by Sam Speed
We heard a scream and a crash, followed by more screams.
The entire class rushed to the door, causing a logjam so no-one could get out.
'Let us through,' I said in my best commanding tone. 'We are medical professionals.'
Jean and I squeezed out the door to see Christine lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, tangled up in Sheila's bike.
An Indoor Jungle
I left Jean tending to Christine while I returned to the hall and assured everyone it was just an accident and nothing sinister. I'm pretty sure most of the muttering was of disappointment. Sheila was convinced she had killed Christine with her bicycle.
'Don't worry,' I said, 'it will take more than a trip over your bike to kill Christine.'
I left Dawn to carry on the class and made my way back outside to where Jean was leaning over Christine.
'She's in a lot of pain,' she said.
'This is getting to be a habit, hanging around the hall waiting for an ambulance,' I said.
Jean grimaced. I was surprised she heard anything over the noise Christine was making. It looked likely that she had broken a leg and possibly both her arms and we were worried about internal bleeding.
The bike wasn't looking too healthy either. Both wheels were buckled and several spokes were sticking out. Jean and I carefully separated Christine from the bike and threw it to the side.
Sheila came out of the hall.
'I can't concentrate on the exercises,' she said. 'Oh no look at the state of my bike.'
She blushed as she realised that wasn't very Christian of her and came over to ask about Christine. Just then the ambulance arrived.
The crew soon eased Christine's pain.
One of the crew was a young woman with amazing green eyes and bobbed auburn hair. She and Jean obviously knew each other.
'Hi, Jean, how are you?' she said.
'I'm fine Jenny,' she raised an eyebrow. 'How's the new relationship?'
'It's great. Mind you the old relationship had a lot going for it as well.' She smiled slyly at Jean, who replied with a smile of her own.
I felt a slight twinge of jealousy watching Jenny and Jean exchange glances. Perhaps I was ready for a relationship of my own.
Meantime it sounded like Dawn was struggling to keep the others in the hall.
Her voice rang out through the open door, 'The exercise will help you work off the stress caused by Christine's accident.'
I allowed myself a quiet snort, confident she wouldn't hear me. I still believed that all exercise did was make your muscles sore. I really couldn't understand why some people became addicted to it.
Jean went off in the ambulance to help Christine. I might have felt another twinge of jealousy if I hadn't seen the way she watched my reactions from under her long full eyelashes. She smiled her special lopsided smile at me and I felt myself responding with a smile of my own.
Dawn was taking the woes of the world on her shoulders as usual, and feeling guilty about chucking Christine out. She asked me to keep an eye on Christine while she was in hospital.
I popped down to the trauma ward at lunchtime for the next few days. She was in a room of her own due to the severity of her injuries. That and the fact no-one else needed the room just then.
She had both her arms and one of her legs in plaster and for the first few days barely knew I was there.
Then a couple of days after the accident I reached Christine's room to find the saintly Sheila plumping up her pillows. She jumped back when she saw me come into the room.
'Hi, Christine. Hi, Sheila. I didn't expect to find anyone here.'
'Oh hi,' said Sheila, 'me neither. I was doing my hospital visiting in the children's ward and decided to pop up. I feel so awful that it was my bike that caused Christine's accident.'
'How are you feeling?' I asked Christine who looked a lot calmer than the previous few days.
'I'm fine,' she said with the blissful smile of the seriously sedated.
'How's your bike?' I asked Sheila.
'I'm afraid it's beyond repair. David offered to buy me another, but I think I'll just stick to the car. It's quicker when I have all my church duties to do.'
That sounded like a sensible idea to me.
'It's very good of you to do hospital visiting,' I said, being genuine for once. 'Many people can't stand hospitals.'
'They don't worry me. I qualified as a nurse before I met David. When we travelled to Africa, I enjoyed working in the local hospitals there. People were always so grateful for anything you could do to help them. It felt worthwhile. But David didn't like that the people were coming to me for help instead of turning to God and insisted I stop. Then even when we came back to Scotland, I was too busy with church work to go back to my own job. Sometimes I think a minister's wife does more than the minister.'
She laughed, but it sounded a bit forced. I got the impression I'd hit a nerve.
'Mind you David has been very busy comforting people since Yvette's death. Especially poor Angela. She is so distraught. I don't know how often I go home and there she is deep in conversation with David. I've told David she should get proper counselling. At first, he felt he would have failed her if she did, but he agrees with me now and is trying to persuade her.'
'Maybe she regrets that she and Yvette never got along that well. Surely it can't be grief. Still, they grew up together and she might just feel guilty that she wasn't nicer to Yvette.'
'Well, I'd best be going. A minister's wife's work is never done.'
'And a minster's wife's cheerfulness is never done either,' I muttered. It felt good to be back to my normal malevolent self.
My break was almost up so I only had time for a quick chat with Christine, but she seemed to be remarkably cheerful. Of course, the drugs would help, but apparently, everyone felt ashamed that they had driven her out of the class and were all dropping by to see her. She intended to take the opportunity to carry on with her investigation.
'You won't drop hints about knowing secrets, will you?' I asked. 'You're ever so slightly vulnerable if the killer thinks you're onto them.'
'No. I'm not daft. But since they all feel guilty they're obliged to answer my questions.' She tried to laugh but it ended up as a cough.
I left Christine to her drugged dreams. As I was leaving I bumped into Angela skulking about outside. She gave me a weak smile and an apologetic look.
'Best friends with Christine now,are you?' I said sweetly.
The next day when I visited Christine she handed me the keys to her house.
'Water my plants,' she said with difficulty. It looked like her pain meds were due a top up. Or perhaps they were already having less effect.
I refrained from asking if she didn't have a friend who could do it. Her only friend was Anne and she had her hands full looking after the shop, her lazy husband and her son. I also resisted pointing out that if I so much as look at a plant, it usually dies.
'My notes on Yvette, they're in briefcase, beside desk in bedroom. Bring them in.'
I was uncharacteristically charitable and didn't ask what her last slave died of. I wanted to have a look at her notes myself.
I went to Christine's house on my way home from work that day. I had expected a couple of pot plants, but her house was like a jungle. She had an enormous Swiss cheese plant in the living room that grew up through a hole in her ceiling to the bedroom above. All the window sills were full of plant pots holding healthy plants with glossy green leaves. They had flowers ranging from tiny to large and pale pink to bright red. The low tones of scent filled the room, heavy and overpowering. If I spent too long in her house I would end up with a splitting headache.
One of the plants had a large red heart-shaped flower with a thin bumpy yellow stem snaking out of the middle. Curious I touched the plant wondering if the petals felt as smooth as they looked. They did, as I discovered when the flower came off in my hand. I shoved it into my pocket for disposal elsewhere. Christine really might wa
nt to think about getting someone else to watch over her indoor garden. I did not want to be responsible for killing all these plants.
Her briefcase was beside her desk as she'd she said. Only trouble was it was locked and not just with one of those useless number locks that a screwdriver could pry open. This had an actual padlock on it.
The next day, I trotted obediently down to Christine's room clutching the briefcase.
'Where's your key,' I asked, anxious for a chance to see if she'd found out anything useful. 'I'll open it for you.'
'Oh no. I forgot. The key is in my jewellery box on my dressing table at home. Perhaps you could get it for me.'
'Well it won't be today,' I said with a scowl. 'I'll get it next time I go to water your plants. Perhaps you would like me to keep your briefcase safe in my locker.'
'Don't worry I can keep it in the cupboard here. How are my plants? Don't over water them.'
Not much chance of that.
'Fine,' I said guardedly. I did not expect them to stay like that for long.
I phoned Jean later that day.
'Any luck tracing those dishes the berries were in?' I asked.
'None. Every cheap tat shop sells them and they are far too busy to notice who buys what. Besides, they get free labour from the unemployed so their staff are always changing.'
At last, I had a few days off and Jean and I decided to visit the Spar. Anne's son had worked at the call centre and since they sacked him he would probably be happy to dish out any dirt. But first we would have to go through Anne.
We tried to keep it casual, going into the shop as if we were customers. We didn't want to make the same mistake as Christine. While Jean browsed the shelves, I chatted with Anne.
'How are you getting on with the diet?' I asked.
'Well it's a bit difficult with running the shop, but I do try to eat more fruit and avoid bread.'
'Don't you get any help from your son? Surely if he's not working he could take a turn in the shop?'
'He's so depressed at the moment. I'm lucky if I can get him out of his bed. It took me all my time to get him to watch the shop for an hour when I was at the class. Even then he won't do it on his own. His ex girlfriend comes to help him.'
For a moment I felt a twinge of pity for Anne. She worked all day in the shop while her husband lazed on the sofa watching TV and from the sound of it, now her son lazed in his bed. But I use up my limited compassion at work so the twinge soon passed.
'He's not bothering to look for work then?' I asked.
Anne flushed bright red but was saved from finding more excuses for her son by the doorbell announcing another customer.
A young couple entered the shop. They looked familiar but I couldn't remember where I had seen them. Jean was busy sending me incomprehensible hand signals so I presumed she recognised them as well. After all, we don't get many strangers stopping in Nu Faran. Not surprising really.
The couple wandered around looking at the shelves.
'Can I help you?' asked Anne.
There was no reply.
'Perhaps they are deaf,' she whispered.
'What both of them?' I said not bothering to whisper because if they couldn't hear Anne's high-pitched voice, they wouldn't hear me.
Jean standing close to the man was pointing to his head. Anne looked puzzled, but I saw white cords running down from his ears. They both had ear buds in and were listening to music. Not the best of ways to get served in a shop.
I touched the man's arm. He took out his ear buds and turned around.
'What can I get for you?' asked Anne.
The man spoke with a posh English accent.
'Good morning. May we please have a packet of teabags, a small bag of sugar and a carton of milk?'
'Of course.'
I could see Anne's mind in overdrive as she wondered who they were.
'I don't remember seeing you here before,' she said. 'Are you just passing through?'
I was impressed with how Anne sounded as though she actually cared.
'Not quite. Our cousin died recently and we have come to clear out her house. Perhaps one of you kind ladies could direct us.'
I could see light dawning in Anne and Jean's eyes just about the time it did in mine.
'You're Yvette's cousins,' I said, jumping in before Anne could do anything silly like giving them directions. We hadn't been able to get into to Yvette's house and we were dying to have a look around. 'I saw you at the funeral.'
'Were you a friend of my cousin?' asked the woman.
I glared at Anne to shut her up.
'I knew Yvette well. She was a unique character.' I think it was safe enough to say that. 'I'm just going home past her house. I'll show it to you.'
Anne for once was wise enough to keep quiet and not point out my house was in the opposite direction. No doubt she would pump me for gossip later.
'How kind.'
Once out of the shop, I saw their car parked on double yellow lines. It seems a total disregard for parking properly must run in the family.
'Could we offer you a lift?' the man said.
'Thanks,' I said, 'if you just drop us off at Yvette's house, mine is not far away.'
I'd have to come back to the shop later to pick up my car, but this was too good a chance to miss.
At Yvette's house, Jean and I kindly offered to help the pair in with a few empty boxes and then it was only polite we should stay to help with the clear out.
They pushed the door open against the piles of junk mail and fliers that had accumulated since the police finished with the house.
'Do you live far away?' I asked. A silly question with the accents, but I never was any good at small talk.
'Yes, we live in Cheshire. It's really quite awkward having to come up here. We'll just take anything we want today, and then we'll find someone to clear out the rest of the house and allow the necessary tradesmen in.'
The woman looked with distaste at the cheap furniture and shabby decoration.
'We'd be happy to help you,' I said winking at Jean.
'We didn't know our cousin very well,' said the woman. 'We knew my aunt better when she was alive, but latterly she didn't get out much. She hadn't been to visit in years.'
Yvette's mum might not have travelled down to England any more than her cousins came up here, but she was always out and about. Yvette didn't get on with her mum. So, when she felt obliged to visit, she would take her mum out in the car, rather than have to sit in the house and talk to her. On a nice day, they visited a garden centre and her mum would buy coffee and cake. Other days they would shop at her mum's expense.
I was so glad I did not nor ever would have children.
Mind you her mum did get her own back by letting Yvette buy those outfits. She must have really hated her.
And wherever they went Yvette would batter on leaving her mum trailing along behind, looking like a tiny emaciated white-haired puppy.
It took less than an hour for the couple to decide that, apart from Yvette's laptop, there was nothing worth taking in the house. They were happy to leave us in charge of the keys. At least they left us the tea and milk.
We waved them off.
'We'll grab any paperwork,' said Jean, 'give what we can to a charity shop if they'll take it, and then get an estate agent to handle everything else.'
I loved the way her thought processes mirrored mine.
Digging up all Yvette's paperwork took a lot longer than we expected. There didn't seem to be any logic to where she put stuff. Opened and unopened mail lay in every room. We found a bank statement lying beside the cooker and a final demand from a catalogue under a chair. The dirty dishes from her dead cat still lay in a corner of the kitchen. Photos of the cat adorned every room in the house.
'Do you think she sat on the loo and gazed at the cat?' Jean said as we stared at the large heavily framed picture on the bathroom wall.
'Maybe she lay in the bath and gazed at it,' I said.
I adore my Snowball, but I don't have her picture in the loo.
Several hours later we were tired, dirty and itchy, but we were pretty sure we had found every piece of paper in the house. Before I walked down to my car, I made a quick call to a local animal charity shop and arranged for them to clear out the house the next day. They were so grateful we had the decency to feel a bit guilty. They hadn't seen the state of the place or the type of clothes Yvette wore.
'Jeeze, these boxes are heavy,' I said as we loaded the paperwork into my car.
'You need to do a bit of weightlifting to build up your muscles.'
'I wouldn't mind nice lady muscles like yours. But I do enough weight lifting at work.'
After we dropped the paperwork at my house I was dying to get started, but Jean had to get ready for her work.
'Leave it until we can do it together,' she said. 'It's much easier to do a long boring job like this with company.'
I could see her point although I suspected it might be an excuse to spend more time with me. We were getting on so well together.
I was back at Yvette's the next day, to open up for the charity people. Just as I put the key in the lock I heard a deep menacing voice behind me.
'What do you think you are doing?'
Where Babies Come From
I turned and smiled at DI Black. I was rewarded by seeing him frown.
'It's none of your business what I am doing here. You decided Yvette's death was accidental. But since you ask so nicely I'm helping Yvette's cousins to get the house cleared out so they can sell it.'
He grunted.
'The death may have been accidental, but that doesn't mean you can pester the bereaved relations.'
'I am here at Yvette's cousins' request. If you don't believe me feel free to phone them.'
I could see him itching to think of a reason to chase me and failing.
'I might need to see her paperwork again,' he said.
'You should have done your job properly at the time,' I said sweetly. 'There's no paperwork left here.'
That was true enough. I held his gaze with my best innocent expression as he looked at me suspiciously.
