by L M Krier
He only just stopped himself from doing a Jezza-style sigh. Instead, he nodded his understanding, then went back to his own office. Then he kicked the waste-paper basket right round his room a couple of times. After that, he picked up the phone.
'Alastair!' he said, with all the joviality he could muster. 'Ted Darling here.'
There was a pause, then the oily, nasal voice which always made Ted cringe said, 'This is a joke, right? You're someone from local radio, pulling my plonker? That would be about as likely as the real Ted Darling phoning me.'
Ted forced a laugh he did not feel like giving.
'Fair point,' he conceded. 'But this is a genuine olive branch.' He decided to be blunt and continued, 'As you can imagine, I got my backside well and truly kicked after your latest article. But that's not what this call is about.'
'Go on,' Pocket Billiards sounded suspicious.
'I haven't always been fair to you,' Ted continued, his toes curling up with the effort. 'There is more information that I could give you. Are you free to meet for a drink? Today, perhaps?'
There was a pause, then the journalist said, 'I'll be going for my dinner in about an hour. I could meet you at The Grapes?'
'Looking forward to it,' Ted said, through gritted teeth.
Ted strolled to the pub ahead of time. He wanted to catch a few words with Dave, the landlord, before his meeting. Trev had been in and paid his dues. He had not told Dave much and was not keen to share his news with everyone, but Ted wanted to make sure there was no lasting damage done, and no hard feelings.
He was still chatting amicably with Dave when the journalist came in. When he walked up to the bar and said, 'Hello, Ted,' as if they were best friends, Dave's eyebrows shot up.
'Alastair! Nice to see you,' Ted said, trying to sound as if he meant it. 'Go and find us a table and I'll bring the drinks over. What are you having?'
'Pint of lager top. And bring the menu with you,' he said ungraciously.
'Lager top?' Dave queried derisively, once the journalist moved away. 'I didn't think grown-ups still drank that. What sees you schmoozing the gutter press, Ted? Not usually your style,' he said, making up Ted's Gunner as he spoke.
'Basically, the top brass's jackboots up my backside,' Ted said with a wry grin. 'They are not happy with the way the current case is going and they think me supping with the devil is the answer to it all.'
'Well, if he's the answer,' Dave nodded contemptuously towards the reporter, pushing the lager top across the counter to Ted, 'then it must have been a bloody silly question.'
Ted took the drinks and a menu across to the table and said expansively, 'Whatever you want to eat, Alastair. It's on me.'
'I suppose you're going to ask me not to reveal the fifth death,' he said with a sneer. 'I'll have the steak, well done.'
'I wouldn't dream of it. I'm here to make sure you have all the information you need,' Ted assured him. 'I'll just go and order our food.'
Ted did not feel like eating anything himself, especially not in present company, so he just ordered a cheese and tomato panini.
'If you notice my hands creeping round his throat, Dave, make sure you call the boys in blue,' Ted said, before heading back to the table.
'The thing is, Alastair, I should have been a bit more helpful to you, instead of always palming you off with the Press Office,' Ted began, picking his words carefully and hating every minute of it. 'At the moment, I could do with a bit of help from you. In exchange, I promise that you and your paper will be the first to get a name in this case, once any arrests are made.
'I've got some more detail here for you,' he pulled his crib sheet out of his inner pocket. 'I can't give you the whole sheet, you understand, but I can make sure you have more detail than anyone else.'
He could see that the journalist was interested. He was eagerly craning his neck, trying to see what was on the sheet of paper which Ted kept tantalisingly just out of his clear view.
'First, I'm going to give you some information which we don't, at this stage, want publishing. Can I trust you on that?'
The reporter nodded briefly so Ted continued.
'Up to now, these are officially all just unconnected suspicious deaths. Off the record, and I really mean that, we are looking into a possible link between them, which is where you come in. In particular, I'm interested in various articles which you've written about grieving relatives complaining over lack of available hospital beds when someone has died.'
Dave brought their food over and put it in front of them. Both men waited until he had gone before they continued.
'Is that what you think the link is? Bed-blockers? You don't need me for that,' the reporter said, sounding suspicious again. 'You can read the articles yourself.'
'True, but that takes a lot of valuable time. Plus you have a number of unnamed sources who might be of interest to us.'
'A journalist never reveals their sources,' he said sanctimoniously, beginning to eat.
Ted didn't have much of an appetite to start with. The sight of Pocket Billiards shovelling food past his rotten teeth and chewing with his mouth partly open robbed him of any that he did have. He managed two bites of his sandwich, then put it back down and ignored it.
'Of course not, I understand completely and I'm not asking you to,' Ted said, feeling as if he was crawling. 'But if you did remember anyone who stood out in your mind that you could steer us towards, without naming them? Maybe a date? Or details of the death in question? Something we could check with the hospital and find out names for ourselves? I would see that your paper got the credit for helping us solve the case.'
He had never seen anyone dispose of a meal so quickly. In no time at all, Pocket Billiards was looking up expectantly, grease round his mouth and a dribble of ketchup down his chin.
Ted sighed. 'I'll get you the dessert menu,' he said and stood up.
'A brandy wouldn't go amiss at the end of the meal, either,' the journalist said. 'It might just help to jog my memory. As it goes, I do vaguely remember one or two relatives I interviewed who might be of interest to you. But I'd have to go back through my notes for names and addresses. Then we could do this again, when I give you the details.'
'Give me a large brandy for my new best friend, Dave, will you, and what puddings have you got today?' Ted asked, when he went to the bar. 'Oh, and if you have any toxic substances at all behind the bar, can you put a good dollop in his drink, before I really do strangle him with my bare hands.'
Chapter Twenty-seven
Ted had heard nothing yet from the local reporter. He did not expect to. He rather thought that the Ice Queen was barking up the wrong tree with her attempts to forge a better relationship there. The bad feeling on both sides was too long-established.
The article on the deaths had now appeared in the weekly paper, as well as online, both updated to include a mention of the latest death. The best that Ted could say about it was that it was no worse than the original piece.
Jezza was still going to Cottage Row every afternoon. She seemed, for the time being, to be keeping her head down and trying to do her job. Whether because of the press coverage or not, Angela had not put in an appearance since the last time, when Jezza had missed her. In fact, things had gone quiet on all fronts.
Professor Nelson had phoned Ted with the latest toxicology results as soon as she had them. Mike had drawn the short straw of attending the post-mortem this time.
'Aconite again, Edwin,' she announced, once again not bothering with much of a greeting. 'So that's two in the same home with the same toxin, unless I am very much mistaken? Is that significant, do you think, or just coincidence?'
'I honestly have no idea with this killer, Bizzie,' Ted replied. 'I'm having difficulty coming up with much of a theory at all, to be honest. What about dosage, this time? The same quantities as before?'
'I would say he, or she, is honing their skills. Significantly less this time, although still more than enough to kill, especially an eld
erly person. You still have no suspects?'
'Not really, although we are at least now finding a few tentative links,' Ted told her candidly. 'Thanks for hurrying this through for us once again, Bizzie. I really appreciate it.'
'How is young Trevor bearing up? Have you got his appointments sorted out?'
'Next Monday,' Ted told her. 'And thanks for all you've done to help him. He really appreciated your advice. All your advice. And so did I.
Bizzie gave a throaty chuckle. 'I'm glad,' she said. 'Perhaps when he gets the all-clear, as I hope he will, you'll let him take me out on the motorbike again. I don't think I've ever had so much fun.'
'I'm sure he'd be thrilled to. I hear you're a bad influence on him when it comes to mundane matters like the speed limit.'
She was still laughing delightedly when she hung up.
Mike had begun interviewing the three care workers. Disappointingly, it had not yet thrown up anything much to advance the enquiry.
'That Stacy is interesting, boss, and not just because of the eye-liner,' Mike told him when they had a quick catch-up. 'I asked him why he left Snowdon Lodge to go to The Poppies. He said Snowdon was like factory farming, more money-driven than about caring for the residents. He likes The Poppies because he says they all genuinely seem to care about the old folk they look after. He certainly sounds as if he does. An unlikely suspect, I would say.'
'Do his alibis stack up though, Mike? We can't go off hunches, especially when we're getting nowhere fast.'
'He'd left Snowdon Lodge before either of the deaths there and he was working at The Poppies, actually on duty, at the likely times the victims there were poisoned. With Mrs Tyler, at The Poppies, he wasn't on duty when she was probably poisoned, and other staff corroborated what he said about this neighbour having been in with a picnic for her.'
'When are you interviewing the others?' Ted asked him.
'They're both working all this week and they do long shifts. I thought I'd risk leaving it till the weekend, when they're off-duty. I'm working over the weekend so that would work, if you think that's all right, boss?'
Ted scratched his head, considering. 'It's a calculated risk, I suppose,' he said. 'We don't really have enough on either of them to make them definite suspects. On the other hand, if we delay and either of them is the killer and goes on to kill again … It doesn't really bear thinking about.'
'I could do a bit more checking on both of them and make an informed decision based on that?' Mike suggested. 'If anything sets the warning bells off, I'll pull them in, long shifts or no long shifts.'
'I'd quite like to have a quiet weekend, if that's possible. Trev and I are invited to Jim Baker's for dinner on Saturday night,' Ted told him.
'No sweat, boss, if the worst happens, I'll cover for you,' Mike promised him. 'I'll be looking for a return favour soon. The missus and I have promised to take the kids to Blackpool, now she's doing so much better. Be nice to have a family outing again.'
'And I won't be in on Monday morning,' Ted told him. 'In fact, I'm not sure if I'll get in at all that day, certainly not until late on. There's somewhere I need to be. The Super knows, she's cleared it. I'll have my mobile off for most of the time so it's dire emergencies only, please, and even then I can't guarantee to respond immediately.'
Ted hoped that Mike could hold the fort on Saturday evening, as he and Trev drove over to Jim Baker's house in Didsbury. Just in case, Ted kept his mobile phone switched on, but set to vibrate-only mode.
Jim opened the door to them, smiling expansively. He was clearly keen for them to meet the new woman in his life. He led the way into the front room.
'This is Bella,' he said proudly, putting an arm round her shoulders. 'And this is Ted, and his partner, Trevor.'
She was quite short, no bigger than Ted, shapely, and with a pleasantly smiling face. Ash blonde hair was pulled back from a high brow, and her eyes were a striking shade of violet. Remembering what Jezza had said, Ted wondered if she was wearing tinted contact lenses.
Introductions made, Jim left his guests to sit down with their drinks and went to busy himself in the kitchen. Ted could tell that he was on edge, anxious that the evening should go well. He thought he must be serious about Bella and hoped she would bring some happiness into his life. He noticed, too, that all photos of Jim's previous wife had disappeared from the room.
'James has made the starter and the main course,' Bella told Ted and Trev. 'He's quite a good cook. I prefer baking, so I've made the dessert. I do hope you'll like it.'
Ted was curious to know more about the potential future woman in Jim's life. He was amused that she called him James. He noticed that Jim had shed a few pounds since they had worked together in Stockport. He wondered if that was from choice, or whether Bella was trying to change him. Jim had always been a big man. He dwarfed Bella.
As they ate, Ted started to ask Bella a series of searching questions about herself. Trev was watching curiously. It was not like Ted, when he was not in policeman mode.
'Do you work at all, Bella?' was one of the things he asked her.
'Only part-time,' she said. 'I do book-keeping for various companies and small businesses. I work mornings. Mostly I go out to see the clients, as they tend to be busy and it's easier for them to do it that way.'
'What sort of businesses?'
'Oh, all sorts, it's very varied. Let's see, this week, I've been to a garage, a website designer, a hairdresser and a care home,' she replied.
'This is a lovely meal, Jim,' Trev put in, trying to lighten the conversation, which was beginning to sound a bit like a police interview.
'Care homes seem to be springing up all over the place at the moment,' Ted said, ignoring him. 'Turning into big business, it seems. Do you have many on your books?'
'Oh, yes,' she said. 'I have some which are part of a big chain, and also a few of the private ones.'
'Do you visit them all, or do some of them send their books in to you?'
'No, all my work is done going to see the clients. I work from home, I don't have an office, as such,' she replied, trying to find time to eat as well as to answer his questions.
'And do you share Jim's love of gardening? The same green fingers?' Ted persisted.
Jim pushed his chair back and dropped his knife and fork with a clatter.
'Talking of gardens, Ted, why don't you come and see the latest improvements I've made to mine,' Jim said, with a loaded glance at Ted.
Bella put a hand on Jim's arm.
'Surely that will keep until we've finished the meal, James?'
'We won't be long. Just a bit of a leg stretch before the next course. Trevor will keep you company.'
Ted could see the anger in him by the set of his heavy shoulders as he strode off down the lawn to the furthest part of the garden. Jim knew perfectly well that Ted was not interested in gardens. He stopped and whirled round, his face dark.
'What the bloody hell are you playing at?' he demanded. 'I bring you to meet the woman I'm thinking of marrying and you start interrogating her like a prime suspect! I feel like punching your lights out, Ted, I really do. Except I know that I wouldn't stand a chance.'
Ted looked contrite. 'Sorry, Jim. Really, I'm sorry. It's just this case. I'm getting obsessed. Bella fits the profile in many ways. I suddenly got this mad idea that she might be, you know, Belladonna …'
'For God's sake, Ted, what the hell is the matter with you? It's not that long since you suspected me of being a serial killer in another case. Now you've turned your sights on Bella in this one. Is the therapy not working? Her name's Isabelle.'
Jim was one of the few who knew that Ted was receiving counselling, and the reason for it. It had been Jim who had pushed him to take the first step to get the help he needed.
'And what's all this crap about profiles? I remember trying to get you to use a profiler in the past and you refusing point blank. What the hell is wrong with you, man?'
Ted was looking about him, feigning an i
nterest in the garden to buy himself time before answering. He couldn't actually see any improvements, but he didn't like to say so.
'Apart from being five murders into a case I can't solve? Apart from the Chief Constable threatening to put me on point duty?' Ted asked ironically, after a pause. 'Then I meet someone who looks as if they change their appearance with tinted lenses, who likes baking and who goes round a lot of the care homes. You can't blame me for clutching at straws.'
'Life's full of coincidences,' Jim growled. 'You know that as well as I do. The sort of thing that, if you put it in a book or a TV crime series, the readers and viewers would claim it could never happen.'
Ted made a small noise which could have been a laugh. 'Like Trev's delightful mother turning up out of the blue, not long after mine did, you mean?'
He had told Jim about the return of his own mother into his life. They were close friends and kept in touch, although they no longer worked in the same station.
'Really?' Jim look astonished. 'I thought he had no contact at all with his family?'
'Now I've met the lovely Lady Armstrong, I can understand why he's pleased he doesn't. She makes the Ice Queen look like a warm, motherly, caring sort of person.'
'Lady Armstrong? Blimey, I knew Trev came from a posh background but I didn't realise they were titled.'
'His father's a senior diplomat, with a knighthood. It doesn't give Trev a title.'
Jim was still looking searchingly at Ted, who was sniffing randomly at plants, trying to look interested, while hoping none of them was toxic.
'Stop pissing about, Ted. I know you. I can read you like a book. What's really bothering you?'
Once again, Ted looked wildly about him for something else to talk about, feeling Jim's intense gaze burning into him as he did so.
Eventually, he said quietly, 'Trev has hospital appointments on Monday. It's possible he has inherited a life-threatening heart condition. That was the reason for her Ladyship’s visit, to drop that bombshell on him. His father has had a serious heart attack. He's going to be all right, but it was touch and go for a while. We won't know, until all the tests have been done, whether or not Trev has inherited the same condition. So I apologise for my behaviour. I'm a little distracted right now.'
