When she returned to Doveby House with the shopping, Joan was vacuuming the guest rooms for the third time.
“I think that’s enough vacuuming,” Janet said, taking the machine away from her sister. “It’s time for bed.”
“I’m not tired,” Joan complained.
“Then read a book,” Janet suggested. “Grab something at random from the library and read until you fall asleep.”
“I only read the classics,” Joan argued.
“Maybe it’s time to try something new,” Janet replied. “I suggest Agatha Christie. She’s a classic anyway, in her genre.”
“Detective fiction,” Joan sniffed. “Not really my cup of tea.”
“Stop being such a literary snob,” Janet said. “There’s nothing wrong with reading just for fun.”
Joan looked as if she was going to argue, but Janet spoke again.
“Think how wonderful it would feel to simply lose yourself in a book right now,” she said persuasively. “Get lost on the Orient Express. I highly recommend it.”
Before Joan could argue further, Janet rushed up to her room and found the book. She handed it to her sister with a smile.
“Really, try it,” she said. “If you hate it, you can stop reading after chapter two.”
“I’ll think about it,” Joan said stiffly. She took the book and walked away towards her bedroom.
Janet smiled as she watched her go.
Chapter Seven
When Janet’s alarm went off the next morning, she climbed out of bed and took a longer than normal shower. They weren’t in any great hurry to get to Derby, she told herself. And once the guests arrived, showers would be hurried affairs. Joan had breakfast ready when Janet finally made her way down to the kitchen.
“I was starting to think you’d overslept,” Joan said in a mild tone.
Janet could tell that her sister wasn’t happy. “I’m sorry. I took a long shower to make up for all the quick ones I’ll have to take once the guests arrive.”
“I wish I’d thought to do that,” Joan muttered as she put plates of food on the kitchen table.
“Maybe you should have a nice long bath tonight,” Janet suggested. “You prefer baths, anyway, and we should be back from Derby in plenty of time.”
“I might just do that,” Joan said. “I just hope, I mean, oh, never mind.”
Janet knew exactly what Joan was hoping; that by the evening they’d have Michael’s problem all sorted out. Joan wouldn’t be able to relax properly until the police had the drug thief in custody.
They ate quickly, with little conversation. Joan had pulled out their maps of the area and had already worked out a route to the hospital in Derby. Now she showed Janet what she’d found.
“This little side street is where the chemist shop is,” she said, showing Janet. “We should be able to park at the hospital and walk from there. It isn’t far.”
Janet nodded. “I think I’ll drive,” she said softly.
Joan looked as if she might object, but then shook her head. “You probably should,” she agreed.
The drive wasn’t a bad one and traffic was lighter than Janet had feared. They were in Derby earlier than they expected and quickly found the hospital and its vast and confusing car park.
“Do we know which building Owen is in?” Janet asked as she turned onto the road that went around the hospital complex.
“I didn’t realise the hospital was this large,” Joan replied. “I have no idea.”
They drove slowly around the entire facility, trying to read signs as they went. Eventually Janet shrugged. “I suppose we can walk if we have to,” she said.
“Let’s try the main building,” Joan suggested. “We know he isn’t in the maternity hospital or the children’s wing, after all.”
Janet pulled up to the gates for the car park for the main hospital and took a ticket from the machine. After a moment, the gate lifted and she drove through it. It took the women a few minutes to find an empty space and Janet sighed with relief as she turned the car off.
“I love to drive,” she said. “But I hate having to park.”
Joan laughed. “I know what you mean,” she said sympathetically.
The pair made their way towards the hospital’s nearest entrance. Once inside, they followed signs for “information.”
“Good morning,” Janet said to the elderly woman behind the information desk. “We’re here to visit Owen Carter.”
The woman shrugged and then slid her finger down the list she had in front of her. “He’s on the surgical ward,” she said after a moment.
Janet and Joan exchanged glances. “Perhaps you could give us directions?” Joan asked politely.
The woman sighed deeply and then opened a desk drawer. She pulled out a map of the hospital building. “You just have to go down this corridor, take the lift to three, walk down to the end of the hall, turn left, go through the double doors, turn left again and then turn right and then left again.”
While she talked, she traced the route on the printed map. As soon as she was finished speaking, she slid the map back into her desk drawer and gave the sisters a huge fake smile. “Okay?” she asked.
“Thank you so much,” Janet said gushingly. “You’ve been ever so helpful. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your kindness.”
As the pair walked away, Joan chuckled. “You can’t tell her how much, because we didn’t appreciate it at all,” she whispered.
Janet shook her head. “The sign said she’s a volunteer. I’m not sure why she bothers as she so clearly hates the job.”
“Maybe she enjoys being difficult,” Joan suggested.
“I’m sure she does,” Janet agreed. Between them, the sisters were just able to remember the directions they’d been so hastily given.
“She gave us the right directions, anyway,” Janet said as they walked into the surgical ward.
“Let’s just hope Owen is really here,” Joan replied.
The aide at the nurses’ station smiled brightly at them. “Oh, Owen doesn’t get many visitors,” she said. “He’ll be thrilled to see you. I’m sure he’s in the lounge, watching a bit of telly. He’s just about ready to be sent home, you see, so he’s able to enjoy himself a bit.”
“What are we going to say to him?” Joan hissed as the sisters walked towards the lounge.
“I have no idea,” Janet replied, trying to sound unconcerned. With every step, she was frantically trying to think of a good excuse for their unexpected visit.
Owen was alone in the lounge, listlessly flipping through the channels on a small television. Janet knew he was in his late forties. He had a full head of brown hair, and his eyes, behind thick glasses, were also brown. He stood up and Janet remembered that he was quite tall. She had forgotten how he towered over them when they were in the shop.
“Ah, the Markham sisters,” he said as they walked into the room. “Michael told me you might drop by. He’s ever so worried about the missing stock from the shop. I think he’s concerned that I might be equally bothered.”
“And you aren’t?” Janet asked.
“Not really,” Owen shrugged. “I know I haven’t done anything wrong, you see.” He smiled at them. “And I know Michael hasn’t done anything wrong, either. But it used to be his shop. I think he still feels responsible for it, even though it’s nothing to do with him.”
“So who do you think has been stealing drugs from the shop?” Janet blurted out.
Joan looked shocked at the blunt question, but Owen just shrugged.
“I’ve had a lot of time to sit here and think,” he replied. “And I don’t think I’m any closer to figuring that out. Obviously, it wasn’t me. And there’s no way you’ll ever convince me it was Michael, either. If he wanted to get up to no good, he had plenty of years to do so while he owned the shop.”
“So that leaves Ethan Bailey and George Hawkins,” Janet said. “Does either of them strike you as likely culprits?”
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p; “I’ve known both men for many years,” Owen told her. “I simply can’t see either of them stealing. And it isn’t just that. All chemists have a healthy respect for the controlled substances we work with. The idea of one of us selling them on the street is just crazy.”
“How are you feeling?” Joan asked after the awkward silence that followed Owen’s pronouncement.
“I’m fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Really, they should have let me go last week, but I’ve no one to go home to and they don’t want me totally on my own for a while. I’m lucky it’s pretty quiet in here and they haven’t had to ship me off somewhere else.”
“I’m glad you’re doing so well,” Joan replied.
“I’ll still be signed off work for another six weeks or so,” he told her. “That’s why they sent this Matthew Rogers up. He’s meant to cover for me.”
“Could he be the culprit?” Janet asked.
“I’ve never met the man, but the bosses at the central headquarters seem to think very highly of him.” Owen shrugged. “As I understand it, he was only here for about an hour before he rang the police. Changing all of the records and things would have taken quite a bit of time. I can’t see how he’d have managed it.”
“Michael said there have been a lot more returns and other little issues lately as well,” Janet said, hoping she wasn’t being too nosy.
“There have been too many people in and out of there since I’ve been unwell,” Owen told her. “I wanted Michael to cover for me, but head office kept chopping and changing things. Michael did a few days and then they called George and he did a week, but before he was properly settled in they called Ethan for the next week. It’s hardly surprising that a few little errors occurred.”
Janet nodded. “Have you spoken to the police?” she asked.
Joan shook her head, but Janet ignored her.
“They’ve been to talk to me a couple of times,” Owen replied. “But I haven’t had much to tell them.”
“We should have brought you a book,” Joan exclaimed. “I do hope you have plenty to keep you busy while you’re here.”
Janet sat back and let her sister chat with the man about the relative merits of crossword puzzles and science fiction novels. She had dozens more questions to ask, but she didn’t want to be rude. After twenty minutes, a nurse stuck her head in.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the doctor would like to see Mr. Carter now,” she said.
“We should be going anyway,” Janet replied, standing up quickly. “It’s been lovely to see you, though.”
“Likewise,” he said. “I do hope you’ll stop to visit me at the shop once I’m back to work.”
“Of course we will,” Janet assured him. They walked with him down the corridor to his room, as it was on their way out.
“Thank you both for stopping by,” he said at his door. “It’s always nice to have visitors.”
“It was nice to see you, too,” Janet told him. “We’ll see you back in Doveby Dale soon.”
“Are we still planning to walk to the shop where George Hawkins is working?” Janet asked as the sisters boarded the lift.
“I suppose so,” Joan replied. “It isn’t raining and it doesn’t look far on the map.”
They stopped at the car to check the map again and then set out, happy that they had a better idea of where they were going than they had in the hospital. The walk was longer than they’d expected, however, and Janet was quite pleased to finally see the shop in the distance after several minutes of making their way through the busy city streets.
At the door to the shop, Janet paused. “I don’t know what to say here either,” she told Joan. “I’m so glad that Michael told Owen we were coming. That broke the ice nicely.”
“Maybe he’s told George as well,” Joan suggested.
“Oh, dear. I was just planning on doing some shopping and then trying to start a conversation. If Michael’s told him we’re coming, that makes it awkward,” Janet said.
Before they could debate further, a young woman interrupted. “If you’re not going in, do you think you could move along? I need some nappies.”
Janet flushed and then stepped back, holding the door open for the young woman and her large pushchair. The baby inside was adorable, but as Janet smiled at him she got a whiff of something that suggested the mum needed the nappies quite urgently.
The shop was only a little bit larger than the one in Doveby Dale, surprisingly small for a big city store. Janet and Joan wandered around for a few minutes while the woman bought what she needed. Janet found herself watching George as she pretended to browse the shelves.
He was probably somewhere in his sixties. As he walked back and forth through the shop, helping the woman find what she needed, he mumbled constantly to himself, often stopping to rub the top of his head, which was completely lacking in hair. He had a pair of glasses in his hand and he was forever putting them on to study something and then pulling them back off again.
“Now, what can I help you ladies with?” he asked, smiling vaguely in their direction after the woman left.
“We just need some headache tablets,” Janet said a bit desperately.
“Headache, headache, headache,” the man muttered as he walked around the counter. “This is what we have,” he told Janet, gesturing to the appropriate shelf.
“We usually shop in Doveby Dale,” Janet said as she looked over the choices. “But the store there is shut for some reason.”
“Is it?” George replied. “I suppose there must be a good reason. Derby’s a long drive for you, though. Surely you could have found headache tablets somewhere closer.”
“We were coming up to visit a sick friend,” Janet told him.
“Oh, well, I suppose that makes sense,” he said.
Janet selected her usual brand and handed them to the man. “I’ll take these,” she said.
“Very good,” he replied. He rang up her purchase while still talking quietly to himself. “Thank you,” he said loudly at the end.
“Thank you,” Janet replied. She glanced at Joan, who shrugged, and then they exited the shop.
“Well, that didn’t go well,” Janet said with a deep sigh as they headed back to their car.
“On the other hand, you won’t need to buy any more headache tablets for the next five years,” Joan retorted.
Janet chuckled. “I know. It was a dumb choice, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I suppose I’m just not cut out to be a detective.”
“You did better than I did,” Joan admitted. “I didn’t do or say anything, after all. And I’m the one who’s concerned about Michael.”
“Yes, well, I think we did our best. Maybe we’ll have to just leave everything up to the police,” Janet said.
“I really want to meet Matthew Rogers,” Joan said in a thoughtful tone. “Maybe he’s the one behind all of this.”
“He’s only just arrived in the area,” Janet pointed out.
“Which makes him the perfect suspect,” Joan replied. “We don’t know him, so we don’t like him and we won’t mind if he’s arrested.”
Janet laughed. “I suppose, when you put it that way, he’s the perfect suspect.”
“Yes, he is,” Joan said.
Janet drove to the restaurant they’d agreed to visit for lunch. The food was excellent and Janet was pleased to see her sister relaxing, at least a little bit. The drive back to Doveby Dale was uneventful.
Chapter Eight
“So what do we do now?” Joan asked over their light evening meal.
“I suppose we should be getting ready for our guests,” Janet replied.
“But what about Michael?” Joan demanded.
“I don’t know,” Janet said. “We’ve talked to all three of the suspects. What did you think of them?”
Joan’s reply was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“I’ll go,” Joan said, jumping up from the table.
“It must be Michael,” Janet muttere
d as she took another bite of her sandwich. Joan didn’t rush to the door unless she was expecting him.
A few minutes later Joan was back with Michael in tow. “I really don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” he was protesting.
“It’s just a light meal,” Janet told him. “We had a huge lunch in Derby.”
“Ah, yes, Owen told me you’d visited when I rang him earlier,” Michael replied.
“We had a lovely little visit with him,” Joan said.
“And did you stop and see George as well?” Michael asked.
“We did,” Joan confirmed.
“So, have you worked out who has been stealing from the shop?” Michael asked eagerly.
Janet looked at Joan and then both sisters shook their heads.
“They both seem like nice men,” Janet said. “I find it hard to believe that either of them is capable of such a deplorable thing.”
“Yes, I’m finding it hard to believe anything bad about either of them,” Michael agreed.
“Has Robert been back to see you?” Janet asked.
“He stopped by with a few more questions earlier today,” Michael replied. “Really, we just went back over the same things again.” He sighed deeply. “I just feel so helpless. There should be something I can do to help Robert work this out.”
“Surely the inspector from Derby is meant to be doing that,” Joan said.
“I suppose,” Michael said with a shrug. “But they don’t seem to be getting very far, at least not yet.”
“It’s only been a few days,” Janet said. “Investigations take a long time.”
Joan shook her head. “On what are you basing that assumption?” she demanded.
“In the books I read, investigations take a long time,” Janet answered defensively. “The detective always follows a few false leads and suspects the wrong person for a while before he or she works it all out.”
“Maybe they do suspect me, then,” Michael said. “As I’m the wrong person.”
“They always catch the criminal in the end,” Janet said reassuringly.
“If only we lived in a fictional world,” Joan said dryly.
The Donaldson Case Page 6
