Good Morning, Midnight

by Reginald Hill

  There couldn’t be many Maseratis in Mid-Yorkshire, he thought. Curiously he checked the parking slot name. V. J. R. S. Chakravarty, Neurological Consultant. Well, there was no law against it. As long, of course, as Cress wasn’t a patient.

  As he strode down a long corridor en route to the maternity unit, he saw two figures coming towards him, deep in conversation. One he recognized immediately as Tom Lockridge. The other was a tall, slim, extremely handsome Asian.

  So engrossed was Lockridge in his conversation, or rather his monologue, as he seemed to be doing most of the talking, that he didn’t spot Pascoe till they were almost face to face, and didn’t look too pleased when he did recognize him.

  “Dr Lockridge,” said Pascoe. “Could you spare a moment?”

  “I’m rather busy,” said Lockridge, looking as if he wanted to keep going.

  But the other man had paused too and appeared, if Pascoe read him right, not unhappy at the chance of separating himself from his companion.

  “Don’t worry about me, Tom,” he said. “Things to do before rounds. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  Flashing a smile at Pascoe which might have set a more susceptible heart racing, he strode away. He was a lovely mover. Pascoe had one of his intuitions.

  “Who was that?” he asked.

  “Vic Chakravarty.”

  “The neuro-consultant?”

  “That’s right. You’ve heard of him?” said Lockridge. He sounded genuinely interested.

  “Only obliquely,” said Pascoe, smiling inwardly at the hidden aptness of the adverb.

  For a second Lockridge looked as if he might be about to say something else then changed his mind. “So what do you want with me, Inspector?”

  “I’m looking into Pal Maciver’s death,” began Pascoe, ignoring the demotion. “And I was wondering …”

  “Sorry, I really can’t talk about Mr Maciver,” interrupted Lockridge.

  “Why on earth not?” said Pascoe, surprised.

  “Doctor—patient, you know.”

  “But that’s absurd. I recall you said yourself he was no longer your patient, so your only relationship with him is as the attending police doctor. So if you can’t talk to me, how do you justify taking your fee?”

  “Yes, of course, sorry. Different hats, it’s easy to get confused. But I did put everything I observed into my report,” said Lockridge, on the defensive.

  “And a very good report it was,” said Pascoe. “Why did he cease to be your patient, by the way? His choice, or yours?”

  “His. He was a private patient, you understand, so the relationship was pretty flexible, none of all that NHS form-filling stuff. Didn’t see a lot of him professionally anyway, so when he announced he thought he’d take his business elsewhere for a change, it was no big deal. In fact we used to see each other more often socially, and I think maybe he liked to keep the two areas separate. A lot of people do, you know.”

  “But not Mrs Maciver?”

  “No. Didn’t bother her. She stayed. What’s all this got to do with anything, Pascoe?”

  “Nothing really, except it’s Mrs Maciver I wanted to ask about. I need to talk to her soon and I was wondering whether you felt she was in a fit state to answer a few routine questions.”

  “Oh yes, I should think so. Still a bit upset, naturally, so I’d go easy. But she’s a strong personality, very resilient. How’s the investigation going? Any sign of a note, anything like that?”

  “A suicide note, you mean? Not as such,” said Pascoe, interested that after his initial reluctance the doctor now seemed happy to stand and chat.

  “Not as such? But there was something on the desk, I recall. A book.”

  “Yes, your memory is good, there was a book.”

  “And people are saying that everything was done in pretty much the same way as his father killed himself ten years ago. Any truth in that?”

  “Perhaps. What’s your interest, Doctor?”

  “Just professional. It all suggests a severely disturbed state of mind, don’t you think? Very severely disturbed.”

  “I suppose it does. But I imagine some degree of mental disturbance is in fact the norm in most suicides,” said Pascoe. “Thank you for your help.”

  He moved away. At the end of the corridor he glanced back. Lockridge was still standing where he’d left him. It occurred to Pascoe that while he didn’t look suicidal, he certainly gave the impression that his own state of mind was far from undisturbed.

  On arrival at the maternity unit, he was directed away from the ward to a private room. Nice going for a PE teacher’s wife, he thought. Though of course she did have money of her own. And well-heeled friends, one of whom was sitting at the bedside with a baby crooked in either arm.

  “Good morning, Mr Pascoe,” said Kay Kafka. “How nice of you to come. But you were in at the birth, so to speak. Aren’t they just gorgeous?”

  Her words were unambiguously friendly and spoken with a smile, but he felt warned. Start hassling Helen and you’ll have me to contend with.

  He poked a finger in turn at the sleeping babies and made token cooing noises. He tended to be rather satirical about what he called baby-gush in order to conceal a powerful impulse to pick small children up and hold them tight and possibly burst into tears at the thought of the long haul that lay ahead for them and their parents.

  “How are you, Mrs Kafka? Mrs Dunn?” he said, seating himself on the other side of the bed.

  In fact the woman in the bed looked a lot better than her visitor. Sitting upright against plumped-up pillows and surrounded by a scatter of glossy magazines, expensive chocolate boxes and exotic fruit baskets as well as enough flowers to keep Eliza Doolittle going for a fortnight, she could have sat for an allegorical portrait of bountiful summer. Kay Kafka by contrast was definitely autumnal, and not the mellow fruitful end either but the frost-on-lawn, burning-of-leaves, drawing-down-of-blinds end. Yet in her way she was just as lovely as the radiant English girl; the lily and the rose, the moon and the sun.

  Pascoe shook the fancy from his head and turned to the business at hand.

  “Mrs Dunn,” he said. “I’m sorry to trouble you with reminders of family sorrow at such a joyful time, but I’m sure you’ll understand how important it is for the coroner to have as full a picture as possible of what it was that led up to the other night’s tragedy. Of course, I’ll quite understand if you don’t feel up to talking just yet and would prefer to wait till you got home. When will that be, by the way? I bet you can’t wait.”

  In fact it wasn’t a bet he’d have cared to risk loose change on. He had a feeling that the sense of contentment radiating out of Helen Dunn had more to do with lying at her ease, the centre of attention, receiving gifts and congratulation, than with the prospect of getting home to start the long haul of parenthood.

  She said, “Oh that will be a day or two yet of course I can’t wait but I’ve got to think of Jase he’s got his work and I don’t want him worrying about me while he’s at school.”

  “He’s back at school already?” said Pascoe, mentally punctuating. “I thought these days you got paternity leave.”

  “I don’t know I’m sure they’ll be very helpful the headmaster’s really nice but today there’s a really important match I think it’s the inter-house final or something and Jase is the only one who’s got a proper referee’s qualification and they need them nowadays otherwise if something goes wrong they could sue the school. Anyway Mr Pascoe please don’t be afraid to ask your questions though I’m not sure how I can help you Pal and I were never close I can’t recall the last time I actually saw him though since he started playing squash with Jase we sometimes spoke on the phone and I said to Jase that maybe we should have him and Sue-Lynn over to dinner sometime he was my brother after all and it was silly that we should let that old stuff stay between us after all this time but Jase said OK sometime soon but let’s not rush things and Kay seemed to agree with him didn’t you Kay …?”

/>   Slightly shell-shocked by this verbal barrage, Pascoe glanced at Kay, who said, “You’re quite right, dear, it’s never wise to rush things. Now I’m going to have to leave you two to your little chat. I hate to abandon these two darlings, but Tony’s flying to the States first thing tomorrow so he’s staying at Heathrow tonight and I promised to drive him to the station this afternoon.”

  “To the States? Oh isn’t he lucky? I just love it over there!” exclaimed Helen.

  Her stepmother gave her a smile in which Pascoe thought he detected more than a touch of wry irony, then said, “Don’t tire her out, Mr Pascoe. She’s going to need to get back to full strength pretty quickly to deal with this gorgeous pair. But I’m sure your business won’t keep you long.”

  She’s wondering why I’m still on the case at all, thought Pascoe. Fat Andy assured her yesterday this wasn’t a CID investigation and he’s not had time to bring her up to speed yet. She’ll probably be on her mobile to him before she gets to her car.

  She placed the twins gently in their bedside cot, breathed a kiss over each in turn, then stooped to plant a firmer kiss on Helen’s forehead.

  “Goodbye, dear,” she said. “See you later.”

  He watched her move out of the room with athletic grace then turned his attention back to Helen, who was checking her hair and make-up in a hand mirror. Was she really as air-headed as she appeared? Kay seemed genuinely fond of her and the American didn’t strike him as a woman who’d have much time for the intellectually challenged.

  Whatever, close questioning of Helen wasn’t really an option, he decided. Simplest thing was to turn her on and give her a direction and hope that later he could hook something useful from the ensuing verbal torrent.

  He said, “Mrs Dunn, what I’m really trying to get a line on is your brother’s state of mind, and it would help a lot if I could see him in the context of your father’s tragic death which he so closely imitated. Would this be too painful for you?”

  She shook her head emphatically and said, “No, that’s fine. Where shall I begin?”

  Pascoe produced his cassette recorder and pressed the “start” button.

  “Ten years ago would be fine,” he said.

  5 • Helen

  I was nine when Daddy died so I was old enough to know what it meant when Kay told me in America which was where we were when she got the news and it was awful and I was shocked but I remember throwing my arms around Kay and crying and saying something like I’m so glad it wasn’t you which must have been because when Mummy died even though she’d been ill and even though I understood a lot less about death then I was only three it was like someone had switched the little night-light off in my bedroom and left me in the dark.

  Then Kay came and the light came on again.

  So I was nine and I could bear losing anything except Kay and hearing about Daddy was awful but like I say there was that weird feeling of relief too because this time the light didn’t go off because I still had Kay.

  But it’s Pal you want to hear about not Kay, isn’t it?

  There’s ten years between us and that’s a lot he always seemed more like a sort of uncle to me than a brother oh he was kind enough but not really bothered except if I referred to Kay as mum she never would let me call her mum just Kay but that’s how I thought of her and sometimes it would slip out and then Pal and Cress too would get awfully angry and tell me she wasn’t our mother she was just a conniving foreigner who’d got her talons into Dad and one day he’d see her for what she was and that would be the end of it she’d be out on her neck.

  Sometimes they made me cry so badly I was almost hysterical and Kay would come and comfort me and I’d tell her what they’d said and she never got angry with them but just said it was true she wasn’t our mother but she’d be like a mother to me and to all three of us if we’d let her and I said yes I’d let her it was what I wanted more than anything in the world but the others never said anything like that.

  Cress was nearer my age but still eight years older and if anything I got on even worse with her than I did with Pal or maybe it felt like that because he was a man while she was a girl and my sister so it hurt more when she got irritated with me and called me things like Goodie Two-Shoes or Pollyanna but I had Kay and that was enough for me.

  One thing worried me and that was when I got to eleven Kay might want me to go away to school like Cress had done but when I told her this she laughed and said not to be silly Weavers was a perfectly good school and would I like to go there? Of course I said yes and once I got used to it I liked it a lot and made a lot of friends there too and of course that was where I first laid eyes on Jase.

  He came to teach the boys PE when I was thirteen it was his first job and all us girls used to drool over him because he was such a hunk and dream of going out with him but he never showed much interest in any of us and of course I never dreamt that barely five years later I’d be married to him!

  But I’m getting away from Pal though not really as I hadn’t seen him since Daddy’s funeral and not even then really as he and Cress stood away from us and wouldn’t even look at us.

  We were living at the Golden Fleece Hotel then because when we came back from America we couldn’t get into Moscow House which Kay explained was because the law didn’t allow it when someone had died suddenly but later I found out it was really because Pal had changed the locks which he had no right to do seeing as the house was as much mine as it was his and Cress’s.

  First of all we went to stay with Tony in Cothersley that’s Tony Kafka that Kay worked for but only for a couple of days because I think he said it didn’t look right so we went then to the Golden Fleece where Ash-Mac’s that’s what they call the firm had a suite for important visitors and that’s where we stayed for several weeks till we moved to a flat in town and then nearly a year later Kay and Tony got married and we moved back to Cothersley Hall.

  As for Moscow Pal and Cress lived there for a bit but really it was too big for them and it would have made sense to sell it which was what Kay wanted she was my guardian it said so in Dad’s will which meant she acted for me legally till I got to eighteen but Pal and Cress said no I heard Pal and Kay arguing on the telephone once I eavesdropped on another phone in the Hall and Pal said things like he wasn’t selling his family home just so she could get her hands on my money and in the end Moscow was advertised as to let furnished but it was too big for most families and businesses didn’t want it not unless they could convert it properly which of course Pal wasn’t going to permit so all that happened was from time to time it went on a short lease with some of the rooms like the study in particular locked up till some students took it and they broke into the study and Pal was so furious that he wouldn’t let it be let anymore and that’s the way it stayed till I got married.

  I left school at seventeen I’d gone into the Sixth but when I saw my results at the end of the first year it was plain it wasn’t worth staying on to finish my A levels so I told Kay I wanted to leave and she said OK what would I like to do and I didn’t really know so she got me a job at Ash-Mac’s working in the office there God it was deadly dull but I stuck at it for Kay’s sake and things started looking a lot brighter when I ran into Jason when we were clubbing one night and we got together.

  Three months later we were engaged and not long after that we got married and not long after that I found I was pregnant.

  Pal and Cress didn’t come to the wedding but they did send me a present which was something and then six months ago Jase ran into Pal at the Squash Club and they got talking and Jase who’s a big softie and hates rows of any kind said look why don’t you come home with me and say hello and he did!

  It was a real shock seeing him up close after all this time but once I got past that it was fine he really did seem keen to put all the unpleasantnesses of the past behind us and he even asked after Kay without saying anything nasty which was a first.

  I thought Kay might be unhappy when I told her but s
he just said it was good that families shouldn’t stay apart and I said I thought I’d ask Pal and his wife and Cressida round one night and would she like to come as well with Tony but she said not yet perhaps later it was important for me to get back on terms with my brother and sister first.

  So they came it wasn’t a great success but not a disaster either and Pal and Jase seemed to get on very well and they started playing squash together regularly plus Pal said that he and Cress thought maybe it was time to forget the past and put Moscow on the market which was good as with the baby sorry babies coming we were going to have a lot of extra expense.

  So while I haven’t seen too much of Pal these past few months I’ve heard a lot about him from Jase and of course we kept in touch about the house sale which wasn’t going as fast as we’d hoped so we had to do a couple of price adjustments which required all three of us to agree and sign.

  Naturally I asked Kay’s advice in all this as I never do anything without checking with her first she’s really great but she said she’d rather not get involved with money matters between me and Pal and Cress now that things seemed to be going better between us and she kept right out of the way if she knew I was meeting with them which was just what you’d expect from someone as considerate and thoughtful as her.

  But what you want to know is whether I noticed anything in Pal that might tell us why he’d do this dreadful thing and in fact I didn’t no nothing like I say we didn’t talk all that much but when we did he seemed just the same as ever and now we’ll never talk again … it’s only just beginning to sink in really and … I’m sorry I really didn’t think I was going to cry but I can’t help it thinking of poor Pal in that room where Dad … I’m sorry I’m sorry … oh God now I’ve set those two off as well can you call a nurse?

  6 • Big Maggie and Crazy Jane

  The Avenue by daylight was not as impressive as the Avenue by night. Spring sunshine whose loving glance lights a respondent glow in all that is young is not so kind to the old; and where man has built, nature’s exuberance is evidence of decline and decay as telling as flaking paint and missing tiles. Riotous hedgerows, unpruned trees, lank lawns, all support the message traced on unpointed walls by fingers of whitlow-grass—let the rest of the world prepare to don its Easter finery; here the best you’ll get is shabby genteel.