by Linda Coles
“I agreed to chat about the day I was cautioned, not my personal life, Detective Sergeant Lacey. I said I’m not ashamed, but it’s really none of your business or relevant to my caution. I was there that day, I tried to speak to some of the girls, and I got reprimanded for it. That really is all I can tell you. I didn’t touch anyone and I didn’t act inappropriately either. But I realize I upset some of the girls and for that I have apologised. Now, if you don’t have any more questions about that particular event, I have work to do.” Hadley’s voice dropped an octave or two, signalling that this was the end of the discussion.
Jack and Amanda both got up to leave just as the older woman came back with tea for Amanda. The woman’s face fell slightly as she realized they were leaving and the tea was no longer needed.
“Just one last thing.” Jack stopped abruptly. He was doing his Columbo bit. He even had his first finger extended in thought.
“Do you know a man by the name of Chris Meeks, or maybe Smeeks, by any chance?” He and Amanda both watched for the slightest tell to appear on Hadley Spinks’ face – a twitch of the lips, a hard swallow. The room fell into complete silence.
The question did need an answer, though, and eventually Hadley obliged.
“Chris Meeks. . . Smeeks.” He rolled the words around his tongue, considering. He looked quite genuine as he replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t recall the name. But I do talk to a lot of people. Is it important?”
“Just a name that has come up, a routine question that will probably lead nowhere. If you do recall the name, give me a call, would you?” Jack said. He passed a card to Hadley, who nodded.
“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you for your time,” Jack said, and they both walked back down the corridor to the door at the end. When they were back out on the street and headed to the car, Amanda voiced what they both were thinking.
“I’d say he doesn’t know of the name. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know of the person. Meeks just might use another name.”
Jack slid into the driver’s seat and waited for Amanda to get in before responding. She pushed the junk mail newspapers and leaflets to one side with her foot. There must have been at least two weeks’ worth in the well.
“I agree, the name didn’t light any beacons, but he didn’t want to talk about fetish groups or chat rooms either, did he?”
“No, but neither would you if you had one, would you? And particularly if you were talking to the police about something that could be related, at least in subject matter. He’s not stupid, but it was worth a try.” Jack started the engine and pulled out into the street before adding, “It’s still a coincidence, though. And for what it’s worth, I’m thinking this Chris character is up to something online with fetishes, but I’ve no clue what. Just a hunch, but they don’t work in a court of law. We need a break, something positive that links all this together besides two women losing their hair, a bloke from way back and a sexual harassment case going away. I can see the DI pulling us off this case and nothing more happening with it. In the meantime, behind our backs, hair is going missing.”
Amanda couldn’t help but grin.
“What?”
“It just sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud. ‘Hair going missing.’ How the hell does hair go missing? It wanders off like a cat?”
Jack laughed gently, and then a stab of pain hit him hard in his right side again and he winced as he grabbed at his belly with his hand. There was no way to hide this one.
“Jack? You’re in pain, aren’t you?” Amanda’s voice was sharp with concern. “And that isn’t still beef pickle sandwiches, not now.”
Even though Jack didn’t want to admit it out loud, he’d come to the same conclusion earlier that morning. The pain had stabbed him at regular intervals all through the night and all of today, and it was getting stronger and stronger as the day wore on.
Amanda asked him, “Has that been going on since yesterday, and getting stronger all this time, by any chance?”
“Who are you now, Florence Nightingale?” His lame attempt at humour fell on deaf ears. Then he relented and filled her in. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I’ll have to get to the doctors, I know that.”
“Give me your phone and I’ll call them now, see if someone can see you this evening.”
He turned to her, confusion on his face.
“I’m guessing the number is in your phone? Or you can tell me who you go to and I’ll use my own.” She watched as he pulled the phone from his jacket pocket and handed it over. Sifting through his contacts, she found what she was looking for and made the call. A couple of minutes later, the appointment was set for 5.30 pm.
“You perhaps shouldn’t be driving, Jack. Why don’t you pull over and I’ll drive us back?” She glanced across and noticed Jack’s face. It was going an odd colour, like pale processed cheese. Alarmed, Amanda instinctively grabbed hold of the steering wheel just as Jack vomited violently across at the windscreen. Acting quickly, she leaned across him, ignoring the mess, and hauled on his leg, removing his foot from the accelerator. She grabbed the wheel with her free hand and guided the car to the side of the road. Car horns blared as they finally came to a halt in a no-stopping zone.
“Holy fuck, Jack! Are you alright? Speak to me, Jack, speak to me!” She shifted her weight off him and took his face in her hands. A sort of whimper came from his mouth, like a wounded dog.
“I’m calling for help,” she said, grabbing her phone from where it had landed in the mess on the floor. “Stay with me, Jack, stay with me,” she urged him. She punched in the emergency number and told the operator an officer was down and needed urgent medical attention. She gave their location, hung up and turned back to try and help Jack.
“Hold on, Jack. Help is on its way. Stay with me, Jack.” She put the emergency flashers on, then loosened Jack’s tie with one hand and undid his seatbelt, holding his hand firmly in her other hand. She found tissues in her bag and wiped his mouth a little to make him more comfortable, and then placed her fingers on his neck, pressing gently into his carotid artery. His pulse was steady but quick and weak. The air was putrid, and she reached across him and opened the driver’s side door to get some fresh air to him. Slowly, a bit of colour came back into his cheeks again, though his forehead was hot and sweaty and he was barely coherent.
What the hell had just happened? Amanda wondered. Her beloved friend and colleague looked seriously ill. Amanda hoped he was going to make it.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Amanda watched from the curb as Jack was carefully wheeled into the ambulance, still looking very ill but better than he had a few minutes ago. A little colour had come back into his face, and the ambulance team had given him some pain relief. He wasn’t talking, though, and Jack always talked. They suspected appendicitis, given the symptoms Amanda had described.
The inside of the car looked like half a dozen carsick children had consumed far too much ice cream, and the smell was already building up in the late afternoon sunshine. Amanda still had specks all over her trousers and dared not pick at it. Dried puke was not something she wanted on her hands or down her fingernails. She smiled encouragingly at Jack as his stretcher was secured, then climbed in alongside him. There was no way she could drive to the hospital in Jack’s car as it was; she had already made the call for it to be towed to a valet to get cleaned up. It had needed a good clean anyway; today it would think it was its birthday.
Since Jack’s wife had died some years back, there wasn’t anyone back at home to notify of his illness, but she dropped Ruth a text to explain what had happened. Jack thought of them both as the daughters he’d never had.
“Need me to grab anything?” her text back read.
“I’ll go round later. I have his keys. He’ll need toiletries.”
“Give him my love and wish him a speedy recovery. I’ll see him later.”
“Will do. I’ll get a lift back. I’m splattered in puke.”
“Gross, Ms. Lacey.
Love you, though.”
Amanda smiled at the last message back. She’d found her soulmate in Ruth, and she couldn’t wait until they were married.
“All ready to go in the back here?” enquired one of the paramedics. His colleague was already in the driver’s seat, engaging the flashing lights. Amanda nodded and took Jack’s hand in hers as the rear doors were finally closed, the driver sounded the sirens and they set off across town towards the emergency unit and a hospital bed. Appendicitis could be deadly if the appendix burst, and time was of the essence. Amanda rocked from side to side in her seat, never taking her eyes off Jack, as the ambulance took left and right turns at speed. Jack seemed more comfortable now that he’d been given painkillers, but he still looked terrible. Wisps of his thinning ‘salt and not much pepper’ hair stuck to his clammy forehead, and Amanda was tempted to gently push them away.
He turned towards her and tried to speak from under his oxygen mask.
“Sor… f…. messss.”
“I think I got that, Jack,” she said, smiling at him, still clutching his hand. “Don’t try and talk. Save your energy. Your car needed cleaning anyway. How many junk circulars were you trying to collect in there?” She was teasing him, and she smiled to let him know it. Humour was one way to dispel the fear they were both feeling right now.
Ten minutes later, the ambulance was backing into the emergency loading bay. Jack’s stretcher was wheeled inside by a waiting team, his vitals were recorded once more and Amanda was ushered to reception to do the paperwork. The intake nurse promised she could go through once he was examined properly, but she needed to wait to be called in the meantime. Swallowing back her worry, Amanda gave Jack’s details to the nurse and then sat down to wait it out.
Nearly an hour later, she was able to see him. Behind the curtain screen he was lying peacefully, fast asleep, minus his puke-soaked shirt. He now wore a hospital gown. A nurse filled in his chart at the foot of his bed.
“Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said to the nurse. “I was with Jack when he collapsed. How’s he doing?”
The young nurse smiled at her. “Are you next of kin, by chance?”
“Not officially. Jack is a widower and doesn’t have children. I’ve known Jack for some time; I’m a colleague at work. But we’re close. There is no one else.” The nurse nodded. “It looks like Mr. Rutherford has appendicitis. It’s a possibility we may have to operate later if it doesn’t settle down.”
Amanda frowned. “What can I do or get for him?”
“Nothing in particular, but patients sometimes feel better in their own sleepwear, and with their own toiletries. Are you able to access them?”
“Yes, I have his keys. I’ll go straight from here, but I wanted to see him first. I see he’s sleeping. Is that normal?”
“It’s the pain relief, and he’s had a shock to the system so he’s tired anyway. He won’t be asleep too long, but he’s better resting for now. You’re welcome to come back later if you want to get off.” The nurse motioned at Amanda’s own clothes and she realized she was still a mess and probably stank. “If he does go up to surgery, he’ll be gone a while.”
“In that case, I’ll pop off and come back. Will you tell him I was here? I’d hate for him to think no one cares, but I could do with some clean clothes myself.”
“Of course. He won’t be going anywhere for a little while.” The nurse smiled reassuringly, and Amanda felt a little of her worry lift. She took Jack’s hand again and said a few words to him, just in case he could hear her in his sleepy state.
“I’ll be back shortly, Jack. I’m going to get cleaned up and get you some things, okay? I won’t be long. I promise.” Then she bent over and lightly planted a kiss on his forehead. While he was still warm, he wasn’t clammy anymore and she hoped that was a good sign.
Chapter Sixty
It was just after 7 pm when she finally got home and changed, but even though her stomach was moaning its displeasure at being empty, she didn’t feel like eating. She dashed upstairs for a quick shower to get rid of the puke smell, then quickly slipped into fresh jeans and a clean T-shirt and was back out the door in jiffy, destination Jack’s place. She hit a speed dial number on her phone and Ruth’s voice filled the car. The wonders of Bluetooth again.
“How’s he doing, hun? And, just as importantly, how are you doing?”
“He’s sleeping at the moment. They suspect appendicitis and he may have surgery. I’m on my way over to his place – just grabbed a shower and changed.”
“You sound exhausted. Have you eaten?”
“Not yet. Being covered in vomit isn’t conducive to eating so I’ll grab something later. It won’t do me any harm to miss a meal. I’ve got a wedding dress to squeeze into, remember. I’m headed over to get some toiletries and something for him to sleep in. I’m hoping he has some PJs or else I’m in trouble. Then I’ll go and drop them off and see if I can see him awake. I’ll get an update, and then I’ll be over later. It might be late, though. Will you be up?”
“Of course. Want me to come to the hospital with you?”
“No point until they move him to a ward. You’ll only be hanging around. I’ll say ‘hi’ from you. Come tomorrow, maybe?”
“Definitely. Give him my love and I’ll see you when you get here. Text me when you leave the hospital and I’ll have a mug of hot chocolate waiting.”
They said their goodbyes as Amanda pulled up at Jack’s place. As with much of the Croydon area, any parking to be had was out the front on the road unless you were lucky enough to have a driveway down the side of your house. Jack’s older semi-detached house was one of the lucky ones, and Amanda was grateful not to have to prowl for a space a mile further down.
She let herself in the front door and stood in the hallway to get her bearings. It had been some time since she’d been to his house. There was a fusty smell, a mixture of old stale food and old stale sleep. Wrinkling her nose, she walked straight through to the kitchen and opened the back door to let some fresh air blow through. When Jack had last opened a window Amanda had no idea, but it sure hadn’t been recently. She looked under the sink for a plastic bag, something to put a few belongings in. As she pushed old containers of cleaning fluid to the side to look, a mouse ran across the back of the cupboard. An involuntary shriek filled the kitchen.
“Shit. You scared the hell out of me,” she said accusingly to the mouse as its tail disappeared through a hole in the failing cupboard wall. Grabbing an old grocery store bag, she left the kitchen and headed upstairs to the bathroom to get his toiletries. The tiny bathroom was standing room only. The walls had once been painted turquoise, and the fixtures had once been white. Now there were rust-coloured stains in the bath and basin where dripping taps had done their damage over time. A brownish tidemark circled the bath. Amanda didn’t want to judge, but she was shocked that the man she’d known for so long lived in a place such as this. Sure, he needed his hair trimmed and he sometimes looked a little unkempt, but his home needed some urgent domestic attention.
His shaving gear was on the windowsill and she scooped up what she thought he’d need into the bag, along with some old-looking aftershave, deodorant, toothbrush and paste and his dental floss. With his toiletries collected, she stepped back out of the tiny grubby room and into the hallway.
As she stood at the top of the stairs, she noticed there was a room to her left that she assumed was his bedroom. Old semi-detached houses like this one all had the same footprint inside, or a mirror image of this one if the house was adjacent. From her spot on the landing, she could see by the dull light in the room that the curtains were still closed. Jack hadn’t opened them when he’d left for work that morning. She pushed the door open fully and went inside, then stopped dead and gave an involuntary gasp of dismay. Hanging on one of the two wardrobes that had been squeezed into the room was a candlewick ladies’ dressing gown and a floral cotton nightdress. On the floor, placed directly underneath, were a pair of ladies’ slippers.
They looked like they’d been there for years, and Amanda knew with a dull ache of certainty that, in fact, they had been. She stood transfixed in the doorway in the dying light and scanned the room: pink floral wallpaper densely covered in what looked like huge lilies decorated all four walls and was peeling slightly at the top edges. Pictures of Jack and Janine at the beach, at parties, at gatherings, at lawn bowls tournaments, each frame filled with smiling faces, adorned the chest of drawers. As did a thick layer of dust. The bed was unmade and, judging, by the yellowing once-white sheets, it hadn’t been changed for a while. A dark pink eiderdown hung off the edge of the bed; a pair of gents’ PJs dangled from a hook behind the door. At least he’d hung them up after he’d taken them off. Figuring they wouldn’t be the freshest if the rest of his home was anything to go by, she left them where they hung and pulled out the top drawer to find a clean pair. There were three neatly folded pairs, thankfully, and she selected one. Amanda glanced at the bedside cabinet and saw a couple of books and a spare pair of reading glasses. Not knowing which of the two books he was currently reading, she picked them both up, grabbed the glasses and laid the items with his fresh sleepwear on top of the unmade bed.
In search of a more substantial bag to put all his belongings in, Amanda opened the dated wooden door of a wardrobe that looked like something from before the war. On the top shelf was an old leather bag, and she lifted it down. Quite surprisingly, it was heavy and she dropped it onto the bed before deciding whether to look inside and remove its contents. While she didn’t want to pry, she really needed a bag. The thick leather buckle-type fastener on the top unclipped easily and the bag opened slightly, allowing her to put her hand in to open it more. She felt around inside, still uncertain what she might find. She felt wool-like fabric, maybe a sweater, and some other cloth that was much smoother and lighter. And there was something else, something in a hard, leathery box, and when she tried to pick it up with one hand, she found it was too heavy to do so.
