Declared Dead

by John Francome

  'I appreciate that,' said Amy, 'but how about issuing a statement that you've been moved to a London hospital for further treatment and not giving the name.'

  'Very clever,' I said, 'but it'll only work if the staff here don't give the game away and at the moment they already regard me as a raving lunatic. I'll have a go and ask Mr Maddox.'

  'I'll see it's in the Sportsman tomorrow,' said James, who was becoming restless and looking at his watch. 'If you'll excuse me I'd better be on my way. I'm meant to be at Stratford for the first race and I agreed to give one of the jocks a lift up. I'll call later to see if you're okay and in the meantime I'll make a few discreet inquiries about Sir Arthur's movements last Saturday night and Sunday morning.'

  'And include the night Edward disappeared as well as the night before last while you're at it!' I shouted after him.

  'Are you sure you're all right?' Amy asked, once we were alone. She took my hand.

  I tried to reassure her and myself. 'I've felt better and I don't much like being a sitting target here. It's a great idea, though, to say I've moved hospitals. Good thinking, friend.'

  'All part of the legal training. There's one other thing I didn't want to mention in front of James. I've had a preliminary report back from my old boy at forensic'

  'And?'

  'You were right. He's found traces of insulin in the drip and they have no right to be there.'

  'Does that explain why I passed out so quickly?'

  'And also why you're still alive. Apparently, when introduced into a vein insulin knocks you out by instantly dropping your blood sugar level. It's then broken down very quickly into the bloodstream and as long as the dose isn't too massive or prolonged, the body rights itself very quickly. Whoever injected it into your system thought he had fixed you for good, only he undercalculated the dose.'

  'And does it leave any traces in the body? I mean, if I had died, wouldn't they have discovered why?'

  'Almost certainly not. The perfect crime. You see, insulin is a natural substance and so a trace is always present in the bloodstream. Anyway, I doubt whether anyone would have thought of testing for it. Let's face it, it was only because you found that tiny hole in the drip that we had it analysed.'

  'Insulin is what diabetics use, isn't it?'

  'That's right, to reduce the high sugar count in their bloodstream. Do you know anyone with diabetes?'

  'There's only one person I know who injects himself with the stuff.'

  'Someone who might have a motive for wanting you out of the way?'

  'If his wife is to be believed. My father-in-law. Gerald Pryde.'

  * * *

  After Amy had left I asked to see Mr Maddox. I had taken a liking to the surgeon's relaxed and understanding manner and felt that if anybody at the hospital was going to be helpful, it would be him. He popped in after lunch and I told him about what had happened the night before last. It was clear from his demeanour that he had already heard the official version of events, which put everything down to the drugs I was taking. I couldn't show him the drip and the puncture mark, as it was still with Amy's forensic scientist, but I told him about the analysis and how it had revealed clear traces of insulin. His initial disbelief faded when he realised I was deadly serious and had pointed out that nobody, not even the laid-back Dr Fox, could claim that Amy and the forensic scientist were also on painkillers and fantasising as a result. He wanted to investigate the background straight away and find out whether anyone had noticed a man in the vicinity of my room during the night. I told him he was wasting his time as Agnes the night sister clearly hadn't observed anyone and that therefore my sole concern at the moment was to prevent a further attack. I then informed him of our plan to let the world think I had moved hospitals and asked whether he could issue an instruction to the staff to the effect that my whereabouts were under no circumstances to be revealed.

  'It's a very unusual request,' he replied after a few moments' reflection, 'even for such a charming lady in distress as yourself. Why haven't you told the police about this?'

  'Quite honestly, because I don't think they'd believe me. I'd rather not go into the whys and wherefores. I just want to be safe for the time being and this seems as good a way as any to achieve it.'

  'Not knowing what's behind all this makes my decision all the more difficult. All right though, just this once. I'll tell the nursing staff that it's imperative you are not disturbed and that for special medical reasons, which I am not at liberty to disclose, I do not want your continued presence here to be made public. Of course, that must apply to everybody, including your friends.'

  'You mean, no visitors?'

  'Just that. And anyway, if you really are under threat – and I accept your fears may be well-founded – what is there to stop your would-be assailant simply following one of your friends here?'

  I had to agree. That possibility hadn't even occurred to me. 'Can I keep in touch with them by phone?'

  'I don't see why not, but you'd probably be better using one of those portable ones. My instinct would be to take the hospital phone out of here and then there's no chance of a call being accidentally put through to you.'

  'I suppose you're right. It's going to be very boring on my own. How long before I can get out of here?'

  'Two or three more weeks, with a bit of luck, and then there's a lot of work to be done with the physiotherapist. I wish I could give you better news.'

  'One last question.' I had to find out. 'Will I be able to ride again?'

  'It's a matter of time and luck. But if you asked me for the odds I'd say it's about two to one in your favour.'

  That was better than I could have hoped for. 'Thank you. I can think of one bookmaker who won't be laying them.'

  As soon as Mr Maddox had left I telephoned Amy to tell her what had been decided. I was going to miss her company over the weeks ahead and wanted to ask her to bring down a portable telephone on her final visit that evening. I was very conscious of the debt I owed for her support and friendship and resolved to show it in a positive way as soon as the present ordeal was over. She was on the other line and I left a message with her secretary to call me back. I had hardly put the phone down when it rang again.

  'Victoria, it's me.'

  'That's quick. I just wanted to tell you what Mr Maddox has agreed about this moving business.' I proceeded to fill her in on my conversation with him.

  'That all sounds very sensible,' she said, when I had finished. 'I've got some news for you. When you called just now I was on the phone to Tom's solicitor. There's been a sensational development in the case. Corcoran has reappeared on the scene and has offered to give evidence for Tom at the trial!'

  'Do you mean he's back in England?'

  'Not exactly. All I've been told by Tom's solicitor, who insists on playing his cards close to his chest, is that Corcoran has been in touch with them and made this offer. Exactly what evidence he's prepared to give the solicitor wouldn't tell me over the phone and I've an appointment to see him at three-thirty this afternoon. Apparently, there's something they think you might be able to help with and that's why they contacted me.'

  'Have you any idea what they might have in mind? You know I'd do anything to help Tom.'

  'Hardly appropriate talk from a witness for the prosecution! At the moment I'm no wiser than you. We'll just have to wait and see.'

  'But what about his performance in Ireland, and my two thousand pounds? Can you trust the man?'

  'I was going to ask specifically about that when we meet. At the moment we've nothing to gain by speculating. Be patient. I realise it's difficult, but you can expect me with the full story at about seven o'clock. I'll also bring a portable phone. In the meantime, take care.'

  I said goodbye and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering what had prompted Corcoran's change of heart. The thought of more money, probably.

  As it happened, Amy wasn't my only visitor that evening. Ralph popped in just after six-thirty with a side of sm
oked salmon and a bottle of champagne, which we proceeded to devour with shameless relish. My governor was full of good spirits and intent on finding out when he could expect me back in the saddle. As he sat beside me on the bed, I could see why he'd been such a ladies' man over the years. I repeated Maddox's forecast and he reiterated that my job would be waiting for me. From my point of view, the one bit of luck was that the National Hunt season was coming to an end and I could spend the summer months ahead recuperating.

  'I've one piece of news for you,' he said, when we were on our second helping of salmon and third glass of champagne. 'I've had a look at the patrol film of the Sandown race.'

  'And don't tell me it was my fault Admiralty Registrar fell.'

  'No, my dear, no one could allege that. It's just you'll never guess who was riding that following horse, which trampled all over you.'

  'Initials E. B., by any chance?'

  'One and the same. Made no attempt to avoid you, almost as if he did it deliberately. The man's a common criminal and I hope they drum him out of racing.'

  'With a bit of luck they will. Have you heard any more about the enquiry at Portman Square?'

  'The investigation people at the Jockey Club were on to me about it this morning. They want to take sworn statements from both of us and they've hinted that if the allegations in the Sportsman can be substantiated, it's almost certain they will drop the case against us.'

  'They darn well ought to. That'll please old Drewe.'

  'He's been out of the country for the past few days, according to the man I spoke to this morning.'

  'Where?'

  'Over at his place in Ireland.'

  'I'd forgotten about that.' I now remembered that James had included a brief reference to it in his potted biography. That seemed to give him a good alibi for the night of my attack.

  'Did he say exactly how long he's been there?'

  Ralph shook his head. 'Do you want me to find out?'

  'No, it's not important. How's everything at the yard?'

  'Fine, I've put most of them away now, for the summer, but I'll run a couple at Devon and Exeter next week provided the going doesn't get too firm. I don't expect too much though. I'll pop in again on Sunday if that's all right.'

  I told him that I wasn't allowed any further visits for a short while and that as a favour to me he was to tell anyone who asked that I had been moved to another hospital.

  Ralph nodded. 'Not more detective work, I hope?'

  'Not really. I'm sorry, Ralph, I'm just concentrating on staying alive and this is one further precaution.'

  He didn't try to probe any further and before he left to return to the Cotswolds I warned him to expect a visit from Amy to collect one or two things from my room.

  * * *

  The ever reliable solicitor arrived on the dot of seven, carrying mints, magazines and some exotic French perfume, and wasted no time in telling me about her meeting with Tom's lawyer.

  'It was all very dramatic. Yesterday afternoon, Tom's lawyer received this telephone call from a man introducing himself as Michael Corcoran, one of Tom's former lads. He said that he had some information which might be useful to Tom's case. When the solicitor asked to meet him to take a statement, he became cagey and said that he feared for his life and wasn't prepared to come out of hiding until the day he's needed to give evidence at the trial.'

  'Is that good enough?'

  'There's nothing wrong with it, only that it's extremely risky calling a witness without having a proof, a signed statement, first.'

  'So what's happened?'

  'Corcoran wouldn't budge on meeting the lawyer but at least agreed to give a detailed statement over the phone and said he'd sign it if necessary before he goes into the witness box. Tom's solicitor wouldn't give me a copy, but was prepared to read it to me in his office.'

  'And so?'

  'It's pretty hot stuff. Corcoran admitted that Edward had been blackmailing him for years over the theft of the wages from Tom's office. He also claims – and this is the good bit – that on the evening Edward disappeared, he, Corcoran, had followed him to the pub where he met Tom and they had that famous argument.'

  'Why did he follow him?'

  'Because he wanted to make him return his confession note.'

  'But why on earth would Edward hand it over after all this time? Once he'd done that he couldn't blackmail him any more.'

  'I agree. Tom's solicitor asked him just that and Corcoran's answer was that he reckoned he had paid enough and the time had come when he wanted to start life anew back in Ireland. He thought he could talk Edward into it. Anyway, Corcoran says that after Tom and Edward came out of the pub, he saw them get into their separate cars. Edward drove off before he could have a word with him and Tom started to leave, appeared to think better of it, parked his car in the furthest corner and proceeded to pass out. I suppose he must simply have had too much to drink.'

  'But that proves Tom couldn't have killed Edward.'

  'There's better to come. Corcoran wasn't the only person following Edward that night. As he drove out of the car park, Corcoran saw another car follow him.'

  'Did he recognise the driver?'

  'So he claims. Who do you think?'

  'Go on, surprise me.'

  'Eamon Brennan. Corcoran was apprenticed with him for a short while in Ireland. What's more, he's convinced Brennan also spotted him. The next morning Corcoran took a boat to Ireland without collecting his kit from the yard and since the discovery of Edward's body he's been in fear of his life.'

  'And he'll say all this in court?'

  'He says he will. I warned the solicitor about our little experience in Ireland and he said he had already heard about that from Corcoran. The Irishman says he's bitterly ashamed about what happened, only he desperately wanted to get hold of the confession note and that's why he searched you, hoping you had brought it with you. He never meant to hurt you. The money was just too tempting.'

  'Do you believe him?'

  'From Tom's point of view, what really matters is whether the jury does. It certainly ought to place a doubt in the jury's mind and that's enough for acquittal. There's one thing the solicitor wants from us. That note. They'll have to produce it in court to corroborate Corcoran's testimony and want to keep it in a safe place till then. I said I thought you'd have no objection.'

  'You're right. Ralph's expecting you to come and collect some stuff from my room. When you've got it all, hand Corcoran's confession over to Tom's solicitor and the rest you'd better lock away in your safe at work. At least that way it'll survive any further attacks on me.'

  'I agree. What do you intend to do with it after the trial?'

  'As soon as Tom is acquitted I'll burn it, having first invited Lord Pryde and Arthur Drewe to the bonfire party, of course!'

  Chapter 15

  I had been waiting for over four days to give evidence and kept wondering what could be taking so long in Court No 1. The prosecution had opened its case on Monday with a speech to the jury, in which it outlined the evidence to be called against Tom and put forward a motive for murder. I couldn't believe they had that much to incriminate Tom. As it was a criminal trial, I was obliged, like all the other witnesses, to wait outside until I was called. I just had to sit, fidget and let my imagination run riot. It wasn't easy. I could have read the newspaper reports of the first three days' hearing to keep myself informed but deliberately refrained from doing so. Amy had warned me that at this stage it was only the prosecution case that was being published and it would almost certainly paint a very dark picture of Tom's position, thus needlessly upsetting me. Somehow I had to keep cool and brace myself not to lose control when I gave evidence. If I started protesting Tom's innocence, it was likely to be counter-productive. It wasn't going to be easy and even though I could now move around on crutches, I still felt like a caged tiger, who knew he was going to be shot at dawn.

  Jamie Brown had appeared in the witnesses' waiting room for the first time t
hat morning and after only ten minutes, had been taken into court. I assumed that I had to be next. I was wearing a dark blue suit, no jewellery and hardly any make-up. I wanted to appear neither as the grieving widow nor the fast piece. I just hoped the judge would be kind to me, although from what Amy had told me about him, it was unlikely.

  The Honourable Mr Justice Snipe was apparently one of the most feared and abrasive judges who had ever planted their ample rumps on the bench. Young barristers weakened at the knees at the mere mention of his name and even experienced senior counsel took refuge in the whisky bottle after a day in front of him. Once his mind was made up, no advocacy, however persuasive, or evidence, however compelling, could make him budge. One leap into the dark was followed by another even bigger one.

  The morning passed painfully slowly and as the bright sunlight outside played through the window of what had become my 'cell', I despaired at the unreality of what was happening. Not far way in this same building a jury of twelve strangers was deciding whether Tom should be denied his freedom for the next twenty years. Shortly after two o'clock, I was summoned. A policeman popped his head round the door and asked me if I was ready. I reached for my crutches and hobbled slowly over to him, down a flight of stairs with his assistance and through two sets of swing doors into a crowded court. All eyes except those of the judge turned on me. Across the other side of the court sat the jury, six in each row, facing the witness box. Ahead of me, perched on high, and towering over his court, was the red-robed figure of Snipe. He was busy making notes and seemed indifferent to my arrival. As an usher led me towards the witness box I glanced over at Tom, seated in the enormous wooden dock with a policeman on either side of him. He smiled at me and grasped the rails which enclosed him.

  I could hardly believe the change in his appearance. The warm, healthy glow had gone from his cheeks and, together with a dramatic loss of weight, had conspired to make him look years older. A short and ruthlessly executed hair-cut had robbed his face of its caring and friendly disposition and replaced it with a gaunt and surly air. It was as if he had been reduced from an approachable and understanding officer to a belligerent private.