The Health of Strangers

by Lesley Kelly

  Maitland drained his mug and put it at his feet. ‘I thought Christians didn’t believe in telling lies either, yet the pair of you are sitting there fibbing your little hearts out.’

  Mona half-expected some further denials from Kate, but it seemed that she’d run out of bravado. The girls sat staring at the floor.

  ‘So, Louise, what do you say you start telling me the truth, or do we relocate this interview to a Police Station, minus your pal here?’

  ‘No! I . . .’ She turned to her friend, with a look of terror on her face. This was not a reaction that Mona usually encountered in her HET work. Indifference often, defiance from time to time, but the actual provoking of fear was pretty rare.

  Kate put a protective arm round her friend’s shoulders. ‘Relax, he can’t do that.’

  ‘Guess again,’ said Mona. ‘We have all the powers that the Police do, plus a few more.’ She stood up. ‘OK, Louise, on your feet. We’ll continue this discussion at our HQ.’

  The girl didn’t move, and burst into tears.

  ‘OK, OK, OK.’ Kate motioned for her to sit back down. ‘She’s not at her parents’.’

  ‘Just tell us where she is and we’ll be out of here.’

  The girls exchanged a glance.

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Louise.

  ‘And that’s the truth,’ added Kate, hastily. ‘But we know she’s OK.’

  Louise reached into her bag and pulled out her mobile phone. She fiddled with it then passed it to Maitland. ‘Look at Colette’s text messages.’

  Maitland scrolled through the texts.

  ‘Taking some time out to think about stuff. Cover 4 me at uni.’ He read the message out loud for Mona’s benefit. ‘What stuff?’

  ‘Boy trouble!’ said Kate. ‘We already told you that, although you don’t seem to believe us.’

  ‘And you have no idea, none whatsoever, who she is staying with?’

  The girls both shook their heads.

  ‘OK, let’s go back. When was the last time you saw Colette face-to-face?’

  ‘About three weeks ago, at the Sunday evening service.’

  ‘OK. And did you go anywhere after the service?’

  They nodded.

  ‘Where did you go?’

  Kate said ‘A pub’ and Louise said ‘Morley’s’ at the same time.

  A look of annoyance fleeted across Kate’s face. She caught Mona’s eye, and quickly looked away.

  Morley’s. This had to be more than a coincidence. She leaned forward. ‘Morley’s? Is that not a bit of a dive? Why would nice girls like you hang out there?’

  Neither of them answered.

  Maitland took up the baton. ‘Looking to buy something?’

  Kate’s glare shifted to Maitland. ‘I know what you’re getting at. We don’t take drugs. We’re not regulars there or anything.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ Mona tried to defuse the situation. ‘So you are at Morley’s. What next?’

  ‘We had an argument with Colette,’ said Louise.

  Kate glowered at her again. Mona cursed herself for not pushing Louise before her friend showed up. Five minutes alone with the nervous teen and she’d have had the full story. In fact, she might suggest to Maitland that they call back later.

  ‘What did you argue about, Louise?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ said Kate.

  Maitland leaned forward in his chair. ‘Try us. My colleague is smart, and even I’m not as stupid as I look.’ He shot Kate a grin, and in spite of herself, she showed a hint of a smile in return.

  ‘We, I mean, Louise and I,’ she gestured in her friend’s direction, ‘have different views from Colette on some religious issues.’

  ‘You were arguing about God?’ Mona raised an eyebrow.

  If Kate noticed her scepticism, she didn’t acknowledge it. ‘Well, it was more a heated discussion than a real argument. About the best way to spread His Word.’

  ‘Uh-huh. So, after your “heated discussion”, what next?’

  ‘We left.’

  ‘All of you?’

  ‘Just Louise and me.’

  ‘You left Colette in Morley’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not the best of places for a young girl to be hanging around on her own,’ said Mona. ‘Not sure I’d have left one of my pals there solo.’

  Louise sniffed loudly. Again, Kate shot her a look of annoyance, which Mona noted. Whatever was going on here, Kate was definitely the one in charge.

  ‘We didn’t leave her on her own, she was waiting for a friend of hers.’

  Mona pulled out her notepad. ‘OK, give me her name.’

  ‘His name. Donny,’ said Kate. ‘Louise, what’s his surname?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘So, this Donny, is he Colette’s boyfriend?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Louise spoke. ‘He’s just a friend. Definitely just a friend.’

  ‘And you don’t know his surname, or address or anything like that?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Mona looked over at Maitland.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘let’s leave it for now. Here’s our card if you find out Donny’s address, or if you hear from Colette again.’

  She could see the girls begin to relax. Louise let go of Kate’s hand for the first time since she’d arrived.

  Maitland stooped back down to pick up his empty mug and handed it to Louise. ‘By the way, did you know the girls from your church who overdosed?’

  There was a brief silence, then Louise burst into tears again. Kate put an arm around her shoulder. ‘They were friends of ours.’

  Mona and Maitland walked back along the High Street, each of them deep in their own thoughts.

  ‘What did you make of all that?’ she asked.

  ‘Load of bullshit. Even the nerdiest teenager on the planet wouldn’t spend an evening debating theology in Morley’s.’ He kicked a stone down the street. ‘And definitely not a good-looking girl like Kate.’

  ‘So, why did they tell us that’s what they were doing?’

  ‘To look good.’ He chased after the stone again, and fired it, in a cup-winning fashion, in the direction of a nearby bin. ‘That’s what Christianity is all about – it’s all style over substance. Let’s tell the HET we were discussing God, when really we were knocking back vodka and cokes.’

  ‘That’s a pretty negative view of religion.’

  ‘Yup, unfortunately, that’s been my experience.’

  ‘You know a lot of Christians, do you?’ Mona laughed, but to her surprise, Maitland didn’t.

  ‘I do these days,’ he said, morosely. ‘My girlfriend thinks God’s going to save her from the Virus. She’s never away from the Church.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mona struggled for something to say. ‘I suppose when you’re immune it’s easy to . . .’

  ‘Act like a rational human being?’

  She smiled. ‘You want a lift back to the office?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Maitland, and started to walk off. ‘Bit of business to attend to.’

  ‘But . . .’ Mona watched him disappear, annoyed that she’d been robbed of the chance of discussing the Morley’s connection further. Irritating as Maitland was, he was also sharp as a tack, and she wanted to hear what he thought. She slammed the car door shut and set off in the direction of the HET’s home.

  The office was deserted, which suited her just fine. However, before Mona even reached her desk the door to Paterson’s room flew open.

  ‘How’s Carole?’

  She thought back to her visit. ‘As well as can be expected. Her son’s on a Virus Ward and they’re monitoring him.’

  ‘All they can do really.’ Paterson wandered through to the office. ‘Any sign of her coming back to work?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it was imminent, Guv.’

  ‘Pity. Pity.’ He looked round the deserted office. ‘And where is everyone else?’

  ‘Bernard’s with IT, and Maitland,’ she glanced at his
empty desk, ‘well, he’s probably off shagging some bird or other on work time.’

  Paterson looked at her for a second, then laughed. ‘In here.’

  They settled into chairs on either side of Paterson’s desk. Mona noticed a pile of old Police Journals next to her seat.

  ‘Tea?’ Paterson waved an ancient mug with a Lothian and Borders Police crest at her.

  ‘No, thanks.’ Mona thought that perhaps her boss hadn’t entirely embraced his late career change.

  ‘So, this missing German lassie – what are your thoughts?’

  ‘It’s an interesting one, Guv. But given her age it’s probably a boyfriend thing and she’ll turn up safe and well in a couple of days.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly. But it’s sensitive, as you know. So let’s give it the best possible investigation.’ Paterson reached into his desk drawer and passed Mona a package. ‘The delightful Doctor Toller dropped this off for you.’

  Mona reached into the envelope, and pulled out a fluffy, pink, A5 book. ‘Heidi’s diary, at a guess?’

  ‘I can see why you made CID, Mona.’ Paterson picked up the envelope and shook out several pages of typewritten notes. ‘Freshly translated by the German Consulate.’

  She sat forward in her chair, and bumped the stack of Police Journals, which slid slowly across the floor. ‘The Consulate?’

  ‘Oh aye. Toller’s got us all running round after this lassie.’ Paterson stood up and flicked the kettle’s on switch. ‘Like I said, sensitive. So don’t let your idiot partner mess anything up.’

  Mona reached down to tidy up the Journals. ‘Bernard’s not that bad. He’s just a bit . . .’ She searched half-heartedly for a word to defend him.

  ‘Clueless?’

  She laughed. ‘Maybe a little.’

  There was a brief silence. Mona got to her feet then spoke again. ‘Guv?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This German girl, right, her registered address is in Marchmont. The dead guy from this morning, registered in Newington. We’re the North Edinburgh Team, but neither of these are what I would call in the North of the City. Why are we picking them up?’

  Paterson rolled his chair far enough back from the desk that he could rest his feet on it. He picked up his empty Lothian and Borders mug and began rolling it back and forth in his hands. ‘You noticed that then?’

  ‘Noticed it a while back, to be honest. What’s going on?’

  Paterson sighed, then abruptly brought his feet back down off the desk. He pointed to the seat that Mona had recently vacated.

  ‘Sit. We live and work in an era of almost total media intrusion, wouldn’t you say, Mona?’

  ‘True, Guv.’

  ‘And if you were keen to keep the Press’s noses out of something, you might think that the best way to do that would be to name a specialist team something completely bland.’

  Mona stared at him. ‘We’ve got a specialist remit?’ This was news to her. As far as she was aware they weren’t doing anything different from the Teams in the South, West and East of the City.

  ‘It’s not our remit that’s different, it’s the nature of the cases that we take on.’

  ‘What’s unusual about our cases?’

  Her boss waved his mug in her direction. ‘I’ve got a question for you. What are the three things you are not supposed to talk about at dinner parties?’

  Mona considered the puzzle for a moment. ‘Politics, obviously, and religion.’ She thought for a longer period. ‘And I suppose it depends on the dinner party, but probably not sex either.’

  Paterson laughed. ‘Congratulations, Ms Whyte, your company would be welcomed at any dining table throughout the land. Sex, religion and politics. Any case relating to these three topics wings its way to us, wherever the Defaulter is registered.’

  She stared thoughtfully at Paterson.

  ‘You have a question, Mona?’

  ‘Well, it’s just that, Guv, shouldn’t these kinds of cases be being dealt with by specialists, instead of . . .’ She left the sentence hanging.

  Paterson raised an eyebrow. ‘Instead of what, Mona? Instead of my crack team, present company excepted of course, consisting of Maitland, who might be all right once he’s had a bit of experience, Carole Brooks who gave up being a nurse to retrain as an aromatherapist, for Christ’s sake . . .’

  ‘And Bernard . . .’

  ‘Who isn’t even a nurse. He’s got a degree in health promotion and a year’s experience of taking old ladies’ blood pressure. And you know the worst thing, Mona?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We are cutting edge compared to the other three Teams. South?’ He counted off the Teams on his fingers. ‘Run by a drunk. East? Had to get some superannuated bugger back off retirement to head it up. West? Doesn’t even have a Team Leader. Someone’s been acting up since they were established.’

  Mona asked a question that had been on her mind for some time, ever since she left CID in fact. ‘Why don’t the HETs have better-quality staff?’

  ‘Because nobody good wants to work in Health Enforcement!’ Paterson shouted his reply, then started laughing. ‘This is the best we could do with the available pool of immune workers. For the Police recruits it’s not much of a job because either a vaccine is found for the Virus, and you’ve spent years of your career developing skills nobody wants, or they don’t find a cure, and eventually we’re all either dead or immune anyway. The only Police that volunteered were young bucks like Maitland who wanted a bit of variety for their CV.’

  This conversation was beginning to hurt, but she felt compelled to pick the scab a little bit further. ‘But the Police can just compel people to do different jobs.’

  ‘True, but the Powers That Be were reluctant to lose their best staff to this and just seconded second-raters they could spare.’

  Mona glared at him. Paterson realised his mistake. ‘Of course, I fought to get you.’

  She’d been kidding herself. The whole Bill Hamilton thing hadn’t been forgotten, not by anyone, and now she was paying for it. Her penance was to be bored to death hunting down junkies and alcoholics. This Heidi case was as interesting as it was ever going to get.

  ‘Yeah, well. Thanks, Guv.’ She stood up. ‘But you forgot one other option.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Paterson looked surprised.

  ‘Either they find a cure, or we’re all immune or dead, or,’ she sighed, ‘the Virus mutates just enough for us to no longer have Immunity to it.’

  ‘That’s a cheery thought.’ Paterson winced. ‘One minute you’ve won life’s lottery, then the next you’re back being one of the hoi polloi.’ He thought for a minute. ‘And the HET’s business model would be completely ruined.’

  Mona laughed. ‘Anyway, now I’m off to read the innermost thoughts of an eighteen-year-old girl.’

  ‘Enjoy. Any word on Carole Brooks’s son? He will be OK, won’t he?’

  ‘I think so. They got him to hospital quickly, and they’re monitoring him.’ She turned to leave again, then stopped. ‘Guv?’

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘Well, Bernard and I are investigating a German MP’s daughter, and Maitland’s poking around a church. So, we’ve covered politics and religion.’ She smiled. ‘But where’s the sex?’

  ‘Mona, Mona, Mona.’ Paterson pushed himself back from the desk and put his feet up on it again. ‘When will you learn? Every case we deal with is really all about sex.’

  5

  The Edinburgh Health Enforcement Team IT Section operated out of Police Headquarters at Fettes. It wasn’t a large team; when Bernard had a brief placement there as part of his induction he’d increased team membership to three. In keeping with the rest of the HET, Personnel had maintained a strict 50/50 balance in recruitment between law enforcement and health professionals. Marcus was tall, extremely thin, and sported little round specs and a ponytail. He had been recruited from the Central Scotland E-crime Unit, while Bryce (shorter and fatter) had been liberated from the bowels of
the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary IT Section. Bernard had yet to hear Bryce speak, although his partner made up for it. They were the Penn and Teller of information technology.

  ‘Bernard!’ Marcus waved a cheery welcome across the open-plan office. ‘Good to see you. Bryce and I were just enjoying the latest conspiracy theories circulating on the forums of the-virus.com.’

  ‘Anything I haven’t heard before?’ asked Bernard, looking round for a spare chair. He found one with wheels, and had a moment’s enjoyment rolling across the carpet to Marcus’s desk.

  ‘Nah, the Government is still widely considered to blame, unless you are of the shaven headed, Doctor Marten-wearing persuasion, in which case you are holding al-Qaida responsible.’

  ‘And God?’

  ‘The Virus being a smiting by the Almighty remains popular in the US, and, I’d say is gaining in popularity over here too. What do you think, Bryce?’

  His colleague nodded agreement, without looking up from the computer screen.

  ‘Work is just non-stop entertainment for you guys, isn’t it?’

  Marcus laughed. ‘If you think the conspiracy theories are fun, you should check out the herbal remedies discussion forum.’

  ‘Any good ideas?’

  ‘There seems to be a strong reliance on massive doses of zinc and Vitamin C. The average subscriber to the-virus.com must have pure orange juice running through their veins.’

  Bernard wondered what Carole Brooks would think of the conversation. He suspected she sold a lot of Vitamin C in her shop.

  ‘Anyway . . .’

  ‘Anyway, back to work . . .take a look at this.’ Marcus pointed to a picture on his screen of a pretty, dark-haired young woman. ‘Not typically German colouring, but something in the cheekbones screams out Teuton.’

  ‘Heidi?’

  ‘Heidi Kristina Weber, indeed. Or Heidi-Hi as her G-mail address has it.’

  Bernard smiled. He hadn’t expected Heidi to be familiar with 1980s sitcoms. ‘Did you find anything useful?’

  ‘That’s for you to say, me being merely a humble IT technician, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’ Marcus leaned back on his chair. ‘Have you heard of a group called “The Children of Camus”?’

  ‘Camus? As in the writer?’