The Coopers Field Murder

by Wonny Lea

  Maria sat bolt upright in her seat and Sarah could see her mind and her imagination not just going into overdrive but shooting off the scale. ‘Why?’ Maria asked and then added. ‘Do they think the body came from Parkland? How long had the person been dead? Was it a man or a woman? Were they murdered or what?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘The police didn’t brief me in any detail but in answer to your last question, I heard on the news just before you arrived that the body found in Coopers Field was that of a woman aged about eighty, and that the police are treating the death as suspicious.’

  ‘But I still don’t get the link with Parkland –’ Maria started, but Sarah interrupted.

  ‘They were keen to tell me that they did not believe there was a connection and that their second visit was only because during his initial visit to Parkland, to get my statement, your Sergeant Evans had been puzzled by what he called an “overreaction” to their presence. Do you remember you let the sergeant and a PC in, and came ahead of them to my office?’

  Maria nodded and said, ‘Yes, I got there just as Mr and Mrs Morris were leaving, and I told you the police were there to see you about the body.’

  ‘That’s it exactly,’ replied Sarah. ‘As you know, Mr Morris turned back to ask what you meant, but I didn’t see his behaviour in the corridor. Apparently Sergeant Evans had a gut feeling that the reaction of Mr Morris, to you relaying the message that the police wanted to speak to me about the body, was out of all proportion to the situation. He couldn’t really explain why, but Sergeant Evans was convinced that there was something more behind the reaction than just a possible phobia of policemen, and mentioned it to one of the CID Officers. So we had the pleasure of a return visit from Sergeant Evans and the second time he was accompanied by Detective Sergeant Pryor.’

  ‘What sort of things did they ask you?’ prompted Maria.

  ‘Well, I explained to them why Mr and Mrs Morris were at Parkland, and probably showed my disgust at the fact that the couple were never around when Colin was alive but had arrived post-haste for his belongings and the death certificate. Then they asked me about Colin, and I found myself voicing the concerns I have had regarding how quickly he went downhill, but explaining that there was nothing I could put my finger on and that I was definitely not suggesting anything untoward.’

  ‘So that was it?’ said Maria, sounding a bit disappointed.

  ‘Well, I thought so,’ responded Sarah. ‘Then Matt, that’s the detective’s name, asked if there had been any other occasions when I’d experienced similar and possibly equally unsubstantiated concerns. I tried to explain that by the very fact that most of our residents are elderly and often infirm, there is a likelihood of us having frequent deaths and the worst day I could remember was when we had three within six hours. However as we spoke, the person who jumped into my mind was Nancy Coleman. Do you remember her, Maria? I’m not even familiar with the fashion designers of today, so when Nancy spoke of people she had worked with in Paris and Milan in the 1950s I was at a complete loss.’

  ‘Do I remember her?’ replied Maria. ‘I loved her, and the stories she told about her life in the fashion world were fantastic. She obviously made a heap of money, and some of the rings she wore were apparently very valuable. I remember her telling me that one in particular – it was a ruby set in a plain gold setting – had been given to her by a male member of the Royal Family.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said Sarah. ‘The photographs she had of herself at the height of her success showed a beautiful woman always surrounded by friends, and most of them men friends. I’m trying to remember how she came to be placed in Parkland.’

  Maria remembered. ‘Her sister was her only living relative and she was many years younger than Nancy and totally unprepared to look after her sister when she became ill – but I can’t remember exactly what was wrong with Nancy.’ Maria got to her feet and started to clear the table as Sarah was thumbing through the notebook she had brought from the other room.

  ‘Leave that,’ said Sarah. ‘I can do it later, but as you’re on your feet you can get the last can of cider from the fridge and we’ll share it.’

  ‘Here, I’ve found her,’ shouted Sarah to Maria who was returning from the kitchen with not one but two cans of cider, having found a second can hiding behind a large carton of orange juice.

  ‘It’s six months since Nancy died – I would have thought it was longer than that but no, I’ve actually written down the date and time of her death. You’re right to remember that she only had one sister, but the sister had a husband and they had two daughters.

  ‘Apparently, when Nancy was diagnosed with dementia, the daughters wanted her moved into a home as quickly as possible because she embarrassed them in front of their friends whenever she was around, and none of the family ever visited her. It’s all coming back to me now. The only time I ever saw Nancy’s sister was when she and her husband came to see Mr Cooper and that was one evening when I was on a late shift.

  ‘I remember the date because I should have been doing a short early shift as it was the day before my holidays, but Joanne called in sick and I had to stay because there was no one else to replace her. When I came back from my holidays Nancy was already dead, apparently from pneumonia.’

  ‘I was there when she died,’ said Maria. ‘Dr Shaw was around at the time and had also seen her the day before, so everything was done that could be done, but she got worse overnight and died just after my shift started in the morning.’

  ‘I remember looking for her case notes when I got back from my holidays,’ said Sarah. ‘I certainly hadn’t expected her to die, and out of curiosity I just wanted to see exactly what had happened. However, I couldn’t find them – and then other things took over and I haven’t really thought any more about it until now.’

  ‘I told the police that I would think back to see if there are any deaths that to me weren’t really expected, and as I said Nancy was the first one I thought of – are there any that you can bring to mind?’

  Seeing Sarah leafing through her notebook prompted Maria to delve into her handbag and retrieve a similar book, one used for almost the same purpose. Sarah’s book contained more about medical conditions and treatments, while Maria’s had notes about the personal care needed for the residents but both women had recorded their own comments on things like new admissions and deaths.

  ‘Does your notebook take you back as far as Nancy’s death?’ asked Sarah, and Maria replied that she had started the current book about ten days before that date and was almost ready to start a new book.

  ‘OK,’ said Sarah. ‘Well, I suggest that we independently look through our books and write down the names of anyone whose death, on reflection, was either earlier than expected or completely unexpected.’

  For almost an hour both the women flicked backwards and forwards through the pages of their books and scribbled some details on the paper in front of them. On Maria’s page there were simply the names of a number of people and a couple of comments and question marks but Sarah wrote copious notes alongside each of the names she had written. As she did so her face became more and more troubled and it was Maria who broke the silence and suggested they compare notes.

  ‘I wish those policemen, even the gorgeous one, hadn’t decided on a return visit to Parkland,’ was Sarah’s first response. ‘We wouldn’t be sitting here looking for probably-non-existent skeletons in the cupboard, and I wouldn’t be wondering if there have been occasions when I should have asked more questions. Still we are here and we are considering possible problems, so what names do you have?’

  ‘I didn’t realise how many deaths we’ve had over the past six months, but in most of the cases the resident who died had been very ill and the relatives and staff had all been expecting the death. In fact, in a number of cases the person took much longer to die than anyone would have guessed – but that’s not the issue we are looking at. I have seven names on my list but it looks as if you have a l
ot more.’ As she spoke Maria looked over at the couple of pages that Sarah had in front of her and attempted to compare the simple list of seven names she had with what Sarah had written.

  ‘On the contrary,’ replied Sarah. ‘That’s actually one more name than I’ve got – it’s just that I’ve scribbled a lot more facts and figures about each of the residents I’ve identified. The interesting thing now will be to compare the two lists, as in theory we could be looking at anything between seven and thirteen names.’

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean, so let’s see how many names we have the same,’ said Maria. ‘The next death I have following Nancy is George Perkins. That was not something I expected at the time.’

  ‘Snap,’ said Sarah. ‘He is the next name on my list too, and I have racked my brains trying to remember anything at all about him. All I can do is mentally place him in the garden, on a particular Thursday evening, and waving to him as I left for home. It was the beginning of March and I’d booked a long weekend off to visit a friend of mine who lives in Weston-Super-Mare. Because I wanted to travel that evening, Eva Grey, who had only joined us a few weeks before, agreed to start her night shift early and so I was leaving at about seven.’

  ‘It had been a nice day and looked set well, weather wise, for my weekend but it was getting quite dark and certainly not warm. I called over to George suggesting he call it a day but I don’t think he heard me, and that’s the last I saw of him.’

  Maria picked up with what she remembered about George. ‘When we got the report, on either the Friday or the Saturday morning – I can’t properly make out my scribble,’ apologised Maria, ‘we were told that George had collapsed some time during the night and he was quite poorly but comfortable.’

  ‘So what went wrong?’ enquired Sarah. ‘He must have died sometime during the weekend.’

  ‘I wasn’t allocated to look after George,’ answered Maria. ‘I don’t remember exactly when he died, but I don’t think it was when I was on duty. So it must have been either during the night on Saturday, or sometime on Sunday – but that was my day off.’

  ‘I wasn’t back in work until early Tuesday morning,’ said Sarah. ‘There was no report of anyone passing away overnight. It wasn’t until the night staff gave a report on the new lady in Room Sixteen that I realised that George was no longer with us. And yes, I was really shocked – but I saw no reason to doubt that he had collapsed and died quite quickly following a particularly virulent attack of pneumonia. It happens in the elderly and George, although active, was nearly ninety.’

  Maria nodded and asked Sarah if she remembered whether or not there had been relatives who visited George. Sarah shook her head. ‘To be honest, Maria, it is, sadly, easier to remember the few residents who do have relatives that visit.’

  The next three names were the same on both lists and for a while Sarah and Maria discussed the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Vera Thorne, Edward Myers, and Gladys Morgan. There was a pattern in that all three had been relatively well and then collapsed and died within a few days. Sarah was desperately trying to stop her imagination running away with her and told herself it could be argued that all the people they were looking at were well over the years of normal life expectancy and could have died at any time.

  The two women talked about the common aspects of each death, and then both agreed that many of the factors could be linked to every single death at Parkland and any other nursing home.

  They had now considered five deaths and Maria was about to give the sixth on her list when she looked as if she had just had one of those eureka moments. ‘You weren’t around when any of these residents collapsed and died,’ she said almost accusingly to Sarah. ‘The deaths all happened when you had a long weekend or you were on holiday.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Hell, I don’t know,’ replied Maria. ‘You did say to think of any common factors with the residents that we are looking at – and that is a common factor!’

  Sarah laughed and got up to make them both a cup of coffee, then called from the kitchen for Maria to put forward the next name on her list. Mavis Clegg wasn’t a name Sarah recognised and as she put the two coffees on the table she asked Maria what she knew about the lady.

  Maria looked at her notes. ‘All I have here is that she was admitted on the 19th of April and I helped her get settled in – and to be honest I have to say she was a most objectionable old woman. Nothing I did for her was right and I remember thinking “I hope she isn’t going to be here long”.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that I hoped she was going to die, just that she was hopefully only going to be with us for a week to give her family some respite. I did feel guilty when I went on the late shift the following day and was told that she had collapsed and died that morning.’

  ‘I don’t remember her at all,’ said Sarah and then stopped as she looked in her notebook and noticed her own jottings for the period around April 19th. ‘Oh well, it’s not surprising, given that from Saturday April 16th until the following Saturday, the 23rd, I was staying at the Hostal Miguel in Nerja.

  ‘Nine of us from my university set went. We do something every three years, but this was the best thing we had done and I was really pleased because I had made all the arrangements. The hotel was more like a guest house, built in a typically Andalusian style, and there were only nine bedrooms so we took over the whole place and had a whale of a time.’

  ‘So once again you were conspicuous by your absence,’ suggested Maria.

  ‘It would seem that way but it’s hardly of any significance – what are your last two names?’

  ‘Terence Watts and Connie Marshall,’ replied Maria.

  ‘That’s the same as I have,’ responded Sarah. ‘I guess that we were both looking for people who were perhaps fitter and more ambulant than the majority of our residents, and who had a sudden-onset episode of one kind or another, resulting in spontaneous deterioration in their health and sooner-than-expected death.’

  ‘I’d say that was it in a nutshell,’ answered Maria.

  ‘But if we looked at every single death over the past year, wouldn’t we find more or less a similar pattern?’ queried Sarah.

  ‘That’s as may be – but no, I don’t think that we would,’ was the reply. ‘If that was the case, why or how have we come up with exactly the same set of names? There must be something about the death of these residents that caused both of us to identify them in the way we did.’

  For a few moments they both finished their coffee, and then Sarah gathered together both sets of paper and they spent the last hour of their time together going through Maria’s final assignments for her Level 2 NVQ.

  Sarah marvelled at the way in which Maria’s written work had improved over the past few months, and she seemed to be soaking up the years of missed opportunity. If she had not been forced to neglect her education who knew what she could have achieved, but at least now she was creating a future for herself.

  ‘This is really good stuff,’ commented Sarah. ‘It must have taken you hours to do, how did you manage to find the time?’

  ‘Well there’s one good thing I would have told you about if we hadn’t got stuck into our detective work.’ Maria winked. ‘My stepfather’s met a woman, and although at first I thought it would be a disaster, it’s worked out very well. She’s not exactly living with us at the moment, but she is there quite a lot, and seems to like cooking and cleaning – even ironing! The kids have taken to her, and so far so good from my point of view.’

  ‘That’s brilliant news,’ said Sarah. ‘Now you can really start to think about yourself and plan that elusive nursing career. Anyway, there’s nothing in particular that I would change in these assignments, so just get them in whenever you like.’

  ‘What are you going to do about the names we’ve come up with?’ asked Maria as she was leaving. ‘Get in touch with your dishy detective, or what?’

  Sarah couldn’t imagine what Ma
tt’s reaction would be to Maria’s description of him and she laughed. ‘I think I will have to, as that’s what he’s asked me to do, but I’m very reluctant to stir up trouble when there’s probably none. There is just one thing, Maria. I don’t think we should mention any of this to anyone, as we could both be in danger of losing our jobs if we appear to be suggesting things we are completely unable to substantiate.’

  ‘Got you!’ said Maria. ‘My lips are sealed. But please let me know if anything develops.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Sarah, as she let Maria out through the front door and returned to plonk herself down on the sofa. Her mind was racing over the evening’s revelations and she was now regretting that last cup of coffee, as caffeine and mental activity did not go well together in offering a good night’s sleep.

  If there were question marks surrounding any of these deaths shouldn’t she have asked them at the time? The question itself brought her thinking around to the point that Maria had identified – she hadn’t been around!

  She tried to calm her thoughts and question logically why there should be anything in any way sinister about deaths at Parkland. Who could possibly benefit from the earlier than expected deaths of the residents she and Maria had identified? Relatives? Mr Cooper? Mr Doster? Dr Shaw? She didn’t like any of the three men, but to suggest they were in some way responsible for, or conspiratorial in, the early demise of at least seven residents was unthinkable – wasn’t it?

  Chapter Seven

  No Place for a Body

  ‘Good morning, Matt,’ said Martin. ‘I only arrived myself a few minutes ago, and I’ve ordered us both a breakfast baguette, as promised, and some coffee. Before we think about what we want to look at here, perhaps you could just fill me in on the visit you made with Sergeant Evans to Parkland Nursing Home. I don’t expect you discovered anything of relevance to us, but I have always valued Sergeant Evans’ instincts and he was convinced there was something not quite right.’