by McNeir, Leo
*
Anne had slowed because of a stitch in her side as she reached the top of the field track and was now walking as briskly as she could along the road towards the church. Rounding the bend, she could see a car parked near the gate and even at that distance it looked familiar. Frank must have asked Marnie to meet him here instead of on Sally Ann. How strange that Marnie did not tell me, thought Anne. In a few moments she was turning in through the lych-gate, when she saw a sudden movement in the doorway. Instinctively, she crouched down beside a tombstone. It was Frank Day running out of the church. In the dim light Anne saw clearly his face, aghast. He crashed through the gate, scattering gravel and leapt into his car. Seconds later the engine started and he pulled away, making a U-turn and driving at speed down the high street.
A wave of fear hit Anne and she swallowed hard, drawing in a deep breath, her heart pounding. She leapt to her feet and sprinted into the church, reaching for her pen-light. Without hesitation she stumbled down the steps and ran to the tower. The door was open and she leapt headlong up the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt round the first bend. She stopped, confused by the mess, papers everywhere like feathers blown about after a pillow-fight. Suddenly she became aware of another shape, sprawled face-down on the hard stone stairs. Anne knelt and cradled Marnie’s head in her hands, afraid to move her in case it caused more harm. She pulled off her sweatshirt and rolled it into a pillow, gently sliding it into place. Oh God, oh God, oh God …
“Marnie!” she half whispered, half shouted. “Oh Marnie! Marnie!” she sobbed. Think girl, think. What do I do? Get a grip on yourself. Quickly! Fighting the shock and horror of it all, Anne pulled the mobile phone out of her pocket and pressed three nines. She made the call and switched off the phone, slumping forward to put an arm round her friend who lay motionless on the hard stone. Anne put the phone down on the step and saw that her hand was covered in blood.
*
Marriner risked a surreptitious glance at his watch when he thought Bartlett was not looking. That day he seemed to have been working for ever. Cathy Lamb and the other officers in the briefing room at HQ seemed no less tired and everyone was slumped in chairs round the room which had gradually filled with a fug of cigarette smoke. Bartlett droned on.
“Right. That just about summarises where we are at present and you know what your duties are for tomorrow and the next day. I want action. I want results. I shall personally go to Knightly to interview Marnie Walker and er, Anne Price. Cathy, I’ll want you in on that. Ted, you deal with tracking down Randall Hughes. If you get time, I want you also to have a word with the old farmer, Fletcher. Okay?” Marriner nodded.
“Will we be going to Knightly first thing, sir?” said Cathy Lamb.
“Meet me here at eight and we’ll go in my car. Any other questions? Can you get that, Ted?” A phone was ringing and Marriner was already on his way to it when Bartlett spoke.
“Sergeant Marriner … what? … is she … Right.” Marriner’s reaction had drawn the attention of everyone in the room.
“What is it?” said Bartlett.
“The murderer has struck again in Knightly St John, in the church.”
“Do we know who the victim is?”
“Oh yes, we know who it is,” said Marriner. “Marnie Walker.”
“Christ almighty!” said Bartlett.
27
Monday 8 August
Beth and Paul sat at Marnie’s bedside in the Intensive Therapy Unit. They seemed to be mesmerized by the panel of numbers and symbols, each row in a different colour, above the bed. Neither had spoken for some time, not since the consultant had taken them into a small office an hour ago, when Marnie came up from the theatre, to give them an explanation of what was happening and what was likely to be the outcome. When he told them to prepare themselves for the worst, Anne had fainted, falling from the chair so suddenly, without a sound, that no-one had been quick enough to stop her hitting the floor with a thud. Now she lay sedated in an adjacent guest room, while steps were being taken, so far without success, to contact her parents.
Quietly and calmly the nurses went about the business of constantly monitoring the equipment that was keeping Marnie alive for the moment. Beth watched them coming and going, conferring with each other in hushed voices, occasionally adjusting the dosage in a drip, recording changes on a chart and checking the numerous tubes that seemed to pass in and out of every visible orifice. The police had been in discussion with the consultant after his interview with Beth and Paul, and a young WPC was now sitting some distance away, keeping watch. Beth saw Paul frown and followed his gaze to the panel of readings. The numbers seemed to be changing without any constant pattern like an erratic machine running out of control.
She heard one of the nurses mutter “… kidney function … kick-start …” and her colleague replied something like “… boost the adrenaline …” The nurse noticed Beth staring and smiled at her. It was a grim smile.
*
Bartlett walked out of the church and climbed back into his car. He called the station on the radiophone.
“Any news?”
“Still breathing, but that’s about it, sir.”
“What about the girl who went with her in the ambulance?”
“They’re keeping her sedated. She knocked herself out, apparently. Fainted. They say we can’t talk to her again until tomorrow morning.”
“Bugger!” said Bartlett. “Can you get Ted Marriner to contact me.”
“He’s on his way back to Knightly, sir.”
“Right. I want to know as soon as, well, you know, any development.”
“Yes, sir.”
We all know what that means, thought Bartlett. He was tired, frustrated and angry. If Marnie Walker had only told him everything she knew, they might not be in this position now. To make matters worse, he had been bawled out by the duty pathologist who had been summoned from a gala concert in Northampton, only to be told that the corpse was still breathing and was on her way to the General.
*
Beth turned over in bed for the hundredth time and raised her watch from the side table. She had dozed fitfully since they had been advised by the consultant to get some rest some time after midnight. From the next bed she could hear Paul breathing regularly in his sleep as she strained to read the time in the dim light filtering through the glazed panel over the door of their room. It seemed to be quarter to five. She slid out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown, silently opening the door and walking back to the unit. The double doors were locked and there was a keypad on the wall. Access could only be gained if you pressed the right code. Beside this was a push button and an intercom. Beth hesitated. Could she disturb the unit at this time? Through the glass panels of the door she could only see to the end of the empty corridor. The unit was round the corner to the left out of sight, where Marnie lay, covered in tubes. Beth could not bear to wait, could not bear to prepare herself for the worst without seeing her sister. She pressed the button. There was no sound and no reply. She put her hands in her pockets and leaned against the wall, fingering the wallet of photographs that she had grabbed from the bookshelf as they rushed out of the house last evening.
The intercom hissed and Beth bent down to speak into the microphone.
“It’s Marnie’s sister, Beth.” There was an indeterminate sound of speech and the door clicked. Beth pushed it and went through. At the end of the corridor she was met by a nurse, a face she had not seen before, and she dreaded hearing what she might say. The nurse was young, fresh, with auburn hair tied back in a ponytail and a hint of freckles.
“I’m Marnie Walker’s sister, Beth” she repeated.
The nurse gave the slightest of smiles. “Yes. You can come through.” Her accent had a hint of Australian. They both spoke in hushed voices as they walked along.
“I wasn’t sure if it would be allowed at this time of day. I couldn’t sleep.”
“There’s no restriction. Any time, day or night, is per
mitted here. We usually only allow two or at the most three. There’s only one other visitor at the moment, so that’s no problem.” Ahead of them, Beth could see the curtains partly drawn round Marnie’s bed, but could see no-one there. In the chair by the wall a policeman was seated.
“One other visitor?” she said in disbelief. “Visiting Marnie?”
“She’s been here since four o’clock,” said the nurse. They reached Marnie’s bed and there, sitting close beside her, talking quietly in her ear, sat Anne. Marnie lay utterly still, her dark wavy hair pulled clear of the tubes, the skin stretched tight against her cheek bones. The girl did not notice them arrive. She was leaning forward, elbows resting on the edge of the mattress. Beth could just make out her voice. It was calm, almost business-like.
“… and that leaves the other two, and of course the head office. Now that’s more complicated and different from the other schemes. I’ll have to do you a special list for that one.” Anne paused and looked up at the panel of readings above her head. She turned back to Marnie. “All readings normal now for twenty minutes, but you’ve got to manage it yourself without the machines. Okay?”
Beth swallowed hard. She pulled up a chair and sat down quietly at the foot of the bed. Anne looked round, her young face was drawn and seemed even paler than usual. Her left cheek was bruised and swollen from the fall, but she smiled.
“They told me she could probably hear me if I spoke to her and would understand what I said, even if she made no sign or reply.”
Beth nodded. “Was that right, what you said about the readings … being normal?”
“Yes. The nurses have been explaining to me what they’ve been doing and I’ve told Marnie. It’s very complicated, but everything is controlled by the equipment at the moment.”
“So Marnie’s not actually better?” said Beth.
“No,” said Anne. “She has to be able to carry on without outside help from the machines and drugs and drips and things.” The nurse returned and checked the readings. Beth stood up and went round the bed to her. There was a bank of equipment with dials, charts, bottles and plastic packets. The nurse was entering figures on a list, adding a line to a graph. She looked at Beth.
“We’ve got her stabilized at the moment. That’s a good sign.”
“Does it mean she’ll be all right?” said Beth.
The nurse paused. “It’s a good sign,” she said. “Still too early to tell, though.”
“Is it all right for Anne to talk to her like that? It won’t stop her resting?”
“It’s fine.” Beth went back to her seat. She noticed that Anne was wearing a T-shirt advertising Carlsberg lager and realised they had given her some clothes to replace her own blood-soaked ones. The girl may have looked like an insignificant waif, but she was part of Marnie’s lifeline and Beth could not help but love her for it, love and admire her for her determination and presence of mind. Anne had placed her hand on Marnie’s arm and seemed to be whispering encouragement to her. Beth glanced up at the readings and another nurse came by, checking the graphs before passing on.
Anne turned to Beth. “It’s like this the whole time,” she said. “There’s always someone around. No wonder they call it intensive care. Would you like to sit here?”
“No. It’s okay,” said Beth. “You carry on. I’m sure you’re doing a lot of good.”
“She knows you’re here too,” said Anne. “I told her.” Beth felt a pricking behind her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She swallowed and pulled the wallet of photographs from her pocket, running her thumb round and round the plastic edge, not knowing what she was doing. Anne continued. “I’ve told her that Ralph will be back today and I’ll let him know where to come.”
“He’ll be jet-lagged,” said Beth.
“He won’t notice it,” said Anne. “Nor will we until afterwards, until after we know she’s better, I mean.” Beth looked again at the coloured readings and at Marnie, white and still on her pillow. As if to give herself courage, she opened the wallet and began looking through the photos.
*
Far out above the Atlantic Ocean, cruising at over five hundred miles an hour at thirty-six thousand feet, Ralph closed his eyes in the dimly-lit cabin of the Boeing 747 but could not sleep. He was travelling Virgin Atlantic Club Class and had eaten well by airline standards. Twice he had almost pressed the service bell to ask for a brandy, but changed his mind. He needed to have a clear head when he arrived at Heathrow.
The rest of his journey was already fully planned and he was determined to bring Thyrsis up to Knightly and remain there, moored beside Sally Ann until the murderer had been caught and the whole matter finally resolved. He could scarcely believe he had left Marnie and Anne to face the situation alone. Well, this time he was not going to abandon them. This time he would see it through, come what may.
*
At six, the nurses who would be taking the next shift came on duty. There was only one other patient in the unit, a young man injured in a motorcycle accident. He was at the end of the row and his parents were taking it in turns to sit with him. Beth was impressed with the organisation in the unit. The nurses going off duty briefed their incoming colleagues in detail on both patients before they all began a thorough examination of them. Beth and Anne moved away to give them space and wandered down the corridor. Through the large windows of the modern building they could see that the sun was already climbing. It would be another fine day.
“This would be a good time for me to go and dress properly,” said Beth looking down at her bath robe. “Are you all right for clothes, Anne?”
“They lent me this.” She pulled the T-shirt wide to show how large it was. She wore it like a dress. “It was part of a gift from the brewery for a hospital raffle or something.”
“Okay. When I get back, perhaps we’ll have some breakfast. You ought to eat to keep your strength up. Marnie’s counting on you.” She turned to go.
“Beth? Can I look at your photos?”
*
Marriner could not believe how tired he was, as he pulled into the forecourt of the central police station at six-thirty and picked up Cathy Lamb. Bartlett was already on his way to the scene of the crimes and two other cars were travelling ahead, one searching for Randall Hughes, the second going to Rooks Farm.
“We’ve got to speak to the girl as soon as possible,” said Marriner. “She may have seen something.”
“She’s probably still asleep,” said Cathy. “She won’t be much good for a while if she’s concussed.”
“We’ll have to see about that. Did you speak to the DCI before he left?”
“Oh yes. He’s like a man possessed this morning. He says he’s going to personally supervise the search of the grounds and not stop until the weapon’s found.”
“We’d better get all the information we can about the knife wound, size of blade, depth of penetration …”
“You sound as if they’ve already got the autopsy booked,” said Cathy.
“What? Oh well, you know what I mean. Have you had any report from the hospital?”
“I checked just now. PC Groves rang in to say no change. That was an hour ago. He said it didn’t look good. Just like the vicar. The consultant said she’d be lucky to last till morning.”
“Then we’ll soon find out,” said Marriner.
*
Anne sat on the broad window sill wondering when she would be able to go back and sit with Marnie. She looked down at the grey plastic wallet in her lap and opened it, expecting to see Marnie, Beth and Paul doing things together. The photos came as a surprise.
The first one showed two little girls on bikes. The darker one was astride hers, both feet firmly on the ground, her hair in bunches, short shorts, long white socks, looking confidently straight at the camera, her head held up. The other was sitting with one foot down, smiling more tentatively, seeming less sure of herself, even though she was evidently the older. Anne guessed the younger girl was about nine and the other
about two years her senior. She looked at the next picture. It was a family group with ponies. Again, the younger girl, this time probably about twelve, was smiling down from the saddle, while the older was leaning forward to pat her mount on the side of the neck. There was no mistaking Marnie and Beth.
Anne worked through the wallet and saw Marnie growing up. Here she was picking pears from a tree, legs dangling over a bough, Beth covering her head below. Here they were in a sailing dinghy, Marnie hanging out over the side and an unmistakable expression of anxiety from Beth, holding on beside her.
Towards the back of the collection they were older. Marnie sitting on the bonnet of a red Mini holding up her L-plates torn in half, Beth looking out from inside the car, in the passenger seat. There were photos of other cars: a green and white Citroën 2CV, the two sisters standing up inside, their heads sticking out through the open roof; an elderly Triumph spitfire with the hood down; a single-seater racing car in front of the pits at a circuit. The next batch showed Marnie with friends, obviously at college. Several of the shots featured a strikingly handsome young man and Anne guessed this could be Simon. They certainly looked like an item. A mild shock came at the end, where a group was lying on rocks beside a dazzling blue sea. There were six of them and the three young women were sunbathing topless. Anne found herself thinking: “It’s a good job Mr Stubbs can’t see this. His eyes would come out on stalks.” Imagining his expression caused her to smile involuntarily, but the smile vanished at once as she recalled the image of how Marnie looked at that moment.
Just then the consultant came round the corner and walked towards Anne, his expression serious. Her stomach churned and she slipped down from the window sill, her mouth suddenly dry. Behind her, she heard a sound and looked round to see Beth tapping on the glazed doors at the far end of the corridor.
“Shall we go and let her in?” said the consultant. He put a hand on Anne’s shoulder as they walked along together. “There’s no news, I’m afraid. Nothing has changed.”
