge to yell at her, Caroline answered Bren’s questions in a carefully judged tone; a calculated mix of weariness, irritation and concern. Yes he’d had a drink. Yes he’d been to the bathroom. No he’d not needed anything in the night. Not that Caroline was aware of at least because she’d had three gin and tonics and slept like a baby despite the oppressive memory-ridden bedroom and the lumpy mattress.

  ‘It smells a bit in here. Have you been opening the windows to let some air in?’

  ‘It smells because he sometimes shi– soils himself and I have to clean him and the bed,’ Caroline said, not trying too hard to mask her irritation. ‘I haven’t had the windows open because it’s minus three outside overnight and I don’t really want him to catch pneumonia or die of hypothermia.’

  Something about her tone must have registered with Dennis because he stirred, his lips making a liquid chewing motion which looked like an attempt to speak. His eyelids fluttered open and his cold grey eyes fixed on Caroline. The effect was like something from a horror film when the monster is supposed to be dead but he suddenly finds one last burst of strength and grabs the pretty girl by the ankle just as she thinks she’s escaped. Caroline froze. They’d been arguing the previous night about her mum and Jeanette, and Caroline had been quite clear that she wanted him to suffer. She’d intended for him to be asleep throughout Bren’s visit but he was waking up and he appeared to be fairly lucid.

  ‘Bren,’ he slurred, his eyes closing with the effort of forming the word.

  ‘I’m here, Dennis, love.’ Bren sighed, moving closer and leaning in so that she could hear if he said anything else.

  He turned towards her voice and opened his eyes again. ‘Not seen you for ages,’ he mumbled.

  Bren cast an accusatory glare at Caroline. ‘It’s not been that long, love. I came a couple of days ago. I’m glad you’re awake. I didn’t want to go home without talking to you.’

  His eyes closed again. Caroline wondered if the dose she’d given him earlier was enough to keep him docile if he really struggled against the sedative effects of the drug.

  ‘She’s supposed to be looking after me,’ he said. ‘Caroline. She’s supposed to be looking after me but she’s not.’

  Caroline stiffened. Was this it? Was he going to tell Bren about the drugs; about the pain and the arguments?

  ‘She’s not here,’ he continued, looking directly at her. ‘Irene’s been with our Jeanette, but Caroline said she’d look after me and she’s gone away.’

  The breath that Caroline had been holding left her lungs in such a rush that she was surprised that Bren didn’t notice. Her legs felt suddenly unsteady with relief. He wasn’t lucid at all, he was rambling. Bren had obviously realised the same thing. She sat on the bed and stroked a few stray strands of hair from his face.

  ‘She’s here, love. Caroline’s right here. Look.’ She turned and pointed. ‘She’s been here all the time.’ But he wasn’t listening. His eyes had closed and his breathing was slowing.

  ‘Looks like the show’s over,’ Caroline said. ‘Might be best if you
go now. Come back in a couple of days, if you like. I’ll give you a ring and let you know when he seems like he might be able to talk to you.’

  Bren opened her mouth to argue but Caroline’s frosty expression seemed to trap the words in her throat. Instead of speaking, Bren jumped up from the bed with more grace than Caroline expected from a woman of her size and age and stomped off downstairs.

  A minute later, the door slammed followed by the gate.

  Dennis’s eyes opened again and he gave her a weak smile.

  ‘Might win an Oscar if I keep this up, eh?’

  ‘What…? You…?’ Caroline couldn’t quite form a sentence. He’d been faking. He knew exactly where he was and what was happening and he’d been acting. He tried to pull himself into a sitting position, failed on the first attempt and tried again. Caroline stepped closer and pulled one of his pillows into a more comfortable position behind his back. The action was almost instinctive; she didn’t care if he was comfortable or not but shock had made her incapable of coherent thought.

  ‘Did you like that? I didn’t lay it on too thick, did I?’ He smiled again, a ghastly rictus that exposed his naked gums.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she managed to ask.

  ‘Same as you,’ he said. ‘Just thought you should know that we can both play games. I know what you’re doing, Caroline. I know that you want me dead; you just don’t have the balls to go through with it. All this arguing and tormenting me. It’s not to make me suffer; it’s because you’re scared to do away with me. You always were a mouse.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Bren?’ Caroline asked, hearing a tremble in her voice. Was he right? Was she afraid?

  He sneered at her, one side of his face curling up into a nest of wrinkles. ‘What would be the fun in that?’