“Kate?” he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Kate, what is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, I shouldn’t let people like Denis get to me!”
“Denis? You mean Denis Myers? Why, what’s he done?”
“He claimed I never warned him about driving after some tablets I’d prescribed. They make you dizzy, Nick, they’re antihistamines, so when you’re on a course of them, you’re not supposed to drive. I warned Denis, and he says I didn’t. Now look what’s happened!”
“I came here to interview him, Kate.”
“Oh, no, I can’t allow that, sorry. He’s not fit to be interviewed, Nick. As his doctor, I must refuse, at least until he’s improved considerably.”
“You’re protecting him after what he’s just done to you?”
“I must never let my professional responsibilities be influenced by my personal feelings, Nick, and you know it. So no interviews of Denis, not yet.”
“And how’s Joan?”
She took a deep breath and the expression on her face told Nick all he needed to know.
“She’s a very sick woman, Nick, and poor old Oscar’s taking it very badly. He still loves her, you know, even though they’re divorced.”
“I know he’s taken it hard, he broke down in the ambulance.”
“Now he’s trying to conceal his sorrow, I wish he’d cry all the more and let his grief come out, but he won’t.”
“He’s a tough old trooper, that’s what happens when you are a senior policeman! You overcome grief, you don’t let it intrude upon your life, even though it involves your own loved ones. I’ll talk to him in due course, but I do need to interview young Graham, Kate, as soon as possible. He was the only witness.”
“I can’t object to that, Nick, he’s with his father, in reception. You can go through if you wish.”
“When I’ve talked to Graham, I’m going home,” Nick told her. “How about you? Can you come home soon?”
“I’ll have to stay with Joan,” Kate said quietly. “I don’t know when I can finish for the night.”
“She’s as serious as that, is she?” Nick put to her.
“Yes,” said Kate without elaborating.
Nick took her in his arms, kissed her tenderly and said, “I love you, Kate, I really do.”
“And I love you, Nick, I really do. But isn’t life cruel? Poor old Oscar and Graham, Graham looks lost…”
“He’s got his dad, and his dad’s got him,” Nick said. “They’ve got each other and that’s what’s important right now. Well, I must leave you. See you later?”
And he left Doctor Rowan to continue her work while he padded along the corridor to reception. As he entered, he could see Sergeant Blaketon sitting hunched in his chair, cap at his side on another chair, as he stared at the floor. Graham was nearby, also staring at the floor and neither was speaking. Nick entered and glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes to ten, some six hours after the accident, and they were still awaiting any good news of Joan.
Nick moved among the chairs and as he approached his sergeant, he took a chair, twisted it around so that it was facing the opposite direction and sat upon it. He was now facing Blaketon and Graham.
Sergeant Blaketon observed Nick’s approach.
“Rowan,” he produced a quick slight smile of recognition, of pleasure even, at having someone to talk to.
“I’m sorry, sergeant, about Joan, er Mrs Forrester.”
“She’s in good hands, Rowan, and that gives me great comfort. Everyone is so kind, and your wife has been especially good to me, very professional. And you are in control of things? Getting enough evidence for the accident report?”
“Yes, and that’s why I am here. I need to talk to Graham,” Nick glanced at the youth. “I know it’s not a good time, but…”
“I’d have done the same myself, Rowan, if things had been different. You have a job to do, so get on and do it!”
Nick turned towards Graham who was steadfastly avoiding Nick’s eyes, staring persistently at the floor.
“Graham,” Nick spoke quietly and with some sympathy. “I’m sorry about what happened, but I need to know just what did occur. I need you to tell me. You were a witness, I believe, you arranged for someone to call the emergency services, Graham, you did a good job out there.”
“I don’t know what happened, Mr Rowan,” the lad shook his head but never took his eyes off the floor. “I never saw, I don’t know.”
“I think you do know, Graham. You know what I think? I think Denis was racing, I think he was taking part in one of those Killing Pits time trials, and I think he lost control on that comer…”
Graham shook his head and, without raising his eyes to meet those of Nick, whispered, “I just don’t know, Mr Rowan, I just don’t know! I never saw!”
“Your mum’s driving, Graham,” Nick persisted. “Was that all right? I mean, was she on the correct side of the road?”
“I never saw, Mr Rowan, I never saw, honest, I never saw a thing…”
“So why were you out there on that road? Time-keeping perhaps? For the Killing Pits Club? Letting Denis drive his dad’s car even though he hasn’t passed his driving test?”
Nick’s voice had been rising as he threw the questions at the unhappy youth and he could see that Graham was now on the point of tears. Nick pushed home his advantage.
“Graham, I need to know what happened, and I’m sure you saw everything…”
“I saw nothing, I tell you, nothing!” and now Graham burst into tears as his father came across and placed an arm around his shoulder.
“I think that’s enough for now, Rowan,” said Sergeant Blaketon.
“I’ll have to interview him again, sergeant, I do need a written statement from Graham. He’s our only witness.”
“Yes, I understand that, but not now eh, Rowan, not now,” whispered Sergeant Blaketon, himself showing signs of stress.
And so Nick retreated. He went back to Kate’s office to bid farewell to her, but she was not there. He went outside, jumped onto his motor cycle and rode home to an empty house.
*
It was some time later, when Graham had recovered a little of his composure, that his father said, “You know, Graham, the only way to make things right is to tell the truth. I’m not going to press you for answers, not now, but if PC Rowan does come seeking the truth of this afternoon’s events, you should tell him, however much it hurts, however much you loved your mum or count yourself as a true friend of Denis.”
“I couldn’t, dad,” he sniffed. “I couldn’t, really.”
Father and son remained together in that deserted waiting room, the nurse giving them cups of coffee and biscuits as the night hours ticked away. From time to time, Kate Rowan paid them a visit, each time bringing no further news about Joan other than to say she remained unconscious and was not responding to further treatment.
And then, at five o’clock in the morning, a nurse was passing Joan’s bed when she noticed that the patient’s eyes were open. She went in to speak to Joan.
“Hello, Mrs Forrester.”
“Is Oscar there? And Graham?”
“I’m sure they are, I’ll go and see.”
The nurse went out of the ward to find Kate first; Kate hurried to Joan’s bedside and smiled.
“Well, well, Mrs Forrester! Nice to see you smiling. How are you?”
“Tired, doctor, very tired. Are Oscar and Graham there?”
“I’ve sent someone to fetch them in, I can give them a few minutes with you. You’d like that?”
Joan nodded briefly, her voice very weak, and she did manage a very small smile. Moments passed before Sergeant Blaketon, his cap in his hand, entered somewhat nervously closely followed by Graham. They moved towards her bed, one at each side and then Blaketon bowed down and very gently kissed her on the mouth.
“Hello, Joan,” he whispered.
“Hello, Oscar, it was good of you to come.”
“How could I not
have come?” he spoke hoarsely. “We’re both here, Graham’s with me,” and Blaketon turned his eyes in the direction of his son.
Graham was not sure how to respond, but touched his mother’s hand and said, “Hi, mum, glad you could make it.”
“How are you feeling, love?” asked Blaketon.
“As well as can be expected, isn’t that what they say in these cases?” smiled Joan. “I feel a bit dizzy and fuzzy, almost as if I’m floating and they’ve put bandages all over the place. I’ve no idea what they’ve done to me, but I don’t feel any pain, I don’t feel anything, in fact. It’s like floating, as if my body isn’t mine any more. They’ve been very kind, you know, very kind indeed.”
“I know,” smiled Oscar.
“I just wanted to say something to you, Oscar, in front of Graham. I wanted to say that I wasn’t a very good wife to you, I should have shown more love, more tolerance. I know I should have supported you in your career, Oscar, you’re a very good man. Solid and dependable, but good. I’m proud to have been your wife.”
“Joan, don’t,” Blaketon’s suppressed emotions were now close to the surface, but she was continuing.
“And look after Graham, won’t you? You’re all he’s got, he’s still only a child, Oscar; your child, our child.”
And then, with a smile on her lips, she closed her eyes.
For a moment, there was no reaction from anyone as father and son awaited her next words, but there were no more words. Suddenly, Kate realised what had happened and hurried to the bedside. She tested Joan’s pulse, lifted her eyelids to examine her eyes, listened for her breath, but there was nothing.
“I’m sorry, sergeant, Graham,” Kate was close to tears herself. “She’s gone. I’m so dreadfully sorry.”
And she eased the sheets over Joan’s bandaged face. Blaketon, now with tears streaming down his face, lifted Joan’s bare hand and pressed it to his lips, keeping it there as the emotions of past and present overwhelmed him.
CHAPTER XIV
On that Sunday morning, breakfast time at the Police House in Aidensfield was a miserable affair. Kate hadn’t returned from the hospital until seven o’clock and had managed only a couple of hours’ sleep. She looked extremely tired and drawn following her terrible night’s duty. Nick, although he’d gone to bed around midnight, hadn’t slept and the phone call from Kate in the early hours, with the awful news about Mrs Forrester, had meant he’d not slept either. Both of them were subdued and going about their morning routine almost automatically.
Nick was at the cooker, frying eggs, sausages and bacon in his new frying pan while Kate was trying to gather her accoutrements for another visit to Whitby. She needed all her recent notes because, after Mrs Blaketon’s death, there would be a lot of paperwork to complete, including a statement for the coroner. There would be an inquest — it was inevitable following a fatal road traffic accident, and there would also have to be a post mortem examination even though Kate and the surgeon could specify the cause of Mrs Forrester’s death.
For Nick, the fact that the accident had proved fatal meant additional work for him. He would have to liaise with the coroner, arrange a post mortem on Mrs Forrester, collate the medical evidence and evidence from the scene.
Having done all this, he would have to submit a file to Divisional Headquarters for the superintendent to decide whether or not to prosecute Denis Myers. That would be difficult without a witness statement from Graham because the evidence at the scene suggested Mrs Forrester had been at fault.
“How about some breakfast, Kate?” he asked as he finalised the cooking of his own meal.
“Oh, Nick, I couldn’t,” she shook her head. “But thanks all the same.”
There was a long pause and then he said,
“Kate, it wasn’t Denis’ fault; at least the evidence suggests it wasn’t. Joan was driving on the wrong side of the road at the time of the impact. The brake marks prove that. If it was anyone’s fault, it was hers.”
“She might have swerved at the last minute, Nick. You know and I know that Denis was taking antihistamines which means he’d be incapable of driving correctly. He’d be under the influence of drugs, Nick, and he might have been doing something stupid with the car. Joan might have been trying to avoid him, you can’t say it was all her fault, not on what you already know.”
“I need an independent witness, Kate, I need somebody who saw it all happen, somebody who was at the scene just before the collision, and the only person who was there is young Blaketon. The trouble is he’s saying nothing.”
“Give him time, Nick, he’s only a youngster and he’s probably in a state of shock.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not sure whether we can regard him as an independent witness because his mother was a victim. And, of course, a friend was the other driver. He’s hardly independent, is he? But the courts might accept his version of events, if I can get him to talk.”
“Perhaps he is being truthful, Nick, perhaps he didn’t see exactly what happened.”
“I think he did. I think he’s protecting his mother, or Denis, or both, or he’s taking sides with that Killing Pits Club. I suppose I could obtain a subpoena and compel him to come to court to give evidence, if we ever get that far.”
Kate produced one of her quiet smiles. “Nick,” she asked. “If you do speak to Graham, ask him if he knew anything about Denis’ tablets, will you? Graham is staying with Denis at the Myers’ home, so he might have seen Denis taking the pills I prescribed, and Denis might have said something about my warning or my diagnosis. I did give him the necessary warning, Nick, so how can I prove it? It’s my word against his.”
“I’m going down to Ashfordly next, I expect Graham’s staying with his father, so I’ll try again to get him to talk. So what are your plans today?”
“I’ve some things to finish off in Whitby, at the hospital and also a surgery to take for Doctor Radcliffe. Barring the unknown, I should be home by lunchtime.”
“Me too. Maybe we can have an evening off? Go out somewhere? For a bar snack and a drink? We need to get away from the telephone and from work, if only for the evening.”
“I’ll see how I feel when I get back. At the moment, all I need is lots of sleep!”
“You’ll be treating Denis Myers at the hospital today?” he asked.
“Yes, he’ll have to remain there for another day or two.”
“Then you will tell me when he’s fit to be interviewed, won’t you?” he smiled.
“You know I will!”
“So how was Sergeant Blaketon last night when you left him?”
“Very shocked, Nick. He’s taking it very badly. He stayed at the hospital for an hour or more after Joan passed away, and Graham stayed with him, then they both went home. Blaketon said he was taking Graham with him, to his own home in Ashfordly.”
“It’s his birthday today, Kate, he was supposed to be taking the day off. He’d fixed up a trip to Haworth, a visit to the Parsonage with the local Brontë Society.”
“Oh, how terrible. He didn’t mention that to me, Nick, but I can’t imagine him wanting to leave home today.”
“I need to speak to Graham, so I reckon I might find him at Ashfordly. Well, I mustn’t delay you, and I must get myself down to Ashfordly. ‘Bye.”
She came across and kissed him. “Give Sergeant Blaketon and Graham my sympathies,” she asked.
“Sure, love,” and they left the washing up until the first one returned home.
As Nick approached Ashfordly Police Station on his motor cycle, a woman waved him down. She was carrying a bunch of flowers and as Nick halted to listen, she said,
“Can you take these to the sergeant, constable? For his wife, we are all so very sorry about what happened. These are from my family, all of us.”
“Yes, of course, that is very kind of you, Mrs…er…”
“Just a friend, constable, just a resident of Ashfordly who appreciates what the sergeant has done for us over the years.
”
“You’re very kind,” and Nick placed the flowers on his petrol tank as he covered the final yards. As he walked into the office bearing them, he saw that the table inside was smothered with more bunches, all shapes and sizes. Phil Bellamy was busy searching some index cards while Alf Ventress, enveloped within a cloud of smoke, was sitting before the floral covering of the table.
“A lady out there asked me to give these to serge,” he said.
“Put ‘em with the others, Nick,” said Alf. “It’s nice to know that somebody out there cares, eh?”
“Where is he?” asked Nick.
“He’s gone out, Nick. He’s cancelled his day off, he said he couldn’t bear people being sorry for him during the Brontë outing, so he said he’d rather work. He went off in the car somewhere, but didn’t say where. He is in uniform, by the way. Now that’s unusual, not saying where he was going. Generally he insists on telling us his exact movements, but not this morning.”
“But he was bearing up, you think?”
“Yes, very much so. There was no outward sign of grieving, Nick, they were divorced, remember.”
“He still thought the world of her, Alf. In fact, I’d say he loved her. Anyway, it’s young Graham I want to see. I need a statement from him before I can start putting my accident report together.”
“You’ve missed him as well, Nick. He’s taking Mrs Myers into hospital to see Denis, he’s borrowed Blaketon’s private car.”
“Well, there’s not much I can do until I’ve seen Graham; the report on the roadworthiness of the vehicles will take a few days to come through.”
“And I’ve informed the coroner, Nick, he does want a post mortem, he suggested Monday. I’ve had words with the pathologist at Middlesbrough General and he can operate on Mrs Forrester at three o’clock, Monday. You’ll have to go, being the officer who’s dealing with the fatality.”
“Right, I’ll see to that. Now, any more broken offertory boxes this morning?”
“Not so far, Nick, but the churches are all full this morning. I can’t see chummy raiding a church when it’s full of worshippers.”
“But today’s when most of the cash is put into the boxes,” Nick pointed out. “I’ll bet chummy realises that, and once the congregations have gone home for their Yorkshire puddings and roast beef, he’ll be out and about. We had about six done last Sunday afternoon, remember?”
Constable in Control (A Constable Nick Mystery Book 16) Page 12
