Talisman (The Wakefield Series Book 3)

by David Evans

  A little moisture ran from Souter’s left eye and he quickly swept it away with his hand.

  “They threatened you, didn’t they?”

  He opened his eyes and tried to pull himself up. Susan propped another pillow behind him. “I’m not bothered about me,” he said.

  “Alison?” Susan queried. “Did they threaten Alison?”

  “Not as such.”

  “So what did they say?” Susan’s voice scarcely above a whisper, aware others might wig in on the conversation.

  Souter sighed and realised they needed to know. “Only that as well as knowing where I live, he also knows where my friends live.”

  Susan exchanged glances with Sammy as Souter paused.

  “And by that, I’m assuming they meant Alison. And you two.”

  The curtains swished by the end of the next bay and a nurse pushed out a dressings trolley.

  “Thanks nurse,”

  The nurse turned, smiling. “Just look after yourself, Belinda, she said.

  “I’ll try my best.”

  Susan looked at Sammy then peered around the curtain.

  “Belinda?” Susan said, surprised. “It’s me Susan Brown. You remember I was on Orthopaedics last year.

  “Hello, Susan, yes I do. How’s the leg?”

  “As good as new. I’ve got one last appointment with the consultant next week and that should be it. But it was thanks to you and your team that everything’s okay. Anyway, never mind that, what’s happened to you?”

  “Oh, I just had a bit of a tumble, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

  Sammy was standing behind Susan. “Hi Belinda,” she said. “How are the kids? Grace and … Anthony, isn’t it?”

  “Hello, Sammy. How are you? Yes, they’re fine.”

  “That looks a like fair tumble you’ve had. She’s done a good job on the stitches though.”

  Involuntarily, Belinda put a hand to her head. “I’m just a bit tired now.”

  “Of course,” Susan said. “Come on, Sammy; let’s leave her to get some rest. Hope you recover soon.” She bundled Sammy away from the bed and pulled the curtain back into position.

  Sammy gave a questioning look and silently mouthed, “I don’t believe her.”

  * * *

  At the underground car park to Souter’s apartment block, Scenes of Crime Officers were tidying their kit away when Strong appeared.

  “Anything interesting?” he asked Doug Norris, a man he’d worked with often in the past.

  “Not a lot,” he said. “A few prints from the door handles and the boot but they’ll probably match the victim or his girlfriend.” He looked over into the far corner where Ormerod was bending down. “We found his briefcase though. Luke has it bagged up. Again, a few smudges but nothing for us to work with.”

  “Okay, thanks Doug.” Strong walked towards his DC.

  “Found it open in the corner here,” Ormerod said when his boss approached. “Not forced, so either it wasn’t locked or whoever opened it knew the code. Nothing forensics could get from it.”

  “Yeah, Doug said.”

  “So, I’ll let your friend have a look at it and see if he can identify if anything’s missing.”

  “I’ll take it in in the morning, Luke. I want to see his face when I show him.”

  “Not telling you all he knows, then?”

  “No. He claims he has no idea why this has happened.”

  Ormerod shrugged. “Must admit, it seems strange. Robbery wasn’t the motive, unless he had something in the case. He still has his wallet apparently.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow. You get off home, Luke.”

  “Don’t fancy a pint, do you, guv?”

  Strong checked his watch. “I’d like to, but I need to get home.”

  * * *

  Alison returned with hot drinks in two polystyrene cups.

  “Oh, hi,” she said when she saw Susan and Sammy. “I didn’t know you were here, or I’d have … here, you have these, I’ll get some more.”

  “No, we’re fine,” Sammy said. “You and Bob have those.”

  “Sure?”

  Susan shook her head. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

  Alison passed a cup to Souter and sipped from the other. “I don’t suppose he’s told you what really happened?” she asked.

  “Only that someone jumped him when he was reaching into the boot,” Susan responded.

  Alison’s expression was disbelieving. “After what you told me about the work you’ve both been doing on the Lofthouse scheme. Are you sure you couldn’t have upset the wrong people?”

  Susan and Sammy looked at each other. “I don’t see why,” Susan finally said.

  “Nothing to do with this Scottish developer bloke then?” Alison persisted.

  “It was just a bit of a frosty exchange really,” Susan said.

  “Frosty? I thought you said he was a bit threatening.”

  “Well … no. More like a bit of posturing. But anyway, nobody would resort to violence over some planning issue.”

  Souter, quiet throughout this exchange, drained his tea and held out the empty polystyrene cup. “Look, I’m really tired,” he said.

  “Subtle as ever, Bob,” Alison quipped, taking the cup from him. “All right, we’ll leave you alone now.” She gave him a lingering kiss and a big hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Susan and Sammy waved and they all left.

  He was alone once more with his thoughts. And then, he remembered the patient in the next bay.

  “Belinda?” he called through the curtain. “Hello, it’s Bob Souter. I don’t know if you remember, I used to visit Susan on your ward last year?”

  “I do,” she responded quietly. “I wouldn’t have known your name but … it was you who rescued her, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, I found her.”

  There was silence between them for a while.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  Souter sighed. “I just upset someone, that’s all.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Another pause. “Susan said you’d been cut and bruised.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Souter slowly swung his legs over the side of the trolley, steadied himself and walked over to the curtain. He popped his head round. “Do you mind?” he asked, indicating the barrier between them.

  “No, it’s better than talking to a sheet of material.” She gave a weak chuckle.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” he said, getting back onto his trolley.

  She looked across at him. “Your someone must have been pretty upset too, the look of you.”

  “It’s a mystery,” he sighed.

  “Right,” she murmured.

  But he knew he hadn’t convinced her either.

  15

  Thursday 26th July 2001

  Next morning, Strong finally tracked Souter down to the Male Medical Ward where late the previous evening, he’d been found a bed. One of the cleaning staff let him through the doors and onto the ward. A check of the chart on the wall revealed which bed Souter should be in and, as he approached, he saw the curtains drawn around it.

  An old gentleman sitting up in the next bed spoke. “I think ‘e’s gerrin’ dressed,” he said. “They said ‘e could go ‘ome, lucky bugger.”

  Strong gave him the thumbs up and peeked through a gap in the curtain. Souter was fully dressed and putting on his shoes.

  “Come on, no time to laze about in bed all day,” Strong said.

  “Hello, mate. Managed to track me down then?”

  “I’m a detective, remember. Anyway, they’ve signed you off as fit and well, I assume.”

  “I can’t stay in here, Col. It’d drive me do-lally.”

  “I thought you’d be in your element, all these lovely nurses tending to your every need.”

  “Have you seen any?”

  “Not yet. The ward cleaner let me in.”

  “They’re all about seventeen stone. Tal
k about a caring profession. How can you take them seriously, telling you about all the things you should and shouldn’t do to stay healthy when they’re that size?”

  Just to quash Souter’s argument, the curtain was pulled apart and a lovely dark-haired, slim nurse in her mid-twenties appeared.

  “Off already, Mr Souter,” she said in a delightful soft Irish brogue. “I’ll miss ya.”

  Strong looked from the nurse to Souter.

  “Ah, well,” he said with a shrug, “I lied.”

  “If you’ve got your friend here to help you, I’ll leave you alone,” she said.

  “Thanks, Mairead.” Souter smiled.

  “See ya, Bob.”

  Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a table in a corner of the hospital cafeteria. Strong had offered to buy his friend a cooked breakfast.

  “Very generous of you, Col,” Souter said as he began cutting up a sausage.

  “Shut up, I wanted one as well.” Strong smiled and dipped his bread into a fried egg.

  His initial hunger slated, Souter indicated the briefcase that Strong had brought with him. “You found it then?”

  Strong nodded, mouth full of bacon.

  “And you want me to see if there’s anything missing.”

  Strong pointed his fork at him. “You know what? You should have been a detective.”

  Souter grinned. “I’ve said it before … not a lot of difference between our jobs.”

  “Was it locked?”

  “I don’t bother. There’s never anything that valuable in there normally,” Souter responded.

  “How about last night?”

  Souter paused between mouthfuls to give the question a bit of thought. Strong wondered if it was more for his benefit.

  “No,” he finally said. “But let’s have a look?”

  Strong pulled the briefcase from the plastic evidence bag and passed it over. “Won’t surprise you to learn that forensics got nothing of any use from it.”

  Souter flicked both catches and opened the case, gave it a cursory look, rummaged through some papers, then closed it again. “Looks just as it was when I left the office. Where did you find it?”

  “In the corner of the car park.”

  Souter became surprised. “Well I was leaning into the boot to get it out when I was attacked, so whoever it was must have been interested enough to have a look. Probably thought I’d got credit cards or something in there.”

  “But if you were being mugged, Bob, they’d have had their hands in your pockets after your wallet. Are you sure they didn’t say anything to you?”

  Souter looked serious. “I’ve told you, I can’t remember too much about it. But I certainly can’t remember whoever it was saying anything.”

  Strong held his friend’s stare for a second then continued his breakfast.

  Souter took a slurp of tea then leaned back in his seat. “How did you know that bloke from last night … Chamberlain?”

  “Charles Chamberlain you mean? Respected commercial lawyer … or so he’d like us to think.”

  “Oh, that’s him,” Souter said. “I didn’t know he was Belinda’s husband.”

  “You know Mrs Chamberlain?” Strong mopped tomato juice from his plate with the last piece of toast.

  “Well, it’s more that Susan and Sammy do. I’ve met her a few times. She was on the Orthopaedic Ward where Susan spent most of her time in the LGI. Susan had a lot of good things to say about her and Sammy always had a natter when she went in to visit.”

  Strong washed down his toast with a mouthful of tea.

  Souter continued, “I had an interesting chat with her last night after everyone had gone.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “He’s not as upstanding as you might think.”

  Strong smiled, images of the photographs flashing through his mind. “Oh I don’t know about that.”

  “You know he smacked her last night?”

  “She told you?”

  Souter looked around to make sure no-one was listening, deciding how much to tell his friend. “She told me about the photos.”

  Strong raised his eyebrows and leaned forward.

  “She knows you haven’t spoken to her husband about them.”

  “Not yet, anyway,” Strong confirmed.

  “She thinks he’s having it off with his PA amongst others. In that house she knew nothing about until the other week.”

  “Did she mention any of the other participants?”

  “No, I didn’t probe too much.”

  “Not like you.”

  “I do have some empathy with people you know. Besides, I like her. She was always very pleasant when I visited the ward.”

  “So, one last time, you can’t recall anything your attacker said to you?”

  A surprised look passed across Souter’s face and he exhaled deeply.

  “And you’ve no idea why anyone would attack you?” Strong went on.

  “I’ve told you, Col. It’s a complete mystery.”

  “No stories you’re working on that might be upsetting anyone? Alison mentioned something about Lofthouse and a developer.”

  Souter stood. “Look, I need to get into work. Thanks for bringing my case back. And thanks for the breakfast. I owe you one.”

  * * *

  Strong made his way out of the hospital, more convinced than ever that Souter was holding back on him. Mention of Lofthouse and he’d clammed up. He’d ask around back at Wood Street.

  Lost in thought, he walked through the main doors and automatically turned to check no one was close behind should he let it go. Surprised, he saw Belinda Chamberlain approaching.

  “Hello,” he said. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Better, thanks,” she said. “How’s your friend?”

  “Just been let out too. Your lad not come to meet you?”

  “Anthony? I made him stay at his friend’s last night. I wasn’t sure when I’d be discharged.”

  Light drizzle had begun to fall. They walked together for a few yards in the direction of the car park before she stopped by the taxi rank queue. About half a dozen people were waiting.

  “Look, don’t hang around for a taxi,” Strong said, looking to the sky. “I can give you a lift.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll be fine.”

  “Honestly, it’s no trouble.” He smiled. “I’d be neglecting my duty if I didn’t see you home safely.”

  She looked to the queue then back to Strong. “It’s not that far. Thank you.”

  Finally settled in the car, seatbelts on, he looked round to reverse out of the space.

  “So where are we headed?” he asked.

  “St John’s Square.”

  “Very nice.” He drove off, heading for the exit.

  She said nothing and looked out of the window.

  “They’ve done a neat job on that cut,” he said. “That cheek’ll look colourful for a few days though.”

  Again, she didn’t respond.

  “Sorry,” he went on. “What do I know? You’re the nurse.” He glanced across.

  This time she smiled. “You don’t need to have any medical training to predict I’m going to look a mess for a while.”

  They came to a halt at the lights to exit onto Aberford Road.

  “I haven’t spoken to your husband, you know … about those photos.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “So, was this sparked by you confronting him about them?”

  “Yes.”

  The lights changed and he pulled away.

  “So how did he explain them?”

  “Just a bit of fun, apparently. Ha! Fun? He still insists there’s nothing going on between him and Anita, his PA.”

  “But she’s in the photos?”

  “I know. Apparently, it’s her thing.”

  Strong paused for a second. “And what happened to you stemmed from this same argument?”

  “It all seems to be one big argument these days
.” She turned her head away and looked out of the window. After a few minutes silence, she spoke again, “Bob told me you’d spoken to him last night.”

  “Did he now?” Another pause before Strong made one more attempt. “You don’t have to put up with it you know.”

  She ignored his comment. “Did he tell you what happened to him?”

  “Who? Bob? We know what happened.”

  “But he didn’t tell you why?”

  “He told you?”

  “Not exactly. But I heard enough. He was talking to Susan and Sammy.”

  “Anything you can tell me?”

  By now, they were travelling up Wentworth Street.

  “Anywhere just here will be fine,” she said.

  Strong drew to a halt by St John’s Church.

  “Thanks again,” she said, opening the door and stepping out. Before she set off, she leaned back in. “The only thing I can tell you was the name ‘Brogan’ was mentioned.” With that, she shut the door and walked off.

  * * *

  Belinda put the key in the lock, nervously opened the front door and listened. The only sound was the comforting tick of the clock on the mantelpiece in the lounge. Satisfied there was no one in the house, she stepped inside, closed the door and leaned back against it. After a few seconds, she began to walk down the hall but the mirror on the wall drew her eyes. She instinctively touched her stitched forehead, then lightly stroked her cheek. Immediately the tears began to flow. She couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want to. There in the hallway, she finally crumpled onto the floor.

  She’d seen a side of Charlie she never knew existed. Was this his true nature? Were the last twenty-seven years a lie? Had she ever really known him? Those questions had played around in her mind all of the previous night. Again and again she came back to the most pressing question of all; what was she going to do now?

  The noise of a key entering the front door lock shocked her out of her angst. Still sitting on the floor, she leaned hard back against the wall and held her breath. She wished the wall could swallow her up. Slowly the door opened. Keys struggled to be released from the lock and then Anthony appeared. Her body relaxed in pure relief.

  “Mum? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home? What are you doing down there?” He closed the door, dropped his bag on the floor and rushed over towards her. “He’s not here, is he? He hasn’t hurt you again?”