Chilling Out

by Andrew Puckett

  'The relevance is that Miss Blane was clearly looking for trouble, which is not the way you told it.'

  'Then I'm sorry, inspector. I told it the way I saw it.'

  'Mr Jones says that you discarded the rubber penis into the bin.'

  'In that instance, Mr Jones was telling the truth.'

  'Was it you who tidied the room after you'd sent him to X-ray?'

  'It was.'

  'Why? I mean, why not get a cleaner to do it?'

  'For one thing, our cleaners have been contracted from outside and have very specific job descriptions, and for another, it was only a matter of picking up a few things from the floor and replacing them on the desk.'

  'Did you notice Mr Jones's wallet?'

  'Yes, I put it back on the desk along with everything else.'

  'Except for his ID card, which you kept.'

  'I did no such thing.'

  'And the rubber penis, which you recovered from the bin.'

  Medlar regarded him with something between amusement and contempt. 'You seem to have an unhealthy fascination with that particular object, inspector.'

  Bennett didn't appear to notice. 'You told us just now that you didn't call at Miss Blane's house last night, doctor?'

  'That's right.'

  'Your fingerprints have been found in the house.'

  'I have called there on previous occasions.'

  'When was the last occasion?'

  'A few days ago, I can't remember the date.'

  'Why did you… what was the purpose of your visit?'

  'She had a magazine article about multiple sclerosis she thought might interest me.'

  'Couldn't she have brought it into work?'

  'I wanted it urgently. Inspector, why d'you keep asking me about Verity? Is something the matter with her?'

  'You could say that, doctor,' Bennett said, watching him closely. 'She was found strangled this morning.'

  'Good God…!' So far as Bennett could tell, the reaction could have been genuine. 'Are you telling she's dead?'

  'She is, yes.'

  'But how?'

  'As I said, she was strangled, we think sometime yesterday evening. She was found with the rubber penis in her mouth.'

  'And you think I did it? What possible motive could I have had for that?'

  'Her silence, doctor. You've already told us that you would go to some lengths to prevent your wife finding out about Miss N'Kanu.'

  'If you regard having a shower and telling a few porkies as “some lengths”, then yes. You're being over-imaginative again, inspector.'

  'I don't think so, doctor.'

  Light seemed to dawn on Medlar. 'You think I killed Adam as well, don't you? My God, what kind of person d'you think I am?'

  'Perhaps a desperate one?'

  Medlar said, 'I don't think I'm going to say any more without a solicitor.'

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After Mulholland and Marsh had driven Tom to the centre, he collected his case and left them to it. As he walked back along the corridor, he thought, If I'm right, this'll be the last time…

  He wasn't sorry about that. Although his haemophobia hadn't bothered him as much as he'd feared, the centre was a sad, sad place. If the atmosphere had been subdued before, it was sepulchral now: the staff walked around like automata and spoke in low, almost conspiratorial voices. Verity's death hadn't been announced yet, nor any reason for Maria's disappearance, but it was as though they all knew. The whole place had the surreality of an edifice about to collapse on itself and Tom wondered whether it could last the six months left to it. He went down to his car and drove thoughtfully back to Sticklepath.

  Although he'd been the one who'd set it up, he knew he wouldn't be entirely happy until Medlar actually confessed. Why this should be, he wasn't sure. It all fitted: after bidding Maria fond farewell, he'd have waited for Goring, perhaps in the underground park, perhaps by the lift…

  'I think I've found what you wanted, Adam. We'll go through here, shall we? I'd rather the orderly didn't see us…'

  Then slam bam and home to his wife. Simple.

  Maria had found the body and moved it because she'd known at once who'd killed him. Had she told Medlar what she'd done? Tom somehow doubted it, so he must have been puzzled when it wasn't discovered, even more so when it turned up in the river, but he'd carried it off with aplomb.

  But unfortunately for him, Verity had somehow worked it out and put the squeeze on him. It certainly explained why Medlar let her get away with her behaviour, why he'd complained about him to Bennett on her behalf… Had she tried to squeeze him too hard, or had he removed her anyway simply because she knew? Probably something they'd never know.

  Holly was there on her own when he got back to Sticklepath, her parents having taken Hal to the marine aquarium in Tamar for the afternoon.

  Tom hadn't eaten since breakfast, so he hacked some bread from the loaf and devoured it, telling her between mouthfuls what had happened.

  'His poor wife,' Holly said.

  'Yes…'

  It was still light and Tom, his immediate hunger slaked, said on impulse, 'I need some air, let's take the dog out.'

  'All right, so long as we're not too long. I said I'd get dinner ready.'

  They donned coats, walked down the lane, clambered over a stile and started up the hill that was Sticklepath's backdrop. The dog ran round them in circles. The sun had just set but a golden glow persisted on the horizon, giving the illusion of a light that would never fade. The higher they climbed, the richer it became. They stopped at the summit beside a gnarled hawthorn that still held clumps of red berries and stared deep into the light. Serried ranks of hilltops ran away from them and dissolved into the flux on the horizon. There was no wind.

  Holly said, 'Light like that makes me think of… oh, I don't know, magicians…'

  He glanced at her and she continued, 'It's as though any minute it'll coalesce into something that'll come galloping out at us…'

  'A knight in white armour perhaps – 'course, you've already got one of those.'

  'Really?' She sniffed. 'I was thinking more of an angel…'

  'On horseback?'

  'Why not?'

  She was right, Tom thought, there was something tangible in there and it just needed a magician to unlock it – rather like life, really…

  He looked at her again. Her face reflected the glow so that it seemed to be coming from within her, and for a moment, he was taken back to the time when they'd first met. She'd glowed like candlewax then. He smiled at the memory and put an arm round her. He gently kissed her cheek, and then her mouth. Her lips were powder dry, then soft, then yielding and suddenly, he knew he had to have her; whether for some noble purpose such as affirming life or just because he had to have her, he wasn't sure…

  'I know that look,' she said, 'and there isn't time.'

  'They won't be back for an hour.'

  'They might…'

  'Well, it's either there or here,' he said.

  She giggled. 'Don't you mean, it's neither here nor there?'

  'No, I don't,' he growled.

  They woke to the sound of the front door slamming and Hal shouting. 'Mummeee…!'

  'Oh my God,' Holly said, jumping out of bed. 'The dinner…'

  Dinner was late. The phone rang while they were finishing it and Henry went to answer it.

  'It's for you,' he said to Tom as he came back.

  'Hello?' Tom said into the receiver.

  'Mr Jones? It's Sarah Medlar here – George Medlar's wife. '

  'Yes, Mrs Medlar?'

  'I'd like to talk to you. Could you come over, d'you think? Please.'

  'When?'

  'Tonight, if you wouldn't mind, please.'

  He did mind. 'I don't think I can really be of any help to you, Mrs Medlar.'

  'I want you to tell the police something for me. I think you owe me that at least.'

  Tom hesitated. It would serve no purpose and probably be unpleasant, but h
e'd already hesitated too long. 'All right,' he said. 'Where do you live?'

  She told him and he said he'd be with her in an hour.

  'It can't hurt just to listen to her,' Holly said.

  Tom grunted.

  He set off, driving slowly through the lanes. The moon was down, but the night was alive with stars that faded as he approached Tamar. He found the address easily enough, turned into the drive as she'd suggested and parked beside a white Escort that seemed vaguely familiar.

  An efficient-looking woman in nurse's uniform opened the door and took him through to the living-room. A fire burned in the grate, a Mozart piano concerto was playing and there was an aroma in the air that he couldn't place. The figure in the wheelchair was obviously Sarah Medlar, but it was the other figure opposite her on the sofa that made him jump slightly.

  'You already know Jessie, of course,' Sarah said to him. 'I'm Sarah Medlar.' She lifted her right hand, which he took.

  'Hello, Mrs Medlar.'

  'Do sit down. Would you like some tea or coffee?'

  'No thanks, I've only just had one.'

  'It was good of you to come at such short notice.'

  Tom didn't reply and Jessie said, 'I'm going in a moment, Mr Jones. I wonder if I could talk to you tomorrow? I'll be back working at the centre – Dr Medlar arranged it.'

  Makes sense, I suppose. 'I'm not here during the day, it'll have to be in the evening.'

  'Yes, that's all right. You know where my house is, don't you?'

  'Yes.'

  She stood up. 'I'll be going then, Sarah. You'll let me know if you need anything, won't you?'

  'Of course I will. Thank you for coming, my dear.'

  Jessie quickly kissed her cheek, said goodbye again and turned to Tom. 'Tomorrow evening then, Mr Jones,' she said and left.

  'A dear girl,' Sarah said as the front door closed. 'A real friend.'

  The concerto tinkled. Tom said, 'How can I help you, Mrs Medlar?'

  Her eyes came back to him, reproachfully he thought, and he said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so abrupt.' He was feeling acutely self-conscious.

  'The police are still holding my husband. He told me over the phone that it was you who pointed them in his direction.'

  So it was going to be as bad as he'd thought… 'What makes him think that?'

  'He's not a complete fool. I asked you here tonight because I'm hoping you will help me unpoint them.'

  He said, 'I'll listen to what you have to say, of course.'

  'The police seem to think he killed Adam in order to prevent him telling me about his relationship with Maria N'Kanu.'

  'You know about that?' Tom said after a pause.

  'I've known for some time – I'm not a complete fool either, Mr Jones, however I may look.'

  'I'm aware of that.'

  'George is human and male, but he's also honourable. He wouldn't leave me in this state for another woman. I've always known that. Adam's silence is simply not reason enough for George to have killed him.'

  'Forgive me, Mrs Medlar, but did he know that? Know that you knew he wouldn't leave you, if you see what I mean.'

  'Yes.'

  'But when I spoke to him yesterday, he made it very plain that he didn't want you to know about Maria.'

  'Because he didn't want to hurt me.'

  'Were you hurt?' he asked. 'When you realised he was having an affair?'

  She hesitated. 'I was, a little, but I'm also a pragmatist. Mr Jones,' she said quickly, trying to regain the initiative, 'the point is, whatever else George may be, he's not a killer.'

  'Nor are any of us, until the circumstances arise.'

  'Are the police assuming that the same person killed both Adam and Verity?'

  'They think it's likely.'

  She said, 'It may be conceivable – barely just conceivable that George would kill Adam…' Her grey eyes seemed to grow in size, be almost hypnotic. 'But not poor Verity. Never. I want you to tell the police that.'

  'But what if Verity had somehow found out that he'd killed Dr – '

  'He had a particular reason for wanting Verity alive,' she interrupted.

  Tom waited.

  'I have multiple sclerosis, as you can see. It doesn't only look unpleasant, it feels unpleasant as well. There are various palliatives, but I have found only one to be of any help, and that's marijuana.'

  The smell…

  'Unfortunately, it's an illegal substance and MS sufferers have been prosecuted for using it. A medical trial is due to take place to determine its efficacy, but it'll probably take five years, which is of no use to me. Verity was our supplier, which is why George's fingerprints were found in her home. Will you tell the police that for me, Mr Jones?'

  'Yes, if that's what you want.'

  She closed her eyes, opened them again. 'This has been quite a strain.' She fumbled in the pocket of the wheelchair, brought out a tin. 'Perhaps you'd light another… one of these for me?'

  He took the tin and opened it. There were perhaps half a dozen reefers inside. He put one between her lips and lit it for her. She gratefully drew and inhaled, taking it out of her mouth with her good hand. The bittersweet smell filled his nostrils.

  'You realise that if I do as you ask, the police may well confiscate your supply and prosecute you?'

  'I'll take that risk.'

  'You may find it difficult to get any more.'

  'I know that.'

  He said, 'I'll try and persuade them to leave you alone, but I'm not sure that I'm your best advocate. Couldn't your doctor put in a word for you?'

  'It's possible.'

  'Does he know?'

  She exhaled smoke. 'Probably, although I've never actually told him. I didn't want him to be an accessory after the fact.'

  He said, 'It's a mess, isn't it?'

  'Yes,' she said simply.

  He'd expected her to blame him for it and when she didn't, he said, 'And I'm sorry about it.'

  'In that case, perhaps you'd do something else for me.'

  He waited.

  'Roll me some… more of these. You'll find the materials in the top drawer over there.'

  He went over, found tobacco, papers and another tin containing the dried leaves.

  'What proportion should I use?'

  'Half and half.'

  Strong. He began rolling. 'How will you light them?'

  'I can usually manage so long as they're within reach.'

  'What about the police?'

  'I'm hoping they won't search my wheelchair.'

  Tom wouldn't have bet on that, but didn't say so. 'Does your nurse know?'

  'I think so, although neither of us have said anything.'

  His fingers began to ache from the unaccustomed exercise and he vaguely wondered why she hadn't asked Jessie.

  'If the police do come,' he said, 'it might be better if you could hide the tin somewhere around your body. They might not search you personally.'

  'Thank you. I'll do that.'

  He'd rolled about two dozen reefers before the marijuana ran out. He packed them into her tin with the others. She thanked him again and he left.

  It had begun drizzling and the streets gleamed dully as he drove over to the police station. Bennett was still there.

  'Any developments?' Tom asked.

  Bennett shook his head. 'Dr Medlar won't change his story, and Miss N'Kanu still refuses to say anything. We're holding them tonight and I'll go on questioning them tomorrow.'

  He listened without expression as Tom told him about Medlar's relationship with Verity.

  'We found the plants in her house,' he said. 'Dr Medlar didn't say a word to us about it.' He thought for a moment. 'If Blane knew he'd killed Goring and was putting the black on him in some way, that's still a strong enough motive for him to kill her.'

  Tom slowly nodded, then said, 'D'you have to do anything about Mrs Medlar? I'm sure the stuff does help her and that her doctor would – '

  'You know the answer to that, Mr Jone
s. If I don't do anything, I'm breaking the law myself.'

  'I accept that,' Tom said, 'but does the law demand that you act immediately? In view of your other, surely more important duties.'

  'No, Mr Jones,' he said after a moment. 'On reflection, I don't believe the law does demand that I act immediately.'

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tom had not long set off for Poole the next morning when the phone in his car went. He flipped the switch:

  'Hello.'

  'Is that Mr Jones?'

  'Speaking.'

  'It's Dr Goldman here, East Dorset Transfusion Centre.'

  Tom asked him to hold on and found a gateway in the narrow lane where he could stop.

  'Yes, Dr Goldman?'

  'I'm afraid something's come up and I'm going to have to reschedule our appointment.'

  'Later today, perhaps?'

  'I'm afraid not. I'm going to be tied up all day.'

  Tom tried to swallow his irritation. 'Tomorrow, then?'

  'I think tomorrow should be all right – let me just check my diary a moment… Yes, shall we say twelve?'

  Tom agreed and rang off, and then sat awhile thinking about it. Did it have any bearing? Goldman hadn't made any attempt to say why he was cancelling, or indeed to apologise, just that he couldn't make it.

  Should he press on to Poole and see Dr Derby anyway? No, he couldn't face the double trip. He rang him from where he was and explained what had happened. Derby agreed readily enough to see him the following day, but said that the only really convenient time was at eleven. He had a stutter, Tom noticed.

  He drove slowly back to Sticklepath, looking for different angles – did Goldman suspect Diana Small of passing information on to Jessie, had he changed the appointment for a time she'd be absent? If she was absent tomorrow, it would be suspicious…

  'Hello,' said Holly in surprise when he got back. 'Problems?'

  He explained.

  'What a pain,' she said. Then, 'Want some coffee? I was just having one.'

  'Tom,' she said as they were drinking it, 'you know I was going to go and see Debbie today… well, Mum and Dad have had to go into town, so I'll take the Mini if you don't need it.' She always referred to the Cooper as the Mini.

  'Sure,' Tom said. Then, as an afterthought: 'You'll be taking Hal as well?'