by Adam Croft
56
Hardwick took a deep breath as the door creaked open and Barbara Hills walked into the room. From his hiding spot in the recess between the wardrobe and the far wall, he knew he couldn’t be seen. Yet.
The voice came unexpectedly and suddenly. ‘I know you’re in here, so why don’t you come out and tell me why?’
Hardwick jammed his eyes shut and tried to pretend he hadn’t heard it, but he knew it was futile. He stepped forward and tried desperately to think of an excuse to give Barbara as to why he was hiding in her private room.
‘Uh... Room service?’ he said.
‘Very funny,’ Barbara replied, a deadly serious look on her face. ‘But why don’t we start being honest and truthful with each other? After all, I’m sure you want me to be honest and truthful with you.’
‘Do you want to be honest and truthful with me?’ Hardwick asked, stalling for time and trying to gauge Barbara’s mood and thought process.
‘It makes no difference to me,’ she said. ‘Not now. But why don’t I try and guess why you’re here? You’re here because you don’t think those three people did commit suicide, do you? You think they were killed. And you don’t know who by, but you have an inkling that I’m involved somewhere along the line so you came up here to search my room, knowing I was out. Sorry, thinking I was out.’
‘You told us you were going out,’ Hardwick said.
‘I did, yes. And it’s a good job I did, isn’t it? Else we wouldn’t be here having this conversation now.’
‘What’s this all about, Barbara?’ Hardwick asked, trying to sound more like a caring friend than a suspicious private detective.
‘You’re expecting me to act the innocent, aren’t you?’ she replied, sitting on the bed. ‘You’re expecting me to be shocked and upset when you accuse me of having something to do with their deaths. The fact is that it really doesn’t matter.’ Barbara lowered her head.
‘What do you mean?’ Hardwick asked.
‘I mean it really doesn’t matter. Sooner or later, the outcome will be the same. And right now I think I’d rather avoid the ignominy and ensure it’s sooner.’ As she spoke, Barbara ran her hand underneath the mattress, feeling for something.
‘Are you looking for this?’ Hardwick said, pulling a small revolver from his inside jacket pocket. Barbara stared emotionlessly at him, not moving. ‘There is no easy escape, Barbara. Now why don’t you tell me what this is all about? Why do you keep a gun under your bed?’
‘Do it,’ Barbara said, without an ounce of emotion in her voice. ‘Pull the trigger. Save me the job.’
‘No. I want you to tell me what’s going on,’ Hardwick replied.
Barbara laughed. ‘Are you stupid? I can head for that door right now and there will be two possible outcomes. Either you’ll shoot me and kill me or I’ll walk out and die anyway. I’m ill. Very ill. Ovarian cancer. Stage four. Nothing you can do now will make any difference at all. I’ve made my peace.’
‘Is that what you call it?’ Hardwick asked. ‘Making your peace? What’s peaceful about killing people?’
Barbara’s eyes visibly darkened. ‘Do you know what it’s like to spend your life defending people who can’t be defended? To know that through a technicality of law you’re responsible for society’s vilest villains walking free? For murderers, rapists and child molesters to be able to offend again? When I found out I was dying, God found me. I knew that He was punishing me for what I’d done and I knew I needed to make amends.’
Hardwick had come face to face with ruthless killers a number of times in his life and knew that keeping calm and rational was his only hope of not becoming the next victim. ‘How did killing those three people make amends for what you did as a lawyer, Barbara?’
‘The Lord knows who he wants in the Kingdom of Heaven,’ Barbara replied, making the sign of the cross as she looked up at the crucifix hanging over her bed. ‘Even someone like you must be familiar with the Ten Commandments. Number seven: Thou shalt not commit adultery. Not to mention Leviticus 20:13. If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death. Their bloodguiltness is upon them.’
Hardwick stiffened as he realised the extent of Barbara’s Christian fundamentalism. He had always been greatly worried by the way so many people lived their lives based around what was written in a book a couple of thousand years ago. Faith was one thing, but when it affected other people’s lives it was a whole different matter. ‘Elliot Carr?’ he asked.
Barbara nodded. ‘I found them.’
‘Owen said. But why only kill Elliot?’ Hardwick asked.
‘Two would’ve been daft. Owen was embarrassed and mortified. I told him that unless he wanted to be outed and have his name tainted, he should go back to that pit of hell with the rest of them.’
‘Brighton?’ Hardwick asked, having heard the town called many things in the past, but a pit of hell was a new one on him.
Barbara nodded again. ‘Do you know the first two commandments? “You shall have no other gods before Me” and “You shall not make false idols”.’
Hardwick realised his mouth had fallen open. ‘You killed an eighteen-year-old woman because she idolised a pop star?’
‘You shall not make false idols!’ Barbara screamed. ‘You shall have no other gods before Me! And you know exactly why the other one had to die. I know you do.’
The sick feeling welled up in the pit of Hardwick’s stomach. Thou shalt not kill. ‘That was not Rosie Blackburn’s choice, and you know it. There were complications with the birth. It happens.’
‘The Lord God says otherwise,’ Barbara said, again making the sign of the cross.
‘Thou shalt not kill?’ Hardwick asked. ‘That child died through no fault of her own. You’ve killed three people. How will the Lord judge you?’
‘He has already judged me. What do you think this illness is? That is my judgement. I will die early. The least I can hope for now is to spare the flames of Hell and to find peace.’
‘How did you do it?’ Hardwick asked in a low voice, as calmly as he could muster.
‘Oh, I didn’t. They did it all themselves. I gave them all a choice. They could either stand on the chair, tie their noose and feel what it was like to face their final judgement or they could take the quick exit courtesy of my little friend there,’ she replied, pointing to the gun.
‘You held a gun to their heads and made them tie a noose around their own necks?’
‘They had a choice. They all chose to repent.’
‘They probably thought that way they had a chance of getting out alive. But they never did, did they? Whichever way you look at it, you killed three people,’ Hardwick reiterated.
‘Three heathens. Three people who sinned in the eyes of the Lord. Do you know how many sinners I let walk free? That is why God punished me. That is why no more sinners must walk free. My body is already punished, but I can save my soul.’
Hardwick took two deep breaths. Barbara said nothing, but continued to stare at him.
‘What now?’ Hardwick asked.
‘Now you’ll give me the gun,’ Barbara replied.
‘What, so you can kill me too? What sins have I committed?’
‘I have no desire to kill you. But you can’t kill me either. My work is not done.’
Hardwick’s eyebrows narrowed. ‘Are you saying you want me to let you go on killing more innocent people just so you can feel better about your previous job?’
‘They are not innocent people!’ Barbara shouted as she began to back towards the door. ‘This is for the greater good. Sacrifices must be made for a greater justice to be achieved. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That’s why you won’t shoot me. That’s why you won’t chase me. Because I know, Hardwick. I know why you do this. We aren’t so different, you and me. Are we?’
Before Hardwick could speak or even decide what to say, the door flew open and thu
ndered into Barbara, sending her sprawling across the floor, banging her head on the skirting board. As she lay unconscious on the carpet, Hardwick looked up to see Ellis Flint standing in the doorway.
‘I heard shouting,’ Ellis said.
57
Ellis followed Hardwick down the stairs as Barbara was taken away in an ambulance, with Detective Inspector Rob Warner casting his eye over what was going on.
‘I listened at the door, Kempston,’ Ellis said. ‘After she screamed the first time. I heard what she said. Well, some of it anyway.’
‘Yes, well, she’s a deluded old woman and she needs help. Hopefully now she’ll get it.’
‘How did she do it?’ Ellis asked.
‘The gun. If she pointed that thing at you, you’d do what she said, wouldn’t you? I should imagine none of them thought she was actually going to kill them. She probably gave them the old Bible spiel while they were stood on the chair with the noose around their necks and they saw it as some kind of punishment or humiliation. You’d sure as hell take your chances, seeing as the alternative was a gunshot and certain death anyway.’
‘So did she kick the chair away for them or did she make them kill themselves somehow?’
‘We won’t know until she’s able to speak again, Ellis. We might never know. And does it matter?’
‘I suppose not,’ Ellis replied as they reached the foot of the stairs and walked into the reception area. ‘I need to ask, though. That stuff she said just before I burst in. About knowing why you do this and you two being similar. What was all that about?’
Hardwick swallowed firmly. Before he could speak, DI Rob Warner rounded the corner and slapped his hand down on Hardwick’s shoulder.
‘Good work, Hardwick. You won’t hear me say that often, so stick it in your little memory bank. Although I must say it’s not the way I would’ve gone about it. And I’m going to have an interesting time trying to convince the Super that there’s a good reason for your prints being all over the gun. Why didn’t you just come to me and tell me that you knew who’d done it?’
‘Because I didn’t know,’ Hardwick replied. ‘Not for certain, anyway. It was obvious something wasn’t right about Barbara and I took the opportunity to find out for myself.’
‘So you broke into her room based on the fact that she seemed a bit weird? Blimey, remind me to upgrade my burglar alarm,’ Warner said.
‘Good job I did, though, isn’t it?’
Warner said nothing, but eventually nodded. ‘Well, let’s just keep things a little more... conventional in future, shall we?’
Hardwick chuckled a little. Conventional just wasn’t his style.
Saturday 28th March
58
Hardwick ascended the three steps to the sliding door which welcomed him to Shafford General Hospital. Meandering around the queue of people waiting to get to the reception desk, he clocked the blue and white signs pointing visitors in a variety of directions for a multitude of different departments and headed towards the lifts.
It had certainly been a turbulent time recently and the only thing on his mind was rest. The last place he wanted to be right now was in a hospital, one of his least favourite places on the planet.
He made his way down the fourth-floor corridor towards the Joyce Ward and skirted around the reception desk to read the names of the patients on the whiteboard on the wall next to it. He still hadn’t found Barbara Hills’s name when he was interrupted by the nurse on reception.
‘Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?’
‘Ah yes, I’m looking for Barbara Hills. I’ve come to visit,’ Hardwick replied.
‘I’m afraid we’ve been told that Mrs Hills is allowed visits from family only,’ the nurse said bluntly.
‘Yes, I know,’ Hardwick said, smiling as pleasantly as he could.
‘I was hoping you might swing by,’ came the voice of Detective Sergeant Sam Kerrigan. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said to the nurse. ‘He’s with us. Unfortunately.’
The nurse smiled and nodded and went back to her paperwork.
‘Very courteous of you, Detective Sergeant,’ Hardwick said.
‘I thought you might pop in to see how she was getting on,’ Kerrigan said as he guided Hardwick towards the private side room Barbara Hills had been put in. ‘Fact is, Warner’s just left me here to look after her on my own. She’s meant to have a police guard at all times, see. All right for him to say that, ain’t it? Never bloody him doing these jobs. I haven’t eaten for about four hours and me legs are killing me. And, I mean, you’re pretty much one of us, ain’t you?’ Kerrigan said, offering an uncharacteristic amount of plaudits in Hardwick’s direction. ’Would you mind watching her just for a few moments while I stretch me legs and grab a bite to eat?’
‘Not at all,’ Hardwick said, unable to take his eyes off the frail woman lying in the bed in front of him.
‘Nice one, cheers,’ Kerrigan said. ‘Back in five.’
Hardwick slowly approached the bed and sat down on the chair beside it. He had half expected her to be laid out with tubes sticking out of every orifice, but other than looking particularly weak and world-weary, Barbara appeared to be stable. She was breathing on her own and had only a saline drip connected to her.
‘You’ve finally come to terms with it, haven’t you?’ Hardwick said quietly. ‘I can see it in you. I could see it in your eyes when we were stood in your room. That final acceptance that what’s done is done. That you’d done what you needed to do. I meet a lot of people who do a lot of bad things. A lot of people consumed with evil. I may not be the most sociable of people, but I’m a very good judge of character and I know that you don’t have an evil bone in your body. What you did, you did for the best of reasons. In your mind. But your personal redemption came at the expense of other people’s lives. I know you understand that, and I know you consider their lives to have been expendable. Because of things they did or who they were. But none of them were bad people.
‘You know, deep down I’m not so sure there is such a thing as a bad person. People do bad things, but that doesn’t make them bad people. They do what they feel is right and just in the circumstances. Just like you did. I understand that. I want you to know that.’
A few minutes later, Hardwick walked back down the steps outside the sliding doors to Shafford General Hospital and opened the door to the phone box a few yards up the road. He dialled Ellis’s number, waited for an answer and inserted his change.
‘Ellis? It’s Hardwick. I’m at Shafford General. I’ve just been to see Barbara Hills. I’m afraid she passed away in her sleep a few minutes ago. Hmmm? No, no, I don’t think so. In fact, she actually seemed rather at peace.’
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More Kempston Hardwick Mysteries
Have you read the other Kempston Hardwick murder mysteries? They’re all available from Amazon, or ask your local retailer.
Exit Stage Left (Kempston Hardwick Mystery #1)
Charlie Sparks had it all. A former
primetime television personality, his outdated style has seen him relegated to the scrapheap.
When he collapses and dies during a stand-up routine at a local pub, mysterious bystander Kempston Hardwick is compelled to investigate his suspicious death.
The Westerlea House Mystery (Kempston Hardwick Mystery #2)
When TV psychic Oscar Whitehouse is found murdered inside a locked room, private detective Kempston Hardwick and his friend Ellis Flint are called in to investigate.
Within a matter of days, a second murder takes place in the small village of Tollinghill and a local resident claims she saw the already-dead Oscar Whitehouse at the scene, apparently alive and well. Hardwick and Flint realise they have more than just a conventional mystery on their hands.
Death Under the Sun (Kempston Hardwick Mystery #3)
After solving two particularly tricky murder cases, Kempston Hardwick needs a holiday. At least that's what his friend, Ellis Flint, in his infinite wisdom, believes.
When the pair arrive on the twenty-four-hour Greek party island of Friktos, Hardwick is in his idea of hell. Eventually, he decides to make the most of his holiday and to try to relax.
That is until one of their fellow holidaymakers is found dead in their apartment...
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