Wrong Place

by Michelle Davies

  ‘I need to ask you a few more questions,’ said Maggie. ‘I thought we could do it over a cup of tea.’

  Della had removed her coat; the black roll-neck jumper she wore with dark blue skinny jeans accentuated her frailty. As she shook her head, her whole body trembled.

  ‘I don’t want to leave her,’ she said.

  ‘It won’t take long, I promise.’

  Della looked torn. Then she turned and kissed Sadie on her bandaged forehead. ‘I’m just going outside, Nan. I’ll be right back,’ she whispered.

  ‘Bring your coat with you,’ said Maggie. ‘There’s a garden on the ground floor. I don’t know about you but I could do with some fresh air.’

  Ten minutes later they were sitting side by side on a bench by a small patch of grass and some empty flower beds, cradling steaming hot cups of tea.

  ‘What did you want to ask me?’ said Della. ‘If it’s about the photograph, I still can’t remember.’

  Her eagerness to convince Maggie her memory had failed her made it seem even more like a lie. Maggie decided to build up to it.

  ‘Let’s talk about what you can remember then. What time did you say you found your nan?’

  Not being quizzed about the photograph again seemed to make Della relax. She settled back on the bench and took a sip of tea. Maggie set hers down on the floor by her feet and flipped open her notebook.

  ‘It was about ten past one. My lunch break starts at one and it doesn’t take that long to drive there,’ Della answered.

  ‘What do you do for a living?’

  ‘I’m an administrator at the Langston Hotel.’

  ‘The one at the top of Bishop’s Hill?’

  ‘Yes. I work full-time, Monday to Friday.’

  ‘When did you last see your nan before this morning?’

  ‘Sunday. I went round to cook lunch for her. I did a roast.’

  ‘So you didn’t see her at all yesterday, not even in the evening?’

  ‘No, but I never do on Mondays. Nan always goes to bingo on Monday nights with her neighbour Audrey, from about seven thirty to nearly ten.’

  Maggie jotted down Della’s comment but added a question mark. What was to say she didn’t deviate from their normal routine yesterday? She could’ve gone round after Sadie had returned home from bingo. They’d have to check whether Audrey remembered seeing Della later on.

  ‘I know you’ve already told this to the officers who arrived at your nan’s house first, but I’d like you to go through what happened again when you found her,’ said Maggie.

  Della nodded. ‘I parked outside the house like I usually do. I have my own key so I let myself in.’

  ‘Front or back door?’

  ‘Front. I do have a key for the back, but I never use it.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Usually I shout out that it’s me when I come in and Nan shouts hello back. When she didn’t say anything I went straight to the sitting room and that’s when I found her. At first I thought she’d had a heart attack like Granddad, but when I got closer I saw the blood by her head.’

  Della huddled over her cup of tea, face etched with grief. Something deep inside, a gut feeling, told Maggie she wasn’t responsible for the assault on Sadie.

  ‘Did you touch her?’

  ‘What?’ Della looked alarmed.

  ‘Did you touch her hand or face? Was her skin warm?’

  ‘Oh, I see. Yes, she was. The room was really hot too, like the heating had been left on all night. Nan sometimes did that when it was very cold.’

  Was it cold enough last night to warrant that? Maggie didn’t think so and made a note of it.

  ‘What time does she normally get up?’

  ‘Usually it’s just before seven. She’s always been an early riser.’

  That gave them roughly a five-hour time frame during which Sadie was attacked, as she was already up and dressed when it happened.

  ‘So what did you do next?’

  ‘I called 999 then sat with her until the ambulance came. I knew I shouldn’t move her in case I made the injury worse.’

  ‘Did you notice if anything else was missing? I know her rings were gone, but was there anything else that springs to mind?’

  Della shook her head forlornly.

  ‘I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think about was making sure Nan was okay. I’d have to check again to see what’s gone. I mean, I don’t remember seeing if her purse was still there.’

  ‘It was. One of our officers found it in her handbag. Her money and cards weren’t touched.’

  ‘So they only took her rings?’

  ‘We won’t know for sure until you’ve checked the contents of the house again, but right now it looks that way.’ Maggie paused. ‘Well, her rings and possibly the framed photograph from the hall.’

  Della flinched and her face paled.

  ‘Are you going to tell me the truth now?’ said Maggie gently.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Della stuttered.

  ‘Okay, let me put it another way. I think you’re lying about not remembering the photograph.’

  Della slopped tea over the edge of the polystyrene cup onto her hand but didn’t seem to notice. Maggie took the cup from her.

  ‘Tell me about the photograph,’ she said.

  Della buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

  ‘I’m serious, Della. The more you lie, the guiltier you make yourself look. And I don’t think you’re guilty. So put me out of my misery so I can concentrate on finding out who is.’

  Della raised her head. Her cheeks were blotchy and streaked with tears.

  ‘The photograph is of my mum and me,’ she breathed, ‘taken on the day I was born.’

  Maggie had been expecting something far more dramatic; Della’s distress seemed disproportionate when presented with the explanation.

  ‘Do you have any idea why someone might want to take it?’

  ‘It’s in a big silver frame. An expensive one.’

  Maggie paused to give Della time to wipe her eyes. ‘Then I imagine that’s why it was taken. Why didn’t you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘I . . . I . . . it’s just that I don’t like talking about Helen – that’s her name. She walked out on me when I was three. I haven’t seen her since and I don’t know where she is and it hurts to talk about it.’

  ‘What about your dad?’

  ‘He doesn’t know I exist. He was visiting town and he and my mum had a one-night stand. All I know is his name is Andy. I’m sorry, I know I should’ve told you sooner about the photograph but I’m pleased it’s gone because I hate it. All it does is remind me that she didn’t want me.’

  ‘I still need a description of the frame to circulate but I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’

  As Maggie leafed through her notebook to start a new page, she was struck by a thought.

  ‘Can I ask you something about your mum?’

  Della nodded warily.

  ‘Okay, this might be a silly question, but is there any chance she took the picture herself?’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ said Della bitterly. ‘My granddad told me Helen threatened to leave and not come back and she’s stuck to her promise for seventeen years so far.’

  ‘Was her departure acrimonious?’

  Della nodded. ‘I was only little when she went, but I vaguely remember a lot of shouting and screaming indoors, like really big rows.’

  ‘You really have no idea where she is?’ said Maggie. She felt desperately sorry for Della that Helen could just walk out like that. She didn’t see much of her own mum, Jeanette, since she and her dad, Graeme, had moved to the south coast, but she still couldn’t imagine life without her.

  ‘Nan and Granddad reported her missing but nothing came of it. She was twenty-two years old, she could do what she wanted.’

  ‘It must’ve been tough for them too.’

  Della nodded. ‘My memories of her are so patchy that I suppose it’s e
asier for me to put her out of my mind. But I know not a single day goes past without Nan wondering where Helen is or what she’s doing.’

  Maggie’s phone beeped in her pocket. It was a text from Belmar.

  She’s awake.

  ‘I’m needed in HDU. Don’t worry,’ she added hastily as panic crossed Della’s face, ‘it’s for another case I’m working on.’

  Relieved the message wasn’t about Sadie, Della said she wanted to stay outside for a bit longer. Maggie left her on the bench, lost in thought.

  Back in HDU, Maggie heard raised voices as she approached Eleanor’s room and recognized one of them as Belmar’s. The uniformed officer keeping guard outside made a face as she knocked on the door and let herself in.

  ‘I am NOT talking to you.’

  Eleanor Bramwell was indeed awake – and she was beside herself with anger.

  ‘Mrs Bramwell, we do need a statement from you about what exactly happened,’ Belmar said, who was standing at the foot of the bed with DI Green next to him.

  ‘What else is there to say? That bastard husband of mine tried to kill me!’

  Belmar looked relieved as Maggie stepped into the fray. Green smiled grimly.

  ‘Best introduce yourself,’ she said.

  ‘Mrs Bramwell, I’m DC Maggie Neville and I’ve been assigned as your Family Liaison Officer. I’m here to help you.’

  Eleanor eyed Maggie suspiciously.

  ‘Help me with what? I don’t need your help.’

  ‘I want to assure you that you’re safe here,’ she said. ‘Your husband is in hospital in Trenton and is under police guard.’

  Eleanor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion.

  ‘What do you mean, he’s in hospital? But he’s dead, isn’t he? I saw him. He was dead.’

  Maggie flashed a look of surprise at her colleagues.

  ‘I was about to tell her,’ said Belmar tightly.

  ‘Tell me WHAT?’ Eleanor shrieked. She tried to sit up but the tube attached to the cannula in the back of her hand impeded her movement.

  ‘Your husband is in a critical condition but he’s still alive,’ Belmar explained.

  Stricken, Eleanor slumped back against her pillow. ‘Oh God, oh God, no, no.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Green reassured her. ‘He’s a long way from here.’

  ‘We do need to know what happened,’ Belmar tried again. ‘You’re definitely sure it was your husband who attacked you and not someone else?’

  ‘Are you stupid? Who else could have done it? There was no one else there but us.’

  That ruled out any third-party involvement. Belmar looked disappointed.

  ‘I’m sorry, I had to ask,’ he said.

  Eleanor ignored him and addressed Maggie.

  ‘You said you’re here to help me?’

  Maggie assumed the question was Eleanor’s acceptance of her position. Now she would give her the spiel she always gave at the start of an investigation, when she outlined what relatives could expect from her as their FLO. She’d begin by telling Eleanor she would keep her up to date on the progress of the investigation and that she’d be recording their conversations in her logbook so they could go over any points that were raised along the way, but she’d omit to mention it also gave her and the team the means to check any discrepancies in her account. She’d then tell Eleanor she might not be able to share certain information if it could jeopardize an arrest or subsequent conviction and, finally, she’d mention that the rules laid down for FLOs dictated she couldn’t offer counselling herself, but she could put Eleanor in touch with Victim Support, who had trained specialists available to talk through how she was feeling. The no-counselling rule, designed to protect FLOs from becoming emotionally overburdened, was the one aspect of Family Liaison Maggie disliked. When she was with relatives round the clock, it was hard to bite her tongue when they wanted to vent or unburden themselves: in her mind it put up a wall that was unnecessary and unhelpful.

  ‘Yes, I’m here to help—’ Maggie began.

  Eleanor cut her off.

  ‘If you want to help, make them leave,’ she said, firing a dirty look at Belmar and Green. ‘And when you’ve done that, you can bloody well piss off too.’

  13

  ‘We can’t force her to talk if she’s not ready,’ said Maggie, as an agitated Belmar paced up and down outside Eleanor’s room. They had conceded to her demand that they leave her alone but it was with much reluctance on his part.

  ‘The gaffer won’t be happy,’ he fretted.

  ‘We’ll try again later,’ said Green.

  ‘I know but—’

  ‘This isn’t about you, DC Small. I know you want to make a good impression in your new job,’ Green continued, ‘but she’s just woken up in a strange place and she’s traumatized because her husband tried to kill her a few hours ago. It’s not like you’ve got to rush through her statement to secure an arrest either. Simon Bramwell’s not going anywhere.’

  Belmar stopped pacing.

  ‘You’re right. Let’s leave it for now and I’ll let my DCI know what’s going on. I’m not sure how involved HMET will be now we know it’s a domestic and nothing to do with the husband’s business.’

  ‘My DCI’ rang in Maggie’s ears and her mind was suddenly swamped with questions she wanted to ask Belmar about Umpire. Did he say he was mad at me after last night? Is he coming to Mansell today?

  She shook her head as if that would dissolve them. She needed to get a grip.

  ‘I have to go back to my station for a briefing on my other case,’ she said. ‘As soon as I’m done I’ll come straight back here. Maybe Mrs Bramwell will have calmed down by then.’

  Green nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Maggie was almost at the exit from HDU when Belmar caught up with her.

  ‘I am sorry I didn’t tell you about the new job. You should’ve heard it from me.’

  ‘It’s okay, I understand.’

  ‘I think you’re right – Ballboy probably didn’t want me to say anything in case you talked me out of it.’ He gave her a grin then strolled back to where DI Green was making herself comfortable on a plastic chair outside Eleanor’s room.

  Maybe that was the reason for the secrecy. Umpire knew how passionate Maggie was about Family Liaison yet had tried more than once to persuade her to give it up and train in a new specialism that made it easier for her to go up a rank. Very few detective sergeants were FLOs because their caseloads wouldn’t allow it. Maybe he didn’t want Belmar to be held back either.

  She dug her phone out of her bag to check if he’d messaged her but there were no new texts or voicemails waiting. Realistically she knew he’d be busy now the investigation was under way but the radio silence still unnerved her. This was the longest they’d gone without contact in months.

  Before she could dissuade herself, she sent Umpire another text. They were meant to be going out for dinner the following evening – surely a sufficient enough reason to message him again.

  Hey, are we still on for tmw night?

  To her surprise, a text pinged back from him almost immediately. Her hands shook as she read it.

  No.

  14

  Shortly before 9 p.m. a nurse appeared at Sadie’s bedside and announced to Della that visiting hours were about to end for the day.

  ‘But I want to stay with her,’ said Della, who had expected to continue her vigil throughout the night. ‘What if she needs me?’

  ‘We’ll call you if there’s any change.’

  The nurse was a new arrival for the night-time shift and not one of the staff who had spent all day checking on Sadie and administering her pain relief. Della decided she couldn’t possibly know enough about her nan’s condition to justify sending her away and for once tried to stand her ground.

  ‘Can I please speak to the doctor? He might be fine with me staying,’ she said.

  There was more than a hint of impatience in the nurse’s voice as she intoned that the consultant wouldn’t
be available until the morning and Della really would have to leave. Realizing she was beaten, Della pulled on her coat. If she’d known she couldn’t stay she’d have asked Alex to hang on and give her a lift home. He’d turned up at the hospital just after 8 p.m., apologizing for not arriving sooner because he’d been held up at work. When he asked one of the nurses about Sadie’s prognosis and relayed to Della that she was ‘stable but critical’, Della didn’t have the heart to say she already knew that and it had been unchanged all day. She could see how exhausted he was, and when he started yawning less than twenty minutes later, Della told him to go home and get some sleep.

  ‘I am knackered,’ he’d said as he gave her a grateful peck on the lips. ‘It’s been a rough day at work.’ Then he’d caught himself. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. That was really insensitive of me. It’s hardly been a good day for you either.’

  ‘It’s all right, Alex, I know what you meant.’

  Assuming, like her, she’d be there all night, he promised to call her in the morning, told her he loved her then left.

  As Della kissed Sadie goodbye and walked quietly out of the room, her mind churned over the events of the day. The same pair who’d targeted the other elderly women in Mansell were surely the people who’d attacked Sadie, but Della couldn’t stop thinking about another possibility. It was that female detective, Maggie, who’d set her mind on to it, after their conversation in the hospital garden.

  What if Helen was behind it?

  The idea wasn’t as implausible as Della had led Maggie to believe – there was, in fact, a good reason why Helen might have suddenly returned to Mansell after all these years.

  Della’s birthday was four weeks away, on 11 December. She was turning twenty-one and would mark the occasion by inheriting £3,000 from her grandfather’s savings that was placed in a trust fund for her when he died. As far as Della was aware, only she and Sadie knew of the fund’s existence, but what if Helen also did? Her grandparents could’ve discussed setting it up for Della long before they actually got round to it. What if Helen had returned to claim what was rightfully hers as Sadie and Eric’s heir?