by EJ Lamprey
The door opened abruptly and Matron, looking very nearly flustered, stuck her head round. ‘Edge!’ She gasped thankfully ‘oh, and Donald too! Can I borrow you both for a moment? Bit of a crisis.’
‘Not the baby?’ Edge jumped up immediately. Donald, surprisingly quick, reached the door ahead of her as Matron shook her head violently.
‘The baby’s fine, wee lamb, sleeping peacefully. No, it’s Harriet, she’s come into the San looking like death, and collapsed on the floor, and I can’t lift her by myself, she’s such a big woman and she’s just dead weight, could you help me get her onto a bed? This dreadful snow, I think it’s her heart and we’ll never get an ambulance through the traffic jam—’
She hurried ahead of them to the administrator, who was pulled into the recovery position on the floor of the small waiting area, and patted her hand soothingly. ‘There you go, my dear, I’ve got a wheelchair right here and Donald and Edge to help me get you up into it, we’ll have you in a room and tucked up in two ticks, you just concentrate on your breathing now.’
Directed by the competent little matron the three of them managed to haul Harriet into the chair, wheel her into an unused room and help her onto the bed. Harriet refused to lie down and was in deep distress, fighting for breath with her fists clamped to her battling chest, and Matron gave up trying to press her back against the pillows, sending Donald instead to find more pillows to prop her upright and bustling off herself to chase up the ambulance already ordered for the mother and baby.
‘Edge,’ Harriet gasped and rolled her eyes towards her, ‘Edge, I’m dying, aren’t I? Oh God. Oh, the irony!’
‘It wasn’t supposed to happen so soon, was it?’ Edge intuited. ‘How long did they tell you?’
‘A year, if I - didn’t stop working – because of the stress. Stress, my God! A year - at best. But if I just - retired and took things - easy, I would be – fine;’ she stared at the window, then suddenly blinked and looked back at Edge.
‘You knew?’
‘Well—guessed,’ Edge didn’t want to increase the woman’s distress. ‘ You haven’t been yourself lately.’
‘If you – only knew,’ Harriet gasped a mirthless laugh as Donald appeared with a mound of pillows and they built them up until she could lean slightly into their support. Her colour improved marginally as her breathing steadied and Matron hurried back in with a glass of water with two fizzing sinking tablets.
‘Soluble aspirin,’ she said briskly, ‘better than nothing, and helps stop clotting. Is this the first time?’ Harriet shook her head mutely and the Matron’s attention sharpened. ‘If you’ve had a diagnosis, or you have prescription stuff, for goodness sake tell me. Do you have any medication?’
‘There are pills – in my desk drawer.’ Harriet twisted slightly on the pillows and Donald lifted her legs onto the bed. ‘Oh that’s – better, thank you. Doctors said I - would have to look at retiring – within six months – if I wanted to reach – normal retirement age.’
‘So there you were worrying about early retirement, when in fact the bungalow coming up when it did was an absolute blessing.’ Matron said reassuringly. Edge and Donald involuntarily exchanged glances and when Edge looked back at Harriet she realized the woman had seen them. Matron was still talking ‘so you just settle down, drink this slowly, all dissolved now, and we’ll have you on your feet and moving into your apartment in no time at all. Now if only Megan would answer the phone!’ She pressed the panic button yet again, looking anxious.
‘I don’t think so.’ Harriet closed her eyes. ‘I think things will – come out the way they’re – written. Edge, they know, then? Your niece? She told you?’
‘No, nothing. Harriet, you have to relax. Just concentrate on breathing properly.’
‘But you know,’ Harriet insisted. ‘Please, I have to know what you know!’
‘Stay with her.’ Matron gave up on the panic button. ‘Megan can’t be at the front desk. I’ll go for the pills but you two, please stay with her!’ She almost ran from the room leaving an awkward silence filled by Harriet’s laboured breathing. The breaths became gasps instead of strangled gulps and she finally opened her eyes.
‘It was such a shock – the cleaner dead – who could have done – such a thing,’ she looked from Edge to Donald, and saw the knowledge in their eyes. If anything she went more pale, and seemed to shrink against the pillows. ‘So you do know. I thought it would be - terrible if someone found out but in a funny way, it’s a relief.’
She lowered her fists and looked at them blankly before going on haltingly. ‘The breathlessness – started two, nearly three, months ago. Little spasms of pain. I had some tests done – and the doctor picked – up on the problem – immediately. Told me what – would happen. She said – any shocks – I might even have a heart attack – I had no idea about the attacks – how bad they would be. This is the second one.’ She stopped, still staring at her fists, then unclenched them cautiously. ‘I never meant – to kill anyone. You have to know that. Just – the buzzers. And switching some medication. That’s – not murder.’ She stopped short, glanced quickly at their faces. ‘You knew about that, too? About everything?’
‘Yes, we do. Betsy, and Helen, and William, and Mose—’ Edge stopped as Donald touched her arm warningly. True. There might be more. ‘You’ll feel better if you tell us,’ she said instead.
‘We keep people alive, you know. That’s our job. At first I thought – if we just stop keeping the residents alive and – they start dying, the place will become unpopular. People will – leave and people on the – waiting list won’t take their turn, and I was fairly high on the – bungalow list. It wasn’t a – great plan but I couldn’t think – how else to retire early, and jump the queue to get in, without – my condition being picked up – if it wasn’t a bungalow. And Mose would have died anyway. He would have been – dead long before Matron got there. I need never have – touched the panic buttons. I wish I – never had. I waited, and he didn’t try again – so I got dressed and went down to the apartment. Oh God.’ She stopped, re-living a moment, then went on haltingly.
‘The first heart attack - was just after I – killed Helen Webster. I thought my heart had burst, the pain - was so bad. She was counting the – money, and she laughed when I asked – for the buzzer. I had taken the knife just – in case. I didn’t mean to kill her but she – should have brought – the damn buzzer. It was her own fault. But when I stabbed her – it was like I’d stabbed myself - the pain - I pushed her backwards and - staggered off to the nearest bench until I could breathe again. Then I went back to the garages, to get the money back and hide her under - the boxes until I could think what to do, and Betsy was there, in an absolute rage because someone - had killed Spencer—that was what she called Helen, Spencer—in her garage. She was much angrier about the garage than - the murder. She never even used it – except for storage – that’s why I picked hers for the meeting. I thought it was all up, then, I told her to - tell Megan to call the police but she loathed Megan, never had a good word for her. She said she’d call the - police from her flat and I just – followed her. Such an unpleasant woman. So cross that someone had used - her garage. She didn’t even look at me, how much distress I was in, she said I should come in for a – for a cup of tea. She would take care of it for me. So patronizing. She thought I was in shock because of seeing the body. Always meddling and - interfering. It took a minute to - realize she hadn’t seen me – didn’t even suspect me – and it was the most extraordinary thing. Like a light going on in my head. I thought well, if I kill her too, I could leave Helen - in the garage until I was strong enough - to move her. And if Betsy was - murdered, the apartment would stand empty for ages - people don’t - want to be in a flat where someone had been murdered. If I could even rent it - myself I’d get the garage as well, and that would give me - even more time to hide Helen’s body where it would never be found. Then she would be – the obvious suspect. No one would ever suspect anyon
e else. And having a real murder, that would make people leave, and no one would want – to come here. So much better than – taking any more risks with the residents who - owned bungalows, until my turn came up on the list – because the murder would scare people off, do you see? My turn would come up much - faster if there was a panic. All that went through my head in a flash while - that stupid, stupid woman was - arguing with some policeman on the emergency number and when she’d put the phone down I - walked behind her chair and clamped a - cushion over her face. Big as she was, she fought less than Helen did. It was easy. It was so easy. Even the pain stopped. As though it was meant.’
For a long moment she stared out the window, her face haggard with pain, then rolled her head on the pillow to look at Edge. ‘And then because a woman - goes into labour on the motorway, and Donald - opened the wrong garage to find his sleigh, it’s over. My pills – are locked in my - desk, so Hamish wouldn’t find them and - guess that I was sick. At least I’ve had the chance – to say that I’m sorry.’
‘Damn! If it’s locked, where are your keys?’ Donald pounced on Harriet’s bag, which had been dropped on the visitor chair in the room. He dumped the contents on the chair, found a bunch of keys and darted after Matron. Edge half-started after him, then went back to the bed and gingerly patted Harriet’s hand
‘Don’t you dare die, Harriet. I mean it. What other booby traps did you set? Did you have something for all the bungalow owners, for Olga? You have to tell me.’
‘I never did like you.’ Harriet said drowsily. ‘Funny, isn’t it? You’re more interested – in the residents – even now. It was just Mose’s buzzers. That’s not murder, even Helen agreed it wasn’t, but the look - she gave me. I knew I could never – defend what I had done to – anyone else. And when Megan reported - a panic button was missing, I knew. Josie had warned me Helen was - a blackmailer. If I had only insisted – back then, that the agency replaced her! Five thousand pounds. I would have paid it, you know, but I couldn’t be sure - she would never – ask for more.’
‘The other bungalow owners, Harriet. The other booby traps.’ Edge insisted and Harriet twitched a shoulder impatiently.
‘I switched - William’s medication with Mary’s, in number six. That Dutch woman, I put aspirin in her - pill bottle instead of the - stuff she had. Nothing that could - kill them,’ a sidelong glance, ‘just make it harder for them to stay alive. I couldn’t think what - to do about Keith’s pills, they were - quite distinctive. Olga doesn’t take - any meds. I wasn’t trying to kill anyone. Just make them want to – leave. Sell their bungalows.’ She looked easier, as if her confession had taken a burden off her shoulders.
In the distance Edge could hear the baby whimpering, and hurrying footsteps on the stairs, and the gathering wail of an ambulance but in the room there was only Harriet’s ragged breathing. Then, very softly, she spoke again.
‘Do you think they can keep my - name out of the papers? I’ve always had - such a very good name, you know.’
After Christmas
The police didn’t suppress the identity of the murderer but neither did they—at the Bursar’s urgent request—volunteer it, and the media never followed up. Harriet’s funeral, in the Sunday Room in accordance with her will, was well-attended if not tearful, and Hamish Kirby was briefly the administrator of the Lawns, although he wasn’t able to convince Edge to join him as a temporary assistant.
Diligent police work identified the late Angus Burns with the paedophile report in the strongbox, and made it likely that Helen’s blackmail demand had, after all, driven him to suicide. Nothing was made public.
One of the leather-clad men in the steamy bondage photo turned out to be Major Horace, which Kirsty, although sorely tempted, never revealed to her aunt. She was, however, fairly sure that her aunt strongly suspected it, especially after Edge announced mischievously to her niece that she’d found out who the Major’s cleaner had been—and that he had, a few days before the murders, insisted on switching cleaners. The new rota had switched Helen to Betsy Campbell.
William’s health improved by leaps and bounds—which was the disgusted way he described his latest exercise regime—and he was soon able to return to his bungalow. All the bungalow owners are restored to full good health. His extravagant flirtation with Vivian continues and is much enjoyed by both parties, and a source of constant amusement to Edge. Their little group is joined, as often as not, by Donald, whose dry wit is the perfect foil to William’s grandiosity.
When Vivian was back in her apartment and re-united with Buster, Edge missed him so much she considered adopting a dog of her own. In the meantime she frequently joins the two dog owners on walks. William hasn’t yet been persuaded to go with them
THREE FOUR KNOCK ON MY DOOR
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
AND THANKS
Artwork by www.laceyoconnor.com
Edited by edit-my-book.com
Particular thanks to Dame Beryl Grey, shown here as Odette in Swan Lake, for giving me permission to include her in Olga’s entirely fictional history
PROLOGUE
Monday
You’ve seen that poster which says I DON’T ASK FOR MUCH IN A MAN and goes on to say he just has to be tall handsome witty loving caring sexy—well, you get the picture. It doesn’t list selfish, callous, greedy or murderous. Some girls are just unlucky.
Alison Martin ran her slim brown fingers through her tight curls, then pulled her hair away from her face into a tight knot on top of her head and studied the effect solemnly, turning her head from side to side. Her eyes were beautiful, very dark with a deep sparkle. Her skin, despite four long years away from the sunshine of Kenya, and in the dying weeks of a long Scottish winter, was still richly tinted and flawless, and her features, reflecting her mixed heritage, were good without quite being beautiful. She smiled, teeth very white and straight, and secured her hair with a scrunchy before turning from the mirror to flop down into her favourite chair. She picked up her laptop and re-read what she had written so far.
Well, I did it. I felt a bit like a secret agent, it was fun in a way following him. Like a movie, gorgeous girl spy follows handsome enigmatic hero, you know? Anyway, I had to keep well back, hood flipped forward over my face, I was really nervous he’d see me on the train. One thing about Scotland, there aren’t a lot of gorgeous black girl spies on the streets, especially in smaller towns like Linlithgow. Couldn’t even wear sunglasses, that would attract even more attention in winter! Turns out he was telling the truth after all. I followed his taxi from the station to a development which my taxi driver said really is a retirement village, Grasshopper Lawns, and then of course I had to turn back, I couldn’t go in after him, I would have stuck out like a sore thumb, it isn’t a big place. The taxi driver said everyone living there was nuts but in an interesting way, they’re not loonies.
He also said half of them were murdered recently. Sounds pretty loony to me. Still, now I know exactly where the place is, just off the M9, and I suppose next step is to find out if there really is an aunt or whether he’s seeing one of the staff. And yes I know you said where there is no trust there is no love, but you’ve also always said things that are important are worth pursuing whatever the price, and I think he is. Just call me besotted. You’ll meet him soon enough, I am so looking forward to you getting here! He doesn’t know anything yet, just like you asked, especially since when you were first coming you would have missed him by a few days. Big surprise for him.
Smiling, she typed rapidly,
And now because it’s Monday again I’m off to my Zumba class and since I’m dumped for a filthy-rich geriatric aunt (or a young and gorgeous carer, ouch) (no, I don’t believe that for a minute) I’ll be going out with the others afterwards, so I’ll send this email now. I’m making a cunning plan(!) for the weekend, to force his hand. Any exciting developments will follow on next email!!(All right then, one more exclamation for luck!!!)
Lots of love, and see you soon, please p
lease always take care
Alison
She sent the email, automatically deleted it from her ‘sent’ file, and logged out. The screensaver image, as always, made her smile, it was the only family photo she had kept; her father, very dark and handsome, grinning and holding her up, her baby cheek pressed to his; her mother laughing up at him, looking so different, so beautiful, that the image sometimes made tears prick her eyes. Life had been simple once.
She kissed her finger and pressed the kiss to the screen, closed the laptop, picked up her car keys and caught up her jacket, slamming the door behind her to run lightly down the stairs, a vital, pretty girl who was a disastrously bad judge of character and had less than a week to live.
CHAPTER ONE
Wednesday – tea with Clarissa
Beulah Edgington Cameron, who had been known as Edge to her friends for over fifty years, could fairly be described as a lively and attractive woman who spent quite a lot of time on her appearance, with generally pleasing results. On this first day in February her expensively-streaked hair was caught up in a deceptively casual topknot and her neat figure encased in a heather-mix jersey suit under a camel overcoat, just right for a crisp cold morning in Scotland.The effect was definitely marred by her stockinged feet—and the fact that she was limping painfully, and using an umbrella walking stick for support—as she made her way up the stairs of the main house at the Grasshopper Lawns retirement village.
At the doorway to Frail Care she stopped short at the sight of Donald MacDonald, her slightly supercilious neighbour-but-one, sitting in the treatment chair and looking more than usually sardonic, while Matron splinted and bandaged his hand.
