Quickening her pace, Fay hoped with every fiber of her being that what she had heard was a dog. She would rather deal with a hundred-pound Rottweiler than whatever it was that had made the coughing noise she’d heard last night. She walked faster and faster until she broke into a brisk jog.
The creature kept pace with her effortlessly. She could hear rustling noises and the sound of twigs breaking as it stayed close to the hedgerow. So intent was she on getting away that she almost missed the turnoff to the retirement estate She hesitated, scanning the path that led up to the gatehouse. It was impossible to tell how vulnerable she was. Her eyes ached as they tried to penetrate the darkness. The hedgerow followed the curve of the path all the way up to the gatehouse where the palisade fence began.
Fay either had to step onto the path or follow the road back to Penrose House. The gatehouse was just fifty feet away. She decided to walk towards its friendly light.
As she stepped onto the path, an appalling sound propelled her forward. It was deeper and longer than the cough she had heard. She could only describe it as a roar.
Once again, her fight-or-flight reflex took over, and chose flight. She broke into a sprint and covered the distance to the gatehouse in a matter of seconds. The guard flung open the door to his office at her approach and slammed it shut behind her.
Temporarily blinded by the electric light, Fay blinked and rubbed her eyes. Even the guard seemed pale in the face.
“Did you hear that?” she demanded.
“Did I?” He shuddered. “It sounds like the wild kingdom out there.”
“It sounds like a lion. Or some kind of big cat. A really big cat.”
“There have been rumors all day about something big and dangerous prowling around the village,” he said.
“I know. I heard that too. This is the second time it’s come close to me.” Fay tried to calm her agitated breathing. “The thing is, it can’t be a lion. How could a lion have got onto Bluebell Island? It’s just not possible.”
“Well, you and I both heard it. That wasn’t no dog. Not one I’ve ever heard of. Fair turned my bones to water, so it did.”
“Me too.” Fay’s legs were still shaking.
“Would you be the Miss Penrose I was told to expect?”
“I would indeed. And you must be Kevin.” Fay made an effort to remember why she was there. “Can you show me the signing-in book for this evening? I want to see who came in from about seven o’clock onwards.”
“Sure.” He fetched the book for her. “This is from earlier tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Look here.” He showed her where the night staff started to arrive. “The two nurses, Meredith Disick and Rowan Court, signed in within a minute of each other shortly before seven. Then the library lady, Mrs. Tribble, signed in at seven-twenty-five. Penny Sweet from the candy store arrived at seven-thirty. Doc Dyer and the new doctor – what is his name again? Oh, here it is. Dr. Farlow. The two of them arrived at seven-thirty as well. And after that, it went quiet. With old folk like these, you don’t get many night-time visitors, especially during the week. They like to turn in early, they do.”
Fay read the signing-in book with interest, noting the different handwriting of the visitors. She noticed something else too.
“I see that throughout the day a whole bunch of people signed in, but only a few of them signed out again. How does that work? This isn’t the Hotel California, is it?”
He laughed. “We don’t usually make people sign out. Sometimes, if Matron has specifically requested it, I will ask a particular visitor to sign out on exit. But it’s not usual. They just drive out and I lift the boom for them. That’s not me slacking off, you understand. That’s how the owners prefer it.”
“I see. So, does that mean we have no way of knowing which of these people left the estate, or when they left?”
“All I can tell you is that a number of cars exited this evening. I didn’t look at who was behind the wheel of each one. I never do.”
Fay felt steadier now. She stood up and found that her legs were quite stable.
“Could you tell me for sure whether Matron Sale left this evening?”
Kevin was silent for as he thought about this. “No, I couldn’t,” he said at last. “Not for sure I couldn’t. All I know is that she usually leaves between five-thirty and six in the evenings. I couldn’t swear to it that I saw her leave today. I can’t imagine why she would hang about though. She normally puts in a full day’s work and leaves promptly at five-thirty. That’s one of the perks of being Matron.”
Fay peered out the window of the small wooden office into the pitch-black estate. “You don’t think that creature couldn’t get in here, could it?”
“I don’t reckon so. There’s a hedge with a steel palisade fence that runs all the way around the estate. And here we have the gate. I reckon I would notice if a lion strolled in here while I was opening the gate.”
“In that case, I’ll leave you now. Thanks, Kevin.”
“It’s a terrible thing, all these deaths we’ve had at the frail-care unit lately. I was sad about Mrs. Binnie. I saw her a couple of days ago and she seemed so well. But when I heard that Mrs. Busby was gone too – well, I just couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t have been a day over sixty. If you had seen her power-walking around the estate every morning at dawn, you would have thought she would live to see a hundred.”
“That’s what I’ve heard too. People are in shock about this.”
Fay thanked Kevin again and set off towards the frail-care unit where Matron Sale let her in.
It was obvious that the Matron had only just arrived herself. She was wearing a fleecy top zipped up to her chin. Under it was unmistakably a pair of pajamas. Presumably, she had hurried over as soon as she had been notified of Iona Busby’s death. She looked tired and not half as self-assured as she had seemed the day before.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Penrose. I wish it was in better circumstances. I feel like a fool for telling you yesterday that there was nothing to be concerned about.”
“I know what you mean. Yesterday at lunchtime I told Mrs. Binnie’s granddaughter that the only thing to do was to accept her grandmother’s death and move on. I stopped just short of giving her my personal guarantee that her grandmother had died of natural causes.”
“I said the same thing to the Binnie family. It might still turn out to be true.”
“Yes, it might. But let’s talk about Mrs. Busby. I believe her death was unexpected?”
“She was sixty-one and seemed younger. She was as fit as a fiddle and exercised every day. And it wasn’t even as though she was sick.”
“Why exactly was she in the frail-care unit? I got a slightly confused answer from my housekeeper, Morwen. Something about a procedure she’d had done.”
“Mrs. Busby had some moles on her back that she wasn’t happy with. She told Doc Dyer that she wanted them all removed. He told her there was only one that looked as though it should be sent for testing, but the rest were okay. She insisted that he remove all of them. He did as she asked, but the result was that she had several local injections into her back all at the same time. Some people are fine with local anesthetic, while others react badly to it. Mrs. Busby had a bit of a reaction. She was dizzy and had some localized swelling on her back. Doc Dyer recommended that she be admitted for observation overnight and I agreed. But when Nurse Disick did her observations last night, she seemed to be back to normal. The swelling had gone down, and she was feeling well again. It’s all recorded on her chart.”
“What happened when she died?”
“It was very similar to Mrs. Binnie’s death. This time it was Nurse Court who noticed that something was wrong. He was doing his rounds at four o’clock this evening. He looked in on Mrs. Busby and found her moving around restlessly on her bed. She wasn’t making any noise. If he hadn’t happened to be checking on her at that moment, he might have missed it. He quickly recognized that she was goin
g into cardiac arrest and called for help. He and Nurse Disick worked long and hard to revive the patient, but to no avail. She was pronounced dead at four-thirty-three.”
“Is it possible that the local anesthetic affected her heart so badly that it brought on the cardiac arrest?”
“That’s possible, yes. If this hadn’t happened just one day after Mrs. Binnie’s death, I would ascribe it to the tragic workings of fate. But two patients back to back like that is just a little too coincidental.”
“What about four patients back to back?” asked Fay.
“What do you mean?” said Matron. “Are you talking about the patients who passed away earlier this month? But their deaths were very much expected. They were elderly and ill.”
“Four dead patients in the space of four weeks is too many,” said Fay. “I’m worried that we have a serial killer on our hands.”
Chapter 5
The matron’s eyes widened. “A serial killer? My dear Miss Penrose, I think you’re jumping the gun here. We’re not even sure that Mrs. Busby’s death was unnatural. It’s quite a leap to go from one possibly suspicious death to a serial killer.”
“True enough. So, humor me. Could you tell me the ages and circumstances of the four people who died in this frail-care unit in the last month?”
Matron Sale searched through the papers on her desk until she found what she was looking for.
“The first incident took place twenty-five days ago. An eighty-nine-year-old man by the name of John Chandler moved into the frail-care unit full-time. He was widowed and no longer able to live independently. He was mostly bed-bound, although he could manage to walk to the bathroom and back, with assistance. He had family who visited him once a week.”
“Did he have a specific illness?”
“Just old age. He was in the advanced stages of heart failure and general organ failure.”
“Was he expected to die at any moment?”
“He was expected to live another couple of months, but we had warned the family that it could happen at any time.”
“And when did it happen?”
“At four o’clock in the morning,” said Matron Sale. “The night nurse on duty, Meredith Disick, found him unresponsive in bed. He had gone into cardiac arrest.”
“Did she try to revive him?”
“No. He had a Do Not Resuscitate order above his bed. That was at his own request and had been agreed to by the family. It’s quite common in older patients who are going through heart failure.”
Fay nodded, storing these details away. “What about the next patient?”
“That was a Mr. Albert Tait. He had been living here in the frail-care unit for the past four months following a stroke that he suffered in his cottage. He stabilized well but was unfortunately not able to speak and only had movement in his right hand. He needed twenty-four-hour nursing care. He was a bachelor who didn’t have a family. He had done quite well for himself in business, but his medical expenses almost exhausted that. It would have been cheaper for him to go to a national health hospital on the mainland, but he chose to remain here.”
“Was he expected to die at any moment?”
“Not really. Some stroke patients in his condition can live on for years with good nutrition and healthcare. Or they can die very suddenly. Having a stroke and being immobile in bed causes all kinds of health complications that can shorten a patient’s life.”
“And how did he die?” asked Fay.
Matron read out the details with reluctance. “The night shift nurses Disick and Court were on their rounds at five o’clock in the morning when they found Mr. Tait struggling for breath in his bed. He was going into cardiac arrest. They gave him oxygen and medication, but he was declared dead at five-twenty-three.”
“You must see the pattern, Matron. All of these patients went into cardiac arrest in the small hours of the morning. Whoever did this to them is getting bolder. He or she started out with patients who were very elderly and unwell, but moved onto younger, fitter people.”
Matron Sale looked distressed. “When you put it like that it sounds awful.”
“It is awful. This person is spiraling out of control. There was a two-week gap between Mr. Chandler and Mr. Tait, and a one-week gap between Mr. Tait and Mrs. Binnie. And now poor Mrs. Busby the very next day. This person is losing control and becoming more impulsive.”
Matron wrung her hands. “What can I do? I don’t know what to do. If this gets out, the residents will sell up and leave. The whole of Sunset Acres could collapse.”
Fay thought about what she would do in the circumstances. “I think you should hire private security to guard the wards at night. Anyone entering a patient’s room should be accompanied by a security guard who records their actions on a device. That way the safety of the patients is guaranteed while we tried to figure out who is behind it. There’s always a chance that this was just bad luck, and that no one is behind it. I don’t think you have to panic the residents or their families just yet.”
Matron Sale stood up. “It’s nearly morning. I need to get ready to receive Mrs. Busby’s family. And I need to start researching private security companies.”
Fay stood up too. “Do you mind if I take a look at Mrs. Busby? One of the nurses can accompany me.”
Matron put her head out the door to call for Nurse Disick.
If the night nurse had looked exhausted the day before, she was now almost transparent with fatigue. The dark circles under her eyes were like purple bruises.
“I’m sorry,” said Fay as they walked. “This must be very upsetting for you.”
“It’s like a nightmare. I can’t wait to go off nightshift duty.”
“How does that work exactly? Do you rotate?”
“One month on and one month off, with a five-day break in between. Saturday will be my last day of working the nightshift. Then I have a break and start the dayshift the following week.”
She stood back to let Fay into a small, two-bed ward. One bed was empty while the other contained the body of Iona Busby. It had been covered by a sheet.
Fay knew her own limitations. She wasn’t a medical examiner or a crime scene technician. She was, however, an experienced homicide detective. She believed that she could spot any obvious signs of interference or assault.
Looking at dead bodies had never been her favorite thing, and she had got rather out of the habit of doing it since she had been living on the island. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
“I’m going to take the sheet off now,” she told Meredith. “I’m going to lift the eyelids to look at the eyes. I’ll examine the neck area, the limbs, and the torso. I’m going to check that her mouth and airways are empty. Is that okay?”
Meredith seemed too tired to care. “Go ahead.”
“You need to watch me so you can tell the police that I didn’t alter the condition of the body in any way.”
“Fine, fine.” She looked up to keep an eye on Fay.
Fay ran through her check-list as quickly as possible. She found nothing significant until she came to the back of the patient’s right hand.
“There are several needle marks here and on the inside of her right elbow,” she said.
“That is only to be expected,” said Meredith. “She had blood taken a few times to see what was causing her reaction to the anesthetic. Then we put up a drip on Doc Dyer’s orders to hydrate her and give her some antihistamine. Rowan Court told me he struggled a bit to find a vein for the drip. It happens like that with older folk sometimes. Their veins collapse the moment you get the needle in.”
“I see.” Fay used her phone to take a photograph of the patient’s hand and arm.
It was a relief to get all the way back to Penrose House without any more close encounters of the wild kind.
It was already six-fifteen, which meant she would have to forego her morning run in favor of helping Morwen with breakfast.
“Did you manage to get back to sleep?” she as
ked as she entered the kitchen. Morwen was chopping spring onions for omelets.
“I did, actually. My dreams were quite weird and wonderful, but at least I managed to doze. What did you find out about poor Iona Busby?”
“It’s hard to say,” Fay said truthfully. “She’d had a reaction to a local anesthetic earlier in the day. That’s why she was being kept in the frail-care unit for observation. It seems as though her heart was affected.”
This was also true. Fay had no intention of spreading hysterical speculation on Bluebell Island. Nothing sent a community into a panic faster than the words “serial killer”. As long as Matron Sale arranged for all the patients in the frail-care unit to be guarded around the clock, there was no reason for anyone to know what Fay suspected.
Morwen heated the skillet to fry sausages.
“Oh, I nearly forgot. You’ll never guess who phoned last night to book breakfast for one person at nine o’clock this morning.”
“No, who?” asked Fay.
“Lady Chadwick, if you can believe it.”
“Really? How odd. I do hope we have the right kind of marmalade to offer her. She’s very particular about things like that.”
“She says she wants to speak to you after breakfast.”
Fay pulled a face. “That sounds ominous. I hope I haven’t annoyed her in some way.”
“When last did you see her?”
“I see her around the village all the time, but the last time I spoke to her was a few weeks ago. She was still trying to come up with some get-rich-quick scheme to pay for the repairs that Chadwick Manor so desperately needs.”
“She should open up a tearoom.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” Fay was pleased to have her opinion seconded. “But she was full of wild ideas like opening a …”
The Cat That Was Bigger Than You Page 3