Everyone shook their heads.
“Right. So why does Collier have to go through a stack of national reports to try and find our victim? Why didn’t they report him missing?”
“Don’t know, kiddo,” Stella said. “But good luck finding out.”
CHAPTER 8
Gina parked the car outside the hostel’s storage barn and turned off the engine. Will opened the door of the barn and nodded to her.
“You got a minute, Gina?” he asked.
Gina sighed. “I have, but please don’t tell me you’re going to hand in your notice too.”
Sammy climbed out of the car and opened the gate to the small compound where Gina’s office was located.
Will smiled. “No, but I was wondering what was going to happen with that lot doing the dirty on us.”
“Thank God for that.” She pulled her office key out of her pocket and held the fob to the electronic pad on the handle. “Come on in, then. You can get your homework done, madam.”
Sammy nodded and slumped into the comfy armchair in the office before pulling her books out of her bag.
Gina pointed to the other office chair.
“Them leaving, does it mean we have to close?” Will asked. He didn’t sit down. He rarely did through the day. Whenever she saw him he was wandering from one job to the next with a cigarette stuck between his lips, or rolling one between his fingers. His beanie hat was pulled low over his brow, covering his blond hair and eyebrows. His blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The jogging bottoms he wore had huge rips across the knees, and his uniform coat was far too big for him, but gave him plenty of space to wear the layers he always did. Usually three, but four wasn’t unheard of through the winter.
While all the staff except Gina lived on site, she knew it was Will who had the most to worry about if Brandale Campsite did close. He had nowhere to go. Sarah, Emma, and Ricky may not have liked their options, but they weren’t looking at the streets as their next address.
Gina shook her head. “No. I’ve got a plan.” She quickly opened the computer program and talked him through her decision to close the hostel during the week to give the two of them the chance to get everything changed over and ready for the busy weekends.
“Whew, I’ve got to admit I was worried,” Will said.
“Think I was going to pack you off into the night?”
He grinned. “Something like that.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “What can I do to help?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Will. When we get to the painting and maintenance, we may have to do it in sections, and I’ll close those down for a couple of weekends too, to give us the time we need, but we’ll worry about that in the new year. I figure I’ll wait till after Christmas to start looking for new staff too. It’s only three weeks away and the big shops will be laying off the seasonal staff then. Lean January might be a good time for us to find some good new staff members.”
“Can we screen ’em for loyalty this time?”
Gina snorted. “I’ll see what I can do, Will, but I don’t think I can make any promises on that one.”
“Fair enough.”
Gina squeezed the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb.
“Everything okay?” Will asked.
Gina cast a quick look to Sammy, who was focused on her reading book, and shook her head. “It will be eventually, I suppose.”
He nodded his understanding and changed the topic. “Haven’t seen your copper around for a while.”
“Hm,” Gina mumbled noncommittally.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Very funny,” Gina responded, but couldn’t help thinking about Kate and how little they’d seen of each other lately, and made up her mind to call her later. “She’s just busy at work. As am I.”
Will chuckled. “Hint taken. Want me to take the shrimp in the barn with me? I’ve got a whole load of stuff she can do in there.”
“Like what? Juggle axes and hedge trimmers?”
“Nah, I did that myself before. There was a log delivery earlier that needs crating. Delivery driver just dumped it in the middle of the floor again.”
“What do you say, kiddo? Want to help Will pick up a bunch of logs?”
Sammy was already stuffing her reading book back into her bag. “’Course.”
“We’ll do your reading later, then.”
Sammy sighed as she pulled open the door. “’Course,” she said again, with a great deal less enthusiasm.
Will and Gina both smiled. “Thanks, Will.”
“No problem. Come on, shrimp. First one to fill a crate gets to pick the tunes for the rest of the afternoon.”
“You’re on!” Sammy raced him to the barn.
Gina heard the huge doors slam close behind them.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped open the cover of the pink case with white stars on it that Sammy had got her for Mother’s Day. She quickly flicked through to her text messages and pulled up the conversation between herself and Kate.
It had been two days since she’d last had a message from Kate and she couldn’t blame Kate for that. She was the one who hadn’t responded to the message Kate had sent after the last time they’d actually seen each other.
Kate had been working late and turned up after Sammy was in bed with a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and that beautiful smile of hers. They’d talked and laughed, and got more than a little merry sharing the wine. They’d kissed. A lot. They’d both got turned on. A lot. They’d both wanted nothing more than to go to bed and finally take their relationship to the next level.
But Kate had made one error. One tiny moment, in an otherwise perfect evening, had ruined it all—Kate’s fingers had brushed over the top of Gina’s breast.
The touch had been electric. But for all the wrong reasons. It was like ice water being poured over Gina, shocking her back to her senses, back to reality, and the fact that there was now a series of scars all over her body. The beginnings of a game board on her back. A cross on her stomach. And a line along the top of each breast. Marring her skin. Defiling her.
Kate had told her that they didn’t matter to her. That she still found Gina attractive—beautiful even—not in spite of the scars, but, in part, because of them. They represented the strength with which Gina had survived the ordeal she’d gone through. The ordeal that Kate had saved her from. And she believed Kate. She really did.
It was her own reaction to the scars that was the problem.
She couldn’t find herself attractive with them. When she couldn’t see them, she didn’t think about them. She could forget that they were there and carry on her life. The old Gina. But the moment Kate touched her breast the whole thing came rushing back. Just like it did every time Kate touched her.
Gina looked at her own body and found it hideous. Untouchable. Unlovable. How could she relax when she was waiting for Kate to look at her with pity in her eyes? How could she respond when she was waiting for Kate to flinch at the sight of those ugly, jagged, lines? How could she enjoy Kate’s touch when she felt she didn’t deserve it?
She knew she should tell Kate it wasn’t going to work and let her get on with her life. She was a beautiful woman, a wonderful woman, who deserved to be happy. She deserved to have someone in her life who could make her happy. But selfishly, Gina didn’t want to let her go. She knew she couldn’t make it work, but she didn’t want Kate to want anyone else. Just the thought of Kate kissing another woman burned.
“But what right do I have to keep hold of you?” she whispered to no one.
CHAPTER 9
Brancombe House Nursing Home was the very last property on Beach Road. Beyond it was nothing but salt marsh for half a mile, until you got to the golf course, and then finally the sea.
It was huge. A Victorian schoolhouse that had been converted many years ago into a facility where families shelved their “loved” ones. The north side had gorgeous views out across
the sea, while the southern and eastern perspectives were surrounded by mature oak, sycamore, and ash trees. The long, gravel drive way up the western approach crunched under Kate’s tyres. The car park was empty as she pulled in. Wonder where the staff park?
“Nice place to live,” Jimmy said.
“Yeah.” Kate turned off the engine. “I bet that’s what the residents families said when they parked them here too.” She opened her door. “Right before they forgot about them.”
“You don’t know that, sarge. They probably come and visit all the time.”
Kate looked around. “You see any cars around here?”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“And?”
“They’re probably working.”
Kate offered him a wry smile. “Right,” she said slowly. “You keep telling yourself that, Jimmy.” She pointed to the door. “Do you want to do the honours?”
Jimmy rang the bell.
Kate glanced up the building and spotted the keystone in the archway above the large double doors with the year 1898 stamped into it. She also spotted the twitching curtains in one of the upper bedroom windows and wondered if it was a member of staff or a resident who was enjoying a little excitement.
A creaking hinge drew her attention back to the door as it swung open. They were greeted by a short, painfully thin woman wearing a white nurse’s tunic and black trousers. She was smiling and frowning at them.
“Good afternoon, I’m Detective Constable Powers and this is Detective Sergeant Brannon. We need to speak to the manager or owner please.”
“I’m afraid owner is not here. I am Eva.”
Kate put her accent as Eastern European. Maybe Czech?
“I will get Sister for you. Please.” She waved them inside and closed the door behind them, turning the big latch, and then a second one.
“Do you always lock the residents in?” Kate asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Our residents have memory issues. It is safer for them if they stay inside, but they do not remember this. Some want always to be going outside. Always, always. Even when too cold or too wet. It is safer for them to stay inside.”
“Of course,” Kate agreed, knowing that logically it made sense. Staff were undoubtedly limited, and there was no way they could give one-to-one care to a large number of inmates—patients, Kate corrected herself. “How many residents do you have here?”
“Forty-two.”
“Is that the maximum capacity?”
“We have one space at the moment. One of our gentlemen passed last night.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Kate said sincerely.
The woman shrugged. “I think—I think he is better off now.” She sounded more upset than she looked.
Kate frowned. “How do you mean?”
“He was very ill. On much medication all time. Now he has peace. He has God.”
“Ah.” Kate nodded. “I’m still sorry for your loss. It must be difficult.”
“It is life.” She led them down a corridor. “Now we can help someone else. They will be arriving soon.”
“Wow. That’s fast,” Jimmy said.
“There is much waiting list. Many, many people needing our help, our care.”
“Boom time,” Jimmy said. “An ageing population has to be a bonus for someone, I suppose.”
Kate snorted but the woman didn’t look impressed with Jimmy’s poor humour.
“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath.
“Eva, how long have you worked here?” Kate asked.
“I work here few years now.”
“Were you here during the flood in 2013?”
Eva nodded. “Oh, yes. Was huge drama. I only just started that week, on the Monday, and I finished my shift at three that afternoon. I was very scared that I would not be able to get home. That they would stop the bus, and I would be here all the time.”
“Where do you live?”
“Now, I live in Heacham. Then, I had to go always to King’s Lynn by the bus.”
“That’s a long way.”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if you remember anyone who might have disappeared around that time? A man.”
“A man?”
“Yes. One of the residents. He may have been here that day, and then just disappeared.”
Eva frowned, clearly deep in thought, before she shook her head. “No. I don’t remember anything like that. I remember coming back after the weekend was over and Annie had passed one night. It was on the Friday, I think. She was sweet lady. Very sick. Much medication too. I remember her because she was first lady I care for here.” She sighed. “Was very sad.”
“But you don’t remember a man around that time? One who would have been here on the Friday when you were and then gone when you came back to work?”
Eva wrung her hands as she led them through Brancombe House. A frown marred her smooth forehead. She looked concerned that she couldn’t remember the details they were asking of her. “I sorry. I don’t remember anything like that. I was still very new. Still learning all the peoples here.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Eva tapped on a door. When a voice called, “Enter”, she ushered them inside.
“Sister, these are police.” Eva said, and backed out of the door.
“Thanks for your help, Eva,” Kate said, and held out her card. “If you do remember anything else about that night, please give me a call.”
Eva took the card, nodded, and closed the door behind her as she scurried away.
The room was small and stuffed to capacity with an old, scarred desk, three tall filing cabinets, a key locker on one wall, a drugs cabinet on another, and shelves filling every other available wall space. There were two visitors’ chairs in front of the desk. The desk itself held a computer and a stack of lever arch files a foot high. There were no windows in the room, and the air was stale. The smell of day-old coffee, day-old uniform, and well-worn trainers hung in the air.
Kate held her hand out to the heavyset woman behind the desk. Her navy blue tunic strained against her heaving bosom as she shifted forward to accept Kate’s hand. “I’m Detective Sergeant Kate Brannon, Sister, and this is my colleague, Detective Constable James Powers.”
“Diana Lodge,” she said with a wheeze in her voice. “Not often we get detectives through our doors here. Please take a seat.” She waved to the chairs in front of her desk. “How can I help you today?” she asked as they sat down.
“Well, we’re investigating a mysterious death.”
“Mysterious, you say? And how’s that? Dead’s dead, isn’t it?” She chuckled.
Kate and Jimmy glanced at each other. “Mysterious as in, we believe he was a resident of this establishment, but we can’t find a record that he was reported missing, from here or anywhere else.”
Sister Lodge frowned and leaned forward, hands braced on the desk top, and bowing at the elbow to make space for her chest. “I can assure you, Detective, all my residents are present and accounted for. I can take you around and introduce you personally, if need be.”
“That’s okay. This is a resident who would have gone missing in 2013. December 2013.”
The woman visibly relaxed. Her shoulders dropped and she slumped back in her chair.
Kate was certain she could hear the woman thank God under her breath before she addressed them again. “That’s before I took over here. I’m afraid I’ve only been here for six months, since the previous head nurse passed away after a sudden illness. Well, it was unfortunate, but it did make things easier for the owner. They were going to have to find reason to sack her otherwise.” She snorted a derisive laugh. “Not that they’d have had much of a problem with that. So far, I’ve spent most of my time trying to sort out a number of…issues, shall we call them, that had been prevalent during my predecessor’s tenure here at Brancombe House.”
“Such as?” Kate asked.
“Shoddy paperwork. Lax standards of patient care.
Misappropriated medications. Residents missing cash from their personal belongings. Petty cash receipts missing. Tardy staff. Massive amounts of sick leave being taken. Huge agency staff bills.” She shrugged. “I could go on, but I think you get the picture.”
Kate did. “Any issues with violence towards the residents?”
Sister Lodge shook her head. “If there was, nothing was reported, and I’ve seen nothing to support that option while I’ve been here.”
“Why were the owners bringing you in? You said they were looking for a reason to get rid of her. Was something reported to them that gave them cause to worry?”
Sister Lodge shook her head. “Nothing concrete at that time.” She clasped her hands on the desk and leant forward again, resting her weight on her elbows. “The concrete stuff didn’t come until after I started and uncovered them all. They were concerned because the mortality rate was higher than expected.”
“According to what?”
“National statistics. From what I understand, the owner liked to get a brief overview of the home each year and compared it to the national averages to see where we lay in comparison. If things needed to be addressed, then, in a broad sense, he’d inform us of his directives, and we, or rather my predecessor, were supposed to put them in place.”
“Other than mortality rate, what kinds of things was he looking at?”
“Costs per head, wage bills, agency staff usage, sick days, holidays, all the usual stuff a business owner needs to know.”
“Okay, and at that point the owners suspected, what? That the deaths were the result of poor care or something?”
“Possibly. The mortality rate was higher than the national average for a care facility like this, but when I looked into them all, every one was explained.” She shrugged. “Just a lot of poorly people, unfortunately. It happens sometimes. That’s why it’s an average. No doubt next year or the year after it will fall for us and climb somewhere else, and vice versa. As the Lion King likes to say, ‘it’s the circle of life’.” She giggled at her own joke. “What’s this all about, anyway?”
Under Parr Page 8