The Anna McColl Mysteries Box Set 2

by Penny Kline

  The chairs had been arranged in a circle and Ted Newsom was sitting quite close by. I glanced at him and he caught my eye, then stood up and strolled across.

  ‘Dr McColl?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘A colleague of mine pointed you out. I believe you’re a friend of my grandson.’

  ‘I’m renting Eric’s annexe.’ I disliked the way Deborah, and now Eric’s father, talked about Charlie but never mentioned Eric himself.

  ‘Yes, I know that,’ he said, ‘I only mentioned Charlie because we saw him quite recently. You’re a psychologist, I believe, working with Martin Wheeler. We have a counsellor attached to our practice so unless a patient needs a psychiatric referral I tend to —’

  ‘Yes, good idea.’ For the first time I noticed a family likeness. He had the same mouth as Eric, the same chin.

  ‘I expect Charlie told you how he came to stay the night.’ He rocked back on his heels, smiling in the patronising manner some GPs find impossible to resist. He was dressed casually, in black cords and a grey leather bomber jacket and I guessed they were part of a new image, put together by Deborah in an attempt to make him look younger, although in my jaundiced opinion it had the opposite effect.

  ‘I believe you were called out to do a visit,’ I said.

  ‘Was I? Is that what Charlie told you? Oh, yes, that’s right, an old lady with chest pains.’

  Was it my imagination or had my reference to the home visit thrown him a little? It was the night Shaun Cunliffe was stabbed to death, that was what I would like to have added. Instead I asked if he had always worked in Bristol.

  ‘Most of my life. I was hoping to specialise in paediatrics but things never work out the way you expect. My father was in general practice and saw it as something of a vocation. Things have changed, of course, but not that much. If I had to hazard a guess I’d say more than half of my appointments are concerned with social rather than medical problems but of course you’d know that already. You trained in this area did you?’

  ‘No, London.’ I thought about Isabel, waiting a safe distance from the health centre, then seeing Ted come out and running back to her car. While she was telling me about it had she guessed I knew about Cunliffe’s murder and would make the connection with Fishponds Road?

  He was still talking about his patients and how it was only getting to know them over a long period of time that enabled you to decide which symptoms needed investigation and which were simply ‘neurotic’. I opened my mouth to say psychosomatic pain could be just as severe as pain with an organic cause, but before I could speak he had returned to the subject of Charlie.

  ‘What’s your assessment of my grandson, then? Difficult to know how he’s reacted to his mother’s death. Seems rather quiet but I wouldn’t describe him as withdrawn, would you?’

  ‘It’s only six months.’

  Newsom smiled. ‘Prefer to keep your opinion to yourself. Well, I can’t say I blame you. He was there when my wife found the body, you know. Terrible for him to see such a thing but they say the knowing is never as bad as the imagining, and at least we can take comfort from the fact that it didn’t actually happen when Charlie was in the house.’

  The organiser of the meeting was signalling it was time to start, and referring us to our handouts. Newsom returned to his seat but during the next hour on several occasions he gave me an amused, almost contemptuous smile. Had Isabel told him about her appointments? It seemed highly unlikely. And what about Deborah? Perhaps she had talked about my visit to the toyshop and he had started wondering just how involved with his son and grandson I had become.

  *

  During the evening McGhee phoned. Although it was nearly a week since the last anonymous call. I still jumped when the phone rang.

  ‘Only me,’ he said. ‘Remember how I promised to call if I found out anything about a boyfriend Nikki might have had?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes and no. Linda, the landlady at The Night Sky, says she once saw Nikki with a young man but she thought it was someone she worked with.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Ah, now that’s where her memory failed her. Only thing she knew for certain it was in the winter. Nikki put her head round the door and asked if she’d left her gloves on the bar. There was a man standing behind her, dark, foreign-looking, although I didn’t take that last remark too seriously, Linda’s inclined to be a trifle xenophobic.’ I heard the clink of his glass. McGhee took a swallow of whatever he was drinking, then cleared his throat. ‘Listen, Saturday, you’re probably all booked up but if not perhaps we could have a drink. By then I might be able to tell you more.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You can make it? Jolly good. Eight o’clock outside the Old Vic? There’s a pub nearby that claims to sell the best beer in Bristol, not that I can tell the difference myself, well certainly not after the first couple of pints, but there’s a good atmosphere and someone I’d like you to meet, someone who might impress you with her inside information on what made Nikki tick.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Ted phoned,’ said Isabel. ‘He wanted to talk, arranged a time to meet, then rang back later to say he couldn’t make it.’

  So I was right about Newsom. He knew how unhappy she was but he was still prepared to play games, mess her about.

  ‘It must have been because of Deborah,’ she said. ‘I expect she wanted to go somewhere and Ted didn’t like to say no.’

  ‘You’d arranged to meet in the evening?’

  ‘Oh, no, during Ted’s lunch break but Deborah sometimes likes him to go shopping with her. She loves shopping — I’ve never known anyone who bought so many clothes. Do you think I’ve let myself go?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Well, you’d have to say that, wouldn’t you. How can someone hurt you so much but you still go on loving them? Is it love? I don’t know any more. I don’t know anything.’ She smiled. ‘Listen to me, rambling on, wasting your time. Anyway, later on Ted rang again then came round to the house, only he didn’t come inside, he’s never been inside, not since the day he left. I suppose it would seem too much like old times, or perhaps he thinks it’s my house now, even though it’s still in both of our names.’

  ‘Had he told you why he wanted to see you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, but I could tell it was something important. We drove to Ashton Park and stopped near the enclosure with all those deer and he seemed quite pleased to see me and stupidly I started thinking he was going to tell me he was coming back.’

  She smiled again but I could see the pain in her eyes.

  ‘Anyway, there we were, sitting in the car — he hadn’t very long because of all his visits — and still I had no idea what it was all about. I asked if there was something worrying him and he didn’t answer, and I thought, oh no, he’s not going to ask for a divorce, although there wouldn’t be much point since he’d told me ages ago that he and Deborah had no intention of getting married, but people often change their minds after they’ve been living together for a bit — usually it’s the woman’s idea.’

  ‘Yes, that does happen.’ Especially if there’s a child on the way, although it was difficult to imagine Deborah with a baby and people who were as thin as she was sometimes had trouble getting pregnant.

  ‘He kept asking me if I was all right,’ said Isabel, ‘and I thought he must be feeling guilty, although part of me was still hoping he and Deborah were splitting up. Then he asked a few things about Charlie and said how he’d been to stay the night, only I knew that already. Eric won’t speak to his father, except to make arrangements for Charlie. I wish they were on better terms.’ She looked up, checking my expression. ‘No, I do really, mainly for Charlie’s sake, but nothing I say makes a scrap of difference, I suppose it’s just a question of time.’

  She kept stretching her eyes, as if she was having difficulty keeping them open. She was nervous, but not because she knew I had mixed feelings about her coming t
o see me. It was something else.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, stifling a yawn, ‘I thought if we walked round a bit things might be easier so I suggested we got out of the car to look at the deer, but Ted didn’t seem too keen. Then the next thing he said was rather odd. He asked if I’d had any strange phone calls. What kinds of calls, I said, but instead of explaining he changed the subject again and wanted to know if Eric and I ever talked about Nikki, if Eric had any new theories about who could have killed her.’

  ‘New theories?’

  ‘Oh, well any theories at all.’ Her mouth twitched and I thought she was either going to laugh or cry. ‘Later, when he dropped me off at the house I actually thought, just for one ridiculous moment, he was going to kiss me, but he was only undoing the catch on the seat belt. It keeps sticking, always did. Then he muttered some kind of a goodbye and that was it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, resisting the temptation to tell her what a bastard I thought Ted was.

  ‘Sorry?’ she repeated. ‘Oh, you mean because I made such a fool of myself, only I can’t help thinking there was something he wanted to tell me and he just couldn’t bring himself to come out with it.’

  Either that or he got a kick out of keeping her guessing, quite apart from the fact that it meant he could arrange another meeting for the two of them, then cancel it, then ring back, stirring up all her conflicting feelings all over again.

  ‘Was Nikki friendly with Deborah?’ I said.

  ‘Nikki? Oh, I don’t think so — they were much too different. She used to call in at the toyshop sometimes but I got the impression she preferred Faye, found her easier to talk to. Faye’s a dear. After Ted left … well, I suppose she was afraid I’d never go in the shop again, although I do now, when I know Deborah won’t be there. Anyway Faye gave me a ring and suggested we met for a coffee.’

  ‘When was this? Oh, you mean shortly after Ted moved out?’

  She nodded. ‘It was kind of her, I really appreciated it, but the trouble was she was so careful not to upset me she insisted on talking about anything other than the one thing I wanted to discuss.’ She broke off, picking up a pen on my desk and twisting it between her finger and thumb. When she spoke again she tried to make the question as casual as possible.

  ‘Have you met Deborah?’

  ‘Once, very briefly.’

  ‘What did you think of her? No, don’t say anything, it was unfair of me to ask. If she had a baby Ted would be seventy by the time it left home, not that I’ve ever thought of her as the maternal kind but women in their late thirties — sometimes they panic, don’t they. It’s the thought that time may be running out.’

  *

  Heather must have heard Isabel leaving the building. A phone call was put through to me almost at once. It was Ronnie Cox.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that photograph you showed me,’ she said. ‘As I said, I never saw Nikki’s friend close to, but one of the girls at the office saw a picture in the newspaper and said it could have been the same man.’

  ‘Did she just happen to mention it or had you said something?’

  ‘Me? No, I never said a word. Well, they’re both dead now so what’s the point. If there’s any connection between Nikki’s death and this man, whoever he is, the police are sure to find out. Oh, there was one thing I remembered although I can’t imagine it has anything to do with anything. It’s about the little boy.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Nikki used to worry about him. She’d got it into her head he could have inherited one of those awful diseases that only come out in later life.’

  ‘What disease? Who was he supposed to have inherited it from?’ It was the first I had heard of it. Eric had never said anything and if Isabel knew I was pretty certain she would have said something.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it was just Nikki making something out of nothing. She read articles in magazines. Whatever was the latest scare story you could be sure Nikki would know all about it. I remember there was some television programme the girls in the office were talking about. I never saw it but apparently it was about single mothers whose babies all had different fathers. Nikki thought it was funny. “Anyway, who cares,” she said, “a baby’s a baby however it comes into this world, it’s being loved that makes you what you are, not which little sperm fertilises which little egg.”’

  *

  Ever since the old staff room had been turned into an extension to the library it was virtually impossible to find a seat. I had given up any attempt to push my way through to the coffee table and was just about to leave when I saw Steve Anderson holding up a hand to indicate he wanted a word.

  ‘Good of you to come in for the meeting, Anna.’

  ‘You said I had to.’

  He smiled. ‘Only because I knew you’d complain if you hadn’t had a chance to have your say.’

  ‘I was right about there being too many students for each seminar.’

  ‘Of course you’re right but unless you can get us more funding there’s not a lot anyone can do about it. Anyway, how’s things with you and Janice Kirk. I’m sorry you drew the short straw but it’s like school teaching — there’s usually at least one trouble-maker in every group, and if he or she leaves another takes their place.’

  ‘Things have improved,’ I said, noticing how his eczema had spread, and wondering if, in his case, stress made it worse or it was just something that came in cycles. ‘As far as the seminars are concerned you could say she’s flipped to the opposite extreme.’

  ‘Really? Negative transference has changed to positive.’ He put his hand up to touch his neck, then pulled it away. ‘You count to thirty and the itching stops, well that’s the theory. So all that aggressive stuff was just a cover-up for her lack of confidence, general anxiety. She was testing you out, seeing if you’d reject her.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish. By the way, the student who changed to your course, what’s her name, Lisa, Lynne?’

  ‘Lianne Fraser.’

  ‘Catching up all right, is she?’

  ‘Janice has been helping her,’ I said, wondering what was so interesting that he had to keep looking over my head. ‘She’s moved into a room in Janice’s flat, says it’s the best place she’s ever had, only I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Anna.’ He made an effort to concentrate on what I was saying. ‘First you accuse me of expecting you to counsel the students, then you want to involve yourself in their housing problems.’

  ‘Janice claims to have known Nikki Newsom,’ I said, ‘when Nikki and Eric were living in Brislington. Every so often she drops hints there’s something the police ought to know.’

  ‘Just another way of trying to get your attention. If there was any truth in it she’d have been round at the police station like a shot. Right, I must go, expecting a phone call. Oh, and give yourself a break, Anna, stick to the academic side of things while you’re here with us, leave the Janices of this world to the Counselling Service.’ He took a step through the door, then returned with a big grin on his face. ‘Talk of the devil, she’s down the end of the corridor, hanging about by the outer door. Did she know you were coming in today? I should use a different exit.’

  I had arranged to see the librarian. I wanted a particular book, a scathing attack on Family Therapy, put in the reserve collection so all the students in my seminar had a chance to read it but there was some problem about a member of staff who needed it for her research project.

  ‘You couldn’t buy another copy?’ I said, knowing the librarian would cast his eyes to heaven and not even bother to repeat his usual prepared speech about lack of cash.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said, ‘let me know which part they need to look at. I’ll have some photocopies made of the relevant section.’

  ‘Yes, all right, thanks, only it would be nice if just occasionally they got the chance to read something from cover to cover.’

  When I left the building the weat
her had changed again, clouds rushed across the sky and the dozen or so saplings that had been planted near the entrance, in an attempt to improve the general appearance of the place, looked in danger of snapping off. Groups of students were moving between the once temporary wooden shacks that had now become a permanent fixture. Jokey, redheaded Kev, who did as little work as possible but would probably end up with quite a decent degree, gave me a wave and shouted something about too many late nights and how his assignment should be in my pigeon-hole by the end of the week.

  ‘I hope so,’ I called, trying to maintain the smile on my face as Janice Kirk appeared from behind the concrete building that housed the central heating boiler, caught up with me and handed me a paperback.

  ‘Have you read this? Only after what we were talking about at the last seminar I thought you might find it quite interesting.’ Janet Radcliffe Richards’ The Sceptical Feminist. I flicked through the pages. ‘Yes, I did read it once but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten most of the arguments.’

  ‘You can read it again then. I picked it up in the market, thought it was just your kind of thing.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Leaving now, are you?’ She tugged at her new college sweatshirt, pulling it down over her hips. ‘Only there was something I wanted to ask you. No, it’s all right, I can see you’re in a hurry so I’ll tell you on your way to the car park.’ She patted her stomach. ‘Going to have to watch my weight. Since Lianne moved in I’ve been eating like a horse. Used to rely on leftovers at the restaurant.’

  ‘You wash up there every evening?’

  ‘No, I had to cut down to fit in all the reading you set us, only do three nights a week now, then there’s my Saturday job at the caff in the market. Working out really well, me and Lianne. We take it in turns to do the cooking. She can make pizzas, the base and all.’