by Emily Selby
She sat on the bench by the patio. The sky was grey and heavy with clouds, but it was surprisingly warm. The patio was empty but a few people walked among the flowerbeds. Sadly, Dorothy Ravencroft wasn't there. Maybe this wasn't her rehab day. A chat with Dorothy would have lifted her mood.
"Hello, young woman, could you push me outside onto the patio?' A man’s voice, speaking with difficulty broke the silence. Katie turned around. An elderly man in a wheelchair was stuck in the doorway.
Harold Bower!
'Hello Mr Bower!' Katie jumped to her feet. 'Of course, I can. It's not a bad day to sit outside.'
She grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it through the doorway. "Where would you like to sit?'
'Over there.' He pointed with his chin. Katie obliged.
'Thank you. The nurses are always so busy.'
'Yes, they are. Would you like a blanket?'
'That'd be nice.'
She stepped back into his room, grabbed a chequered blanket from the bed and took it outside.
'Here it is.' She draped it over his legs.
'Thank you'
'No problem.' Katie said. A crazy idea crossed her mind. She'd heard Harold Bower was not too well. Following two strokes, his memory wasn't as good as it used to be, but maybe... just maybe, he could remember Barbara's visit.
'If you like being outside, maybe I could take you for a little walk around the garden now? I work here, on the cleaning team. I could do it, if the nurses can't.'
'They forget about me.'
'Do they?' Katie continued, her heart fluttering. 'What about your family? Do they come often? I've heard your daughter is very caring,' Katie ventured, her voice trembling. She hated lying.
'She isn't! All she wants is money. I've told her not to come. I don't want to see her.'
'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.'
'Useless girl. Always has been.'
'She must have hurt you badly, I'm sorry.'
'She hurt a lot of people. Just like her mother. She's just like her mother,' he carried on apparently speaking with anger, which made his speech difficult to understand at times. 'I know what I know. She's not allowed to come back until she agrees...'
Katie's heart flipped. Was there some sort of secret coming?
'She agrees to?'
'She agrees to do what I've asked her to do.' Harold Bower grunted. 'I'm tired...' He said slowly and closed his eyes. Katie stood by his side for a minute or so, watching his face gradually relaxing.
It looked as though he nodded off. She went back inside to find a nurse.
A woman dressed in a powdery blue uniform had her head inside the fridge.
'Excuse me.' Katie called out. 'Mr Bower has just fallen asleep outside. I covered him with a blanket. Is it okay to leave him out there?'
The woman looked at her.
'Yes, he often falls asleep when outside. Being in the garden calms him. He must have spent a lot of happy hours outdoors on building sites. If he's comfortable, let him be there. But how did you get involved? Who are you?' The nurse's voice was suddenly suspicious.
'Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Katie. I'm part of the cleaning team. I've come in a little early and he asked me to help him get out on the patio.'
'Ah.' The woman's face smoothed, and she smiled. 'Thank you for helping.'
'No problem.' Katie hesitated. Normally, she would just walk away, but this was an excellent opportunity to dig up some insider information.'
'Does he get many visitors, Mr Bower? He complained to me that he doesn't. I've seen his daughter around town a lot lately.'
The woman gave Katie a strange look. Her pencil-thin eyebrows drew together into a vertical line. There was an uncomfortable silence.
'Vera is her name, isn't it?' Katie desperately added.
The woman gave a short, annoyed sigh.
'Yes. She comes here, all right. Quite often. In fact, a little too often.'
'He made a comment about her to me. And it wasn't a positive one,' Katie added hesitantly.
'Every time she comes there is some drama. And as if she wanted to show off how much she cares about her father. She never cared about him before his second stroke. Never rang or visited. Now, she is here at least twice a week.'
'He said he doesn't want to see her anymore.'
'Yes. He mentioned it.' The woman paused and looked away. 'To be fair, I haven't seen her for a few days. I wondered if she's got too busy getting involved in murders.' The woman gave that short, snorting sigh again.
There was a tension in the nurse's face, when she was speaking. An old grudge, maybe?
'I've heard she trained as a nurse.'
'She did. Never finished the course, though. She was a year above me, actually...' The nurse looked away, her voice trailed off.
There was a palpable tension in her voice. Katie desperately wanted to continue this conversation. 'I've heard Vera was very caring towards her mother.'
The nurse inhaled sharply.
'Vera's mother died of bowel cancer and indeed Vera came back to town to look after Margaret in the terminal stage of her illness. I worked in the hospice at the time, and I witnessed many fiery arguments between them. Vera took after her mother. Only Vera is worse. I've never seen Margaret punching anyone...'
'But you saw Vera do it?'
The nurse's face tensed, her eyes narrowed into two slits. 'I did. She punched another girl in the nursing school. There was blood.'
Katie's jaw dropped. Now, she could understand the woman's hostile attitude, but she never saw it coming! After all, apart from being a little too loud and prone to lies, Vera seemed like a nice person.
'That's awful. They would have expelled her, I guess,' Katie said. 'But that must have been years ago. Maybe she's changed? People do change.'
'They do, but not very often.' The woman's face relaxed at the change of subject.' Oh, the old saying about leopards and spots is largely true. But I guess, judging by Mr Bower's attitude to her over the past few weeks, Vera won't be coming in soon.'
'Miss Cambridge won't be coming any more, either, I'm afraid,' Katie added hesitantly. Was this going to work as a bait?
The nurse opened her eyes wide. 'I've heard that! Was she murdered, too?'
Oh-ho, the nursing home grapevine was obviously up to date.
'I can't really comment on that. The police are investigating. But did you know she was hit over the head with a brick the night before her death?'
'Yeah, someone must have mentioned it.' The nurse's voice became careful again. 'Awful!' She shuddered. 'Barbara Cambridge was one of my teachers in the nursing school.'
Katie stifled the urge to ask more questions.
'Apparently, Barbara came here the other day, looking to move in?'
'God forbid, no! I don't think she'd ever come to live in a nursing home. She was far too private and proud.' The nurse paused. 'Actually, this was strange, because she came to visit Harold Bower. We all wondered what she might want from him. Maybe they were friends in the past. He seemed happy to see her before she arrived, but after she left, he was very unsettled. Then he talked to his daughter and her visit upset him even more. I remember that very well, because I was on night duty and we had a lot of difficulty getting him off to sleep. We reported this to the manager.'
Katie's head filled with many more questions. She opened her mouth, but her five minutes was clearly gone.
'Oh, dear, I need to get this nutrition drink to Mrs Clipper. I'm sorry, dear. Lovely chatting to you and thank you for your help with Mr Bower. I'll check on him soon.'
She rushed off with a bottle she was holding.
Katie stood in the kitchenette area, too overwhelmed to move. People knew things, and if you knew how to ask, you could get so much, in fact too much.
Barbara had visited Harold and it was strange. What was it about? How did she upset him? The nurse was yet another person who alluded to a nasty side of Barbara's character - how nasty was she? She was on the harsh side, f
air enough - always giving you a nasty look if you returned your library books too late, or if she found you’d made dogears in the library books. But was she capable of murder? What about Vera? That one, it looked, was capable of violence, and she was after money, but much more than anything Mrs Dunbar could offer. Harold Bower was the richest man in town, no wonder Vera wanted to make sure her name was in his will. What did Harold Bower want from Vera? What was the mysterious agreement about? "You'll get my money only if you settle, get a decent job, and marry a good man", type of thing?
Katie shook her head. There was still too much she didn't know. Things still didn't make sense.
What was she supposed to do with all this information? Pass it onto Jack without any hard evidence?
23
Katie worked, but her mind was elsewhere, running through all sorts of scenarios and options, agonising over the information not being 'evidenced enough' to pass it onto Jack.
Darn it. Two people had already died. Even if Jack decided not to do anything with it, it was her duty to share her concerns.
During the work break, she pulled out her phone and dialled the police station.
'Sunnyvale police, how can I help?' greeted the familiar voice of Constable Boris.
'Hi Rebecca, Katie here. Is DI Heaton nearby?'
'No, he's away in Newcastle, interviewing that guy injured in the fire.'
'Do you think he will be back today?'
'He should be. I've got things I need to pass onto him. Check in later.'
Katie hung up. At least he hadn’t been pulled off the case. She should be able to catch him after work. But first, she had to organise her thoughts, so she could deliver the information she wanted in the most concise and logical way possible. She didn't want to waste his time.
Her mind kept returning to the workshop as somehow being pivotal to the case. She’d seen Roy hanging around it. Then the murderer broke in, and the fire-probably set to destroy any evidence. Evidence of what? She needed to talk it through with someone.
And since Julia wasn't going to be home until after 7 pm having spent the afternoon with her friends, Katie drove straight back to the police station.
The sky was grey with only hints of golden and pink from the sun setting behind the clouds. The building was dark, with lights only showing in a couple of windows. The staff room was empty, the duty officer, probably Rebecca, was sitting at the reception. A smudge of light showed through the doorframe, and a murmur of voices broke the silence. Katie listened for a while. It was Rebecca speaking. Katie pushed the door a little more. She wasn't intending to eavesdrop, but she couldn't resist.
'...yes. Showed him the photo. Surprisingly, the man recognised him. Apparently, he's a regular there.'
'It's a café though?' Katie's heart fluttered hearing the familiar deep, smooth voice, although he sounded tired.
'Yes, it has "café" in the name.' Rebecca gave a short, rattling laugh. 'Internet cafe. I think they mostly do games there.'
'Games? Like shooting video games?'
'Most of them, but some people go to use the Internet, apparently. That's what the owner said, but it's hard to imagine the vicar wouldn't have an Internet access in his house.'
'I'm sure he has.' A note of humour warmed Jack's voice. 'But maybe wanted to access something that shouldn’t be done from home.'
'You- Oh!' Rebecca's voice pitched higher. A paused followed.
Katie covered her mouth to muffle the sound that pushed out, but it was too late.
'I'm not saying- hang on. Hello, anybody out there?'
'I-I didn’t want to interrupt. I'm sorry.' Katie entered the reception area. 'I've popped in to talk to the DI, I mean, you. Hi, Rebecca.' She nodded in the direction of the young woman who still had an expression of surprise on her round, freckled face.
'Ignore what you might have overheard,' Jack said casually. 'By the way, I've had heads-up from the financial fraud team earlier today. To put your young, innocent minds to rest'—he winked—'I just wanted to say that, the vicar admitted to gambling. He's been using Internet cafes to access gambling sites to try and pay off his debts to the parish.'
'Ah, those so-called investments he talked about.' Katie said.
'Yes, he listened to advice from someone he shouldn't have trusted. He made some mistakes and lost money. He won some. He wanted to win more but kept losing. He acted against his better judgement and told some little lies. But is he a murderer? We'll get the logs from his gambling sessions. The dates and times are all recorded. Unless someone else was using his account at the same location, looking like him, his alibi is sound.'
Katie glanced at Rebecca, who was looking at Jack with admiration. A pang of jealousy stung her heart. She'd never thought other women on the team might have noticed he was an attractive and smart man. But of course, they had.
'Anyhow, Katie, what is it you wanted to tell me, that's so urgent it couldn't wait till tomorrow? If I'm not mistaken, this is your off-work time?'
'Ah, it may be connected with the murder.'
Katie related her findings regarding Barbara's unexpected visit to Harold a few weeks earlier.
Jack rubbed his chin.
'This was when exactly?'
'I don't have any exact dates, but Dorothy Ravencroft said a couple of weeks ago. She's happy to talk to you about it,' she added hastily.
'Harold is crippled, isn't he?' Rebecca asked. 'He's in the wheelchair. He couldn't kill anyone.'
Katie nodded.
'Not a very good candidate for a killer,' Jack said, his voice flat.
'Are you any closer to finding what's happened to Barbara?'
'Not yet.'
Katie hesitated.
'I think that the workshop is somehow important.'
'Yes, we've checked it. We found absolutely nothing of interest inside, but we're keeping an eye on it.'
'If you don’t mind, I'd like to have a look at it myself. I've got the key.'
Jack looked at her, a mix of hesitation and worry in his eyes.
'We've finished, but I’d rather you stay away from it, until after we’ve closed the investigation and caught the killer. Please.'
Katie listened, looking at him without a word.
'Did you hear me, Katie? The killer is still on the loose. I don't want another body in the morgue.'
Katie swallowed. She wasn't going to be the next victim, never in a million years!
'Of course, I'll stay safe,' she said. 'But I'll check the workshop, mind!'
'We're removing the crime scene tape, but we'll have the patrol car swing by it tonight.'
'That's all right. I promise no hanging around suspicious places after dark.' She smiled, but he didn't smile back.
When she left the station, the world was bathing in the glorious golden colours. The clouds dispersed, and the sky was iridescent with pink and golden smudges. For some strange reason, it made her feel optimistic.
Katie, the workshop key on the passenger seat, drove straight to the Dunbars' house.
As usual, the street was quiet. Barbara's house was completely dark, but the Peters' house was full of light and life. The family must have returned from work and school. Katie parked between their house and Phyllis', under a street lamp. A dog barked in the distance as Katie walked past Phyllis' bungalow to the workshop.
The workshop looked quiet and innocent. If not for a strip of yellow tape tangled in the bushes beside the road and the window covered with planks, she wouldn't have guessed it was a crime scene only - what? thirty hours ago.
Following the fire fighters forced entry, the workshop door had been secured with a chain and a padlock. Katie unlocked it and stepped inside. The workshop smelled of burnt wood and damp. Puddles of water dotted the floor.
She left the door open. The electricity was cut off after the fire. If she wanted anything done, she had to finish it before it got dark outside.
Warm, evening light filled the room. Smudges on the walls were another reminde
r of the recent events. Pieces of burnt and charred wood lay scattered on the floor, a few objects that looked like carpentry tools were hanging from the wall opposite the entrance, and a large bench occupied the centre of the room. An open cupboard pressed into the corner, empty. Big enough for a medium sized person to hide in. Katie shuddered. Of course, it was nonsense- she could see very well there was no one there.
She moved around the room, searching, avoiding puddles. In some places, the plaster on the walls had fallen off. A large spot, the size of a football, of darker-looking material showed on one of the walls. Katie traced her hand around it. The edges were smooth. The floor beneath the mark was dotted with flecks of what looked like paint. It must have been peeled off before the fire brigade arrived, very likely by the murderer, or whoever was in here.
But what for?
The only reason to attack an empty-looking wall, that she could think of, was to find something hidden behind it...
Katie grabbed a plank from the floor and tapped on the wall, beside the wet patch.
It sounded solid. She moved a little closer to the edge and tapped again. It sounded a little different. Louder? She tapped in the middle of the spot. Yes! It definitely sounded hollow. She moved to the other edge of the spot and tapped some more.
There was an empty space inside the wall!
With her heart pounding and her hands shaking, she searched the room for tools to help her rip the layer of plaster off the wall. A rusty clamp, a piece of metal frame and a broken measuring tape. That would have to suffice!
She got down to work, using the piece of frame as a chisel and the clamp as a hammer. Once she’d removed the damp layer, the clamp pushed through the remaining plaster and... hit a piece of plywood.
Katie's heart flipped. She wanted to jump for joy, but a quick look through the open door showed her it was growing dark. She pushed through the remnants of plaster with the plank, knocking it away, bit by bit, until she’d exposed all four edges of the plywood. She put her hands on the plywood cover and pushed. The cover slid open revealing a dark hole the size of a large shoebox.
She stood on her tiptoes and used the torch function on her mobile to look inside. Something glistened at the bottom of the hole. Katie put her arm carefully inside and closed her finger around a small, smooth object. She pulled it out with shaking hands.
