Careless Love

by Robinson, Peter

  As ‘So What?’ morphed into ‘On Green Dolphin Street’, Banks replenished his drink.

  Just before bed, he called the hospital. It was very late, he knew, but they never slept, did they? It took him a long time to persuade the nurse who answered the phone to let him speak with one the doctors on the Mia Carney team, but in the end he was in luck, and he was put through to Dr Elaine Logan.

  She sounded as exhausted as he felt. ‘How’s the patient?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s still unconscious,’ said Dr Logan. ‘We think we’ve managed to control the morphine, and we’ve got her on a respirator, but her heart rate is still too slow for my liking, and it appears she suffered from a slight arrhythmia. Nothing to worry about normally, but in these circumstances . . . She’s being closely monitored. I’ve asked to be informed of any changes in her condition. I still wouldn’t expect any news until tomorrow, though.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Banks. ‘It sounds as if you should try to get some sleep, doctor.’

  Banks heard a cross between a laugh and a yawn. ‘That would be nice. Not yet for a while, though, I don’t think. Is that John Coltrane and Miles Davis I hear in the background?’

  Banks was stunned into silence for a moment. Out of the mouths of babes . . . ‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Stockholm, 1960.’

  ‘Ah, that one. Thought so.’

  ‘You know Miles and Coltrane?’

  He heard her laugh again. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. My grandparents loved jazz. I picked it up from then. Goodnight, Superintendent Banks. Sweet dreams.’

  Some hope of that, Banks thought. Grandparents, indeed. Then before she hung up, he heard the sound of an alarm and an urgent voice over the PA system in the background. ‘Must run,’ said Dr Logan.

  ‘Is that Mia?’ Banks asked, but the line had gone dead.

  Banks lay tossing and turning in his bed, but sleep just wouldn’t come. He found some Beethoven cello sonatas played by Jacqueline Du Pré on his old iPod and put in his earbuds, but even the music didn’t help. His mind kept jump-cutting through the events of the evening juxtaposed with wild dreams about what had happened in the bothy and at Hadfield’s house. Eventually he gave up and went downstairs to make a cup of tea and sit in the conservatory. It was almost four in the morning, dark and cold, and it wouldn’t be daylight for hours yet. This had always been his worst time of the night, when all his faculties were at their lowest ebb and the silky tendrils of depression started to slink in and twist around his thoughts and memories, wrapping them in darkness. Again and again his mind went back to the alarm and the urgent voice over the PA. Was it Mia? Was she dead? Had he and Annie brought it on her?

  He considered his options. He could remain as he was, he could phone the hospital again, or he could reach for a bottle of whisky. In the end, he decided on none of these, but quickly got dressed, went out to his car and set off back to Leeds.

  There was very little traffic on the roads. Even the A1 was quiet except for a few long-haul lorries and delivery vans. He passed a couple of patrol cars lurking in lay-bys, the officers either grabbing forty winks or hoping to trap some unfortunate speeder.

  The city was asleep, as much as cities ever sleep. Lights came on in windows here and there as people got up early to get ready for work; vans dropped off the morning papers, and the bundles landed with a thud outside darkened newsagents; street sweepers moved at a snail’s pace along the edge of a major road. There were even a few pedestrians about, some of them clearly winding their ways back home after a long night on the town. Banks heard a couple of distant sirens, too, before he entered the city centre and found a parking spot in the street near Leeds General Infirmary.

  It looked as if he had arrived just after a car crash, as the A&E was swarming with firefighters and harrowed doctors and nurses, and a bloody body was being rushed in on a stretcher. Banks bypassed the chaos and followed the signs to intensive care. The hospital was already a hive of activity, despite the early hour, and he wondered how anyone ever got any sleep. At the nurses’ station he asked for Dr Logan, but no one knew where she was. Someone suggested that she might have gone home. When he enquired after Mariela Carney, the nurse he was talking to became suspicious and asked him why he wanted to know. Banks apologised for not introducing himself immediately and brought out his warrant card. The nurse examined it closely, then asked him to follow her.

  A uniformed constable sat outside the room. The poor kid looked so tired he might slip down to the floor at any moment. Banks showed his card again, and the PC did his best to sit to attention. Banks told him to relax.

  ‘The doctor’s in with her now,’ the PC said.

  Gingerly, Banks opened the door. The lights were dim, but he could see Mia’s dark halo of hair against the white sheets, and Dr Elaine Logan checking the monitors and making notes on a clipboard.

  She turned when he entered. ‘You,’ was all she said.

  ‘Is it OK to be in here?’ Banks whispered.

  ‘I don’t suppose you can do any harm,’ Dr Logan said. She rubbed her eyes. ‘And there’s no need to whisper. She can’t hear you, anyway.’

  Banks sat beside the bed. ‘Is she OK?’ he asked

  ‘I’d hardly say that, but she’s improving,’ said the doctor. ‘She gave us all a scare earlier.’

  ‘Was that when we were on the phone?’

  ‘Yes. She suffered a myocardial infarction.’

  ‘A heart attack?’

  ‘Yes. Lack of oxygen to the heart muscle, coupled with her existing arrhythmia. Luckily she was here and – well, you heard – we were able to treat her immediately, before any serious damage was done. There may be some moderate damage to the heart, but for the moment she’s resting comfortably. Naturally, she’s receiving oxygen, and her breathing is still assisted. But what on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ said Banks.

  ‘I hope you’ve not come to me for sleeping pills.’

  ‘Wouldn’t think of it. No, I just wanted to . . . you know . . . I was worried.’

  ‘About your witness?’

  ‘It’s not just that.’

  ‘You have feelings for her?’

  ‘It’s not . . . For Christ’s sake, she’s a young woman. I’ve got a daughter not much older than her.’

  Dr Logan put her hand on Banks’s arm. ‘Why don’t you sit with her for a while? It’s all right. Don’t worry. She’s hooked up to all the monitors she needs, and the slightest change in her will have us all running up here as fast as we can.’

  ‘Thanks, doctor. If that’s OK.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it otherwise. I’ll let your man on the door know you’ll be here for a while. I have a feeling he’s been secretly yearning to go outside for a smoke.’

  Banks smiled. ‘Let him go, then. But ask him to bring me back a big strong black coffee, or I’ll have him on the carpet.’

  ‘You’re a hard taskmaster, I can tell.’

  Dr Logan left Banks alone in the room with Mia. He was aware of the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing, the beeping from the machines, the slow drip of an IV, the various tubes attached to her body. He could also hear, but only just, occasional sounds from outside: someone walking past, the clatter of a tray, a patient calling out for painkillers. The constable, smelling of smoke, came in with coffee and disappeared again.

  And so the hours passed. There was a clock above the door, and Banks mostly just sat and watched Mia breathing as he listened to the second hand make its rounds minute after slow minute.

  Mia opened her eyes at seven minutes past eight. It may have been a trick of the light, but Banks thought he saw, as her lids slowly lifted, a swirling mass of dark red fire deep in her eyes, as if she were returning from some distant circle of the inferno.

  16

  It wasn’t until after the weekend when Banks was finally allowed back to talk to Mia in Leeds General Infirmary, three days spent on paperwork and catching up with as much rest as pos
sible. According to Dr Elaine Logan, they had carried out various tests on Mia, and though they intended to keep her under observation for a while yet, she was regarded as fit for visitors.

  Anthony Randall had spent the weekend in a cell, there being no courts in session to hear a bail application. He had appeared in front of the judge on Monday and been turned down. Though the doctor was apparently of good standing in the community, Banks’s account of Randall’s visit to Mia Carney’s flat and what he and Annie had witnessed there gave the judge pause for thought, and bail was denied.

  The forensic evidence against Randall in the Sarah Chen case helped, too. Only that morning had Banks got the results from Ken of the tests on the bloodstained stone they had found in the bothy: Sarah Chen’s blood and a possible match with Anthony Randall’s fingerprints. Far more damning was the DNA match between the skin under Sarah’s fingernails and Randall. So the good doctor was enjoying a little holiday at Her Majesty’s pleasure. And the rest of the forensic evidence was mounting up. Circumstantial, most of it, according to their CPS rep, but shaping up well.

  Mia was propped up in her bed when Banks entered with a bunch of grapes and a small bouquet of flowers. She still had the transparent oxygen tube running under her nose, but most of the other tubing was gone, and she was breathing by herself again. The heart monitor still beeped a steady rhythm, and the clock’s second hand still ticked, reminding Banks of the hours he had spent sitting by her bed. She raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘What a picture.’

  He gave her the grapes and arranged the flowers in an empty vase on her bedside table. ‘Brightens the place up a bit,’ he said.

  She touched her hair, which was plastered to her skull. Her eyes were sunken and dark circled, her olive skin a little more pallid. ‘I’m sorry. I must look such a mess,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. How are you?’

  ‘I’m feeling a lot better, thanks. Except for the dreams. I’m having terrible nightmares.’

  Banks remembered her eyes opening when she came out of the morphine haze, the fires he saw blazing in there. Was she remembering what she saw on the other side?

  ‘Anyway, to be honest, I’m a bit bored being stuck here, but they say they want to keep me in for a while to do some more tests. They gave me a room of my own. Was that your doing?’

  Banks shook his head. ‘No influence when it comes to the NHS. It’s just easier to isolate you this way, lessen any risk to the other patients.’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘Not that there’s any risk to you. Randall is in custody.’

  Mia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them again she gave Banks a direct look and said, ‘I understand you kissed me?’

  Banks felt himself redden. ‘I gave you mouth-to-mouth, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘The kiss of life,’ she whispered, and turned her head away. ‘Thank you.’

  Banks shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  ‘I suppose you want to know everything?’ Mia went on.

  ‘It would help. If you can manage it. You really should have told the truth sooner, then we might have avoided all this.’

  ‘Oh, you sound just like my father.’

  At least it’s not her grandfather, Banks thought. ‘Do you mind if I bring my DC in to take notes?’ he asked. Annie was busy with the forensics team so he had brought Gerry Masterson. She deserved a road trip, and besides, in his experience she was one of the most competent note-takers they had.

  ‘No.’

  Banks opened the door and beckoned to Gerry, who was waiting outside. When she came in, Mia looked her up and down and gave an approving smile. ‘Nice hair,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t even think it,’ Banks said. ‘We pay our DCs very well. They don’t need to moonlight for you, thanks very much.’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ said Mia.

  Gerry made herself as comfortable and unobtrusive as possible in a corner chair and readied her notebook. ‘I don’t know, sir,’ she said. ‘You don’t pay that much.’ She set her phone down to record the conversation. Mia wasn’t under arrest, merely ‘helping with inquiries’ but even so, this would avoid having to go over it all again at the station when she was released from hospital, and it might help with the case against Randall.

  ‘Could you get me some water first?’ Mia asked. ‘It’s in the cabinet under the flowers.’

  Banks took out a bottle of spring water and looked for a glass.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Mia said, taking the bottle from him and unscrewing the cap. ‘I don’t need a straw.’ And she proceeded to glug down half the bottle. ‘And in case you’re worried, there’s a bedpan in the toilet.’

  ‘It’s good to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour.’

  ‘Who said I’m joking? Where do you want me to start?’

  ‘With the other night,’ said Banks. ‘Randall. What happened?’

  ‘I heard someone knocking at my door. The front door must have been on the latch. I’ve told the bloke in 1A about it, but he takes no notice. Anyway, I wasn’t expecting anyone, and when I answered it I saw it was Randall. I remembered what you’d said about us being the only ones left, but he pushed his way in.’

  ‘You didn’t have the chain on?’

  Mia shook her head. ‘No. Not since you left.’

  ‘How did Randall know where you lived?’

  ‘I’d given him my address ages ago, when he hooked up with Sarah. Just in case of emergencies. It’s all part of the service. Anyway, Randall was in a bit of a state.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘At first he was just ranting on about his reputation and how his association with me could ruin it. I told him I didn’t consider him to be associated with me, but that only made him worse. He grabbed my blouse and it tore. Then he grabbed my breast. To tell the truth, I didn’t know whether he wanted to rape me or murder me. I’m not sure he knew, himself.’

  ‘He wanted you out of the way,’ said Banks. ‘He didn’t know we’d found you, but with you around there was always the risk of the full story coming out. Unless there’s more to it. Unless you were a witness. Were you a witness?’

  Mia shook her head. ‘To poor Sarah’s murder? No. But he did it. I know he did it.’

  ‘Tell us what happened next.’

  ‘Things get very hazy. I turned away, and he hit me with something. I think I passed out. I felt a sharp pain in my arm, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Then I felt like I was floating. I had the most wonderful sense of well-being until . . .’ She put her hand to her throat. ‘I suddenly couldn’t breathe, then I couldn’t even move. I was just so limp. Then I suppose you came in. My knight in shining armour. And you kissed me.’

  Gerry gave Banks a questioning glance and pulled a face.

  ‘I gave her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, DC Masterson,’ said Banks. ‘It’s text book.’

  Mia looked at Gerry and laughed. ‘Get him. But he was. Really. Your boss was my knight in shining armour. And Annie, of course. His gallant page.’ She paused and eased herself back into the bed as if the laughter had tired her. ‘After that it’s all vague, just the hospital, machines, tubes down my throat, in my arms, up my whatever, and needles. Elaine – that’s Dr Logan – says it was touch and go.’

  ‘Anthony Randall injected you with a high dose of morphine, which can cause you to stop breathing, and he tried to tell us that it had happened before he arrived, that you had done it to yourself and he was trying to save your life. Now can you tell us about what really happened on Saturday night two weeks ago?’

  Mia drank some more water. ‘It started out as just an ordinary day,’ she said. ‘Like all the rest. But I suppose I already knew it might turn into something different. Nothing like what it did become, but . . . just . . . difficult.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  Mia took a deep breath. ‘As you know, I supply all my clients, the girls and the men, with dedicated mobiles. Burners, if you like. So th
e couples could communicate with one another as they wished, and with me, without anyone else knowing. You wouldn’t believe how many erring husbands, or boyfriends, get caught out by their mobiles.’

  ‘Both Sarah and Adrienne had left their own mobiles at home,’ said Banks. ‘That seemed odd, an indication there was something wrong.’

  Mia nodded. ‘I advised them to take only the burners when they were meeting,’ she said. ‘It’s easy to make mistakes, get mixed up. Better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘What happened to those phones?’ Banks asked.

  ‘I’ll tell you about that later. Another aspect of my role was to reassure the girls that I would always be there for them if they needed me. That they didn’t have to put up with anything they didn’t want. I know that sounds strange, given the nature of their relationships, but some men . . . well, let’s just say they don’t like to stop at what we might consider natural or normal relations. If the girls had any problems, they knew they could come to me. The men, too, but their problems would be of a different kind, and to be honest, they never had any complaints. I’m not saying I could always help, and looking back I think I let Adrienne down badly.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You have to understand that Adrienne and Sarah were very different personalities. Sarah was outgoing, a bit brazen, up for anything, scared of nothing. Adrienne was shy, more reserved and pretty conservative sexually. They were both incredibly sexy, but for different reasons. There was an innocence about Adrienne and a sort of earthy joie de vivre about Sarah.’ Mia drank more water. ‘As you know, Laurence Hadfield and Anthony Randall were mates. Apparently, they went out for dinner together once with the girls, some swank restaurant in Manchester. Well, Adrienne caught Randall’s eye – he was always a bit of sadist, I thought, and despoiling innocence would probably be right up his street – and Hadfield developed an itch for eastern promise.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Banks. ‘Both girls were sleeping with their partners, right? Having sex with them?’

  ‘Yes. But, as I said, Adrienne had this aura of innocence. As a good deal of sex has to do with fantasy, Randall could imagine himself despoiling her innocence. I’m not saying he was into rape or S&M or anything, except in his fantasies.’