Wrong Place

by Michelle Davies

  ‘I don’t know, honey. Right, you two, it’s nearly time to leave for school. Have you got your bags ready?’

  Esme nodded, but Bea stayed still, her mind in a whirl. All she could think about was the old lady lying in hospital and, even though she knew she and Sean weren’t responsible, it still felt like it was their fault. She couldn’t go to school until she knew the woman was going to be okay.

  ‘I don’t feel well, Mum. I – I made myself sick last night.’

  She felt Caroline tense up behind her and Bea hated that she was lying about something that had caused her parents so much anxiety over the past couple of years. But she needed an excuse to stay at home and she knew it would do the trick.

  ‘After dinner?’ said her mum hoarsely.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry, Mum.’

  Looking round, she saw her parents exchange worried glances.

  ‘You can stay at home today, Bea,’ said Chris, as Caroline nodded. ‘But we’ll have to make an appointment to see Dr Reynolds again.’

  ‘I’ll call the shop and tell them I won’t come in,’ said Caroline.

  ‘No! Don’t do that. I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t want you to worry.’ Bea groped around for a better explanation. ‘I did tell you about being sick and I didn’t have to. That’s good, isn’t it? I’m not keeping it a secret like last time.’

  Her parents exchanged another look.

  ‘Well, yes, it is,’ said Chris eventually. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’

  Bea nodded. She wouldn’t be staying indoors though. As soon as her mum left to go into town, she would slip out and catch the bus to the hospital. She didn’t know if they’d let her see the old lady, but she had to try. She had to say sorry.

  18

  Lost in thought as she hurried into Mansell General’s ground-floor reception, Maggie didn’t notice Umpire until he darted in front of her and waved his hand in her face.

  ‘Didn’t you hear me calling you?’

  ‘Oh! You made me jump. I was miles away.’

  She’d been thinking about Lou. They still hadn’t discussed what had happened last night – Lou was weaving drunk when she got home at midnight so Maggie had put her straight to bed, then slept on the sofa in case Mae needed feeding or changing in the night. When she left an hour ago to nip home to shower and change before going to the hospital, her sister had been awake but monosyllabic. Maggie didn’t want to start a row in front of the children so she left with a promise to go round later. They needed to discuss Lou’s behaviour and whatever it was Lou felt she had over Maggie would have to wait until they were able to have a face-to-face conversation.

  Umpire’s interruption dragged her into the present. ‘Coffee?’ he asked. ‘Need you up to speed.’

  The brevity of his speech did not strike her as unusual: Will Umpire was not the kind of man to use many words when a few would do. What she minded was the fact he seemed reluctant to look in her direction, as if making eye contact with her was the last thing he wanted to do. Nor had he called her by her first name, as he had done every time they’d spoken for the past six months. Maggie was crushed but tried not to show it.

  The Costa Coffee concession was already busy for 8 a.m., with hospital staff queuing up alongside members of the public. She stood beside him in the queue and kept quiet as he busied himself plucking pound coins from the stash of change in his pocket.

  ‘Latte, isn’t it?’ he asked her when it was their turn to be served.

  As she nodded, Maggie was overcome by the urge to break the impasse between them. Being in such close proximity made her realize how desperate she was to make amends for Monday evening. She wanted them to go back to how they were.

  ‘Will—’ she began tentatively.

  He cut her off abruptly. ‘DC Small filled me in on what happened with Mrs Bramwell when you tried to question her. When we get up there I want you to go in on your own first, see if she feels less threatened by just you. I’m happy for you to take her initial statement informally if that makes her more comfortable but if she doesn’t cooperate at all I’ll have to take over, DC Neville.’

  Maggie felt winded, like he’d just delivered a well-aimed punch to her stomach. She had expected him to be a bit brusque with her, but he was acting as though they barely knew each other and she hated that it upset her so much.

  ‘If that’s what you think, sir,’ she said evenly. ‘Will DI Green be joining us?’

  ‘No.’

  A barista called out their order and Umpire grabbed both cups of coffee. Maggie trailed him to a table near the entrance to the concession. He was six foot three and lean in frame and struggled to fold his long legs under the table. Maggie could tell he hadn’t shaved that morning and his chin bristled with more grey than his natural strawberry blond. It suited him.

  ‘Is the husband still unconscious?’ she said briskly, placing her notebook on the table in front of her. If he could be detached, so could she.

  ‘Yes. The doctors are saying it’s too early to tell whether any of his organs are damaged, because they still don’t know exactly how much diazepam he took.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘I need Mrs Bramwell’s testimony before the CPS will consider charges. His prints were found on the knife used to stab his wife but the defence could argue that’s because he regularly used it in the kitchen.’

  ‘But it still looks like he attacked her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Belmar – I mean DC Small,’ she said hastily, ‘seems to think HMET won’t continue with the case now there’s no link to Mr Bramwell’s line of work.’

  ‘I think DC Small is getting ahead of himself. Nothing can be ruled out until Mrs Bramwell tells us what happened. That’s why I’ve come down myself, to make sure it gets done.’

  Maggie wrestled with what to say next. She had so many questions for him: why did he send such a sharp text in reply to her checking about dinner? Did that mean they weren’t even friends any more? Why did he order Belmar not to say anything to her about joining HMET? But now wasn’t the time. He couldn’t have made it clearer that personal talk was not welcome.

  ‘Is there anything else in particular you want me to raise?’ she said, pen poised again.

  ‘It would help to know how much diazepam was left in the prescription packet her husband emptied, as it’s her name on the label. Find why she takes it too,’ he said. ‘I also want to know what room she was in when the attack began – from the blood we’ve found it looks like she moved between a few of them. Even if Bramwell doesn’t recover and we can’t charge him, we still need a full account before we can close the case. I’ll wait outside while you talk to his wife, if she deigns to be interviewed this time.’

  Maggie frowned. It wasn’t like him to speak disparagingly about a victim.

  ‘She was very distressed when she came round yesterday. I imagine that’s why she didn’t want to talk straight away,’ she made a point of saying.

  Umpire said nothing as he swirled his cup and drained the dregs of his coffee.

  ‘Right, let’s go.’ He pulled a face as his phone rang. ‘Fucking solicitors,’ he muttered under his breath as he killed the call.

  ‘CPS causing problems?’ she asked, presuming the call was connected to either this case or another.

  ‘No. My soon-to-be-ex-wife being difficult about when I have the children.’

  Maggie was stunned. From the conversations they’d had over the summer, she believed Umpire’s estranged wife was happy to split custody of their two children, Flora and Jack, once their divorce was finalized. What had happened to change that? Her eyes raked over his face, searching for any clue, but his expression remained stony. By confiding what the call was about, was he expecting her to ask? Her answer came a second later as he rose from his seat and headed out of the seating area towards the lift.

  ‘Come on, Neville,’ he snapped.

  Deeply unsettled, Maggie trailed behind him. Even if they did manage to resolve their row and get ba
ck to how they had been, would it always be like this, with him dictating how it was between them because she had no choice but to defer to him while they were at work? Was it even possible for them to have a personal relationship on an equal footing when at work it was the opposite? As Umpire continued to avoid eye contact with her as they queued for the lift, she began to seriously doubt that they could.

  19

  A night’s rest had done nothing to improve Eleanor Bramwell’s mood. She ordered Maggie to leave as soon as she saw it was her who’d knocked on her door and not a nurse or doctor.

  But Maggie stayed where she was at the foot of the bed, acutely aware that Umpire was right outside expecting answers.

  ‘You do need to talk to us at some point, Mrs Bramwell. Isn’t it better to get it out of the way now, so we can leave you in peace?’

  Eleanor’s face creased into a scowl, but she didn’t tell her to leave again, which Maggie took as a hopeful sign.

  ‘Why don’t we talk for five minutes then have a break? Five minutes, that’s all.’

  A while back Maggie had read a newspaper article on the subject of procrastination, in which a clinical psychologist was quoted as saying that people with a tendency to stall should set themselves a five-minute time limit when they began a task to make it seem less insurmountable. Once the five minutes was up they could stop, but more often than not they’d find they were happy to continue and would complete the task in full. Maggie found that applying the rule when interviewing trickier witnesses often had the same effect.

  ‘Okay,’ said Eleanor warily.

  ‘Can I sit down?’

  She nodded and Maggie settled herself in the hard plastic chair by her bed, stealing a glance as she pulled her notebook from her bag. Eleanor’s complexion was wan and her long blonde hair tangled and in need of a brush, but on the whole she didn’t look too bad for someone who’d been through such an ordeal.

  As if she was aware of what Maggie was thinking, Eleanor looked her squarely in the eye.

  ‘Go on then, what do you want to ask me?’

  ‘It would be helpful if we could establish a timeline of what happened. Can we do that?’

  Eleanor’s eyelids squeezed shut for a moment and Maggie thought she was going to ask her to leave again. Then she realized she was trying to stop herself from crying.

  ‘It’s okay, Mrs Bramwell. You’re safe now.’

  Eleanor nodded frantically as tears began to seep down her face. Her right arm was in a sling so she could only use her left hand to wipe them away.

  ‘I know. It’s just—’ she fought back a sob and squeezed her eyes tighter, but continued to talk. ‘Simon slept on the sofa because we’d had a row the night before. I went to bed around one a.m. and fell asleep. The next thing I know he’s crashing into the bedroom screaming his head off. Before I could say anything, he . . . he stabbed me in the leg. At first I didn’t realize what he’d done. Our duvet is very thick so the knife only nicked me through it. But then he did it again and again. I screamed at him to leave me alone and then I got out of bed.’

  Eyes still closed, Eleanor shuddered.

  ‘What happened next?’ Maggie gently asked.

  Eleanor’s eyes flew open and she stared at her coldly.

  ‘You do understand how hard this is for me?’

  ‘I appreciate how difficult it must be to relive what’s happened, but it’s important we establish the facts, and the more you tell me now, the less likely it is I’ll have to keep coming back with more questions. I don’t want to prolong this experience for you any more than I have to.’

  ‘Is my husband dead yet?’

  Maggie was taken aback by the bluntness of her question.

  ‘No. He’s still critical.’

  ‘But he’s going to die, isn’t he? I mean, given the amount of pills he took. And all the vodka.’

  Maggie jumped on the comment.

  ‘Actually, we can’t be sure how many tablets he ingested. I understand the diazepam was prescribed to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When did you receive the prescription?’

  ‘A fortnight ago. There are twenty-eight pills in a packet, but I don’t take one every day, just when I need to. There must’ve been at least twenty-three tablets left.’

  Maggie jotted down the number then Eleanor asked if she could help her get more comfortable. As Maggie helped her sit up straighter and settled her against the pillows, she noticed Eleanor was still wearing a hospital-issue gown.

  ‘Would you like me to arrange to have some of your things brought in from home?’

  For that she received her first smile.

  ‘God, yes please. This thing is so itchy,’ said Eleanor, tugging at the gown’s neckline. ‘I don’t think the hospital understands the concept of fabric conditioner.’

  ‘You can give me a list of what you’d like at the end,’ said Maggie. She quickly glanced at her watch and noted five minutes had passed. She didn’t say anything and resumed her questioning.

  ‘Where do you normally keep the diazepam?’

  ‘In the bathroom cabinet.’

  ‘Can I ask why you take it?’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ said Eleanor bluntly. She appeared more in control of herself: her eyes were dry again. ‘It’s not relevant.’

  Maggie shrugged off the rebuke. They could come back to it.

  ‘How did you get away from your husband in the bedroom?’

  ‘I managed to push him over and ran to the bathroom, but he came after me and stabbed me in the shoulder as I was closing the door. The pain was horrendous and I passed out on the bathmat.’

  ‘Do you remember what time you first entered the bathroom?’

  ‘It must’ve been about three minutes past five.’

  ‘That’s quite specific. What makes you so certain it was then?’ said Maggie carefully.

  ‘When Simon came into the bedroom I turned the bedside light on and I saw on my alarm clock that it was five a.m. on the dot. After he started stabbing me it could only have been a matter of minutes before I got into the bathroom.’ Eleanor shuddered. ‘He was so drunk it wasn’t that hard to get away from him.’

  ‘Do you have any idea what time it was when you came round?’

  ‘No, but it was still dark outside.’

  Maggie thought for a moment.

  ‘Okay, so with the clocks going back, it’s not light until about seven twenty most mornings. Was it dark for quite a while?’

  ‘No. If I had to guess I’d say about half an hour, then it started getting light.’

  ‘Based on those timings you were unconscious for well over an hour.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘No, Mrs Bramwell, you say so – according to the times you’ve given me. I need you to be clear on this,’ said Maggie. ‘Are you sure it was five-oh-three that you went into the bathroom?’

  ‘I am,’ Eleanor snapped back.

  ‘What did you do between regaining consciousness and going outside?’

  Eleanor chewed her bottom lip as high spots of red formed on her cheeks. Suddenly she seemed less sure of herself.

  ‘I freaked out because I had a knife sticking out between my shoulder and my collarbone. I thought about pulling it out but it was agony so I pressed a towel around it. And then I waited.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To see if I could hear Simon. I didn’t want to leave the bathroom in case he attacked me again. I waited until I thought it was safe.’

  ‘When you couldn’t hear anything?’

  ‘Yes. Once I thought it was safe I came out and went to the top of the stairs with the intention of going straight down, but then I saw Simon through the doorway to our bedroom.’

  ‘Where was he?’ said Maggie, even though she already knew the answer from the briefing Belmar and DI Green had given her yesterday.

  ‘Laid out on our bed. At first I thought he was passed out – he’d drunk a lot of red wine and vodka even before we rowed
– but I could see his lips and fingertips had this odd bluish tint. I went into the bedroom and I thought he was dead, so that’s when I ran downstairs and went outside for help and my neighbour found me.’ Eleanor slowly exhaled as she reached the end of her account.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Bramwell, that’s very helpful. Now I’d like, if you don’t mind, to go back a bit further, to the actual row itself and what started it.’

  Eleanor began to protest but Maggie raised a hand to placate her.

  ‘Let me explain why we need to know what triggered it. Should your husband regain consciousness, he’ll almost certainly be facing criminal proceedings based on what you’ve told us so far and the forensic evidence we’ve gathered. His defence lawyer may present a different version of events though, or try to argue mitigating circumstances, so we need to know what caused the row to make sure your husband can’t try to claim that he acted in self-defence and armed himself with the knife because he felt threatened by you.’

  Eleanor paled. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes. It’s what defence lawyers do – they try to present the best case to get their clients acquitted. My job is make sure we have all the facts to disprove it.’

  ‘There is no way he could say it was self-defence, no way at all,’ said Eleanor, shaking her head angrily.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He attacked me after accusing me of having an affair. He came at me when I was lying in bed, not the other way round. He stabbed me clean through the duvet; it was all torn up,’ said Eleanor bleakly. ‘And I’m not seeing anyone else, before you ask. Simon’s just paranoid about other men and always has been, ever since we got together.’

  ‘Did he say who he thought you’re having an affair with?’

  ‘No, that’s the craziest thing about it. He said I must be, because I’ve been going to the gym a lot and that I must be doing it for another man. But the reason I’m trying to stay fit is to improve our chances of having a baby.’

  Eleanor’s gaze wandered to a spot on the wall above Maggie’s head and her fingers plucked nervously at the blanket covering her.