by L M Krier
Ted was thinking about the mystery visitor, Angie, the bearer of the cake which his grandmother had eaten shortly before her death.
'What if it was in something very palatable, like a cake, or something sweet?' he asked.
'Possible,' came the reply. 'Especially if the victim was a bit of a cake eater.'
'She loved to bake,' Ted said fondly. 'There was always something baking away in the oven whenever I visited. If someone had come to see her, bringing cake, I'm sure she would have eaten it. I know dementia changes people, I understand that, but she was always kind enough not to say anything if she was eating something she didn't really like the taste of.'
'I'll be sending my full report to the coroner. My conclusions are that this was very unlikely to involve an accident. I would say that someone cynically and deliberately poisoned your poor grandmother,' she said. 'Once again, I'm sorry for your loss, and I apologise once more for my thoughtlessness.'
'Honestly, think nothing of it,' Ted told her. 'Now, I promised you a meal, at the very least, in thanks for all your kind help with this case. What do you like to eat? There's a fair chance Trev can cook anything you fancy.'
'Oh, I'm very easy to feed, a proper trencherman,' she said. 'The only thing I don't like, I think, is tripe. Oh, and summer pudding, which has always seemed to me to be a waste of even the most stale of bread.'
Ted couldn't help but laugh. 'All right, no tripe or summer pudding,' he promised. 'Now, when are you free? What about this weekend?'
'That would be lovely. I have nothing on.'
From the way she said it, Ted suspected she did not exactly have a full social calendar.
'If you have a Significant Other, you're very welcome to bring them along,' Ted said tactfully, having no clue as to the Professor's domestic circumstances.
'My only partner is my old Staffie, Monty, and his farts are so noxious I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy,' she told him.
'Shall we say Sunday lunch? If you'd like to have a glass or two of wine, I'll happily collect you and run you back home so you don't have to drive. I never drink.'
'That's far too much trouble for you,' she said immediately. 'I'll get a taxi both ways.'
'Not at all,' Ted said, 'I wouldn't dream of it. Come in a taxi and I will certainly run you home. It's the least I can do after you've gone to so much trouble for me.'
There was a pause then the Professor said, 'Could I ask you a small favour? It's going to sound very strange.'
'Go on,' Ted said, intrigued.
'Well, I know your partner has a motorcycle, and I assume you also know how to drive it,' she said hesitantly. 'It's just that, I've never been on one, and it's on my … what do they call it these days … my bucket list? Things to do before I die? Could you possibly run me home on that?'
Ted suppressed a grin. He had a fleeting mental image of the short and rather stout Professor Nelson, enveloped in a billowing cloak, astride the bike, looking like Hagrid on his way to Hogwarts.
'Consider it done,' he said.
When he rang off, he headed into the main office to find his team for the usual briefing with which they always liked to start the day. It was time to open an enquiry into what was now officially a suspicious death, at the least.
The team members were all in on time. It was rare for any of them to be late, out of respect for their boss. Ted was fair and easy-going but still managed to run a tight ship, leading by example. It was out of their respect for him that the team members chose to call him either boss or sir, rather than being on first name terms, which often happened with other teams.
'Right, listen up,' he said, calling them to order. 'We have a suspicious death on our hands. A poisoning, and a very unusual one at that.'
He briefly outlined all that he knew to date, without yet mentioning his relationship to the victim. As he spoke, he was writing keywords on the white board which would help them coordinate the new case.
'So, at the moment, we have nothing much to go on. No motive, no real suspect, just someone unidentified who may have been one of the last people to see the victim alive. Where do we start? Steve?'
He looked at his young TDC, always keen to encourage him and give him the chance to voice an opinion.
'Immediate family, sir,' he said. 'Statistically the most likely suspect in a murder.'
'Very good,' Ted nodded. 'Now, here's the complicated part. The victim was my grandmother. Her only surviving family members are my mother, and me. So clearly, someone else needs to start this enquiry, and I'd like you to do that, Mike,' he said to his sergeant.
'Luckily, I have a good alibi, as I was here at the time when she was probably poisoned. But Mike, I'd like you and Sal to go and interview my mother first of all. I'll give you her contact details. I should just say at this stage that I haven't seen my mother or my grandmother for about thirty years.
'So, I'm not the poisoner, and I'm hoping my mother isn't, either. Are there any other theories? Where else should we be looking for suspects, until we can trace who this Angie is and either eliminate or arrest her?'
'What about the doctor, boss?' Mike Hallam asked. 'An overworked GP with too many old grunters …' he broke off abruptly. 'Sorry, boss, no disrespect intended. Too many old people on his hands, wanting to get rid of some of them?'
'Another Dr Shipman, you mean?' Ted asked. 'I sincerely hope not, not on our patch. But it's worth checking. Put someone on that, please. Anything else?'
'One of the carers, boss?' DC Dennis 'Virgil' Tibbs suggested. 'I'm sure your granny was a lovely old lady, but maybe if one of the carers thought she was a bit of a nuisance … ?'
'She might well have been,' Ted conceded. 'I haven't seen her for thirty-odd years, and she did have dementia. She might not have been very nice at all lately.'
'Personal revenge against you?' DS Hallam suggested.
Ted shrugged. 'Even I didn't know where my grandmother was.'
'That wouldn't stop some of the people you've dealt with lately from finding her if they wanted to, boss,' Mike said. 'Something we can look at if we draw a blank on everything else.'
'Boss, should we be checking to see if there have been any other similar deaths in the area recently?' It was the turn of DC Abisali 'Sal' Ahmed to voice his thoughts. 'I imagine that it's not that out of the ordinary for old people to die in homes. Probably not at all unusual for a virus to be suspected in a sudden death. But maybe there have been other isolated cases, where no one else was affected.'
'Yes, I was coming to that,' Ted said. 'Steve, that's a job for you. Pull off a list of all the care homes in our area. I'm not sure what else they're called. Nursing homes, perhaps? Give it to Maurice and you and he work together to see if any of the others have experienced anything similar. As Sal said, we're looking particularly for any cases where only one resident was affected, where it may have appeared to be nothing more than a virus.
'Once we have that information, we need to find out if any other home had a visitor who looked anything like this Angie person. It goes without saying that we also need to find her, sooner rather than later.'
'Money's a common enough motive, boss,' DC Rob O'Connell began.
'I doubt if my grandmother had any,' Ted interrupted.
'Yes, but I understand it costs a fortune to keep old people in a home. It starts to be quite a burden on family members who are having to pay,' Rob continued.
'Good point,' Ted nodded. 'Mike, that's one for you to check out when you interview my mother. Who pays the care home fees? Are there any arrears? Check too, while you're at it, whether the house is still in my grandmother's name. I know they are often sold to pay elderly care fees.
'There's just one more thing. I haven't yet mentioned this case to Superintendent Caldwell, and certainly not yet my personal connection to the victim.'
Six pairs of eyes looked at him, eyebrows raised. As ever, it was Maurice Brown who spoke first.
'Bloody hell, boss, you like to live dangerously!'
He knew that he could trust every one of his team members implicitly. They, in turn, all knew the unwritten rule. The boss was there to watch their backs and stop any flak from higher up heading their way. He could, and would, protect them physically as well if he needed to. In exchange, they all thought the world of him and would do anything he asked of them. It was largely because of the mutual trust that the team was so successful, with such an impressive clean-up rate.
Chapter Five
Both Ted and the Ice Queen were always in early every morning. He found her in her office first thing the following day, despite her long conference the day before. He wondered again how she managed to look so impeccable always. He smothered a grin at the mental image of the Ice Queen's traffic inspector husband ironing shirts for his wife and senior officer.
'Come in, Inspector, take a seat,' she said pleasantly enough, although she looked tired.
'Thank you, ma'am,' Ted said, always at pains to be formal and polite with his boss. 'How was your conference?'
To his surprise, the Ice Queen said, 'Oh dear,' and looked at him searchingly. 'As I can't imagine you being remotely interested in divisional budgetary planning matters, I have to conclude you are either being polite or you have something to tell me which you think I am not going to like. So which is it?'
This time Ted laughed aloud and relaxed slightly as he sat down. 'You have my measure, ma'am,' he said.
He outlined the facts so far on his grandmother's death, not attempting to hide his involvement to date, but then said, 'As soon as it was confirmed as a suspicious death and not just natural causes, I handed the enquiry over to DS Hallam. He's on his way now, with DC Ahmed, to interview my mother. I have already provided an alibi for myself.'
'I see,' she said in a measured tone, from which Ted couldn't deduce whether or not she was disapproving. 'Well, as ever, keep me posted and please ensure you stay out of the enquiry so as not to compromise it. Although of course, I don't need to remind you of that.
'Do you have any indications at this stage that this is anything other than a one-off?' she asked, then hastily added, 'Not that I am in any way belittling the loss of your grandmother. And please accept my condolences on her passing.'
'Thank you. Actually, we lost touch more than thirty years ago, when my mother left home,' Ted told her. 'At this stage no, nothing, although Mike Hallam has already raised the spectre of another Harold Shipman.'
The Ice Queen appeared to shudder. 'I do hope not, and certainly not on our patch. Please keep me informed of any developments at all, as and when they happen.'
Dropping the 'ma'am' and 'Inspector' from their conversations, as they were doing now, was about as informal as it ever got between them, certainly in the work place.
'One thing I know I don't need to remind you about is the fact that we are still a person down on the team. If this does turn out to be more than a single case, we will certainly need another pair of hands …'
The Ice Queen interrupted him imperiously. 'As you say, you don't need to remind me of that and I am working on it. Anything else at this stage?'
'Nothing else. I'll leave you to the delights of your budgetary planning,' Ted smiled and left the office.
Back in the main office, Maurice was looking pleased with himself.
'Got another possible, boss,' he told Ted as soon as he walked in. 'Recent, only a couple of days ago. An old lady, same symptoms, lots of vomiting, then heart failure.'
'Right, we need to go and get some more details. Whereabouts is it?'
'It's out towards Mellor, boss, I've got the address.' Maurice hesitated then continued, 'Er, shouldn't we wait for the sarge? I thought he was leading on this one, because you're personally involved?'
'I have no involvement in this latest enquiry, as far as I know, and we aren't even sure yet if they are linked,' Ted told him. 'Time is important in this. If there needs to be a PM, it needs to be carried out as soon as possible.'
'But boss, haven't you already told the Ice Queen you'll stay out of it …' Maurice protested.
'I've reminded you before, it's Superintendent Caldwell to you, Constable, or the Super at the very least. Don't let me have to remind you again,' Ted said sternly.
'Right, boss,' Maurice grinned, but he might just as well have said 'yeah, whatever' for all the sincerity in his tone. 'Just trying to watch your back for you, like you do for us. We'd better go, then. Your car or mine? And before you say anything, since I've got Steve as a lodger, mine is pristine and a smoke-free zone.'
Ted was surprised but pleased to hear it, so opted for Maurice's car. True to his word, it was cleaner than Ted had ever seen it. TDC Steve Ellis had moved in as Maurice's lodger after he was badly injured working on a case. The arrangement seemed to suit them both well and he was clearly helping Maurice deal with his smoking addiction and the compulsive eating which affected him whenever he tried to quit.
This time the care home they arrived at was much smaller than Snowdon Lodge, where Ted's grandmother had died. It looked like a large house, clearly not purpose-built as a care home. The front area was surfaced with tarmac for parking but the flower borders all around it were a riot of colourful flowers. Ted mused that it must have made a nicer view for residents looking out of the windows here than that at Snowdon Lodge.
There was only a single door inside an open porch. A sign gave the name as The Poppies, illustrated by bright, vibrant paintings of the eponymous flowers. As Ted and Maurice approached, ready to ring the bell, the door opened and an immaculately dressed elderly woman came out, a large handbag over her arm. The two men instinctively stepped aside as she swept on her regal way, heading for the roadside, where a bus had just pulled up.
Hard on her heels was a young man, wearing a pale blue tunic with a name badge pinned to it which said 'Stacy'. Ted noticed that he was wearing eye liner and had long hair pulled back into a pony tail. He excused himself as he hurried past them, calling out, 'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Hang on a minute.'
He just managed to intercept her as she was about to board the bus. Ted and Maurice heard him apologising to the driver as he steered the woman skilfully back towards the front door.
'Come on now, put your leg in bed and let's go and get you a coffee,' he smiled at her, holding out a crooked arm which she obediently slipped her hand through and went with him, seemingly meekly.
'If you gentlemen would like to follow me and just wait a couple of ticks till I get Elizabeth settled, you will have my undivided attention,' he told the two men, who followed him in through the front door.
'Boss, is he …' Maurice began as the young man disappeared.
'Yes, Maurice, he certainly looks like one of the care staff to me,' Ted said ironically.
Stacy was soon back with them, apologising for the delay.
'Sorry about that. Elizabeth is a little tinker. She's learned how to open the front door so she's always going walkabout. We'll have to change the lock again. What can I do for you gentlemen?'
'I'm Detective Inspector Darling, this is Detective Constable Brown,' Ted told him, as they both held up their warrant cards. 'We were hoping to speak to the manager.'
'Ah, bit tricky just at the moment, I'm afraid. She's in a meeting with someone, not to be disturbed unless really urgent. Is it anything I can help you with?'
'DC Brown spoke to her earlier today about the recent death of one of your residents,' Ted began, then looked at Maurice to supply the name of the resident.
'A Mrs Margaret Tyler,' Maurice said. 'Can you tell
us anything about it?'
'Oh yes, happy to help. Maureen said you might be coming in at some point and that if you did, I was to help you with your enquiries,' Stacy replied. 'That's what they say, isn't it? Helping the police with their enquiries? Would you mind if we just sit here in the lobby, so I can keep an eye on the door in case Elizabeth makes a break for it again? She really is a monkey if we don't watch her all the time.'
He indicated a sofa and an armchair at one side of the tastefully decorated vestibule. Ted noticed that everywhere smelled clean and fresh, so unlike the other home. One or two residents were dozing peacefully in chairs and there were no unpleasant smells hovering about them either.
Ted was feeling mischievous so he quickly took the armchair, leaving Maurice to lower his bulk into the small space next to Stacy. He knew Maurice was fine with him and Trevor, but he would doubtless feel uncomfortable in such close proximity to someone he had obviously decided must be gay since he used kohl pencil around his eyes and had long hair in blonde dreadlocks. He nodded to Maurice to lead the questioning, having promised to take a back seat.
'What can you tell us about Mrs Tyler, please?' Maurice asked, notebook and pen at the ready.
'Our Maggie? Well, she was certainly one of a kind,' Stacy began. 'She could moan for Britain, that's for sure. But the poor old thing took very ill a couple of days ago. Mostly violent sickness and diarrhoea. We called the doctor but her heart just gave out and she passed away before he arrived.'
'Which doctor do you use here?' Ted asked and Maurice looked daggers at him for not keeping quiet.
'It was Dr Patel who came that evening. He said it was probably a virus and was happy to sign the death certificate as that being the cause. He told us to keep a close eye on the other residents, but so far no one else has come down with anything similar. Thank goodness.'
