I grabbed my pile. “On it.”
Will grabbed his pile. “Do you mind if Lily and I do this in my office? It’s a bit crowded in here with four of us.”
“Be my guest. It’s getting late anyway, and you two are back in the van tomorrow morning, so do what you can, and drop them here afterwards. You can pick them back up tomorrow afternoon. If you do find anything unusual, though, let me know straight away so I can arrange to follow it up ASAP.”
“Consider it done,” said Will. He turned to me. “Let’s go.”
We settled ourselves at opposite sides of his desk and got to work. After an hour of scrutinising my pile, I only had three employees who seemed to change jobs every year or two: another one of the chefs and two of the nursing staff. I marked them for further investigation. The chef was a Jamaican-born twenty-five-year-old male called Leroy, and the two nurses were women. One of them, Mary, was thirty-seven, a single mother of two kids, and had started there six months ago. She’d been at the job before that for six months, and the one before that for ten. Assuming the unusual number of deaths may have started more than six months ago, she may not be our suspect, but I wasn’t going to discount her. All her previous jobs had been at care homes, so we’d have to question her previous bosses.
The last woman was twenty-eight, and this was only her second job in the field, but she’d been at her first job only a year, and this job a year so far—so the timeline fit. Her employment report showed she’d been handed two warnings at the last job for giving residents the wrong dosage of medication, which resulted in the residents almost dying. Could have been an honest mistake but could have been intentional. I’d have to chase those reports, see if it may have been the prescribing doctor’s fault too—goodness knew doctors weren’t infallible, even though many people thought they were. So far, she was my most likely candidate.
I finished making notes and looked up. “How’s it going? Find anything?”
“Maybe. Is this the woman you ran into that night?” He held up an A4 sheet of paper. The photo taking up the top right-hand quarter of the page showed the carer I didn’t like. She was smiling, but even so, she looked… cold. Her lips were too taut, her eyes devoid of warmth. If I had to put money on anyone, it would be her.
“Yes. That’s definitely her.” I leaned forward, hopeful. “Did you find something?”
“Not really. She’s been at Saint Catherine Laboure for two years—so she started well before we estimate the increased number of deaths began. Her job before that was for a notable non-witch care home. She was there for ten years and left with high praise.”
A stone of disappointment dropped into my belly. “So, why did you point her out?”
“I don’t like the look of her. She has the stare of a psychopath. And trust me; I know what they look like.” His grey gaze darkened, and his eyes narrowed. Was he referring to Dana?
I hated to concede my gut was wrong, but unless we could find some evidence to back up our feelings, I’d have to admit that she was innocent. “Maybe she’s a psychopath who does a good job? Just because you have no empathy, doesn’t mean you kill people for fun. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t get sad when they die? Maybe it lets her stay detached and do things by the book. If she gets paid well, which I can see from here that she does, why would you jeopardise it? Maybe she loves the money and doesn’t mind the job. Maybe she kind of likes seeing people suffer through dementia? That could be all it is.” That made her a shitty human but not a murderer.
He made a noncommittal grunt.
I shrugged. “So, what else do you have?”
“The only other one I can see who would raise a red flag is the manager.”
“Granted, he wasn’t very nice when we were there, but why else?”
“He started there a couple of months before the rise in death rates. He was fired from his last job, although it doesn’t say why, and it wasn’t with a care home.”
“How did he get that job?”
“His sister was the previous manager. She received an internal promotion, so now she’s district manager for that group of care homes—this company manages a few witch care homes in the UK. Both she and her brother are witches, but the company employs both witches and non-witches, since no one can perform magic on-site anyway. Every non-witch who works there has to swear on their right arm not to tell anyone.”
Huh? “Is that like swearing on the Bible or on your mother’s life? Because I’m sure people do that and lie anyway.”
He smiled. “Ah, no. With a spelled swearing, they will actually lose that arm. It’s usually to a flesh-eating bug that miraculously dies once it gets to the shoulder.”
My horrified intake of breath echoed around the room. “What the hell? That’s crazy. You witches are cruel!”
“Um, I hate to break it to you, gorgeous, but you’re a witch too.” He grinned.
Ooh, he called me gorgeous. My cheeks heated, but then I realised I was one of the crazies. “I would never do that to anyone.”
“What if it were a matter of survival: you or them? What about if it were Dana threatening your life or the life of every witch you loved or cared about?”
Hmm, he made a fantastic point. I put my hands up in surrender. “You win. Flesh-eating bugs are fine. I guess threatening someone with armlessness is a way to make them harmless. Ha ha.”
“You really need to work on your jokes, Lily. They’re getting worse.”
“Gah. Not you too. Have you been comparing notes with Olivia?”
He smirked. “I didn’t need to. It’s obvious.”
“Fine. Since you both hate my jokes so much, I’m going to make more and more bad jokes, and they’re going to get worse and worse. I have no pride to salvage anymore. It’s liberating having nothing to lose. Don’t you think so?” It was my turn to smirk. I’d make them both suffer. I did my best evil laugh. “Mwahahahahahahahaha.”
His smile disappeared, and he put his hands up, palms facing me. “I surrender. Just don’t make me suffer.”
“Too late. I have no mercy. When you least expect it, expect it.” I grinned, then let it fade. “Where was he working before there?”
“It doesn’t say.”
This was getting curiouser and curiouser, and yes, I knew curiouser wasn’t a word, but it should be because it was awesome. “So, now what?”
He looked at his phone. “It’s close to seven. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Want to grab some dinner, then call it a night?”
My stomach rumbled loudly. I looked at it and blushed. “Um, my stomach obviously agrees it’s dinner time, so I vote yes to your suggestion.”
We returned the paperwork to Millicent’s office. She’d left, but Olivia was there, typing away. “I was wondering how long you’d be. Just put them on her desk.”
“Want to join us for dinner?” I wasn’t sure if Will would mind, but it wasn’t as if he was taking me for a romantic meal—we were tired, and we all had to work tomorrow.
She looked at me, then Will. “Are you sure it’s okay? I kind of feel like a third wheel.”
Will smiled. “Nonsense. You’re part of the PIB family now, plus Lily loves you, so you’re always welcome. There’s a nice Italian place in Tonbridge. We can drive. It won’t take long. The prices are reasonable, and the food is good.”
Olivia smiled. “I think I know the place. Pizza Express? Right next to the river?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yes, please. Mmm, I can smell the garlic bread already.” She sniffed the air, and I laughed.
“Well, if it’s that good, let’s not waste any more time. I’m starving.”
Chapter 10
The next morning, we started in the van at the usual time—eight thirty. I’d had a restless night’s sleep because I worried someone would kill Angelica while I wasn’t watching—not that there was much I could do even if I had been in the van. But maybe if she died, someone could revive her. “Will, do we have a plan for if Ma’a
m is killed? Like, can we turn off the anti-magic shield, pop in and grab her and get out again? Is Beren on standby?”
He was sitting next to me, at the same monitor as yesterday. He turned his head to look at me. “Beren’s on standby, but we can’t switch off the shield. It’s against regulations, and if any of the old people caused havoc, or killed someone by accident when it was down, we’d be responsible. Don’t worry, Lily. We’re across the road. If something happens, we’ll be in there in sixty seconds.”
“If someone kills her, every second counts if we want a chance at reviving her.” I ignored the little voice that told me whatever they did to her might be something there’s no coming back from. “The lift is slow, especially when you need it to come quickly.” I shuddered, remembering the zombie-witch attack.
“She makes a good case.” Imani, seated to my left, glanced at Will before looking back at the monitors.
“It’s probably worth considering.” Agent Cardinal thrummed his fingers on the desk.
“How would you propose we do it?” Will didn’t sound keen, more like he thought it was a waste-of-time avenue to traipse down.
Agent Cardinal, sitting on the other side of Imani, turned to regard Will. “Leave it with me. If I can think of a way that doesn’t leave us liable, I’ll let you know.”
Will gave him a chin tip but said nothing, then turned back to his monitor. Well, that went well. Not.
A quiet grumble came from our system. “I could die just from the food. It’s awful. And it appears to be made for people without teeth.”
Angelica! A burst of happiness showered my insides. It was good to hear her voice.
Last night, before I fell asleep, I vowed I wouldn’t look at the monitors that showed her, for obvious reasons. I was focussing as much as I could on the monitor that showed what she could see. Sometimes her ghostly hands or arm would come into frame, but right now, I was looking at her bowl, which held watery porridge. At least I thought that’s what it was.
The view panned up, showing she sat by herself at a table for two. The dining room held around fifteen tables: some were for two, and some were for four. Around half of the tables were occupied by elderly witches. Her gaze wandered the dining room. She was obviously showing us the set-up, plus who knew when we’d notice something unusual that could be a clue.
Angelica’s gaze snapped back to her table and the chair opposite her. An older lady, but not too decrepit looking, sat down. Her brown eyes were glazed but fully open and bright enough to be assessing Angelica. The woman was obviously a patient: her pink silk pyjamas were a dead giveaway. She looked to be around seventy, and when she smiled, she had a mouth full of perfectly straight teeth. Hmm, too perfect. They were probably dentures. “I’m Elizabeth. I run things around here. Are you new?” What did she mean, she ran things around there?
Angelica looked left, then right. She was stalling her answer, maybe trying to seem as crazy as possible. She whispered, “I’m Mrs Prestons. But don’t tell anyone. They’re listening, you know.” Ah, she was going for paranoid. I snorted.
Elizabeth leaned forward and lowered her voice too. “Who? Who is listening?”
“Them.”
The other woman looked at Angelica as if she thought she was crazy. Ah, the irony. “Well, if they do anything to you, I can help. I’m a nurse.” Wow, if she thought she worked there, she was just as crazy as Angelica pretended to be.
“Do you work here?” Angelica whispered before taking a loud slurp of her icky porridge. The noise was so gross. I probably wouldn’t eat porridge for two years after that. It might have even ruined porridge for me forever. I couldn’t stand people making noises when they ate.
“Yes. I take care of everyone. The other nurses aren’t very nice, though. There’s one who thinks she’s me—the other Elizabeth. They’ll tell you I don’t work here and that my name’s Penny, but they’re just jealous because I get things done. I’m the manager’s favourite—he treats my like royalty. And I have the best room.” A smug smile slid onto her face.
Angelica nodded. “Which room is that?”
“Number four. It’s the Asian number for death.” Um, okaaaay. I would have thought the death room would be the worst room to have, but that’s just me. “Give me your wrist.”
Angelica’s near-transparent arm reached across the table. The other woman grabbed it and proceeded to take her pulse. After a while, she dropped her wrist and said, “Nice strong heartbeat. You’re very fit, or maybe you have a slow metabolism. Your heart rate is sixty-two beats per minute. I bet you have a nice strong heart.”
One of the male carers, a young, slim Indian with short straight hair, came over. “Penny, are you behaving yourself? And where’s your breakfast?”
Penny? So, her name wasn’t Elizabeth—colour me surprised. The woman, whoever she was, waved a hand behind her. “Over there somewhere. I ate some. I’d like to go to my room now.”
“Okay. I’ll help you.” The young man helped her out of her chair. Angelica’s gaze followed them until they walked out the door.
Once they were gone, an elderly man arrived at the table. His thin frame was hunched over, and one side of his face drooped. He had trouble getting the words out when he said, “This is my usual table.” He sat. Angelica was about to stand—the camera had wobbled, and the scrape of her chair came through, but the man raised his hand. “No, stay. I could use some company.” He sounded sane enough. What was he doing in the dementia section?
“Okay, then. What’s your name?”
“Winston Baker. I’m convalescing. The war was a terrible time, and I need a rest.” That answered my question.
“I wouldn’t worry, dear,” said Angelica. “You did a wonderful job. We’re all safe.”
He smiled, only one side of his mouth curling up. “And what is a lovely lady like you doing here?”
Her voice conveyed a smile. “I’m not quite sure. My son says it’s a holiday village, but there’s not much sun or sea. I prefer to holiday by the sea. I just want to go home.” She sighed.
He looked around, then met Angelica’s gaze again. He lowered his voice. “I’ve been in the know for a long time.” He tapped the side of this nose. “Be careful of that Elizabeth woman. She’s a sneaky one. I don’t think she’s really a nurse.”
“Elizabeth?”
“You know, that woman who was just sitting with you.”
“Ah, Elizabeth. I thought her name was Penny?”
“Is that what she told you? Once, she told me her name was Agatha Christie. Like I’d believe she was the famous author. Like I said, she’s a slippery one. Anywho….” He stood. “I’ll be off. I have a call with the prime minister shortly.”
After he limped away, Angelica stood. She lifted her teddy—I hadn’t realised she’d brought it. Maybe because its view had been of the floor. The poor thing had been face down under her chair. Yes, I knew it wasn’t alive, but I still felt sorry for it. She said to her bear, “Let’s go to my room and have tea. Maybe Preston will bring me some of those biscuits I like. The porridge was blech.”
Will pushed a button on the keyboard and said quietly, “I’m sure he will.” Angelica gave the teddy a ghostly smile and dropped him to her side again. It was reassuring that we could communicate with her, but her faded appearance was the reminder I didn’t need that it was all a false sense of security.
Angelica went to the toilet on the way back. We all looked around awkwardly as the noise reverberated around the van—we couldn’t see her, of course, but still…. She was a braver woman than me. Finally, she returned to her room, got into bed, and watched TV. Ooh, it was one of my favourite shows, Location, Location, Location, an English reality property show where the two happy-but-snarky hosts find someone the place of their dreams, or at least the place they could afford that has one or two of their multitude of criteria. I loved virtually walking through all the old houses, and the two hosts had fun chemistry.
Will picked up his phone and pressed
a couple of buttons. “Hi, Mill. Yes. We need to add a suspect to the list.”
What had I missed?
“Yes. No…. It’s a patient. A woman whose name is Elizabeth or Penny. She’s in room four.” He listened for a minute. “Yes, Caucasian, around seventy, curly, short grey hair, about five foot five, English accent, may have been a nurse. Okay, thanks…. Bye.”
The other agents looked at Will as if to say he was being nuts and way overcautious. He turned to me. “Lily, do you remember what my grandmother said when we visited her?”
Um, she’d said quite a few things, but I took my time and ran through it in my head. Oh, wow. “Yes! She said she’d met the Queen. You don’t think she meant Queen Elizabeth, do you? And if she had been a nurse, she’d know how to kill people in hard-to-figure-out ways.”
“Like injecting them with air,” finished Imani.
“Exactly.” Will turned back to the monitors. “I’ll try and keep track of Penny, or whoever she is, while you concentrate on Ma’am. We can see her door from the camera on Ma’am’s door frame. Maybe Beren can put another camera somewhere else so we can track her movements to the other patients’ rooms.”
“Could he manage a camera above her door frame, facing away from Ma’am’s room?” I asked.
“Maybe, but they still have their security cameras around the place, and they might pick up on him doing that. At least if he’s milling about his own mother’s doorway, it doesn’t look weird.”
“Could we somehow hack into their system?”
Will looked at me as if I were a genius. I could get used to that. People didn’t look at me that way very often—in fact, almost never. I didn’t even have to wonder why. “Lily, that’s a brilliant idea! I’ll call Millicent again.”
“What are you going to ask her?”
“If Tim can hack into their system. It would solve a lot of problems, and we’d have access to way more footage.”
Witch Silenced in Westerham Page 11