Death Comes to Durham

by Jeanne M. Dams

  ‘At least you’ll never become addicted to them; that’s one blessing.’

  I shifted position in a vain attempt to get comfortable. ‘And another one is that Colin hadn’t armed himself with a broken bottle this time. Oh! Is that student all right? What was his name?’

  ‘Mark something. Yes, he’s still in hospital, but he’ll be fine once his blood level is back to normal. The young bounce back very quickly. I’m told he’ll need plastic surgery, though, to repair his face. It was very badly cut. As you say, you are fortunate.’

  ‘I suppose. I don’t feel very fortunate at the moment, just sore. Oh, well, anyway now we can go home with a clear conscience, as soon as they’ll let me go. Problem solved, Amanda in the clear, everybody happy.’

  Alan cleared his throat. ‘Well … I’m afraid not quite. Certainly we’ve been able to run several crimes to earth and lay them at Colin’s door. Good grief, I’m not at my best with metaphors today, am I? What I mean to say is that Colin is definitely to blame for the attack on poor Mark at St Jude’s, for the idiotic rampage in the cathedral car park, and for the attack on you. With eyewitnesses in each case, he could do little but admit to those incidents.’

  ‘I suppose some lawyer will file an insanity defence.’

  ‘Probably. The point is that he has stated absolutely that he had nothing to do with Nathan’s death, or Dr Armstrong’s, or the attack on Mrs Carly at the home.’

  ‘And the destruction at George’s house?’

  ‘He won’t talk about that.’

  I lay back among the pillows with a groan. ‘Blast! We’re back where we started!’

  The nurse came in then and glared at Alan. She’d heard the groan. ‘I can’t have you upsetting my patient! And it’s time for her medicine. Doctor has ordered a proper painkiller.’

  ‘Your patient,’ said my husband in his steeliest tones, ‘is my wife. We understand one another perfectly. If she wishes me to leave, I will leave. If she wishes me to stay, I will stay. And you will administer no opiate medication to my wife, or I will sue you, the doctor, and this hospital for malpractice!’

  Not even an officious nurse can stand up to my husband in that mood. I was spared the medicine that would have made me miserably sick, but I did consent to a sleeping pill. For a few hours I was removed from the vale of pain, and from distress about unsolved crimes.

  The next time I surfaced it was morning. Bright sunshine flooded the room. Alan and the nurse arrived at the same time, each regarding the other with suspicion.

  ‘I suppose,’ said the nurse haughtily, ‘you have no objection to my giving your wife her breakfast.’

  The level of sarcasm in those two words would have withered a lesser man. Alan simply smiled. ‘None at all. As I assume you have no objection to my doing the same.’

  He held up a bag with the familiar mermaid logo. The nurse sniffed, set down a tray with a clatter, and marched out, her face stiff with indignation.

  Alan lifted the dish-cover on the tray. Beneath it lurked a plate with some tough-looking scrambled eggs and discouraged toast. Some withered orange sections and a cup of tepid water with a tea bag in it completed my repast.

  Alan lifted the tray and deposited it on the floor.

  ‘She’ll trip over it when she comes back,’ I said.

  ‘Good. Now, do you want this it bed, or would you rather eat in the comfort of your chair?’

  ‘I want to get up. If I can. I’m stiff as old oak.’

  ‘The only cure for that is activity. Take my arm. And I brought your dressing gown.’

  ‘I didn’t pack one.’

  ‘I know. It was time you had a new one, anyway.’

  He helped me out of bed, ignoring my piteous groans. Before he assisted me to the recliner in the corner, he pulled a handsome brocade bathrobe out of a bag and slipped it over my fetching hospital gown.

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Positively regal. But I have to sit down before I fall down.’

  More groans, but once settled in the chair, I actually did feel a bit better. He pulled the tray table away from the bed and put it in front of me, spread with a veritable feast of pastry, along with coffee that smelled like heaven.

  ‘Starbucks is going to miss you when we go home.’

  ‘Indeed. I’ve become quite chatty with the baristas. I believe they think, from the quantity of food that I buy, that I have a household full of starving children. Or else nine wives.’

  ‘Mm,’ I replied, through a mouthful of croissant.

  The doctor came in just as I finished eating. He looked at the remains on the table and chuckled. ‘I see our catering doesn’t meet with your approval. By the way, you’d best move that tray. Someone will come a cropper.’

  I was hard put not to laugh as Alan hastily put it on top of the radiator. I refrained, however. Laughing hurt.

  ‘Have I forgotten something?’ the doctor went on. ‘I don’t recall giving orders that you should be up.’

  ‘You didn’t. I just couldn’t stay in that bed another minute. Have you ever tried to get comfortable in a hospital bed? Even without a thousand bruises?’

  ‘I have not. You have a point.’ He looked at my chart. ‘You’ve come off amazingly well, you know, considering the violence you suffered. No broken bones, no internal injuries. Bruises heal, you know, though at your age it takes time. You’d do well to consider a good painkiller to help you through.’

  ‘Maybe no one explained to you, doctor. Painkillers make me violently sick. I’m not happy about it, but I’ll just have to tough it out with over-the-counter stuff until the pain goes away.’

  ‘Ah.’ He made a note on the chart. ‘I see. Well, assuming you have a good supply of ibuprofen or whatever you prefer, I see no reason why you shouldn’t be discharged.’

  Alan spoke up. ‘We had planned to leave Durham tomorrow to go home. We’re staying at the castle, and the students will be returning and reclaiming their rooms.’

  He frowned. ‘Where’s home? America? I can’t possibly allow a transatlantic flight.’

  Alan and I sighed together. I suppose my accent and vocabulary had reverted, under stress. ‘No, no,’ I assured him. ‘I’m American originally, but I’ve lived in Belleshire for many years now. Sherebury. It’s about five hours by train.’

  Another frown. ‘With a change in London. I’m afraid that won’t do. You’ll need to stay the night in London and go on in the morning, or you’ll be in real trouble by journey’s end.’

  We accepted that after a silent consultation, and Alan went back to the castle to get me some clothes. The ones I had worn were, they told me, fit for nothing but rags after Colin had done his work. ‘And that’s one more thing to add to his bill,’ I thought bitterly. ‘He owes me a new set of clothes.’

  David was at the wheel when Alan took me downstairs in the wheelchair the hospital insisted on. ‘The walking wounded?’ David queried.

  ‘More like the wheeled wounded. But I can walk, really. This confounded place wouldn’t let me.’ To prove it I stood, slowly, tottered to the car on Alan’s arm, and collapsed in the front seat.

  I still didn’t know Durham well enough to wonder where we were going, until David pulled up in front of the Indigo. ‘You’re not climbing all those stairs at the castle,’ said Alan firmly. ‘You’ll be far more comfortable here.’

  I thought about protesting. Alan and I are certainly not among the wealthy of the world, and this hotel positively shouted its luxury status. Then I thought about the stairs to the small room we’d been calling home, and shut up.

  Alan had got me a walker, or ‘Zimmer frame’ as I’d had to learn to call them here. I found I could walk fairly well with it, while deploring how much it made me look like an old lady. I don’t mind pulling the ‘old’ card when I find it useful, but I hate to think it’s really true.

  The staff fussed over me, making me feel more senile every minute, but I had to admit the room was marvellously comfortable. Alan had managed
to pack everything we needed for the night and said he’d go back for the rest tomorrow. Then he ordered a light lunch from room service, an indulgence we seldom allow ourselves, and when we had disposed of that he sat down with a purposeful look on his face.

  ‘I have news,’ he said.

  To tell the truth, I didn’t want news. I wanted a hot shower to help with the aches and pains, and then a nap. A long nap. I suppose my face showed my lack of enthusiasm. Alan always says I should never play poker; my face is too easily read.

  ‘I’ll be brief, but I think this will interest you. They’ve found George.’

  For a moment I couldn’t remember who George was. ‘George? Oh, George! Where? How?’

  Alan smiled. Well, it was more of a smirk, actually. ‘Things worked out well. As you predicted, or at least hoped, his car ran out of … I don’t suppose one can say petrol, since it doesn’t use any. At any rate, it stopped, miles from any charging station. They’re fairly thin on the ground, you know.’

  Well, no, I didn’t, but it didn’t matter.

  ‘He had also forgotten to charge his mobile. Understandable, but unfortunate. He’s no great walker, our George. He walked for some distance before someone took pity on him and gave him a ride to the nearest garage. They towed his car back in to charge it, but because the police had put out a bulletin, they were called. They arrived just as the Tesla did.’

  ‘When did all this happen? And where?’

  ‘Yesterday evening, a few hours before … Well, yesterday. I only just heard about it this morning, being otherwise occupied. As to where, the car gave up a few miles outside Birmingham. He was apparently going home to Mummy.’

  ‘Given her temperament, I wouldn’t have thought she’d welcome him with open arms.’

  ‘David tells me she was quite frosty when the police phoned her. Said she wasn’t totally surprised that he had proved himself incompetent once again, and hung up.’

  ‘The psychiatrists would love to get their hands on him, I’m sure. Deprived childhood, plenty of money but no love, and see what a mixed-up mess resulted. Actually, I’m not sure they’re totally wrong. Neither he nor Nathan turned out very well. But have the police been able to get any kind of sensible story out of him? Why he led them such a chase, for example?’

  ‘I gather he’s sticking to his story about being afraid for his life.’

  ‘But if he thought his attacker wanted to silence him for fear he’d tell someone, once he had told someone – me – he was safe.’

  ‘Perhaps logic is not his strong point. Or perhaps, as we’ve surmised, he has some other reason to avoid the authorities. At any rate, if you’ll be settled here for a bit, I propose to go back on the trail this afternoon.’

  ‘I’m in the lap of luxury. Go, hound – nose to the ground.’

  He’d better not be slow about it, either, I thought drowsily as I went down for my nap. By this time tomorrow we’d be on a train back home. Well, London first. I’d have to call Jane to tell her we were coming. Maybe we’d skip the stopover in London. I was feeling quite a lot better. I shifted position, found a few more sore spots, and changed my mind.

  George would tell us it was Colin who ruined his house. And left his button caught in the roses. His jacket. We had to find his jacket, with a missing button. That would clinch that part of it. Button. Button, button, who’s got the button …

  ‘Nice nap, darling?’

  I swam up out of my dream and tried to sit up. ‘Ouch. Lovely dream. Something about … no, I don’t remember, but it was pleasant. Nothing hurt.’

  ‘Ah, yes, after a certain age that can be the essence of a good dream. No pain. How do you feel now you’re awake?’

  I took a mental inventory. ‘Not awful. Not great. Much better than yesterday. But if I ever get to talk to that young man, I have quite a few things to say to him. What luck with George?’

  ‘I didn’t talk to him, as you can imagine. They’re being a bit stuffy about non-police getting into the act.’

  I snorted. ‘Non-police, indeed! You outrank them all!’

  ‘I used to. Not anymore. They did allow David to sit in, however. George has been willing to state, for the record, that it was Colin who did all the damage at his house. Or most of it. The ersatz policemen contributed a bit.’

  ‘But what happened? Why was Colin even there?’

  ‘David says George isn’t telling the whole story. The way he tells it, the boy knocked on his door just after George talked to him, David.’

  I nodded. ‘On the phone, when we were at the restaurant.’

  ‘Right. And he came in, saying he’d been in Nathan’s college with him and wanted to express his condolences. They talked for a bit, and then, George says, he was trying to hurry Colin away, since David was coming, when he flew into a rage and started throwing things about. That was when George decided it was wiser to leave, and ran off. Full stop.’

  ‘There’s a big chunk missing from that account.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t believe Colin took offence simply at being hurried out the door. And if the encounter had truly been only a routine condolence call, why is George now afraid of Colin?’

  ‘Exactly. And I think I know how we can get George to open up and tell us the whole story.’

  Alan looked sceptical. ‘I assure you, my dear, the Durham police are well-trained in interrogation techniques.’

  ‘I’m sure. But they’re not allowed to terrify a subject. I know someone who can and will.’

  Alan’s face lit up as we said, in unison, ‘His mother!’

  TWENTY-NINE

  Saturday morning. Instead of being on a train to London, Alan and I were sitting in the Elliot home in Birmingham, along with David and the two Elliots, mother and son. She had flatly refused to come to Durham or Auckland for a conference and was grudging about seeing us in Birmingham, but finally concurred. As I thought about it, I decided that was better anyway. In the house where he had spent his childhood, George might be less inclined to bluster and prevaricate.

  Mrs Elliot had also refused to allow police into her home. David and Alan were there on sufferance, because George, who was still in custody as a material witness, had been released to David’s care for a couple of days. She had said nothing disparaging about my presence, which surprised me.

  The first thing she said when we were settled in her drawing room (that was the only possible name for the elegant chamber) surprised me still more. ‘You will see fair play, I trust, Mrs Martin.’

  ‘Um … I’ll try,’ I stammered. Useless to protest that David and Alan would never resort to anything less.

  ‘Very well. George, don’t slump. Now. What is it you want to know?’

  ‘Mother, I’ve already told them—’

  ‘Speak when you’re spoken to, George. Mr Tregarth?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Elliot. We need to know, in detail, all that transpired from the time Mr Grimsby arrived at your home, Mr Elliot, until you and he left the house.’

  Mrs Elliot fixed her son with a gimlet eye. ‘In detail, George. All the details.’

  George, who seemed to have become smaller, began his recitation. Colin had come to pay his respects, had then flown into a temper and begun throwing things—

  ‘Stop!’ said his mother. ‘A man does not simply fly into a temper for no reason. Exactly what did he say at that point? What did you say?’

  ‘He … I … we were talking about the circumstances of Nathan’s death.’

  We waited. His mother’s toe began to beat a tattoo on the exquisite Persian carpet.

  ‘He told me that he had actually seen Nathan drown, and had tried to rescue him, but failed.’

  ‘Which was a lie, and you knew it was a lie. What did you say to him?’

  He coughed and fidgeted.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, George. I suppose you asked him if he’d drowned Nathan. And I suppose you suggested a reason why he might have done. Knowing Nathan, I can guess. Was it blackmail?’


  ‘I – I did mention that I knew he had owed Nathan some money, and—’

  ‘And you told him that the money was now owed to you. Implying, I’m sure, that you would go to the authorities with your suspicions unless he paid. With interest, I’m sure.’

  Mrs Elliot stood, brushing imaginary lint from her skirt. I was reminded of Pilate washing his hands. ‘I’ve long suspected you were adopting Nathan’s ways. A great pity. You were always the more intelligent of the two, and for a time I thought you might be able to make something of yourself, make an honest living. I see I was wrong. Take him away, Mr Tregarth.’

  I could almost find it in my heart to feel sorry for George Elliot. He had no father, no brother, and now no mother. He had deserted his job in Auckland and would certainly face a bit of time in prison for various minor charges.

  ‘And I’ll bet,’ I murmured to Alan as we rode back to Durham in the back seat of David’s car, ‘the first thing Mum will do is call her lawyer to write George out of her will.’

  ‘Never understanding that at least part of George’s troubles can be laid at her feet. No love …’

  ‘At least she has a strong sense of honour.’

  ‘And of discipline. You were quite right to get her involved. George couldn’t stand up to that formidable will.’

  Eventually we got back to our luxurious hotel. David dropped us off and then took George back to the police station, where I assumed he would stay while they decided how to deal with him.

  I sat down and sighed. ‘We should have gone home today. It’s too late now, and I’m too tired. Tomorrow will have to do, or Monday. At least our case is now complete, and we can go home with a clear conscience.’

  ‘Oh, no, my dear. We have a lovely set of speculations and a scenario that holds together. Colin kills Nathan. Armstrong sees him and flees to a place where he thinks he will be safe. Colin finds him, kills him, and lets Amanda take the blame, staging another attack to cement the case against her. Thanks to you and your persistence, my love, that case begins to crumble. Colin goes to George – why, by the way?’