Under Parr

by Andrea Bramhall

  “The boys are wusses?” she said with a grin.

  Gina chuckled. “I don’t think so, Sergeant.” She gave her a little peck in the lips. “I think you’re a control freak who needs to be the hero.”

  Kate pulled back, and gave Gina her best innocent look. “Me? No. You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not like that at all.”

  “Of course not,” Gina said, clearly not fooled for a second. She touched Kate’s jaw again, focused on the cut. “Will it scar?”

  Kate froze. “Probably. Just a little one.” She saw tears build in Gina’s eyes. “Does that matter?”

  Gina’s gaze shifted to Kate’s. “Does it matter to you?”

  Kate frowned, wondering exactly what she wanted to know. There seemed to be so much more behind the question than the question itself portrayed. “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.” She shrugged. “It’s just a little reminder to move a bit faster next time. I don’t need another to match it.” She winked.

  “It doesn’t change how you feel about yourself? About how you look?”

  Ah. “No. I’m the same person I was when I left the house this evening as I am now. The fact that I’ve got a couple of stitches and a scar to show my evening’s work doesn’t change that. It doesn’t lessen me, in any way. What I learnt tonight, and what I achieved make me a better, stronger person, Gina. Not less of one.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Yes, it does. How I feel about myself, and how I feel about you, aren’t tied up in superficialities. A scar, a mole, a freckle, grey hairs, wrinkles, age spots, skin tags, none of that stuff matters. Because all of it changes over time. Looks fade, Gina. They change. It’s the person inside that matters. And the person inside me hasn’t changed in any negative way because of this little cut.” She put her hand on Gina’s belly. “Just like those scars don’t change the way I feel about you.” She leaned in and kissed her softly. “Or how much I want you.” Gina’s lips were soft under hers. Her breath was warm, and the tiny moan she gave as Kate slipped her tongue over her bottom lip sent shivers down her spine. “It’s the woman inside that I fell for, Gina.” She touched her chest, right over her heart. “She’s the one I fell in love with.”

  “You…you…but…” Gina’s eyes were wide open and her breath came in short, ragged pants. “But we haven’t even…” She flicked her hand between the two of them. “You know? How can you know that?”

  Kate laughed. “I don’t need to sleep with you to know how I feel about you. I know it’s going to be amazing.” She placed a hand on each of Gina’s cheeks. “When you’re ready.” She kissed her again. She tried to convey everything she felt for Gina in that kiss. She tried to show her every measure of love and passion she was able to in every caress of her lips. With every breath she made a promise that she would treasure every second they had together.

  “I don’t know how long—”

  Kate put her finger to Gina’s lips. “Doesn’t matter.” She chuckled at Gina’s sceptical look. “Think of it like an old-fashioned courtship. Those folks had the patience of saints.”

  “Yeah, and how many shotgun weddings?”

  Kate laughed, relieved that the tension was broken. “True. But this won’t be one of those relationships.” She took hold of Gina’s hand. “We’ve got all the time in the world, Gina, because I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed her knuckles. “As Richard Marx once said, ‘I will be right here waiting for you.’”

  Gina groaned.

  “Too corny?” Kate asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “Just a bit.” Gina leaned in and rubbed the tip of her nose to Kate’s. “It’s a good job I already love you, or that could’ve hurt your chances, Brannon.”

  Kate grinned and wrapped her arms around Gina’s shoulders. “I’ll work on my material.” She loves me. She said it, and she can’t take it back now. She tightened her arms and ignored how much her back ached. And her shoulders. And her head. And her arse.

  CHAPTER 29

  Stella’s and Tom’s cars were both parked on the gravel car park. They were just waiting for Kate, who felt nauseated. Why would someone do that? How could someone do that? Kill people who were dying already. What was the point? What did it gain them?

  She knew who her chief suspect was. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d had his hands wrapped around her throat. He was too comfortable with what he was doing. It hadn’t been the first time he’d held someone down and snuffed the life from them.

  “You okay?” Stella asked when Kate approached her down the corridor to the interview room.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a couple of stitches, and a few aches and pains. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a few paracetamol couldn’t take care of.”

  “Good, because our three amigos are a little belligerent. Did Dr Anderson give you anything we can use in the interview?”

  Kate quickly told her of the hand cast Ruth was making up for them to try and rattle their suspect.

  “Perfect,” Stella said.

  “I thought so too. Who do you want to start with?”

  “You said the hand impression was big?”

  “Yup.”

  “And we know we’ve already got him for assaulting you, so let’s start with the littler ones and work our way up.”

  “Where are they all at the moment?”

  “In cells.”

  “I want to put Maxwell in an interview room with Tom doing his creepy eye thing while we interview the other two.”

  “I like it.” Stella quickly instructed the others what to do, and had Stefan brought into the second interview room. “I spoke with Stefan yesterday. Do you want to take it this time? A different approach might get us what we need if he’s our guy.”

  Kate shrugged. “I don’t mind. But we both know it’s not him.”

  “I know. But we do this by the book. We’ve got bugger-all evidence on Maxwell for anything but assaulting a police officer. Without a confession, we’re looking at circumstantial evidence only. And I’m not having this guy get off because we didn’t pursue all lines of enquiry to their full potential. We need his confession to tie this up, and I’m not convinced he’s going to give us one.”

  “Of course.” Kate looked at Gareth and indicated with her head towards the door.

  He followed her and sat next to her inside the small interview room. The window was high on the far wall, with steel struts between each of the four-inch squares of safety glass. The table was bare except for a small plastic water cup. Stefan Podolski scowled at them while he twirled the cup on its side, flicking the last drops of water out on to the table before smearing them under its centrifugal force.

  “What you want with me now?” he demanded.

  Still, his English is a lot better than my Polish.

  Gareth started the tape and introduced them all. “Before the tape started, you asked us a question. Would you please repeat it for the tape?”

  “Why am I here? I have done nothing wrong.”

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Stefan. Do you mind if I call you Stefan?”

  He shook his head.

  “For the purpose of the tape Stefan shook his head. So, Stefan, the reason that you’re here with us today is because of the resident who died at Brancombe House last night.”

  “What about him? Reg was sick. Very sick. Sick people die.” He shrugged. “It is a shame, yes, but he is no longer in pain at least.”

  “Yes. Sick people do die, Stefan. But they don’t normally die by being suffocated.”

  “Suffocated? I don’t understand. He died of his illness.” Stefan stopped. “Didn’t he?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, he did not.” She laid out three pictures that showed the bruising on Reg’s face. “From these marks we know, absolutely, that Reg was murdered.” She let the word sink in and watched Stefan’s reaction.

  He was too stunned to do anything but blink and stare at the pictures.

  “So where were you when Reg d
ied?”

  “Me? I was working. Putting Harold to bed when Anna shouted that Reg was dead.”

  “Shouted?”

  “Yes. It was the first time she’s found one of them dead. She panicked and shouted.”

  “I bet that disrupted everybody.”

  “You think so, wouldn’t you? But no. Most residents they not really there any more. Medications, dementia, deafness. They no know what she shout for the most part.”

  “Can Harold vouch for you?”

  Stefan appeared to think about it. “I think so. He pretty sharp, is Harold. Just a bit deaf, bad on legs. You ask him. I with him from about ten minute into my shift until Anna found Reg.”

  “What were you doing that took so long?”

  “Giving him a bath. He has once a week. But he in a wheelchair so it’s not very straightforward procedure. It take a while.”

  Kate glanced up at the camera and knew Stella would understand that she needed that information checked. “Explain it to me.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me tell you exactly how I give an old man a bath?”

  “Yes.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I run hot water in bath tub, and throw in a thermometer. It must not be too hot or we will be accused of abusing the residents. Then I collect towels while water is running.”

  “And what was Harold doing while the water was running?”

  “He taking a shit. Great big, stinky shit.” He grinned. “Need me to describe smell in more detail?”

  Kate wanted to roll her own eyes but managed to pluck a smile from somewhere instead. She only hoped it didn’t look as sarcastic as it felt. “I get the idea.”

  “When he finished shitting, I help to take off rest of his clothes and wrap sling around him. Harold is big guy and he no can walk. We have to use sling and hoist to move him from wheelchair to toilet, toilet to bath chair, to bed. Whatever. He no like hoist. And he especially no like it when we have to move the hoist while he’s hanging in the air.” He shook his head. “Is very undignified. To hang in mid-air with everything on show. So we have to be fast for him. Is only fair.” He shrugged like he was doing the man a great favour. “When I fix bath chair to winch I can then lower him down into the water. Need me to describe how I wash feet and arse for him?”

  “I get the picture, Stefan. I’m sorry, but we have to do this. It’s for the safety of your patients, you know?”

  Stefan stared at her.

  “If one of those people was your father or grandfather, wouldn’t you want to be sure they were somewhere safe?”

  He stared some more then sighed heavily and nodded. “It took an hour and a half before Harold was dry, in wheelchair, and back in his bedroom. I was about to get him cup of tea and biscuit when I hear Anna shout. I was with Harold whole night.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “They are safe with me. I do my best. I try to give respect. You know?” He twitched one shoulder in a half shrug. “I no always get it right, I’m no always in good mood. But I never hurt them. Never.”

  There was a tap on the door before it opened and Stella pushed her head around. “Harold confirms.”

  “Thanks.” Kate turned back to Stefan. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Stefan. And thank you for answering all my questions. You’re free to go.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” He looked at his watch. “How am I get back to work now?”

  “We’ll sort you a lift as soon as you’re booked out.”

  “Interview terminated at 9.32 a.m.,” Gareth said, and stopped the tape. He was labelling it up as Kate led Stefan out of the room.

  Stella was waiting for her. “I’ll run the same with Michal now.”

  Kate nodded. “How’s Tom doing in there?”

  Stella waved her towards a bank of monitors and pointed to one of the small screens.

  “As he usually does. But look.”

  Kate watched Jason Maxwell. He seemed totally calm, serene, almost. Unfazed by Tom’s stare as he leaned his chair back on its rear legs, folded his arms behind his head, and looked to be asleep. His balance was perfect. Not a shudder or a shift to betray any unease.

  “I’m looking forward to this one,” Kate said under her breath and tapped the screen, wishing the motion would’ve knocked him on his back.

  “Are we ready for Michal?”

  “Show me what you’ve got, Stella.”

  “I was going to let Jimmy have a crack at him. You think he’s ready?”

  Kate bobbed her head as she thought about it. “Yeah. I think he can handle it. You’ll be right there if need be, so yeah, let him have a crack.”

  “That reminds me, we need to have a chat about Collier before long.”

  “Okay. We can do that once we wrap up this case.”

  Jimmy’s interview went smoothly for the most part. His questions were a little rough in places, perhaps not as open-ended as they could have been in others. Overall though, not bad. But it was quickly evident that he also wasn’t the man they were looking for. His hands shook, and they were far too small. Smaller than Kate’s own, with short, stubby fingers. There was no way he could have left the impression on Reg’s face that she’d seen. That had left their impression on her own neck.

  Time and again she was drawn back to the monitor where she could watch Jason Maxwell sleep in his chair.

  She loved bringing down the cocky ones. The ones who thought they were so much better than they were. The ones who thought they could do anything and they’d get away with it.

  CHAPTER 30

  She was convinced that Jason Maxwell was their killer. She was just as convinced that getting him to admit it was going to be painful. Like a root canal without anaesthetic.

  “We didn’t even show him the picture of Alan, did we?” She asked the question more for herself than anyone else.

  “No, sarge,” Gareth answered anyway.

  “Go and grab the pictures, and any photos of him with Alan from the ones Diana Lodge supplied. Let’s do this from the beginning and see how much we can rattle your cage, bud.”

  Stella picked up the headphones and held them ready to slip over her ears. “Are you taking Collier in with you?”

  Kate shook her head. “Tom’s been in there all this time.”

  “Doesn’t seem to have had much effect on him.”

  “No, but I want to keep personnel changes as options for later, just in case.”

  Stella nodded and slipped the headphones over her head. “Good luck.”

  Kate closed her eyes, swallowed, and ignored what Stella had said. Luck was what you needed if you were crap at your job. Luck was what you needed when you were grasping around in the dark. She wasn’t. She knew.

  Gareth handed her a document wallet full of pictures and notes. She slipped it under her arm and pushed open the door.

  Maxwell opened one eye, smiled, and lowered his chair to the floor. “Good morning, Detective. Are you coming to speak to me at last? Your ape over there doesn’t seem to have a tongue in his head.”

  Kate sat down and reached across to start the tape recording. “This is Detective Sergeant Kate Brannon interviewing Jason Maxwell. Also in the room is Detective Constable Thomas Brothers. It is ten-fifteen on the morning of the thirteenth of December. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?”

  “Thank you, but no. I’m fine,” Maxwell said.

  “Very well. Let’s get down to business then. Before I ask you any questions, though, I must advise you of your rights. At this moment in time, you are under arrest for assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest. You were advised of this by Detective Constable Thomas Brothers at Brandale Staithe Harbour and then brought here for further questioning to help us with our enquiries.”

  “I understand.”

  “As such, and in regards to these separate questions, you do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but you may harm your defence if you do not mention, when
questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you say can be used as evidence. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Do you recognise this man?” Kate placed the picture of Alan on the table. The one without the beard. “For the tape I am showing Mr Maxwell exhibit BB047A.”

  Maxwell picked up the page and studied it carefully. “No, I don’t think so.” He put it back on the scarred wood.

  “Do you mind if I call you Jason? It feels so cumbersome to say Mr Maxwell all the time, doesn’t it?”

  “Erm, yeah. Okay.”

  “Thanks, Jason. So what about this one?” She placed the altered image in front of him. “I’m showing Jason exhibit BB047B.”

  He lifted it and squinted at the photo. “Hm. This man seems familiar, but I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you any more.”

  She put the first picture back in the document wallet and sat a 4x6-inch photo next to it. “I am now showing Jason exhibit BH0238. Is this you?” She pointed to the photo.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “And who is that in the photograph with you?”

  “I believe that’s a resident. I can’t think of his name. Perhaps he was a respite patient.”

  “Respite patient?”

  “Yes. We sometimes have people come in for a short time. A few days, a week or two, when their families need a rest. If they’re being cared for by elderly spouses and the like, it can be necessary for their good health to get respite on occasion.”

  “I see.” Kate paused. “What if I told you this gentleman had no family?”

  “Hm. Then I’m afraid I don’t know.”

  Kate placed four more pictures of Alan and Maxwell together on the table, each one clearly taken at different times based on clothing and haircuts.

  “I am showing Jason exhibits BH0349, BH0279, BH1003, and BH0847. Can you please identify the people in these pictures?”

  He scowled.

  Kate felt like pumping her fist in the air. The first reaction.

  “They all show me and this same man.”

  “But you don’t know who he is?”