Day for Dying

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘He knew you, that’s why,’ said her mother. ‘Knew you were a decent girl, not the type to pick up something like that.’ She looked at Thanet. ‘Linda’s right. That’s what’s so awful about it. It’s so unfair. It’s not even as if she agreed to go to bed with Max. Then you could say that she asked for it. But Linda was innocent! Innocent!’

  Her husband was nodding agreement and he patted her hand. ‘No point in upsetting yourself all over again, Mother.’

  ‘But look where it’s got us!’ she cried. ‘Look what he’s done to our family! There’s Linda so ill and now you, in all this trouble. He was a wicked, wicked man and that’s the truth of it. How could he do such a thing, to a girl like Linda?’

  What was there to say? ‘So Jeopard must have been HIV positive,’ said Thanet. ‘And never developed full-blown AIDS.’

  ‘They said it can take years for that to happen and there are cases when it never does,’ said Fielding. ‘You can be a carrier all that time and never know it. Terrible, isn’t it? We think he probably picked it up in foreign parts. We’ve seen programmes about it, on the telly. Those little girls in Thailand and such like . . . He was always off on his travels and the Lord alone knows what he was up to when he was away, if he could do this to a girl like our Linda.’

  ‘But what I don’t understand is why you left it until the day of the engagement party to tackle him about it,’ said Thanet.

  ‘Because we didn’t know until that morning who the man was, who was responsible!’ said Fielding. ‘Linda would never tell us.’

  ‘When we found out it was AIDS,’ said Linda, ‘I couldn’t believe it at first. I mean, I’d never had a serious boyfriend. But when they told me it can take years to develop, after being infected, I realised it must have been Max. There was just no other explanation. I didn’t tell Mum and Dad it was him, though. It was bad enough for them to know what was wrong with me, that I was going to die, I just felt it would be even worse if they realised they knew the man who had infected me. Better, I thought, for them to have this shadowy, anonymous person to hate than someone they could put a name and face to. But I was worried in case Max didn’t know he was HIV positive – worried, that is, about all the other women he might have infected or still could infect, without even being aware of it. I could have written to him, I suppose, but somehow I wanted to do it face to face. It was wrong of me, I suppose, but I wanted to say to him, look, look what you have done to me. I wanted to punish him, make him feel guilty, acknowledge the consequences of what to him must have seemed a bit of harmless fun.’

  ‘Harmless!’ said her mother. ‘Harmless!’

  ‘Hush, Mother,’ said her husband. ‘Let Linda explain.’

  Mrs Fielding clamped her lips together and glared, but subsided.

  ‘That’s what I feel most guilty about,’ said Linda. ‘If I hadn’t wanted revenge, my petty little revenge, and I’d contented myself with writing a letter, then Dad wouldn’t be in this position now. The excuse I gave myself for not doing so was that I wanted to ask Max about Tess. And it’s true that I was worried about her, naturally.’

  And not only Tess, did you but know it, thought Thanet grimly. There was Marion Sylvester, Anthea, Rosinha and perhaps even her unborn baby, apart from countless other women Jeopard might have infected in his promiscuous way through life.

  ‘I was pretty sure he must have slept with her, and every time I saw her it was a relief that she was still looking healthy, but this was something I wanted to ask him about, for my own peace of mind. I felt I couldn’t trust him to reply, if I asked him about this in a letter.

  ‘My other excuse, of course, was that I was feeling pretty rotten. It’s been a ghastly few months, one way and the other, and I’ve had to conserve all my energies just to cope with day-to-day existence. But I hadn’t forgotten about contacting Max. I knew it was becoming urgent, and when I went into the Hospice at the beginning of last week I realised it would have to be sooner rather than later. The next serious infection might well be the last. So I’d pretty much decided that when I came home I was going to stop hoping to tell him in person and write to him instead, and you can imagine how I felt when I did get home on Saturday morning, saw those balloons tied to the gatepost and learned why they were there. Until then I’d no idea that Tess had broken off her engagement to Gerald and was getting engaged to Max.’

  ‘It didn’t occur to us to tell her while she was in the Hospice,’ said Fielding. ‘To be honest, we didn’t even think about it. All we were concerned about was how she was getting on, whether or not she’d be able to come home again and if so, how soon.’

  ‘We could tell she was upset when we told her about the engagement,’ said her mother. ‘But she wouldn’t say why. Not until the afternoon.’

  ‘I had to think,’ said Linda. ‘I didn’t want to have to talk to Tess about it, you see. Picking up the virus is a bit like Russian Roulette, I gather, and I was just unlucky, especially as it had only happened the once. Rather like girls who are unfortunate enough to get pregnant their first time, I suppose. Anyway, if Tess was all right I didn’t want to worry her – I mean, it could give her nightmares for years, and all for nothing. So I decided the only thing to do was to stop prevaricating and talk to Max then, that day, preferably before the party. I knew that if I missed the chance I might not get another for months – perhaps not at all, and besides, what I really wanted was to get him to agree to call the engagement off, for Tess’s sake, before it was officially made public. I thought, if he really loved her, he’d do it.’

  ‘Not Max! Not if it didn’t suit his book!’ said Mrs Fielding grimly. ‘In my opinion he always looked out for number one, first and last, never mind anyone else.’

  ‘But I had to try, Mum, you must see that. If he refused, I was prepared to take pretty desperate measures to make him agree, threaten to tell Tess, to begin with, and then, if he still wouldn’t listen, threaten to get Dad to wheel me up to the party and make a public announcement.’

  Thanet could imagine what courage that would have taken and what a furore it would have created.

  ‘Anyway, the point was, I didn’t know when Max was coming down from London, so I got Dad to find out, casually, from Tess. I was hoping that if he came down early, in the afternoon, perhaps, I might manage to get a message to him, to come and see me.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I thought if he saw me like this he’d realise what he’d be saving Tess from if he agreed to give her up. But unfortunately we discovered he wouldn’t be arriving until the same time as everybody else. So at that point I decided that there was only one thing to do. I couldn’t hope to go up to the house myself and manage to get a word with him in private, it would be too difficult to arrange, so I’d have to ask Dad to do it for me.’

  ‘That was when she told us,’ said Fielding. ‘That Max was the one.’

  ‘You must have been absolutely furious with him,’ said Lineham.

  ‘Oh, I was,’ said Fielding. ‘No point in denying it. We both were, weren’t we, Mother?’

  His wife nodded. ‘Can you blame us?’

  ‘But by the evening I’d calmed down,’ said Fielding, ‘and I agreed to do as Linda asked, chiefly because I could see how much it was worrying her but also because I’m fond of Tess. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she, Mother, and we’ve seen her grown up from a toddler. I couldn’t bear to think of this happening to her, too.’ He glanced at Linda, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it in a strangely courtly gesture.

  He was, Thanet thought, a truly gentle man. What could Jeopard have said or done to goad him beyond endurance?

  Linda smiled at her father. Then she turned to Thanet with a serious look. ‘So you see, it really was all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted . . .’

  ‘Shh,’ said Fielding ‘Don’t start that again, lovey. We agreed. There’s no point in trying to say who’s to blame and who isn’t. Your mother’s right. When it comes down to it, Max brought it on himself and no one can say different.’
/>   ‘So what happened, exactly, on Saturday evening?’ said Lineham.

  ‘Well, I was directing the car parking,’ said Fielding. ‘So it was easy for me to look out for him. But when he arrived he was in a hurry, as usual, and when I asked him if I could have a word he just brushed me off and said, yes, sure, later, and went racing off. So I decided the only thing to do was write him a note and get one of the waitresses to hand it to him. I was very busy for a while, the guests were arriving thick and fast, so I didn’t have a chance until later. When I did, I nipped into the house and scribbled a message on the pad by the telephone in the hall. Well, you know about that, don’t you.’

  ‘You didn’t sign it.’ Thanet made this a statement, not a question. He didn’t want Fielding to guess that the words he had asked him to write down had simply been an inspired guess.

  ‘No, I didn’t, deliberate, like. All the while I was parking the cars I was thinking what to say, and I decided to keep it short and simple and not to sign it so that he’d be, well, sort of intrigued. I just said something like, meet me in the pool house at 9.45, on a matter of life and death.’ Fielding lifted his chin in defiance. ‘Well, it was, wasn’t it?’

  Only too true, thought Thanet.

  ‘I thought that would bring him, if anything would. And I was right. It did. When I got to the pool house he was already there, waiting for me.’

  Thanet’s imagination was setting the scene: darkness pressing against the windows; light reflecting off the water; Max, elegant and debonair in his expensive suede trousers and silk shirt; and Fielding, a complete contrast in his old cord trousers and tweed jacket.

  ‘Fielding? What do you want?’

  ‘I told you earlier, I wanted a word with you.’

  ‘Well I can’t speak to you now. I’m expecting someone.’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘What do you mean? You mean, you wrote this?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Of all the bloody nerve! What the hell do you think you’re up to? A matter of life and death indeed!’

  ‘But that’s true. It is. Linda’s death. My daughter’s. And yours, too, probably.’

  ‘That stopped him in his tracks,’ said Fielding with satisfaction. ‘He was halfway to the door by then.’

  ‘What the devil are you talking about? What do you mean, mine? Look here, are you threatening me?’

  ‘Not in the way you think. If you do die you’ll have only yourself to blame.’

  ‘You’re out of your mind, man. Raving. Let me pass.’

  ‘Not until you hear what I have to say. Linda is dying. Dying, do you hear me? Of AIDS. And you are the only man who’s ever slept with her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, Linda is dying of AIDS, and you’re the only man who’s ever slept with her. You know what that means, don’t you? You’re HIV positive and you’ve got a time-bomb ticking away inside you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’

  ‘It’s true. Just come and take a look at Linda and you’ll see how true it is. She’s in a wheelchair now, did you know that? She can hardly stand up unaided and she’s spent all this week in the Hospice. The next infection she picks up will probably carry her off. And make no mistake about it, you’re the one who’s responsible. You, and no one else.’

  ‘I just don’t believe that. Look at me! I’m perfectly fit and healthy.’

  ‘You may seem so, now. But just wait and see. And believe me, nothing gives me greater satisfaction than knowing that from now on for the rest of your life you’re going to wake up every morning afraid to look in the mirror, for fear of seeing that first lesion. Your death warrant.’

  ‘She’s lying! She must be!’

  ‘Don’t you dare call my Linda a liar! She’s worth a hundred of you any day. What sort of a man spikes a young girl’s drink and then seduces her?’

  ‘Oh, that’s what she told you, is it? Well, let me tell you, she was willing. Not just willing, panting for it, d’you hear me? Your precious daughter couldn’t wait to –’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘And that,’ said Fielding sadly, ‘was when I pushed him. He was standing near the edge of the pool saying all these terrible things about Linda and I just couldn’t bear it, I just wanted to shut him up. So I gave him one great shove and walked out. I admit I was beside myself, but I swear, Inspector, that I didn’t mean to kill him. I had no idea he’d hit his head on the side as he went in and I didn’t look back. I just heard this almighty splash and thought, that’ll ruin your fancy clothes. How are you going to explain that away? Then I came back home.’

  ‘He told us what had happened,’ said Linda. ‘We were waiting for him, to see how he’d got on. And we all had a good laugh about it! We couldn’t believe it, later, when Dad came back and told us Max had been found dead in the pool.’

  Thanet shook his head gravely. ‘Why didn’t you tell us all this straight away?’

  ‘Because of Linda!’ said Fielding. ‘If I had, everyone would have had to know why Max and me were having the argument in the first place! This terrible thing with Linda is private, Inspector. We haven’t got much longer together and we wanted to be able to spend that time quietly, by ourselves. It takes every last ounce of energy we’ve got to face up to this situation day by day. We couldn’t bear the prospect of all the rumpus, all the publicity. Surely you can understand that?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Thanet sympathetically. ‘Only too well.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Linda. ‘I believe you do. But there’s not much hope of keeping it quiet now, is there? We must just bear it as well as we can.’

  ‘What will happen to Ron?’ said Mrs Fielding fearfully.

  ‘Mr Fielding will have to accompany us back to Headquarters,’ said Thanet. ‘He will be formally charged, and have to stay there until he comes up before the Magistrates. But if we can hurry that up I think it highly probable that in these rather special circumstances he’ll be released on bail. So he should be home again in a day or two.’ And you’ll still be able to spend Linda’s last weeks together.

  ‘Really?’ Linda smiled, for the first time.

  She was looking exhausted, he realised, was barely able to remain upright in her chair.

  He was glad that he had been able to give the stricken little family at least some small grain of hope and consolation.

  TWENTY-THREE

  It’s a relief to get away from the office,’ said Thanet, peering into the mirror. ‘What do you think, love? This tie or that one?’

  It was Saturday night and they were getting ready for the Dracos’ party.

  Joan considered, head on one side. ‘The spotted one, I think.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s a bit conservative for a celebration?’

  Joan paused in applying her lipstick. ‘If that’s how you feel, why not go for something really wild? Like the one Ben gave you for Christmas?’

  This was a concoction of fluorescent swirls, guaranteed to cause comment. So far Thanet had worn it only once, on Ben’s birthday.

  ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘It’s pretty representative of my state of mind. The last few days have been a nightmare. I feel as though I’ve been living in a state of siege.’ He took the tie out and started to put it on.

  ‘Luke, you’re not really going to wear it?’

  ‘Why not? It was you who suggested it.’

  ‘But I wasn’t serious!’

  ‘But I am.’ Thanet finished tying the knot and stood back to study the effect. ‘There. What d’you think?’

  Joan closed her eyes. ‘Dazzling.’

  ‘Good!’

  ‘What d’you mean, a state of siege? The press?’

  ‘Partly. Though it’s nothing to what the Fieldings have had to put up with.’

  It had been impossible to keep Fielding’s arrest quiet. It had been such an unexpected and astonishing development that the media had been on to it like a pack of hounds and the clamour for more information had been deafe
ning. Fortunately Draco had proved unexpectedly cooperative. Perhaps his own experience through the years of his wife’s illness had given him a special sympathy for the Fieldings’ plight, and he had allocated Thanet extra men to protect the little family from unwarranted intrusion by the media.

  ‘But apart from that, everyone involved in the case has been pestering me for an explanation of what happened, and the problem is, my hands are tied until it’s officially confirmed that Jeopard was HIV positive.’

  ‘Until you get the results of the test back, you mean?’

  ‘That’s right, yes.’

  ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘The sample wasn’t sent off until Wednesday – the test isn’t a routine part of a post-mortem – and it takes a week, apparently, so it’ll be several more days yet.’

  ‘But you are certain about it, aren’t you? That he was HIV positive, I mean?’

  ‘Oh yes. There’s no doubt in my mind that Linda Fielding is telling the truth, poor girl. If you’d seen her, Joan . . . Every time I think of her I imagine how I’d feel if it were Bridget in that condition.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope and pray that Bridget marries a man who’s never been in contact with the virus, and that she has the sense meanwhile never to have unprotected intercourse. Heaven knows she’s had the message dinned into her often enough.’

  ‘The other thing that’s worrying me is all the other women who were involved with Jeopard. They all seem well at the moment, but I can tell you I’m really dreading breaking the news to them. And again, that can’t be done until we have official confirmation. At the moment, as I say, everyone remotely connected with the case is completely bewildered by Fielding’s arrest and can’t understand why we won’t give them a proper explanation. Jeopard’s mother, especially, has been bombarding us with phone calls and visits and is furious that I keep fending her off. Well, you can’t blame her, can you? If it had been my son, I’d feel entitled to an explanation too. But it does make life rather difficult for me.’