Wrong Place

by Michelle Davies

  ‘What’s that you’re reading?’

  She hadn’t noticed Renshaw come up behind her. The DS eyed the file suspiciously. In the interests of prolonging their new harmonious relationship, Maggie decided to be honest.

  ‘Actually it’s the miss per file for Sadie Cardle’s daughter.’

  ‘Why are you looking at that?’

  ‘Della has this crazy theory her mum might somehow be involved in the break-in, so I wanted to read up on her. Also, Audrey Allen thought she saw someone who looked a lot like Helen leaving Sadie’s house on Monday evening. Audrey forgot to mention when you questioned her that Sadie didn’t go to bingo as normal because she was due a visitor.’

  Renshaw’s reaction was surprising. Far from being annoyed, her usual default setting when Maggie took the initiative, she was excited.

  ‘Actually, I’m all for crazy theories today. I just had a call from Imaging. They’ve been going over the crime scene photos from Sadie Cardle’s kitchen and noticed something we didn’t pick up – and by “we”, I mean forensics too. You know how there was glass on the floor where the windowpane in the door was smashed?’

  Maggie nodded.

  ‘Everyone assumed the glass was punched in from the outside so they could get to the lock, because that’s what it looked like at the scene. But Imaging now reckons it might’ve been staged to look like that. They think it was the other way round and the glass was scooped up from outside and spread over the floor,’ said Renshaw as she made sweeping gestures with her hands. ‘Apparently the pattern of broken glass doesn’t quite fit with what it should be had the window been smashed inwards. I’ve put a rocket up Paul to get a shift on with his forensic report, especially regarding fingerprints on the back-door key. If we only find Sadie’s or Della’s prints on it, that means the key wasn’t turned in the lock by someone trying to get in from outside . . .’

  ‘. . . Because Sadie had already let them in the front and they broke the glass to make it look otherwise.’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Renshaw triumphantly. ‘It’s not the Con Couple’s usual MO for them to both come in the front and the gin bottle being used as a weapon doesn’t fit with them either. If we are looking at other suspects, maybe there is something in Della’s theory about her mum. Do you have any more info on this lookalike who went round there on Monday night?’

  Maggie filled her in on Sadie being interviewed about her furniture-making father and revealed that she’d spoken to Jennifer Jones at the Echo and had ruled out the reporter being anyone else from the paper.

  ‘Audrey said the resemblance to Helen was uncanny, but I don’t know how reliable her memory is. She hasn’t clapped eyes on Helen for seventeen years.’

  ‘If it was Helen, why pretend to be a reporter?’ Renshaw mused. ‘Why not return home as the prodigal daughter?’

  ‘Della’s due to inherit some money next month when she turns twenty-one. Not a substantial amount but if Helen wanted to get her hands on it, she probably wouldn’t want Della to find out and stop her. She could’ve rung first and pretended to be a reporter to set up a time to go round – it’s feasible Sadie wouldn’t have recognized her voice after all this time and she’d have been none the wiser until Helen turned up on the doorstep, by which time it would’ve been too late to let Della know. Helen would also have known about the Churchill desk to use it as an opening. But what makes me doubt that the reporter was Helen is the very fact she hasn’t surfaced anywhere in the past seventeen years. Pearl ran a check through the usual channels and she found no trace of her,’ Maggie explained.

  ‘People can live off-radar though. There are websites now dedicated to showing you how. Clearly they don’t get the irony.’

  ‘Okay, but what about the fact Audrey said she watched the reporter leave around ten p.m.? I thought we were putting the time of Sadie’s attack as the following morning, based on how long the paramedics thought she’d been lying there.’

  ‘We can go over all the timings again to see if there is a chance Sadie could’ve been there all night before Della found her. If she did, that puts the so-called reporter on our list of suspects alongside the Con Couple.’ Renshaw screwed her face up as she thought for a moment. ‘Do you honestly think there’s something in this Helen-coming-back theory?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it’s worth checking out,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’ll get some of the others to do some digging on her, see if we can find anything Pearl might’ve missed. Is there anything else?’

  ‘Don’t you want to wait for the briefing at ten?’

  Renshaw did a funny little side-to-side shake of her head.

  ‘No, let’s get on with it. It’s better if we share info as we go along.’

  Maggie couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Okay, now I’m worried. What the hell have you done with the real Anna Renshaw?’

  Renshaw grinned and held up her hands.

  ‘It’s a fair cop. Someone recently gave me some good advice about trying a different approach, that’s all. Be less uptight, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Who?’

  Renshaw looked startled and reddened.

  ‘Why do you need to know that?’

  ‘Because I think we should organize a whip-round to say thanks.’

  Renshaw laughed and it was only then that Maggie noticed her hair was loose on her shoulders and she was wearing one of the tight pencil skirts she used to shimmy around in before her promotion. She was also wearing make-up again. Maggie was intrigued by the switchback in appearance but managed to bite her tongue before a sarky comment tripped off it. If she was honest, she was enjoying the friendliness too much to want to ruin it.

  ‘Once I’ve finished reading this I was going to head back to the hospital if that’s okay. Eleanor Bramwell is being discharged,’ she said.

  ‘Oh. How’s that going?’

  ‘It’s a waiting game to be honest.’

  Renshaw gave her a quizzical look.

  ‘To see if the husband lives or dies,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I hear HMET are off the case.’

  Maggie was impressed by Renshaw’s insider knowledge. Belmar had made it sound as though the decision to relinquish the case to Trenton CID had only just been made.

  ‘Yep. Do you know DI Deborah Green at Trenton? She’s taking over as SIO.’

  ‘Don’t know her but if she gives you any aggro, let me know. So far you’ve managed both cases really well and I don’t want that to change.’

  Maggie pretended to faint. ‘Did I hear you pay me a compliment? Bloody hell, I’m starting that whip-round now . . .’

  Nathan walking up to Maggie’s desk cut short their laughter. She took one look at his face and knew it wasn’t good news.

  ‘Has there been another robbery?’ she asked.

  ‘No, it’s worse than that,’ he said. ‘The hospital rang. Sadie Cardle died twenty minutes ago.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Maggie, envisaging Della’s reaction. ‘I thought her condition was improving.’

  ‘So did the doctors,’ said Nathan. ‘The hospital is launching an investigation. They suspect she might’ve been given an incorrect dosage of pain medication by mistake. The doctor who prescribed the drug and the nurse who administered it have both been suspended.’

  Maggie and Renshaw were stunned.

  ‘You’re telling us the attack didn’t kill her but someone’s cock-up might have?’ said Renshaw. ‘How the hell are we going to explain that to her granddaughter?’

  ‘She already knows. They called her first.’

  38

  Della had no recollection of phoning Alex but she must’ve done because suddenly he was there, taking her in his arms and telling her how sorry he was and how she would get through it and that he would help in any way he could. Yet his embrace was of no comfort to her. Instead it made her feel claustrophobic and inexplicably angry and she wanted to scream at him to leave her alone. How could she even begin to get through it, whatever it was?
>
  The hospital administrator who had delivered the news by telephone was sorry too. Three times she had to repeat what had happened because Della was too shocked to take it in.

  ‘There will be an inquiry into what happened . . .’

  Inquiry into what, exactly, she’d asked. Someone had hurt Sadie and now she was dead and she’d never see her again and she was all on her own. What else was there to say? She’d ended the call without a goodbye.

  As another wave of grief slammed into her, Della made a noise that was somewhere between a wail and a sob. Alex patted her on the back and said ‘there, there’ like she was a baby being winded and it annoyed her with such intensity that she shoved him away from her, the violence of her action surprising them both.

  ‘Hey, there’s no need for that,’ he admonished as he made a show of rubbing his chest.

  Her own chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath.

  ‘Then stop treating me like a child.’

  He looked hurt. ‘I know you’re only being like this because you’re upset.’

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at him. He didn’t get it.

  ‘If you want to make yourself useful, take me to the hospital,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure? I mean, is there much point now?’

  Della stared at him, incredulous.

  ‘What I meant,’ he said, stumbling over his words, his expression suggesting he wished he could take back what he’d said, ‘is that it’s not like she’s there any more. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know she won’t be there,’ Della spat, ‘but I’m still going to say goodbye.’

  ‘Of course, if that’s what you want,’ Alex replied hastily.

  Della was in the hallway pulling on her coat when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t surprised to find Maggie outside: the hospital administrator who’d rung had said the police were being informed too.

  She jumped in first. She didn’t want to hear the message of condolence she could tell Maggie was on the verge of delivering.

  ‘I’m going to the hospital,’ she said.

  ‘I can take you,’ Maggie offered. ‘Unless . . .’

  She looked past Della’s shoulder to where Alex had appeared. He extended a handshake.

  ‘I’m Alex Morgan, Della’s boyfriend. I’m going to take her, thanks all the same.’

  Maggie shook his hand but kept her gaze trained on Della.

  ‘We do need to talk about what happens next . . .’

  This time the grief hit Della like a physical blow, knocking the wind right out of her. She pitched forward as if she was fainting but Maggie was there to catch her.

  ‘Let’s sit you down inside.’

  ‘No, no, I want to go to the hospital.’ The words clawed at her throat. ‘I need to say goodbye.’

  Maggie took charge. ‘I’ll drive you both in my car. Come on.’

  Alex tried to get in the front passenger seat but Maggie demoted him to the back, saying she wanted to talk to Della as she drove. He huffed loudly as he got in.

  ‘Did the hospital explain what the inquiry would involve?’ Maggie asked Della as she turned out of Frobisher Road. ‘It won’t change our investigation but it may complicate things a bit.’

  ‘I was too upset to take in what they were saying.’

  Maggie indicated left and pulled into a parking space at the side of the road. She shut off the engine and turned to face her.

  ‘The hospital believe your grandmother may have been given an incorrect dosage of pain relief that was fatal. A nurse and a doctor have been suspended pending the investigation.’

  Della gasped and Alex swore in the back seat.

  ‘They killed her?’ he said. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘The inquiry will establish exactly what happened. In the meantime, our police investigation into who attacked her will continue. Nothing has changed on that score.’

  Della felt weak and dizzy, as though the blood was draining from her body.

  ‘I can’t believe it. She was getting better and they gave her the wrong amount of medicine? Who makes a mistake like that?’ she said, choking back tears.

  ‘I’m afraid there will have to be a post-mortem to establish exactly what happened,’ said Maggie. ‘It will take place later today.’

  ‘She’s going to be cut up?’ Della cried, her mind suddenly filled with an image of her nan’s body flayed open. She’d watched enough police dramas on TV to know exactly what a post-mortem looked like. Bile rose in her throat.

  ‘This is insane. How could they have let this happen?’ said Alex from the back seat. He sounded as upset as Della.

  ‘I can’t speak for the hospital and it’s probably not healthy for either of you to speculate until you know the outcome of the inquiry. In the light of your nan’s death it’s been decided by my senior officers that I will be your Family Liaison Officer going forward,’ Maggie added. ‘Any questions you have, just ask me. We are still determined to find out who attacked her.’

  At first Maggie’s words didn’t register. But as Della repeated them in her mind as the car pulled away from the kerb and rejoined the flow of traffic, the significance of what Maggie had said hit home.

  ‘You don’t think it was the same ones who attacked the other old people.’ She posed it not as a question but as a statement.

  They pulled up at a red traffic signal and Maggie cast her a sideways glance.

  ‘They’re still our main suspects but we do have a couple of other leads we’re looking into.’

  Alex unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward so his face loomed between the front seats.

  ‘Such as?’ he said.

  ‘I can’t tell you at this stage I’m afraid. I know that’s frustrating to hear, but as soon as I have any concrete information to pass on I will.’

  The traffic lights changed and Maggie eased the car forward. She kept her eyes on the road.

  ‘So we just have to wait?’ Alex demanded.

  ‘Mr Morgan, please can you sit back in your seat and buckle up? I can’t be distracted while I’m driving,’ said Maggie.

  Alex did as he was told. Della watched him in the side-view mirror and saw he wasn’t happy at being told what to do.

  ‘To answer your question, Mr Morgan,’ said Maggie, after waiting until he had put his seat belt on, ‘yes, I’m afraid so. We need to make sure we investigate as thoroughly as possible. We don’t want to arrest the wrong person, do we?’

  Della kept her eyes on the side mirror. Leaning back in his seat, Alex looked pensive.

  ‘I’d like to come round later, once you’re back from the hospital, and go through a couple of things,’ said Maggie to Della.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Just some paperwork.’

  ‘What paperwork exactly?’ Alex chimed in.

  ‘We can talk about it later.’

  Della turned her head to look directly at Maggie. Why was she being so vague? Then she noticed Maggie’s gaze flit between the road and the rear-view mirror far more than was necessary.

  She was watching Alex too.

  Della’s pulse quickened. Surely the police didn’t suspect him? She tried to think of reasons why they might believe Alex was involved and immediately she recalled his reaction to finding out she wouldn’t inherit the house if her nan died . . . What if he hadn’t been at work when he said he was? But Della couldn’t bring herself to imagine Alex hurting Sadie. Her mind simply wouldn’t entertain it. This was Alex she was talking about, Alex who loved her and who got on well with her nan. No, it was someone else. It had to be.

  As Della floundered for any kind of explanation that made sense, Maggie suddenly mentioned the name Gillian Smith.

  ‘Do you remember her at all?’

  Oh God, please don’t bring up Helen now, thought Della, not with Alex in the car. He thought her mother was dead because that’s what she’d told him. He wouldn’t react well to finding out that she was lying all this time.

  ‘She and yo
ur mum were best friends apparently. Does her name ring a bell?’

  ‘Kind of,’ Della stammered. ‘I don’t remember her at all, though Nan sometimes talked about her. But why are you – I mean, what has she got . . .’ She tailed off, wanting the conversation to stop.

  ‘I read the missing person’s file for your mum. I was wondering if Gillian was still in Mansell.’

  Della shuddered as Alex piped up.

  ‘Missing person?’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought your mum was dead.’

  Maggie glanced at Della, clearly surprised. Della prayed the pleading look she flashed her back adequately conveyed her message: please don’t tell him.

  ‘She’s dead now, like I told you,’ Della said to Alex. ‘She went missing first. The police knew.’

  Maggie kept her eyes firmly on the road and Della was grateful she did not contradict her. Later, when they were alone, she would explain to Maggie why she hadn’t told her boyfriend, why it was no one’s business but hers.

  Reassured that Maggie wouldn’t counter her, Della mentioned she’d found a new picture of Helen. ‘It’s from the day she went missing.’

  ‘How do you know it was from that day?’

  ‘It was in a newspaper.’

  Della felt the car swerve a fraction as Maggie expressed surprise. Fighting a tide of emotions, she explained how she’d stumbled across the photo in the copy of the Echo that Sadie had stashed away.

  ‘I don’t know who the others are in the photo, but they were with her in the afternoon before she left. I want to find out where they are now.’

  Alex spoke up from the back seat. ‘Why do you need to find them if you already know what happened to your mum?’

  His tone was curious and Della clammed up, fearful she’d roused his suspicion.

  ‘The only friend who was interviewed at the time of Helen’s disappearance was Gillian,’ said Maggie in an aside. ‘Do you have any idea if she still lives around here?’

  ‘I don’t think she does. Nan would’ve known for sure, but I can’t ask her, can I, because she’s dead.’ Della’s voice rose as her emotions got the better of her. ‘She’s left me on my own.’