THE JAGGED LINE

by Carolyn Mahony

  ‘Everything okay?’ Claire’s eyes were sharp as they took in Harry’s expression. He shook his head. ‘My mother wants to call an ambulance.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘I’m doing my best to talk her out of it.’

  ‘Let me just check on Jean quickly, then I’ll come down.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. I haven’t seen her myself yet.’

  Even he was shocked at the deterioration in his grandmother over the day. The swelling in her body had become quite grotesque, and he found himself diverting his eyes from it as he fixed his gaze on her face, searching blue eyes that were no longer clear and bright but cloudy and unfocused. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his.

  ‘Hi, Gran. It’s Harry.’

  ‘Harry.’ The clasp of the frail hand in his was surprisingly strong as she gripped him desperately. ‘They’re here,’ she said weakly, through parched lips. ‘And they’ll send me to hospital. I know they will. I don’t want to go.’

  Her voice was no more than a thin whisper, forced out between rasping breaths, and Harry felt his throat tighten. She sounded so vulnerable and looked as if she was on the verge of tears – something he’d never witnessed in all his years of living with her.

  ‘I won’t let that happen. Try not to worry.’

  ‘You know what I want…’

  ‘Gran–’

  ‘Please… Soon I won’t be fit enough to even swallow them.’

  Harry turned his gaze helplessly onto Claire. Despite the number of impossible situations he’d found himself in over his career, he’d never felt so out of his depth, or so lost and inadequate as he did now. But worse than that, was that for the first time ever, he found himself considering doing what she asked, and to hell with the consequences.

  Recognising his distress, Claire shook her head at him imperceptibly, and stepped in. ‘Jean, there’ll be no need for that. We’ll make sure we look after you properly. And as it happens, I’m on leave for the next couple of weeks and not doing much. I’m sure Harry and I can come to some sort of arrangement where I can come in a bit more often if you need me.’

  Harry looked at her in surprise, feeling an immediate easing of his load.

  ‘Is that true? That would be amazing.’

  She shrugged. ‘I spoke to my work today and told them a close relative was ill and I might need to take some time off. I haven’t taken any holiday this year so there wasn’t much they could say really. They were fine about it.’

  ‘That’s really kind of you, Claire. I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘You don’t need to Harry. I’m doing this for Jean. We’ve become close over the last few months I’ve been visiting. There are only a couple of my clients I can say that about. Now, Jean – is there anything I can get you or do for you before I head back downstairs to chat with your daughter?’

  ‘Pills …’ she croaked. ‘Just give me the pills in my cupboard.’

  ‘Jean, darling, you know we can’t do that. It would be the end of both our careers – we could even go to prison. You wouldn’t want that, would you?’

  They both stared in horror as tears welled in the old lady’s eyes. ‘I just want to die,’ she whimpered. ‘Please help me to die.’

  It took Harry a few moments to compose himself before he walked back into the lounge where his parents were still seated, but by the time he left, half an hour later, they’d reached a compromise of sorts.

  ‘Okay,’ his mother had capitulated finally. ‘I’ll wait and see what the doctor says. I’ve already phoned her surgery and asked for a visit later today. I’ll want to know exactly what’s going on and what we can expect to happen over the next couple of weeks. Dad and I were only meant to be back for two days, but it’s clear we need to stay on now.’

  ‘What time’s Dr Roe coming?’

  ‘About six o’clock, but they couldn’t guarantee it would be him.’

  ‘I hope it is because he knows her case. I’ll try and get back.’

  ‘You don’t need to, Harry. I’m her daughter and I’m perfectly capable of speaking to him on my own.’

  ‘Well, just promise me you won’t let them pack her off to hospital. Call me if there’s any talk of that.’

  ‘Harry, love. I know you love your gran, but the professionals know best in these circumstances. We need to be guided by them.’

  Panic gripped Harry’s heart and his voice was unusually fierce as he faced his mother out. ‘No they don’t, Mum, not always. Promise me she’ll still be here when I get back. You can’t come marching in and take over after six months of not seeing her, or knowing what’s been going on. I promised Gran I’d do my damnedest to keep her out of hospital and if you make me break that promise, I’ll never forgive you. I mean that.’

  His mother looked at him in shock, and for a moment it was a stand-off as they stood in the middle of the room glaring at each other. It was left to Harry’s father to step in and say, ‘Why don’t we wait and see what the doctor says, before we come to any decisions, eh? We won’t do anything hasty, Harry. We’ll call you if there’s anything we feel you’d want to know. We can talk about it later tonight at supper. What time do you get back?’

  Harry ran his hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know. It depends what’s going on. I’ll try to be back by six-thirty, but I’m in the middle of a murder investigation at the moment. I’ll call you if it’s going to be later than that.’

  ‘Fine.’ His mother’s tone was clipped.

  She turned to Claire. ‘Thanks for stepping in and offering to come in more often: we appreciate it very much. Obviously we’ll need to discuss terms if you’re going to do extra hours.’

  ‘I can do that,’ Harry said. ‘I’ve got power of attorney as you know for Gran’s stuff. Claire and I can work it out.’

  ‘Very well,’ his mother said stiffly. ‘It’s obvious I’m not needed here. I’ll go and see if my mother wants anything.’

  Harry watched helplessly as she stalked out of the room, then looked at his father, who shrugged. ‘Give her time. She was shocked at the change in Jean and I know she’s been feeling guilty about not being here.’

  But not guilty enough to do anything about it the last six months, Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking. God forbid she should come over on her own to see how things were. What was it about his mother that she didn’t seem capable of doing anything without his father? It had been like that for as long as he could remember, and it amazed him that his father never had anything to say about it. She went everywhere with him and he knew it hadn’t been the easiest of relationships with them living in each other’s pockets like that. In his youth he’d consoled himself with the thought that it was because they were so in love they couldn’t bear to be separated, but as he’d matured, that rather cosy image hadn’t sat quite right somehow.

  Harry sighed. ‘Okay, we’re all stressed, I know. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.’

  ***

  ‘Rob not here?’

  Kirsty was so immersed in reading the numerous emails that had been sent to her father before his death, checking to see if anything was still outstanding and needed to be dealt with, that she hadn’t even heard the outer office door open, or registered Sharon’s greeting of their visitor. She looked up as Simon Jordan walked into her office.

  ‘No. He’s out on appointments.’

  ‘Pity. I was going to see if he wanted to come for lunch. Don’t suppose you fancy a quick bite at the pub?’

  Normally it was the last thing she’d have agreed to, but with some of her morning’s readings firmly etched on her mind, she made a pretence of looking at her watch and then shrugged carelessly. ‘Why not?’

  He looked pleased, and if he was surprised he didn’t show it.

  ‘Great. We’ll just go to the Rose and Thorn, shall we, so we don’t need to drive?’

  It was Monday and unsurprisingly the pub wasn’t busy. After they’d chosen a small table by the window and or
dered their food, Simon smiled at her.

  ‘I must admit, it’s a pleasant surprise that you agreed to come to lunch with me.’

  ‘There’s a reason,’ she said coolly.

  ‘Oh?’ His smile was wry. ‘I might have guessed.’

  ‘I’ve been going through some of Dad’s files and I don’t like what I’m finding.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with me?’

  ‘I’m not sure – because I’m not sure of the legality of everything. But I need to ask you something.’ It was something that had been bothering her ever since he’d told her he knew why she’d gone to France. ‘Did Rob know about me finding out about Grandma’s land? That that’s what I fell out with Dad about?’

  ‘Of course he did. We work very closely together.’

  And yet Rob had told her that he hadn’t known the reason.

  She eyed him deliberately. ‘I know you work closely together. So close in fact, that you have a joint company that acts as some sort of holding company for properties you turn. Like my grandmother’s land.’

  ‘We’ve never hidden that fact.’

  ‘You’ve never broadcast it either.’

  ‘Look Kirsty, we can go round in circles like this forever. To be honest, what we need is to know that you’re not going to do anything stupid that might drop us all in it.’

  And I can’t give you that reassurance. It may seem old-fashioned of me, but I don’t like what you do, and if I find out anything that suggests a link between Dad’s death and the company, then I’m telling you now my loyalty to the firm won’t stop me from going to the police.’

  Simon’s lips tightened. ‘That would be a mistake. There’s no link, and you’d be causing serious embarrassment to your mother and brother, as well as me and Dad. Is that what you want?’

  ‘Of course not, but my father’s dead. You don’t seem to realise the enormity of that. How would you feel if it was Tony?’

  He stared her out for a long moment, his eyes boring into hers. Then finally, he seemed to come to some sort of a decision.

  ‘It’s your choice, of course, but before you even consider going to the police, there’s something you should probably see that might change your mind.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not here. I’ve moved into Paul Copeland’s flat for a while to sort out what needs doing before I re-let it. Meet me there between seven and eight. I’ll show you then.’

  He looked up as the waiter arrived with their food. ‘Ah, just in time,’ he said, picking up his napkin.

  But Kirsty had lost what little appetite she’d had. He’d worried her. What could he possibly have to show her that he believed would stop her from seeking out the truth? Whatever it was, it had to be big.

  ‘You know what?’ She pulled out her purse and put some money onto the table before scraping her chair back and standing up. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I find I’m not hungry after all.’

  He looked up at her, a rueful expression in his eye. ‘Well, I’m sorry about that, but I’ll see you later? Make sure you come. You could regret it if you don’t.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

  He returned her look calmly. ‘No, Kirsty. It’s a statement of fact.’

  Two minutes after she’d gone, Simon’s phone rang. Two minutes after that he hung up and found that he, too, had suddenly lost his appetite. He wiped his brow. Things were in danger of spiralling and it wasn’t a sensation he liked. He only hoped he could deliver on what he’d promised. Otherwise Kirsty could be in big trouble.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Beth stared at Kath Wilkins across the table in Ken Lazard’s office and thought she looked nervous. She waited until Ken had left them alone before looking at her notebook and asking her first question.

  ‘So, Mrs Wilkins, as you know we’re investigating Paul Copeland’s murder and something’s come to light that means I have to ask you a couple more questions, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Remembering Harry’s words about not being too nice, Beth kept her manner serious.

  ‘It’s come to our knowledge that Gary Lytton – the man who attacked your husband – died under what could be described as suspicious circumstances last year. You and your husband were interviewed by the police at the time?’

  Kath Wilkins’ eyes hardened. ‘Yeah, we were,’ she said. ‘We didn’t have anything to do with it, but it would be hypocritical to say Phil and I were sorry to hear about it. The man was a thug – I should think there were at least a dozen people out there glad to see the back of him.’

  ‘You and your husband reported him to the police for harassment on several occasions?’

  ‘Yeah. Bastard knew where we lived and he’d hang around, shouting comments about cripples as I helped Phil in and out of the car. How cruel is that? He told us he hadn’t finished with us yet – he’d make us pay for what we’d put him through with the police and court case. He even threatened me physically – asked Phil how it felt knowing he couldn’t protect his own wife.’

  ‘Sounds a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘He was.’

  ‘When the police interviewed you about the accident, you said you were at the Lazards’ for lunch?’

  ‘That’s right. It was a Saturday – they’d invited us over.’

  ‘But there were no other witnesses to that?’

  ‘One of their neighbours saw me and Phil arrive. The police were happy with our alibis at the time.’

  ‘The death of Paul Copeland means we need to revisit everything.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  ‘Well, look at it from our point of view. Gary Lytton puts your husband in a wheelchair and dies. Paul Copeland puts Maggie Lazard in a wheelchair and gets murdered – we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t look into the possibility of the two being connected.

  ‘What – revenge killings, you mean?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Bit of a long shot, isn’t it?’

  The smile disappeared from her face as quickly as it had appeared and she stood up. ‘If you’ve got anything else to ask me, I want a lawyer.’

  Beth closed her book and also stood up, feeling she hadn’t achieved very much at all. ‘That’s your right and if we want to formally question you again we’ll give you notice, so you can contact one. Please stay in the area for the time being and let us know if you’re going away for any reason.’

  She could tell from the other woman’s expression that she was rattled. It was some small consolation from what had otherwise been a pretty dismal outcome from her interview, and she couldn’t help thinking her meeting with Ken wasn’t going to be up to much either. She wondered if Harry might not have done things a lot better.

  ‘You did fine,’ he told her, back in the office later. ‘You were never going to get some riveting bit of new information, or an instant confession. But we need to keep the Lazards and Wilkins in the frame for the time being. What did Ken have to say?’

  ‘Same as her. The four of them were together at their house and the neighbours had witnessed the Wilkins’ arrival, and the fact that none of the cars had moved for the whole afternoon. I’ve checked the witness statements from Lytton’s file and it all seems to tie up.’

  ‘Could have had another car lined up, I suppose, or called a taxi – or maybe we’re just scraping the barrel because we’re getting desperate. Requestion the neighbours. Check no one remembers seeing Ken or Kath leaving the house at any point for any reason – anything else you’ve found out?’

  ‘Only more background on Gary Lytton. He was a bad un. Twenty-two years old and already served time for GBH, with cautions going back to when he was fourteen. He even put a mask on a couple of years back and robbed his own grandfather – terrorised him apparently because he’d dared to threaten him with going to the police if he didn’t mend his ways. Kath Wilkins told me he’d have at least a dozen people wanting to do away with him, and I reckon she was probably right. I’ve got a meeting with Dave Coleman – he was the i
nvestigating officer into Lytton’s death. He might have something to add. I don’t get the impression from what I’ve read that Ken or Kath were particularly under suspicion, so they might not have been looking too hard in that direction.’

  ‘Okay, well, keep on it. I’m going to give Susan Porter a call. I got her number off Kirsty Cartwright. We’ll meet back here and swap notes later. In the meantime I’d better go and update Murray before he starts shouting.’

  ‘You look about as pissed off as I feel,’ Murray said, looking up from his paperwork as Harry walked into his office. ‘Take a seat.’

  Harry sat down. Murray’s office wasn’t big but it was always the same – a complete mess, with papers strewn randomly all over his desk – despite the fact that Harry had labelled some trays in a fruitless attempt to organise him. It amazed Harry that he could ever put his fingers on anything, yet somehow he seemed to manage.

  ‘It feels like we’re going round in circles at the moment,’ Harry said. ‘I thought maybe we had a breakthrough this morning, but now I’m not so sure. I don’t know how much you’re up to speed on the case?’

  Murray rummaged around in the papers to his left and pulled out a wad. ‘These are the reports you’ve been emailing through to me. They’ve made an interesting diversion from this bloody statistic collecting I’m doing at the moment. So what was your breakthrough?’

  ‘Not sure it is one now. But you recall the two people working at the day centre – Ken Lazard and Kathy Wilkins – who have a bit of a thing going with each other? Can’t blame them I suppose, in the circumstances – but the interesting thing is that both the people responsible for putting their partners into wheelchairs are now dead.’

  Murray raised an eyebrow. ‘That is interesting. And goes against the law of averages I’d say, considering their ages.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. We’re following it up, but initial enquiries aren’t looking promising. The Lazards and Wilkins have all got alibis for the timing of the other man’s death, although they were together and are relying on each other to a certain extent.’

  ‘They could have involved a third party?’