Dark Undertakings

by Rebecca Tope

  Roxanne reached Pauline’s flat before midday, and took upon herself the task of making some lunch. ‘I bet you haven’t eaten all day,’ she accused. ‘And for God’s sake stop smoking like that. Your hair’s going yellow. You look like some old vagrant.’

  ‘Susie’s coming round soon. She’s been sweet,’ Pauline said thickly. She’d only been up for an hour, having consumed an unwholesome mixture of alcoholic drinks the night before. ‘And I’ve got to phone some Coroner chap in a bit. He’s supposed to be telling me the cause of death. As if I didn’t know. Then I can go along to friend Daphne and order up the coffin. Jesus, Rox.’

  Roxanne turned away from the cooker, and moved closer to her sister, but didn’t touch her. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Bear up. You’re not holding it against that Susie, then?’

  Pauline shook her head. ‘She’s been sweet,’ she repeated. ‘And she showed me his note. His … his suicide note.’

  ‘What did it say?’

  ‘He tried to convince me … her … himself, that this was nobody’s fault. He’d got himself into a mess of some sort and couldn’t see a way out.’

  ‘What sort of mess?’

  ‘Drugs, of course. Isn’t it always? It wasn’t very clear and Susie wouldn’t go into any details. She’s scared about something coming out at the inquest and making more trouble.’

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Roxanne burst out, as she made the connection.

  ‘What?’ Pauline’s curiosity was tepid.

  ‘What if it was Susie supplying Jim with his Viagra? She could nick prescription pads from Dr Lloyd – he’s too disorganised to notice. Presumably Craig was in it with her. That must be what he was referring to in the note. He probably even dreamt it up in the first place. It’d count as drug-dealing, where the law is concerned. And when Jim died …’

  ‘No.’ Pauline was suddenly animated. ‘You’re not telling me Craig thought he’d killed Lapsford? How do you know Jim didn’t get the Viagra from some perfectly legal clinic?’

  ‘Because that wasn’t his style, queueing up with a lot of impotent old wrecks, telling a doctor a load of fibs about his sex life – never in a million years. I thought at first he must’ve got it from the Internet, but we have to face facts. It all fits. You ask Susie if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘There’ll have to be a post-mortem done on Jim,’ Pauline said angrily. ‘To prove it one way or the other. I can’t live with something like that.’

  Roxanne did meet her eyes then. ‘Hold on,’ she said gently. ‘If you do that, I’ll be implicated as well. Don’t forget the henbane.’

  ‘Roxanne Gibson, I ought to kill you, here and now.’

  ‘Can’t blame Craig … Can’t blame anybody really. Jim should have known better. I was always very careful … took it myself, no problems. But then he was always a greedy sod. Always wanting more. Trust him to go too far.’

  Pauline thought for a long time, before saying bitterly, ‘It must make you feel better, knowing you weren’t the only one. You can pretend it was all right to cook up lethal potions, just for the sake of a nice big shagging stick, because he was going for the same effect elsewhere. The way I see it, Craig would still be alive if it hadn’t been for you.’

  Tears gathered and dropped down the grooves edging Roxanne’s nose. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all she could say at first. Then she rallied and gave a tentative smile. ‘You didn’t mean it about a post-mortem, did you? Think about it. We can just keep this between ourselves, can’t we?’ She could hear the pleading note in her voice, the wheedling that had previously been Pauline, the younger sister’s, prerogative.

  Pauline shook her head, more in anger than denial. ‘You’re only scared for yourself,’ she accused. ‘You’re not thinking about me.’

  ‘You haven’t anything to gain, and a lot to lose.’ Roxanne’s usual animation was returning; she waved her hands energetically to illustrate the point. ‘Nobody knows exactly what Craig did. You don’t have to show anyone his note unless Susie insists. If the truth comes out about Jim, a lot of people will be embarrassed. Worse than embarrassed. Viagra’s a joke, for a start. And Monica’s nose would be rubbed in Jim’s infidelity. Think about it,’ she repeated. ‘You’ll see I’m right. Jim Lapsford will be cremated tomorrow as planned. It’s the best thing for everyone.’

  Olga came running down to the workshop, looking for Drew. ‘What’s going on?’ demanded Pat, surprised to see her moving so fast. ‘Are we on fire, or what?’

  ‘There’s somebody here to see Drew,’ she told him. ‘And there’s only me in the office, so I have to be there for the phone. Where is he?’

  Pat looked around vaguely. Vince and Big George were both at their benches, one attaching handles to a coffin and the other making an oak casket for an ashes interment. ‘Dunno,’ said Pat. ‘Can’t be back from taking the family home off this morning’s funeral yet. Or is he visiting his wife, maybe? Never know where that boy is, and that’s the truth.’ He twinkled maddeningly at Olga. ‘Who’s the visitor anyway?’

  ‘Mrs Lapsford,’ she said, impatiently. ‘I’ll have to ask her to wait while I try and find out where he is.’

  ‘Well, speak of the devil,’ yelped Pat as Drew came in, almost bumping into Olga. ‘We were just looking for you.’

  ‘I was in the mortuary,’ said Drew. ‘Looking for the dog.’

  Pat shook his head wearily. ‘It’s crazy you are,’ he said. ‘Wait till Daphne comes in – she’ll have taken it, you see. Put it somewhere safe. Nobody wants a dead dog, now do they?’

  Drew ignored him, distracted by Olga’s urgent glances. ‘Mrs Lapsford’s here – she wants to talk to you,’ she told him.

  With as calm a demeanour as possible, he followed her back to the office, where Monica sat on the edge of an upright chair in Daphne’s sanctum. ‘Better see her in there,’ said Olga doubtfully. ‘Though it’s all very odd.’

  Drew rather rudely closed the door on her and sat down on Daphne’s chair. Monica needed no invitation to begin her story. ‘I’m sorry about Saturday,’ she began, her cheeks an embarrassed pink. ‘You arrived at a rather emotional moment. Jodie was right, of course, in a way, but I never thought you had anything but the best of motives. I mean, there isn’t anything in this for you, is there?’

  Drew smiled bleakly and shook his head. ‘So,’ she went on, ‘I’ve come to say I think you were right all along.’ She recounted the finding of the teabag; her renewed suspicions that Jim might have drunk something containing poison, late on Monday evening, that Cassie had licked some of it up, from Jim’s face. ‘I didn’t know who else I could talk to,’ she finished. ‘Everybody seems to be a possible … well, murderer, I suppose.’

  Drew thought carefully. Mentally he ran through a list of names, yet again, starting with Gerald Proctor and finishing with his own boss. ‘What do you think we should do about it?’ he asked her gently. ‘The cremation’s tomorrow.’

  She frowned worriedly and rubbed a finger between her eyes, as if to erase the groove she was making. ‘I really don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s all such a terrible muddle. I suppose I should have phoned the police that morning. They would have examined Jim and we’d know by now what killed him. After all, it did look like a heart attack, didn’t it?’ She was desperate for reassurance.

  Drew nodded agreement. Then he met her eyes. ‘I wondered whether … er … his taking Viagra might have been a contributing cause? It does put a strain on the heart, in some cases, apparently.’

  ‘You found it in the bathroom, I suppose? Mr Amateur Detective.’ Drew nodded sheepishly.

  She flushed. ‘I told him he ought not to take it. It wasn’t as if he really needed it. He was so keen to please, you see. He’d do anything to make sure everything kept working. Do you think that was what did it, and the teabag doesn’t mean anything, after all?’ She sounded hopeful.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, wishing he could tell her about Roxanne and the henbane. ‘But it’s possible.’

 
; Monica looked more cheerful. ‘In that case, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault, would it? We wouldn’t have to make a fuss and call the police. I really don’t want to have to do that. On the other hand …’

  ‘By telling me what you have, you make it very difficult for me to go along with the cremation, you know. It’s making me an accessory, in a way. Besides, why in the world would you come to me now if you didn’t want me to do anything?’

  She looked at him in confusion. ‘I didn’t come for that reason at all. I just felt you were owed the truth. And … well, there isn’t anyone else I could share this with, not at the moment. I couldn’t keep it all to myself, with the cremation tomorrow.’

  ‘So you think someone close to you might have poisoned your husband, and you wanted someone neutral to set your mind at rest.’ He maintained the gentle tone, but injected a new firmness into his words. ‘Or even somebody to share the responsibility.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true,’ she admitted. Then she straightened her shoulders and groped for her handbag. ‘Well, I’ve decided. I’m going to throw that teabag away and forget all about it. We’re having the funeral as planned, and Jim can rest in peace. After all – who in the world would go to the trouble of tampering with a teabag, let alone persuade Jim to use it? The idea is ridiculous.’

  Drew stood up. ‘So you want me to forget everything you’ve just told me,’ he summarised.

  ‘If you would,’ she said with dignity. ‘You can tell your secretary that I came to discuss the arrangements for this afternoon if she asks why I was here. Will you be one of the men bringing Jim home?’

  ‘Probably. Oh, there is one small problem. Your dog’s body has gone missing.’ He hadn’t intended to tell her, in the hope that the terrier would somehow reappear, but now he saw no reason to hide the truth. ‘Either someone’s trying to conceal evidence, or there’s a chance that someone else has suspicions, and has taken her for a post-mortem. A vet would do one on a dog’s body …’

  ‘Dogsbody,’ she smiled, before the full import of his words hit her. ‘But that could ruin everything! I thought your mortuary was the safest place for her. Do you often lose bodies?’ Anger was rising visibly and she stared at him accusingly.

  ‘I think this is the first time,’ he said mildly. ‘And I have no idea how it happened. Sid and Daphne are both away this morning – one of them might have an explanation. I’m just warning you, although I doubt if there’s any reason to panic.’

  ‘Just help me get through the next twenty-four hours, that’s all I ask. After all, you do seem to have got yourself involved in my family’s business. There’ll be a bit of a bonus for you if we can see it through to the end with no trouble.’

  Blackmail, thought Drew with a shiver of excitement. ‘No need for that,’ he said reprovingly. ‘If I thought it was the right thing to do, I’d phone the police here and now.’ Hearing himself, he felt a shock of surprise. Why wasn’t it right to report what was almost certainly a murder? What possible excuse could he have for remaining silent? His reasons seemed to have changed through the past week, as he encountered successive candidates for the role of poisoner. What had started out as a quest for truth and justice had now become much less well-defined. High moral standpoints were all well and good if you weren’t acquainted with the individuals concerned. Once you’d met them, come to know them, it was a different matter entirely.

  First the wretched David and his obvious instability, then the valiant team of colleagues at the printworks, all seeming so loyal; next the bewitching Roxanne; finally, the elusive dentist. If one of them had deliberately and maliciously poisoned Jim Lapsford, then so be it. Drew recoiled from the idea of causing any of them to be tried and convicted of murder. Who was he to judge them? Besides, from what he had learnt of Jim, he had essentially brought his death on himself. Whatever the substance in the teabag may or may not have been, the chances were that the Viagra and the henbane had combined to fatally weaken his heart already.

  ‘I deserved that.’ Monica rose. ‘Let me just mention one more thing. My friend Pauline’s son hanged himself at the weekend, as I expect you know. If there were to be a murder investigation into Jim’s death, the truth about the Viagra would come out, and I think that would implicate Craig. Pauline wouldn’t be able to take that.’

  He nodded doubtfully. ‘I’m really not at all sure that I can hide the truth. But for now …’

  ‘Yes, I know. I must go. I’ll see you later on, then? And thank you. Thank you very much indeed. I really am sure you’re doing the right thing.’

  Drew sighed. He was sure he wasn’t ‘doing the right thing’. For a start, he was once again doing nothing and that did not feel right at all.

  Olga told Drew that Karen had phoned, as soon as Monica had gone. Although Sid had presented himself, as Vince had predicted, looking tired and wan, Daphne still had not shown up, which came as quite a relief. ‘I’m going to the hospital for an hour or two,’ Drew told Vince. ‘I’ll be back about four, to carry Lapsford in.’

  ‘We’ll all be glad to see the back of that one,’ said Vince.

  Sid, tinkering as usual with something on his workbench, looked up. ‘You can say that again,’ he muttered. His usual moroseness had been compounded by the shock over Craig’s death. Drew had tried to convey sympathy, but Sid had merely shrugged. ‘Can’t let it get to you, can you. It’s not as if he was a blood relation. Susie doesn’t need me to hold her hand these days, either. She’s more interested in being with her mother.’ This had been a long speech for Sid, and Drew turned away with a sympathetic smile.

  Karen was on the bed with her eyes closed when he reached her. He stood for a minute looking down at her, the light brown hair lank on the pillow and her skin a shade paler than usual, and trembled to think what might have happened. His wife had transformed his life, brought him new dimensions he had never imagined possible. The idea of losing her was terrifying. Gently he took hold of her hand, and her eyes flew open.

  ‘At last!’ she said. ‘I thought you’d never get here.’

  He smiled and shrugged. ‘I’m here now,’ he said and bent to kiss her. She tasted different – something metallic and slightly sour lingered on his tongue.

  ‘They did a pregnancy test,’ she said without preamble. ‘Sit down, Daddy.’

  He sat, and felt himself fill up with emotion. More emotions than he thought could possibly all occur at once. Karen’s face mirrored a number of them. A glaze of tears in her eyes, a crooked half-smile, raised eyebrows. ‘Oh,’ he said.

  They held hands tightly, and laughed breathlessly at each other’s expressions. ‘The arnica’s working,’ she said, after a few minutes. ‘I can go home tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow is Lapsford’s funeral,’ he said, without thinking. Hearing himself, he looked at her anxiously. Was he allowed to mention Lapsford now?

  ‘I know it is. And we’ve got to keep trying to figure out what happened,’ was her surprising response. Then she told him about Daphne’s visit.

  ‘The bloody cow!’ Drew exploded. ‘She can’t do that. That’s blackmail.’ Twice in one day was too much.

  ‘It still doesn’t make much sense,’ Karen mused. ‘I’ve been lying here trying to work it out. She seemed to be telling me there was some scam going on with the doctor, but I can’t see what it’s got to do with you or me. And I can’t see how it ties in with Jim being murdered. Until this happened, I’d more or less settled for it being some sort of accident. The Viagra and Roxanne’s stuff doing something in combination. Now I’m not too sure.’

  ‘There’s more to it anyway,’ Drew told her, without enthusiasm. ‘Mrs L thinks somebody gave him a doctored teabag. He made himself a night-time drink – and could be that’s what finished him off. But she only told me in order to get me off her back. She said she wanted the cremation to go ahead as planned, for me to just back off, and forget the whole thing. Typical female logic.’

  ‘And will you? Back off, I mean? Who does she think it
was? Why isn’t she more worried? Is she trying to protect somebody – presumably David?’

  Drew shook his head. ‘She didn’t say. Somebody stole the dog, by the way.’

  Karen leant back carefully against her pillows and put both hands flat across her belly. Then she laughed. It was a quiet laugh, but she soon lost control of it. Tears began to shake loose and she grabbed her lower lip between her teeth when her bruises complained. Drew watched with irritation and mild alarm.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she spluttered. ‘I wouldn’t be able to explain. It’s just the look on your face, that’s all.’

  He tried to smile, but puzzlement made it difficult. Karen took his hand again. ‘Drew,’ she wheedled, ‘can’t you take me home tonight? I don’t want to be here with all these people.’ She glanced round at the elderly women patients surrounding her. ‘They’re so noisy.’

  ‘I’ll ask,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose they’ll object.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she sighed. ‘And Drew, that visit from Daphne had more to it than meets the eye. She was trying to tell me something. It sounded threatening and unpleasant, but I wonder if she was actually trying to prompt us into keeping at it. Confirm our suspicions, lead us in the right direction. I wonder if she knows something – or suspects – and wants us to do the dirty work, because of her so-called professional reputation. She can’t afford to upset anybody. I think you ought to try and talk to Dr Lloyd, or at least his receptionist.’

  Already he could see the light of victory in her eye, and wondered whether he had it too. The fact of the pregnancy had shifted his focus on the world: anything was possible, now they’d finally achieved a conception. And in some obscure, half-embarrassed way, it made the quest for the truth about Jim Lapsford even more urgent. Some chaotic, unconscious reasoning insisted that if there was a murderer loose in the world, then as a new parent, he had a duty to identify and remove him. He wanted life to be just that tiny bit safer for his child than it would be otherwise.