The Coopers Field Murder

by Wonny Lea

  ‘With Patsy’s help, even the residents who are chair-bound were decked up with hats or crowns, and there was no one who didn’t join in. I took some photographs with my phone, take a look.’

  She showed Sarah the images, and they both laughed at the sight of some of the usually more sedate residents dressed up and obviously enjoying themselves. ‘Every nursing home needs an Enid Prosser,’ said Eva. ‘I thought I would have the devil’s own job getting them all settled last night, but the opposite was the case, and I can’t remember when we last had such a quiet shift. It’s strange though that you should ask about Enid this morning.’

  Sarah wondered what Eva would think if she really knew the reason for the enquiry. ‘Make the most of your days off,’ said Eva. She had finished the handover and was making her way towards the front door. ‘I’m here for the next three nights but then I’m off so I’ll see you at the end of next week – have fun and don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.’

  As was customary, Sarah had walked with her colleague to the reception area, and had made sure that the front door was locked after the night staff had left.

  She checked her phone, hoping to see a message or evidence of a missed call from DS Pryor, but there was nothing. Maria would not be starting her shift until 11 a.m. and Sarah had promised herself that she would not play the detective until her backup was on the premises. The thought of her and Maria in those roles amused her but sort of scared her at the same time.

  By the time Sarah had checked some of the care plans and made her way to the dining room most of the residents were already eating breakfast. The feeling of bonhomie had prevailed and most of the conversation was about the enjoyment of the previous evening and Sarah looked around for the person responsible for this unusually pleasant atmosphere.

  Her heart sank when she couldn’t see Enid. Feeling anxious, she turned quickly and made her way to Mrs Prosser’s room.

  She needn’t have worried, as Enid was on her hands and knees rummaging through the notorious trunk. She looked up when Sarah entered her room. There was no sign of any impending death surrounding this old lady and the only problem she had was soon voiced. ‘Oh, I am pleased to see you. It’s one thing for me to get on all fours but quite another thing for me to get back up!’ She held out her hand for Sarah to give her the support she needed, and as Sarah took both her hands she noticed the twinkle in Enid’s eyes.

  ‘Did you hear about last night’s entertainment?’ Enid asked. ‘I was just wondering how to follow it, but I think we’ve already used most of the props I have. What do you think?’

  Sarah replied with a smile. ‘What I’m actually thinking is that I hope I have even half your sparkle if and when I ever get to your age. But there is one thing you could try if you are planning future evening performances. According to his notes, Eric Mills used to be a professional pianist, but we’ve never been able to get him near the piano. If anyone can persuade him to play it will be you.’

  Enid was now walking with the aid of just one stick alongside Sarah, and she stopped. ‘That’s a brilliant suggestion, and it’s possible that some of the others have hidden talents so that’s my new reason for living, or as the French say, my raison d’être – didn’t know I could speak French did you?’

  Sarah shook her head and smiled as she thought that nothing Enid told her would cause surprise, and her resolve to keep this amazing old lady safe hardened.

  For the next couple of hours Sarah threw herself into the management of the nursing home and ensured that the care assistants were making best use of their time. She gave out medication as required and helped with bathing some of the bed-ridden residents and with the changing of dressings. Time normally flew by, but this morning it was going so very slowly and probably not helped by Sarah looking at her watch every five minutes.

  Eventually the hands did creep towards eleven o’clock and Sarah gave a brief report to Maria and Carla, another care assistant, when they both appeared for their shift. Carla could not have been more different to Maria, and moaned constantly whenever Sarah suggested anything resembling what could be considered as hard work. Normally Sarah would have ignored Carla’s grumbles, but today, probably because of lack of sleep, she found them extremely irritating.

  ‘You are here to work, you know,’ Sarah told Carla. ‘If it’s too much trouble for you to help make our residents’ lives more comfortable, then perhaps you should think about a job that suits you better.’

  Maria looked hard at Sarah, not because she disagreed with what had been said but because it was out of character for Sarah to dress down one member of staff in front of another. Carla, on the other hand, seemed not to be bothered. She shrugged her shoulders and slouched off, presumably to do as little as she could get away with.

  ‘Are you alright?’ asked Maria when she and Sarah were left alone in the office.

  ‘Yes, I’m OK – just worried I guess. I was hoping to hear from DS Pryor but so far he has not been in touch. I barely got a wink of sleep last night and one way or the other I need to put my worries to rest. I can’t ignore what I believe cannot possibly be just a series of coincidences and even if I lose my job I have to raise my concerns.’

  ‘How do you intend doing that?’ asked Maria. ‘Please tell me you aren’t going to confront Mr Cooper head on.’

  ‘No, but I may try and find out what, if anything, Mr Doster knows.’ Sarah picked up two medical folders from her desk. ‘I was supposed to have taken these back to his office before I went off duty yesterday, but I deliberately forgot. They are the records of two current residents, chosen at random by Doster for the imaginary research I am conducting. I checked this morning and neither set of records contain a note from Dr Shaw about the residents’ wishes regarding hospital admission. So as far as I can see, the only people whose notes contain an instruction of that type are the ones both you and I put on our lists.’

  ‘Be careful, Sarah,’ said Maria. ‘If there is something funny going on, whoever’s behind it is not going to thank you for your interference. Wouldn’t it be better if you waited for the police?’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything stupid, just return these notes and ask if there is some sort of protocol regarding hospital admission. I am well within my rights to be asking such a question, and there is no reason that such a question should be regarded as suspicious.’

  ‘Under normal circumstances, no,’ agreed Maria, ‘but we are both almost certain that we are not looking at normal circumstances!’

  ‘Look, Maria, I promise not to say anything if I sense trouble and I will have no problem dealing with Mr Doster, but Mr Cooper would be a different kettle of fish – and that’s where you come in. His car isn’t in the car park, so he’s obviously not here this morning, but if he does arrive I would like to know about it. I’ll make sure my phone is not on silent so that you can ring me straight away if you see his car pull up. That will give me plenty of time to make my excuses to Doster and get back here.’

  Maria agreed, and Sarah made her way to the administrator’s office clutching the two sets of notes that were going to be her reason for being there.

  She knocked firmly on the office door but did not wait for a reply before walking in. Peter Doster seemed not to have heard her knock and visibly jumped as Sarah entered the room.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Sarah, ‘I did knock. I only came to return these notes. I did promise to bring them back yesterday, but I got involved with trying to calm down an argument between two of our old ladies – you know how it is.’

  Sarah knew that Peter Doster would not have a clue regarding the behaviour of the residents, and she doubted if he would even recognise any of their faces, just their names in his ledger. There were only four places in the home where Sarah had ever seen him, namely his office, Mr Cooper’s office, the nurses’ office, and the kitchen. He only knew there were residents in the rooms because of the income and expenditure they generated.

  Sarah missed a heartbeat as she noticed
that, apart from a couple of catalogues for office and catering equipment, the only other thing on his desk were Enid Prosser’s notes.

  She pretended not to see the folder and put the two sets of notes she had returned on top of Enid’s. As casually as she could, she picked up one of the catalogues. ‘How much would something like that cost?’ she asked pointing to an item at random. ‘It’s something I’ve always wanted.’

  Peter Doster looked in the direction she was pointing wondering why on earth Sister Thomas was enquiring about the price of something labelled as a ‘High-tech Heidolph VV Micro Evaporator kitchen distiller’. It apparently had the capability of extracting intensely flavoured syrup from almost any type of food.

  Realising the stupidity of the item she had pointed to Sarah laughed. ‘Only joking, of course,’ she said but she knew that her nerves were getting the better of her.

  Doster made some effort to go along with Sarah’s so-called-joke, but she had already observed that his colour today was as grey as it had been yesterday and now she also noticed that his hands were shaking.

  ‘As I was saying yesterday,’ Sarah ventured. ‘I think we are all working you too hard, you really look as if you could do with a break. Any holidays planned?’

  Once again, Peter responded to Sarah’s words, and accepted what others would consider just a throwaway question as words of concern, things that were rarely directed at him. He seemed to relax a bit and Sarah took full advantage of the position.

  ‘I was too late for breakfast this morning, and we’ve been short of staff so I haven’t even had a coffee. Maria and Carla came on at eleven, so I’m OK for the moment, and they know where to find me if necessary. Shall I make us both a cup of coffee?’ she asked. ‘You look as if you could do with one.’

  Peter was too taken aback to say anything and just nodded as Sarah walked over to where she had noticed his pint-size kettle and flask of milk standing on a half-size filing cabinet.

  No one before had ever offered to make him coffee and, looking at Sarah in disbelief, he helped with the process. ‘The coffee and mugs are in the bottom drawer,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid there’s no sugar.’

  The tiny kettle took only a moment to boil, and Sarah just about managed to get two meagre mugs of coffee from the amount of water it held. Well, at least he applied the same cost-cutting rules to himself as he did to the rest of the home – with the exception of Mr Cooper of course.

  By the time Sarah had carried the two mugs to the desk, Enid Prosser’s notes had disappeared and two round coasters had been put in their place.

  Sarah felt awkward and uncomfortable in his company and she tried hard not to show it, but she knew that he was experiencing the same feelings.

  ‘This is nice,’ she said looking around. ‘It’s a pity they stripped the old beams and ceiling architraves from the rest of the home when it was converted. You were lucky to get this office with some of the original features still intact.’

  Even to her own ears, her chit-chat sounded ridiculous, but she continued. ‘We should try to get together on an informal basis like this from time to time. After all, we both have the same vested interest in the successful management of Parkland.’

  Not knowing what to say, Peter just nodded and so Sarah went on. ‘For example, we could look at the admissions policy, I’m never certain how the next resident is selected – is it on a points based system or what?’

  Sarah knew she was waffling as much now as she had been the last time she was in this room, but so what – if Peter Doster was seeing her as a bit of an idiot, so much the better.

  In his best home administrator’s voice he painstakingly explained that it was on a totally fair, first-come-first-served basis. ‘When a person’s name reaches the top of my list he or she is eligible for the first room that becomes available, it’s as simple as that.’

  ‘So no exceptions?’ questioned Sarah with a smile.

  ‘None whatsoever,’ was the reply, and although the words were emphatic Sarah knew that they were lies. She knew that at least four of the people on the list she and Maria had drawn up had jumped the queue.

  Hesitating for barely a moment Sarah then jumped in the deep end. ‘That’s good, and then what about our admission to hospital policy – I’m a bit confused about that.’

  Her question had hit the spot and Peter Doster’s colour deteriorated from an unhealthy, sallow grey to an almost transparent white.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he questioned, his voice sounding a bit shaky.

  Sarah knew she needed to give him a bit of reassurance and she said earnestly ‘Well, it’s nothing to do with you, of course, but recently Mr Cooper informed me that Colin James’ daughter had told him that Colin didn’t want to be admitted to hospital under any circumstances.’

  ‘So?’ interrupted Peter. ‘That’s well within their rights.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ agreed Sarah.

  ‘What’s more,’ continued Peter. ‘We have a policy that is to be used when such a request is made.’

  ‘We do?’ questioned Sarah.

  ‘Yes of course we do! Mr Cooper is the one who usually receives such a request and then he ensures that Dr Shaw makes a note of the request in the particular resident’s records – always ensuring that the request is dated and signed.’ He spoke a bit like a robot reciting words that had previously been programmed.

  Sarah couldn’t help herself and her next words just tumbled out. ‘Do you know if Mr Cooper and the relatives make the decision for non-admission to hospital with or without the resident’s knowledge?’

  Even as she spoke the words Sarah knew she had gone too far. The pallor of Peter Doster’s face was becoming infused with a florid red and it was not a pretty sight.

  Sarah had no idea what he was going to say next but his response was in any event cut short by the interruption of his telephone buzzer and again in robotic mode he instinctively picked it up. The person on the other end had obviously not given him time to speak and Sarah was left in no doubt that her saviour for the moment was none other than Mr Cooper!

  ‘Yes,’ stammered Peter Doster, responding to the first question that had been bellowed at him. ‘Yes, I have them here but I think we should wait –’

  His words were cut off, and Sarah had no difficulty in hearing the voice that boomed from the other end of the telephone line.

  ‘You think? Well that’s a new one, you think! I suggest you leave the thinking to those of us with sufficient grey matter to do a half-decent job.’

  Sarah had never liked Peter Doster but at that moment she felt profoundly sorry for him. Cooper was a bully, and although Sarah was witnessing the effects of his bullying she felt unable to do anything and just continued to listen to the torrent of abuse he was handing out. ‘You know what you have to fucking well do,’ Cooper yelled. ‘So don’t think – just do it,’

  With that he slammed his receiver down and Peter sat looking at the phone. He didn’t replace the receiver his end and he didn’t say anything. Sarah’s first instinct was to ask him if he was alright and if there was anything she could do to help but something held her back. She tried to put herself in his position and decided that he was probably feeling acutely embarrassed and that her best course of action was to get out of the office and leave him alone.

  How was all this going to end she wondered? What was it that Peter Doster was supposed to do? Obviously not something he was doing of his own free will – and what was that he had said about thinking they should wait?

  Wait for what, or wait because of what? Anthony Cooper had made it very clear that he wasn’t going to be waiting for anything and it seemed to Sarah that it was that fact that caused Mr Doster the most distress.

  She had heard Cooper say that there were others who could do the thinking. Thinking about what? Who were they? Was it just Doster and Cooper or were there others involved?

  With these questions charging like demented devils through her brain, Sarah walked quickly back to he
r office and for some irrational reason wished she had a key with which to lock her door. For the umpteenth time that day she tried to persuade herself that she was being totally irrational. Her past experience of the two men she had heard arguing on the phone told her they could have been quarrelling over increases in the electric bill or the need to cut down on the cost of the weekly groceries.

  Sarah could possibly have convinced herself on either count but for the look of absolute despair she had witnessed on Peter Doster’s face.

  She took her mobile phone out of her pocket and hit the number Matt had given her, praying it would not be the same answerphone response as before.

  She thanked God as she heard Matt’s voice.

  ‘Hello Sarah, this is Matt – how can I help?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  A Second Suicide

  Matt had been on the phone for more than ten minutes, and when he closed the conversation Martin asked him if everything was alright. ‘I don’t really know,’ was the honest reply. ‘Sister Thomas assures me that neither she nor anyone else is in any danger, but she is worried, and I have promised to call in and speak to her on my way home.’

  ‘So you still think there is something strange going on at Parkland, do you?’ asked Martin.

  ‘To be honest, guv, I haven’t got a clue and the trouble in that place is that all the residents are old and any one of them could die at any time, but I don’t rate Sister Thomas as anyone’s fool – if she’s worried, then so am I.’

  Martin and Matt had spent the past few hours putting together the paperwork surrounding what they now knew to be the death of Mrs Daphne Mansfield. There were several things that needed to be done and when it came to winding up any investigation, getting them in the right order could sometimes seem impossible.