A Cure for All Diseases

by Reginald Hill

  No? May be wrong, but Pet strikes me as a lass as can sup her yard of ale, and from what you just told me about you and poor old Daph, you're not averse to tying one on. Mebbe you just didn't want to be seen arriving with her in case that rattled Daph's cage. Got to be care- ful with a possessive personality like Daph's. But you'd know all about that, you've got the certificates.

  Interesting speculation, but I'm sorry to say it was just a matter of convenience. In our line of work, we are both always on call and ei- ther of us could have been summoned away early.

  Fair enough. See much of her at the party?

  In fact, yes. We have a lot in common - work and such, you under- stand. I circulated, the way you do at a party, but once the storm ap- peared on the horizon and everybody headed into the house, I was happy to find myself with Nurse Sheldon, sheltering in the conserva- tory. In fact, we were together until we went outside again when the storm passed and they discovered the body.

  Great. That's that sorted then. Wish it were always as easy as this. What about dear old Daph, see much of her as you circulated?

  A little. We talked, but only in passing. She was very much the gra- cious hostess, seeing to the needs of all her guests.

  Didn't see to her own needs, or yours mebbe, a bit more privately, Lest? You know, invite you up to her room? Or mebbe you were a bit bolder, nowt like a good shag out of doors, long as the mercury's high and the midges aren't biting.

  For God's sake, I've told you already. We did not have sex at the hog roast, indoors or outdoors. What do you think I am?

  I'm not sure. A man, certainly. What kind of man, that's the question. Mebbe I should ask someone who knows you a lot better than me. Nurse Sheldon, for instance.

  What the hell does that mean?

  It was you who said you'd a lot in common. Makes sense, I'd be sur- prised if your head nurse didn't know you inside out. Like I expect, as her employer, you'll know her inside out. Aye, I daresay the pair of you know each other's ins and outs very well.

  Now listen here, Dalziel, I'm getting just a tad tired of all this innu- endo . . .

  Innuendo? That a board game? No, now I recall, it means going round the houses to suggest summat. Nay, I'm sorry if you don't think I've been direct with you. Easily remedied, but. So tell me, Lest, are you and Pet at it?

  At it?

  Screwing, shagging, jig-a-jigging, making love, having intercourse, exchanging bodily juices - you choose the phrase, then answer the question. Are you at it?

  I've had enough of this! You may be a policeman, Dalziel, and you may be a patient, but I don't have to take this kind of prurient crap from you under either hat . . .

  Now ho'd on there! Fair do's. I ask if you've banged old Daph and you answer me sort of embarrassed but polite. Now I ask the same about Pet and you're all in a lather. Why's that? Me, I could understand anyone getting annoyed to be asked if they'd banged some woman old enough to be their mother, but not a grand lass like Pet! It's not this doctor-nurse thing, is it, Lester? Didn't think you Yanks did snobbery. Shame on you!

  Enough! Just two last things I want to say to you, Andy, before I get on with my work. The first is, I don't need anyone to tell me what a fine woman Pet Sheldon is, especially not in the vulgar provocative tone you have chosen to adopt. Second, from my clinical observation dur- ing this so-called interview I'd say that physically your convalescence is progressing very well, but mentally there are many issues still to deal with. Don't worry. We don't give up on people at the Avalon. We'll get there in the end.

  Is that right? I'm glad to hear it. Got a lot in common, me and you, Lester. Reckon that will do for now, then. Won't keep you from your work any longer. Thanks for your time. Oh, just one other thing, you'll let me know if you're planning to leave the country in the near future, won't you? Catch you later, lad. Cheers!

  Come on! Come on! Answer. . . ah, there you are, Pet. It's Lester. Listen, not a lot of time. Dalziel has just been interviewing me . . . yes, interviewing, or perhaps interrogating would be a better word. I think he's on his way to see you now, I thought I should warn you. Don't be taken in if he tries the patient-flirting-with-nurse approach. He's very much back in policeman mode. He talks like he knows about you and me, but he's only guessing. Admit nothing. And remember, after the storm started, we were together till they found the body. Whatever else you do, don't give an inch on that. . . yes, I know . . . yes, yes, it's going to be okay . . . we'll talk after he's seen you . . . No, better leave it till our usual pre-rounds consultation . . . we have to be careful. He may come across as a fat clown, but believe me, this guy is really dangerous. . . yeah, me too. Take care. 'Bye.

  Lester! Sorry to bother you again, but I think I left me file in here. Be forgetting me head if it weren't screwed on. Age, eh? Pity you buggers couldn't find a cure for that, other than the obvious one, I mean. Ah, there it is. I'll leave you in peace now. Cheers, again!

  6

  Well now, Mildred, that made interesting listening, didn't it? So what are they up to? One thing's clear, they weren't together all the time after the storm started. But who's alibiing who? Or could they both be in it together?

  Going to be a hard habit to get out of, this thinking-aloud business. Place like this, no one takes much notice of old fogeys sitting in the sun, talking to themselves, but if I try it when I get back on the job, I'll be on gardening leave afore you can say mesembryanthemums.

  Clever bugger, old Fester. Had him going for a bit, but he came back strong. Liked the way he stuck up for Pet - mebbe he's not just in there for his jollies. And that crack about me having mental issues, that were a clever bit of counterpunching. Like a sharp intake of breath from a car mechanic, not what you want to hear from a shrink!

  And mebbe he's right. Mebbe I have gone a bit doolally. I mean, what the fuck am I playing at, sticking my neb into this case? Nowt I can do that Pete isn't capable of doing himself. He wanted to keep me out of it, but no, here I come, swinging through the trees, beating my chest and yodeling!

  But I've made my bed - Jesus Christ, how I'd love to be lying on it! - by myself. Lead us not into temptation. At least what happened with Pet's reassured me my bit of bother with Cap ain't permanent. It's a worry, but. Suddenly I could see all them Viagra jokes coming back to haunt me! It'll never happen to me, you think, when you're still getting a hard-on just walking through the lingerie department in Marks and Sparks. But, like the tax man, it'll get you in the end. Right in the end! Women are lucky. Don't matter how old they are, if they've still got the itch, all they've got to do is find a hard pecker to scratch it with. Like old Daph. Though it don't sound like it were Fester that were doing the scratching.

  And now she's dead. That's all that matters, Dalziel. Get your mind back on the job. She might have been a right old bruiser, but she didn't deserve what happened to her. So let's take a real close look at Fester and Pet, and ask what motive could either one of them have strong enough to make them decide Daph had to go?

  Pet's way ahead here. Combination of jealousy and doing your loved one a good turn has often done the trick, specially in a strong-willed passionate woman. No problem physically - she'd know all the right places to squeeze, and she'll have had lots of practice lugging bodies around.

  Fester's different. Unless it turns out Daph's remembered him in her will, I can't see any reason why his fancy should have lightly turned to thoughts of murder. In the end he could just have walked away from Daph, shipping out back to the U.S. if necessary. Maybe he'd even hinted this to Pet. Maybe she'd begun to worry that getting his jollies from her didn't include any long-term plans for their relationship. Wouldn't surprise me if she were right. Being keen to hear a luscious handful like Pet say yes please! is a long way off wanting to hear her say I do! In fact, if my reading of Fester's right, I'd say he were the type who were more likely to use his position and standing to get himself one of them trophy wives, some nice young juicy bit of tottie as ud hang on his arm in public and flash her tits and mak
e all the other men drool with jealousy!

  Easy to imagine Pet thinking, Walk away from Lady D if you want, but you're not going to walk away from me! And a wise woman might find herself looking for something that ties a tighter knot than slippery love.

  Like shared guilt.

  So Pet does the deed, then makes sure Fester gets involved in the cover-up. Easy enough in the heat of the moment, and she knows once Fester has taken a step down that road, there's no going back. Pet gets a bit mucked up dragging poor Daph around, so when she sees Roote's fallen out of his chair later, she moves right in and picks the muddy bugger up, and now she's got a reason for being all wet and clarty herself.

  What about Ollie Hollis, but?

  Could be he saw summat, enough to worry him, but not enough to make him head for the police. Rings up Pet or Fester, tells them he wants to talk, says he's going round to Madame Lee's. One of them takes off down there, the other stays up here, sets up the mutual alibi again.

  If I hadn't hijacked Pete when he came to take their statements, we'd have known which one was doing which!

  Shit. Don't expect he'll be backward about pointing that out to me.

  But I'm getting ahead of meself.

  Looks like Godly Gordon's out of the frame. Never did fancy him myself. I know there's no art to read and all that, but I just can't see a guy who looks like that being a killer! Bet the bugger has a hard time stomping on a beetle!

  So who does clever old Pete see as the front-runner now?

  Not Fester and Pet, I'd guess, else he'd not have agreed to turn me loose on them.

  Seems to have serious doubts about the Heywood lass, but I reckon he's up the creek there. Spent too many of his formative years with prancing ponces in education who reckoned bad spelling was a capital crime! No, I'd put money on Stompy's lass being okay. My only worry about her after reading her e-mails is that round Sandytown just now it might not be too healthy to be so nebby and bright!

  Make a note, Dalziel. Have a friendly word.

  Back to Pete's hit list. At the moment I'd guess Hen Hollis and Ted Denham are neck and neck. Then there's all them Parkers. Or mebbe it's the obvious for once and it were down to that animal rights woman Seymour spotted. Not likely, in my book, but mebbe I'm prejudiced 'cos of Cap.

  One name that won't figure high on Pete's list.

  Franny Roote.

  Hard to believe he's here for the good of his health.

  Except of course if that's exactly why the poor sod's here!

  Need to watch developments there carefully. I've invested too much good drinking time bringing Pascoe on to see him brought down 'cos he feels he owes a slippery bastard like Roote.

  Any road, time to stop talking to myself.

  Interrogation ain't much different from fornication.

  Keep 'em waiting till they want it as much as you!

  Nurse Sheldon should be on the boil by now, so here I come, ready or not!

  7

  Pet! There you are, lass. All right if I come in? Looks to me like you're in already.

  So I am. Must be your animal magnetism that does it. You've got us poor sods skittering around like iron filings.

  All right, Andy, or should I call you Superintendent? You can cut the crap. Lester's warned me you were on your way, and why.

  Warned? Nay, that's not a very friendly word, and me and him the best of mates. Must have got it wrong, luv. Likely he mentioned in passing I might be dropping in - and would you cooperate? - that ud be a quite natural thing for a boss to tell one of his staff, letting her know it would be fine to take a few minutes off her professional duties to cooperate with the police.

  Nice try, Andy, but I'll make up my own lies, thank you. Talking of which, as I'd take odds you already know, Lester rang to ask me to back up the lies he told you and, if necessary, add any of my own to support them. That's not a look of real surprise on your face, is it, Andy?

  Not just on my face, luv. A lot farther down than that. You've not just taken the wind out of my sails, you've bent my rudder! So you've decided to turn poor old Fester in, have you? Good think- ing, Pet, on every count. You're doing your duty as a good citizen, and you're keeping yourself out of the clag. So what's the lying bastard been up to?

  Nothing, except trying to watch out for me. Which is really nice of him, and I must admit it gives me a warm glow to know he's willing to go out on a limb for me . .

  No more than you've done for him, Pet, and very nice limbs they are. Sorry, that weren't very gentlemanly, were it? I don't mean to upset you . . .

  Andy, I've been nursing a long time now and I've had to deal with patients who've used everything from filthy slander to assault with loaded bedpans to try and upset me. Got me going a couple of times too, but I soon learned that all you need to do is remember them lying facedown with a thermometer up their backsides, and you soon see things in perspective. So stop trying to be provocative and just listen for a change.

  I'm listening, I'm listening.

  Right. I love Lester.

  Oh aye? That why you jumped me in the shower?

  Look, I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me. I was feeling a bit down, things didn't seem to be going too well with Lester. We should have seen each other the night before, but he called it off - I think Lady Denham crashing his party had upset him - and then when I saw her coming into the home the next morning, I thought, Has she been here all night? So when I looked in on you and realized you were in the shower. . . I'm sorry . . .

  Nay, lass, don't fret. So long as it's not spoilt it for you with other men. You were saying, you love old Fester . . .

  Yes, I do. Don't know where it's going exactly, but even if it goes nowhere, I think far too much of him to let him put his reputation at risk defending me. I'm not trying to make myself out to be some pillar of virtue here either. Last night after we came back from the hall, I was more than willing to accept Lester's offer to cover up for me. Like I said, it really made me feel good knowing he'd do that for me. But this morning, specially after I heard about poor Ollie Hollis, I got to thinking this is more than just a simple case of someone knocking off a nasty old woman who'd been asking for it anyway. Telling you lot the truth is important, if only because not telling you the truth could slow down your investigation, and if someone else gets killed, I don't want to feel in any way responsible. What's up? You might look a bit pleased instead of sitting there groaning like I'd just told you we were going to have to operate on your piles.

  Nay, lass, of course I'm pleased you're going to come clean, only I were half-expecting the way you've been rattling on that you were building up to a full confession!

  Then youre going to be disappointed. But two things you ought to know. One is that not long before the storm broke, Lady Denham and me had a bit of a storm of our own. No prizes for guessing what about. I'd been having a wander round the grounds and I came back by the stables. No hunters there anymore since she called it a day after Sir Harry broke his neck, but she still kept her old hack, Ginger. Liked to feel something between her legs, and I bet if she'd ended up in a wheelchair she'd have had it built twice as high as normal so's she could still look down on the peasants.

  Didn't like her much, did you, luv?

  You really are a great detective, aren't you, Andy! Anyway, I thought I'd say hello to the horse. I like horses, specially when they don't have idiots perched on their backs. But as I got near I saw the door was ajar and I could hear a voice inside. It was Daph Denham, though I didn't recognize it straight away, it sounded so soft and sad - human, you know, not her usual way of talking, like you were a public meeting she'd rather not be attending.

  Oh aye. And who were she talking to?

  Ginger, of course! Everyone says . . . said that the horses were really the only things she loved. She could treat humans like dirt, but her horses got the best of everything. Perhaps this was where she headed when she was unhappy . . .

  Nay, lass! Don't go sentimental on me.<
br />
  Why not? There's good in all of us, Andy, though it takes a clever surgeon to find it in some.

  I'll remember that. So what was this sad human stuff she were saying?

  Didn't hear much of it, it was the intonation that struck. But I did catch something about trusting people, and a pig squealing, I think.

  Mebbe she were thinking the animal rights people were right and she should give up the pigs and go veggie?

  Didn't get the timing right then, did she? Like I say, I surprised myself by feeling a bit sorry for her, her own party, lady-of-the- manoring it over the hoi polloi, and still she ends up talking to a horse! I'd have moved away quietly, only there was an old feed pail by the door and, as I turned, I gave it a kick. The horse neighed - must have thought it was feeding time - and Lady D called, "Who's there?" I'd still have made my getaway if there'd been time, but she was at the door in a flash. Looked me up and down, then said, "Oh, it's only you, Nurse Sheldon." She always called me Nurse Sheldon, like it was a put-down.

  And were you? Put down, I mean?

  No. I was still feeling sorry for her. I took a sip of my wine - I had a glass of red - champagne goes to my head - and I said, "Hello, Lady Denham. Just admiring your grounds. Looking really lovely, aren't they?" That seemed to provoke her.

  Why? Sounds pretty bland to me.

  I think that may have been the trouble. I usually look her in the eye, give as good as I get, without being openly rude. This time, I don't know, maybe I sounded too polite, a bit friendly even, as if I was feeling sorry for her. I think she caught that, and that's what got her rag.

  So what did she do?

  She lost it. Thinking about it later, I reckon that whatever it was sent her to the stables, it was something that had made her very angry and very sorry for herself at the same time. It was the unhappy bit that came out as she was talking to Ginger, but now all the anger came bubbling up - no, not bubbling, exploding! I couldn't believe what I was hearing! She told me I had no right to go wandering round her property at will, I was only there on sufferance as a paid employee of the Avalon, to represent the nursing staff, and if I had any true sense of my place I'd be back on the lawn, making sure the important guests like Dr. Feldenhammer got properly looked after, instead of wandering round, half inebriated, sticking my nose in where I had no right to be.