Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series!

by Caroline James

  Last night it most certainly had.

  Grace knew exactly where the keys were to Nancy’s office and had soon unlocked the manager’s apartment and put the inebriated soul to bed. Realising that Nancy would never make the early shift, she’d called an emergency nursing agency and arranged for a qualified nurse to be available to do the morning medication round. Grace knew the procedure with agency nurses and made sure all the correct checks were in place. She’d even faked Nancy’s signature on the paperwork that the nurse produced to verify her time at Marland Manor.

  Nancy and Grace had worked together for many years, and although there was no love lost between them, Grace knew that it was in her best interests to ensure that Nancy overcame this inconvenient blip in her behaviour as soon as possible.

  As Nancy dressed, Grace explained how she’d arranged cover and that none of the staff were any the wiser and had no idea that Nancy was anything other than poorly with a migraine. There was no need to hurry to work, the lunchtime medication round was also covered.

  ‘I have no idea why you were as pissed as a newt,’ Grace said as she moved towards the door, ‘if anyone else had found you so drunk and out of control, this place might have been closed down. A manager on duty in that condition is gross misconduct and if the authorities at the Care Quality Commission ever got wind of it, that would be the end of you.’ Grace stared at Nancy. ‘It would be the end of Marland Manor too; the owner would be held responsible for putting vulnerable adults at risk.’ Grace thought that she was possibly stretching the truth as far as regulations went, but Nancy needed to be taught a lesson.

  Nancy was fastening the buttons on her jacket and stared back, knowing that Grace might be right. She should never have gone to the fete, especially as she hadn’t arranged any support in her absence. John must never hear about this; it could finish their relationship! ‘So, what else do you want now?’ Nancy’s voice was cold. ‘You didn’t do it because you like me.’

  ‘Aye, you can say that again.’ Grace smiled. ‘I’ve put up with your crap for years; you’ve always treated me like something you’ve stepped on.’

  ‘A pay rise?’

  ‘That will do to start.’

  ‘That’s all you’ll get; I won’t be blackmailed.’ ‘We’ll see about that.’ Grace crossed her arms.

  Nancy, now fully dressed and in the process of repairing her makeup and brushing her hair, stopped what she was doing and turned to Grace. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you know exactly what I mean,’ Grace whispered and with a slow, knowing shake of her head, stepped back to open the door and, in a moment, was gone.

  Nancy stood, rooted to the spot as she watched the door close and heard Grace leave the apartment. She shivered as she considered Grace’s words.

  For in that moment, for the first time in her life, Nancy did indeed know exactly what Grace meant and the knowledge was overwhelming. Gripping the back of a chair to stop her hands from shaking, Nancy shuddered as realisation dawned.

  Her days of bullying the long-term employee were most certainly over.

  25

  The morning after the fete, it was a harassed Hattie who found herself in Roberts’ Convenience Stores shortly after the shop opened for the day. It was the last place that she wanted to be at such an early hour but as she hadn’t so much as a slice of bread in her cupboards, she’d risen early and hot footed it through the village to the shop.

  ‘A large white loaf and a litre of milk, please.’ She watched Arnie appear from behind a curtain of coloured plastic strips. ‘You can put a small pork pie in the bag too.’

  Silently, Arnie placed the items on the counter and took the five-pound note that Hattie held out. He rang the money into the till and handed over her change. His hand was limp and damp and Hattie would have preferred the coins to have been placed on the counter. Reluctantly, she reached out, grabbed the money and placed the goods in her bag.

  ‘Joan not about yet?’ she asked. The man shook his head then turned and disappeared beyond the curtain. ‘Charming,’ Hattie thought and left the shop to head for home. If she hadn’t been so desperate for something to eat, she would have given the shop a wide berth but as she rummaged about for the pork pie and sank her teeth into it, she was grateful that the stores had been open so early on a Sunday. Drake waddled beside Hattie and as they walked back to the cottage, she flicked pieces of crust in his direction and he gobbled happily.

  Hattie had enjoyed herself the evening before. The Hollywood Hillbillies had come up trumps and turned out to be the star turn of the fete. They’d played late into the night and had everyone on the dance floor, including Hattie who’d learnt to “chasse” and “do-si-do” and she’d even perfected a hitch-kick without knocking other dancers out. The bar had been packed all night and Reggie and his team were kept busy. Hattie had spent what was left of the night on her own, as Reggie had to remove all alcohol and dismantle The Best Little Whore House in Hollywood. He’d no doubt been up until the early hours and fallen exhausted into his own bed, with another busy day ahead. All that dancing had given Hattie an appetite and she was looking forward to getting home, stacking a plate with hot toast and butter and putting her feet up in her lovely little conservatory.

  As Hattie approached Lover’s Lane, her mobile rang. She wiped crumbs from her mouth and swallowed the last of the pie and, reaching into a pocket, found the phone and held it to her ear.

  ‘Hello?’ she said.

  ‘It’s Grace. You told me to call you, if I had any news.’

  ‘Aye, fire away.’

  ‘Nancy was blathered last night and left Marland Manor unattended and the residents without their medicines,’ Grace said, ‘but that’s not the reason I’m calling you.’

  ‘Go on.’ Hattie was curious.

  ‘I’ve kept quiet for a long time, but maybe you should know that Nancy is nocturnal and adds unreported visits to her medicine rounds.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’ve seen her giving injections in the night when no one else is around.’

  The cogs in Hattie’s brain began to spin. She tried hard to remember her last conversation with Grace, when the name of a resident had been mentioned. Suddenly she recalled her notes and the name came back. ‘Did you see her visit Jim Leighton-Scott?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Did she visit him during the night that he died?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But surely she would have been doing her rounds and just checked in on him?’

  ‘The overnight carers do the rounds every hour, to check on the residents and write their visit in a log. Nancy would only be called if someone became unwell and needed medical assistance. Jim was perfectly well, I’d checked on him myself; he had no illness other than frailty and was sleeping peacefully when I last saw him.’

  ‘But he was very old? Old folk often die in the early hours.’

  ‘True, but something wasn’t right and the next time I went into his room, I couldn’t rouse him. I know death when I see it and he’d died after Nancy’s visit.’

  ‘Did she know that you’d seen her go into his room.’

  ‘She didn’t have a clue, I kept myself in the shadows; as far as Nancy was concerned, I’d gone in to do an hourly check-up and found him dead.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone your suspicions?’

  Grace coughed and Hattie could hear her fidgeting with the phone. When she spoke, she was abrupt. ‘It’s up to you what you think, but I’m just telling you what I saw.’

  ‘Grace, listen to me.’ Hattie had reached her cottage and was leaning on the gate. ‘Do you remember Helen Delaney, the vicar’s wife? Her father was a resident at Marland Manor.’

  ‘Yes, I often saw her visiting; she was an only child and her father was her idol.’

  ‘I’ve been told that she was distraught when he died?’

  ‘So I believe. Everyone said that led to her suicide.’

  ‘Di
d you ever see Nancy giving Helen’s father an injection at night?’

  ‘I’m saying nowt, it’s up to you to draw your own conclusions, you’re the private dick.’ Grace’s voice was harsh, and she seemed anxious to end the call. ‘You haven’t had any of this information from me,’ she said. ‘I’ll deny everything if I’m ever questioned.’

  The line went dead.

  Hattie stared at her phone. Her pulse had quickened, and she moved forward, soon covering the distance between the gate and the cottage. Heading straight to her office she flung the door open and sat down.

  Bloody hell! Was Nancy knocking the residents off, and if so, had she got access to their bank accounts? That might explain how she was able to invest in so many properties. Hattie reached for her notepad and began to write down everything that Grace had told her. The wretched woman wasn’t going to give this information to the police but there had to be a way of getting it out of her.

  Hattie thought back to her conversation with Camilla at the fete. Camilla had indicated that Barry ‘knew the truth’. Had he found out what Nancy was up to?

  She looked out of the window, where Drake had flung himself onto the pond and set about chasing the hen, who was coyly meandering around the edge. As Hattie watched the courting ritual, she thought about this recent development. The plot was most definitely thickening, and Hattie had a feeling that now that a key had been turned to unlock one part of the mystery, there was a fair chance that she’d have access to the rest. Her mind was spinning with questions and plans for the next stage of her investigations. Deciding that she worked best on a full stomach, she headed back to the cottage to fuel up.

  GRACE SAT on the front row of the bus that ran every hour between Marland and Penrith and held her bag tightly on her knee. Her face was grim as she stared out of the window. She was tired after all the activity of the night before and hadn’t managed to get a wink of sleep.

  On overnight shifts under normal circumstances, she usually managed to grab several hours of undisturbed rest, even though she’d be sacked if anyone found her taking a nap. But all the carers did it and always backed each other up by filling in the logs, whether or not they’d actually done the rounds of the residents’ rooms. It was common practice and had been in all the years that Grace had worked at Marland Manor.

  But now, realising that overwhelming tiredness had made her careless, Grace was deeply regretting her call to Hattie and realised that she’d been foolish.

  Grace’s reason for the call was to get Nancy in trouble. She wanted to cause upset for her boss. Over the years, Nancy’s indifference had built an anger in Grace that bubbled menacingly under the surface. Nancy treated Grace badly and Grace considered herself to be hardworking and loyal. She expected more from her employer and now, in addition to any suspect payback, she wanted a pay rise. A very large pay rise. Grace was sure that Nancy would put this in place straight away, but Grace wanted more.

  A lot more. She wanted less hours for a much-increased wage and some decent perks too, like a holiday at one of Nancy’s fancy properties.

  Grace took a holiday when she was in the money and often spent day trips at Llandudno or visiting cities such as Chester and York. It really didn’t bother her that Nancy was up to no good. The old folks at the home were at the end of their days and although Grace appeared to care, she was indifferent. After all, she had her own final years to consider and she wanted to live in comfort, luxury even, not scraping about to pay her rent each month from her pathetic salary from Marland Manor.

  But Grace knew that she’d stupidly messed up. Why on earth had she been so daft in speaking to Hattie? She must be exhausted and not thinking straight after all the upheaval of getting an inebriated Nancy to bed then keeping an eye on her. Hattie would jump at the chance to follow up on Grace’s information and it had been a huge mistake to speak out.

  It was too soon. Tiredness and greed had caused her to act too hastily.

  The bus had reached Grace’s stop and as the driver pulled over and Grace lumbered out of her seat and climbed down the steps, he called out, ‘See you tomorrow, get some sleep.’

  Grace was familiar with the drivers on this route and they all knew that she worked at Marland Manor. They dropped her right at her door, on the estate where she’d had a council flat for as many years as she cared to remember. But on this hot and sunny morning, Grace doubted that she’d get any sleep. She could kick herself for being so stupid! She’d had Nancy in the palm of her hand and now, if Hattie acted swiftly, she’d blown her chances of a few extra comforts. Nancy’s pretence would be blown, and the home closed down, and if there was an investigation into wrong doings then Grace was fearful that she could be implicated.

  She sighed heavily and opened her front door then cursed as she kicked off her shoes. ‘Damn and blast! I’ve mucked it all up.’ The room was stuffy, and she opened a window then threw herself on the sofa. She sighed as she stared at the walls. The very same walls that she’d stared at for years. A painting hung above the tiled fireplace and Grace smiled. It was the only thing that could make her smile right at that moment, and as she looked at the cool water that the artist had depicted so well, alongside an unusual domed building, Grace wished that she could lift up her life and land in the reality of the painting. To lead a quiet and plentiful life.

  But as she stared out to the street, where teenagers kicked a tin can across the pavement, she wondered what the next few days would bring. Would Hattie have enough to go on or would Nancy be clever enough to worm her way out of any accusations?

  ‘Only time will tell,’ Grace said to herself. She reached into her bag and rummaged about until she found her purse. Opening it, she pulled out two small blue tablets and popped them in her mouth. The residents didn’t miss the occasional sleeping pill and Grace knew how to get hold of them. Something else she might be held accountable for!

  Outside, in the street beyond her flat, another bus stopped to allow pedestrians to board. As the bus pulled away, Grace’s deep snores could be heard by the teenagers. Still kicking the can, they mimicked the elderly woman, but she was oblivious to their scorn and unaware of the storm that was about to erupt at Marland Manor.

  26

  Harry the Helmet was sound asleep. Warm, comfortable and content, his mouth curled up at the corners as he snored gently, the sound vibrating off his lips. Tucked in the crook of his arm, Janine slept too. Her hair fanned out on Harry’s chest, the soft locks entwined in his fingers. Birds sang in the garden beyond the open windows of Janine’s bedroom and a gentle morning breeze sighed across their naked skin.

  When the shrill ring of his mobile phone pierced the perfect atmosphere, Harry opened his eyes but didn’t move.

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Janine asked, as she curled away from his embrace.

  ‘I’m not on duty.’

  ‘It might be something important.’

  ‘No, bugger it, let it ring.’ The phone stopped and Harry smiled. He pulled Janine back into his arms and began to kiss her forehead, his hands seeking out her rounded contours and silk-like flesh. Janine returned his caress and they were soon carried away in the warmth and willingness of each other’s bodies.

  When the phone rang again, Harry cursed. But this time it wouldn’t stop ringing and, tearing himself away from his partner, Harry reached over the side of the bed and grabbed the offending object. ‘Yes!’ he shouted, wondering who the devil would call him so early on a Sunday morning, on his day off.

  ‘It’s me, Hattie.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Hattie, this had better be good.’

  ‘It is,’ Hattie said, ‘you need to get yourself over here, now.’

  ‘But I’m not on duty.’

  ‘You soon will be, when what I tell you gets out.’

  ‘What on earth are you on about?’

  ‘Murder at the Manor.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Marland Manor, there’s been a murder,’ Hattie was excited, ‘or two, or ma
ybe more.’

  Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gave Janine an apologetic smile. ‘I’ll be at yours in fifteen minutes,’ he told Hattie as he stood and searched for his clothes. ‘You better be sure of what you’re going to tell me.’

  HATTIE PACED HER GARDEN. Her mind was full of jumbled thoughts as she tried to make sense of the information Grace had given her. She softly kicked at a mound of soil that had sprung up overnight on the grassy bank of the pond, her glittery trainers sending little piles of rich brown earth into the water.

  How was she going to broach this with Harry? Anything Grace had told her was hearsay, so was it enough for the police to begin an investigation? Grace was hardly likely to repeat the conversation, as it would probably land her in the thick of it and Hattie had sensed that Grace regretted the call. She’d sounded tired and, after the busy night she’d had looking after Nancy was, no doubt, regretting the disclosure. But Hattie’s conscience was alerted and she couldn’t ignore the fact that Grace had witnessed wrong doings at Marland Manor. As Hattie had long suspected, something wasn’t right, and she simply couldn’t let it go without discussing it all with Harry. Hattie looked towards the lane and wondered where the devil he was when she needed him.

  Drake and his hen had swum across the pond to see what Hattie was up to and he quacked as she scattered soil into the water around him.

  ‘You can mind your own business,’ Hattie said, and the duck flapped his wings and lifted himself out of the water to poke about with his beak.

  ‘It’s probably Mr Mole, making his home by your pond.’ She flattened the mound and stamped at it with her foot. ‘Every animal orphan in Hollywood seems to head this way.’ She looked up at a bird table that Alf had erected in a corner of the garden. A lone robin scratched around for seed, watched by a portly pigeon, waiting patiently on the wall for Hattie to scatter the crusts from her morning toast. On the other side of the pond, an old rabbit moved slowly, lolloping in an ungainly way. Its earthen coat blended into the garden wall, but its beady eyes met Hattie’s. ‘Aye, I’ll get you a carrot in a bit,’ Hattie called out. She’d much prefer to have the rabbit in a pie but like all the other waifs and strays that surrounded her, she’d become quite fond of the little creature.