Under Parr

by Andrea Bramhall

  She nodded, preparing herself for the answer to her next question. “Tell me what happened on the night of the fifth of December 2013.”

  He leaned back and folded his beefy arms over his chest. “Annie. That’s what happened.”

  “Tell me about Annie.”

  “It started before her, really.”

  “You’ve killed before Annie?”

  He shook his head. “No. I watched Edward die. I cared for him up to the end. I saw the misery of his final days.” He chafed his biceps as though a shiver had run through him. “I decided then that I wouldn’t let anyone else suffer like he had.”

  “Instead, you killed them first.”

  “Annie had lung cancer. Every breath was a struggle for her. Every single breath. Have you ever watched someone die of cancer, Detective?”

  Kate thought of her gran. How she’d gone so fast in the end that she hadn’t had time to watch her suffer the way Maxwell was describing. But she’d seen the pill bottles. The amount of painkillers she’d been taking just to make it through the day was incredible. Would she have been able to stand it? How awful would it have been to watch her gran, the woman who had raised her, the only family she’d ever known, fade to nothing before her eyes? “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve seen what it does.”

  “Then you know. You know the pain when they cry out even through the morphine-induced dreams. You know how they’re here but not really here at all. It’s like their minds are already gone, but their bodies haven’t caught up with them yet.” He cast his eyes down to the table glancing at the pictures. “That’s not living, Detective. It’s barely even existing. And the families. Well, it’s like some kind of weird limbo for them. They’re waiting for the phone call that tells them they can set the wheels in motion to get on with the funeral. To get on with packing up whatever’s left of mum’s life. To getting on with their own.”

  “Very thoughtful of you.” Kate couldn’t bite back the sarcasm, but he appeared not to even have heard her.

  “Annie was so tiny, so frail. She could barely even kick the covers when she said her goodbye. Her cry was so quiet I didn’t think anyone would have heard it. But even if they did, no one comes running in a place like Brancombe House. I should have accounted for Alan, though. I knew he was sweet on her, but I didn’t realise he came visiting at night.”

  “So you killed him too?”

  Maxwell shook his head. “I just pushed him against the wall. I told him I was helping her, that he should just go back to bed. If he had, he’d have forgotten what he saw by the next day. Dementia’s like that. But he didn’t go back to bed. He tried to stop me. Was going for help, he said.” He leaned back on his chair legs. “You’re three years late.”

  “So you slammed him up against the wall?”

  “Pushed. I just pushed him a bit.”

  “Did he hit his head?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. I mean it was bleeding a bit. I had to clean it up when I couldn’t find him.”

  “You couldn’t find him?”

  “That’s right. He walked, well, shuffled away really. Wearing a stupid frilly dressing gown with big stupid flowers on it.”

  “So you pushed him against the wall, hard enough to make his head bleed so profusely that you had to clean blood off the carpet, while you killed Annie Balding. How did you kill her?”

  “I held a pillow over her face.”

  “What kind of pillow?”

  He shrugged and frowned at her. “Just a pillow from her bed.”

  “A normal-sized one that you sleep on or a throw pillow of some sort?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  She shook her head. “I’m just trying to picture the scene with you, Jason.” She clasped her hands on the table. “So that I can understand what happened.”

  “Just a normal head pillow. We don’t have those fancy touches in Brancombe House. That just makes more work and gives us more to clean up.”

  “You said their eyes begged you to kill them while you were doing it.”

  “That’s right. They craved the release I could give them.”

  “How could her eyes tell you she wanted to die if you couldn’t see them? A normal-sized head pillow would have covered her whole face.”

  He blanched a moment. “I knew it was what she wanted. She needed to die.”

  “No, Jason. You needed to kill. Your justifications don’t excuse that. Jason Maxwell, I’m arresting you for the murders of Reginald Barton, Annie Balding, and Alan Parr. You do not have to say anything, but your defence may be harmed if you do not mention something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be used against you as evidence. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?”

  “I didn’t kill Alan.”

  “You caused the injuries that resulted in his death. Murder, manslaughter, whatever. That’s for the crown prosecution service to figure out, and you to defend.” She sneered at him. “As if you could.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t understand. None of you can understand what I did for those people. Do you blame a doctor when they do what I do?”

  “Doctors save lives, Jason. They don’t take them.”

  “Really? What about when they just let them go? I believe that’s the phrase they use. Let nature take its course.”

  “Do you understand your rights?”

  “Do you ask them to justify their actions when they withdraw care when there is no hope left?” He stood up and towered over her.

  She leaned back in her chair but she refused to move. She refused to let him see fear. “I’m not one of your elderly patients, Jason. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”

  Tom stepped deeper into the room.

  “You’re pathetic. If Annie had been in hospital they would have stopped feeding her, stopped giving her water, and let nature take its course. She would have died slowly, with only pain medication to make her more comfortable. Doctors and nurses do this up and down the country every single day. Multiple times a day. I don’t see you marching them all in here and charging those pussies with anything. They withdraw the care the patient’s become reliant on and think they’re being kind in not prolonging their suffering any more.”

  She’d seen that done when she’d visited her gran. They stopped treating the human being and just medicated for the pain. It had been horrible to watch, but some had gone quickly. They’d been ready to pass. She’d seen others linger for days and days, though. Waiting for something to let them fade away while their breathing became more laboured, more tortured. Skin clung to bones like a wet sheet, hanging and sagging in a sickening mockery of life. There had been no life there. Sure, the heart had beaten its rhythm and the lungs had filtered oxygen from the air, but there had to be more to life than that.

  “You’ve seen what I mean, haven’t you?”

  She tried not to react, but she knew her eyes had given her away.

  “And you think I deserve to be punished for sparing them from that end?” He leaned a little closer, and Tom edged nearer to them both. “They don’t have the stones to do what a patient really needs at that point. To truly put them out of their misery rather than letting it drag on for days, sometimes a week, before they finally die.” He beat a fist against his chest. “I did it quickly for them. When they were ready, I did it.” He clicked his fingers. “Just like that.” He sat back down, a smug smile on his face. “I’m the only one who truly has the balls to do that for them.”

  “I’ll ask you one more time, do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?”

  “Yes,” Maxwell said through gritted teeth.

  “I’m sure there will be other charges to add once we’ve finished discussing your time at Brancombe House with you. Interview terminated at 2.02 p.m.” She turned off the tape. “Get this animal out of my sight, Tom.”

  “With pleasure, sarge.”

  Stella walked in as Tom ushered Maxwell out of the room. “Well,
that didn’t go how I expected it to.”

  “No?”

  Stella shook her head. “I didn’t think he was going to confess.”

  “He wanted to confess. He’s had to hide his good deeds for too long and it’s grated on him.” A chill ran through her body. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “He needed to confess. He thinks he’s God.”

  “God has a following.”

  “I know. Maxwell bestowed himself with the power of life and death. In his eyes, at least. With all that should come recognition.”

  “The world is full of crazy fuckers.”

  Kate laughed. “That’s the truest thing I’ve heard all day.”

  “Something’s bothering you.”

  Kate shrugged.

  “Come on, tell your Auntie Stella.”

  Kate snickered. “It bothers me that I can sort of see his point.”

  Stella frowned.

  “I’ve seen people die horrible deaths. We’ve seen results of violent deaths, traumatic deaths. And while no death is a good death, the prolonged suffering of those dying from illnesses and old age seems far crueller than some of the traumatic deaths we’ve seen. And far more torturous than some of the violent deaths we’ve seen. Or at least that I have.”

  “Human beings are capable of such cruelty, Kate.”

  Kate nodded. “Yes, we are. But we’re capable of acts of kindness and compassion too.”

  “You think what he did was kind? Compassionate?”

  “No. What he did was to gratify himself. He’s just twisted it all up in a righteous excuse. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see the merit in the argument. What’s better? A prolonged torturous death or a fast torturous death? Dead’s dead, right?”

  Stella’s eyes widened. “You’re not gonna start popping off old folk, are you?”

  “Nah. I haven’t got the stones.”

  Stella chuckled. “I’m sure Gina’s very pleased about that,” she said with a wink.

  Kate stared at her. “I can’t believe you just went there.” She slapped her hand to her forehead. “What am I saying. Of course I can. While we’re on the subject of Gina, I have a little problem.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  Kate screwed her face up and sniffed. “Yes, but not the kind you’re alluding to.”

  “Come on then, out with it.”

  “Gina got a huge bouquet of flowers yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “Fifty yellow roses.”

  “Fifty?”

  “Yup.”

  “And I take it they weren’t from you.”

  “Nope.”

  “And she’s got no idea who they might be from?”

  “Well, she has a theory, and I was kind of hoping you might help me rule it out.”

  “What’s the theory?”

  “She thinks it might be Ally messing with her.”

  “Christ.” Stella ran a hand over her face. “And what do you think?”

  Kate shrugged. “In the light of a lack of other ideas, this seems like a fairly good possibility.”

  Stella sucked in a huge breath and blew out slowly. “Right, I’ll call the prison and get them to toss her cell. If they find something, great. If not, I’ll get them to keep an eye on her.”

  “She’s in prison already. What more do you want them to do to her?”

  “Well, if this is potentially witness intimidation, then they can monitor her communications more closely. They could isolate her for a time.” Stella shrugged. “You know the drill, Kate.”

  “And if it isn’t her?”

  “Maybe you just have some competition for your lady’s affections. This could be nothing more than a secret admirer.”

  “Fifty yellow roses, Stella.”

  “Yeah,” Stella said, trying to hide her grimace.

  “Fifty.”

  “Okay. One hell of a secret admirer.” She clapped Kate on the shoulder. “You’ll have to up your game if it isn’t Ally.”

  “Not helping, Stella.”

  “Sorry. But at least we’ve wrapped up this case now.”

  Kate raised her eyebrow at her.

  “We’ve caught a killer we weren’t sure we were looking for and stopped a case of embezzlement.”

  “Hm. But who wins the pot? No one got the right result.”

  “Fair point. Looks like it’ll have to go towards the Christmas party fund.”

  “You sure?” Kate asked and put on her best smile.

  “What’s that creepy look for?”

  Kate frowned. “I was hoping you’d take pity.”

  Stella laughed.

  “Hey! You’re the one who said I was going to have to up my game.”

  “I think it’s going to take more than a measly forty quid, kiddo.”

  “Bitch.”

  “It’s why you love me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You just keep telling yourself that.”

  EPILOGUE

  Gina picked up the vase full of flowers and carried them to the bin. She dumped the beautiful blooms in, then emptied the water down the sink. She felt bad for throwing them away, but she couldn’t stand to look at them any longer either. The thought that it might be Ally’s way of needling her again was too much for her to stand right now. Not when she was just starting to make progress.

  She took a deep breath and picked up her phone. Now all she had to do was put the steps into action to move things forward with Kate. She dialled a number and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Stella?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Gina.”

  “Gina?”

  “Yes, Kate’s Gina.”

  “Oh, right. Erm, Kate’s not with me—”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Gina could hear her groping around for something to say and smiled. She quite liked the thought that she’d caught the cool, calm, and collected Stella on the hop. “I have a favour to ask you.”

  “Well, Kate’s already asked, Gina. It’s fine. I’ve been in touch with the prison and they’re going to check it all out—”

  “It’s not about Ally.”

  “Oh. Then you’ve got me beat. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks and I want to get something special for Kate.”

  “Good, good. That’s the time of year to do that sort of thing.” Stella chuckled. “But what does that have to do with me?”

  “Fancy a girly shopping trip?”

  “A girly shopping trip?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s different about a girly shopping trip to a normal shopping trip?”

  “Well…” Gina scratched her chin and wondered if she’d have the guts to actually tell Stella before they got to the shop she wanted to visit.

  “Is there coffee involved?”

  “Probably.”

  “Cake?”

  “More than likely.”

  “Norwich?”

  “I was thinking King’s Lynn.”

  “Hm.”

  “And Ann Summers.”

  Stella burst out laughing. “Now you’re talking. I’ll pick you up. When?”

  “Some point this weekend. Would that work for you?”

  “No problem.” Stella was still chuckling. “I’ll text you a time when I’ve had a look at my shifts.”

  “Okay. Thanks. And Stella?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please don’t tell Kate.”

  Stella groaned. “Spoil all my fun.”

  Gina snorted. “Yeah, like I believe that. See you at the weekend.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Stella disconnected and Gina could still hear her chuckling in her ear.

  She looked in the mirror over the fireplace. “I am a strong, independent woman. I am beautiful and I can do this.” She smiled at her reflection. “I can do anything I damn well please.”

  ###

  About Andrea Br
amhall

  Andrea Bramhall wrote her first novel at the age of six and three-quarters. It was seven pages long and held together with a pink ribbon. Her Gran still has it in the attic. Since then she has progressed a little bit and now has a number of published works held together with glue, not ribbons, an Alice B. Lavender certificate, a Lambda Literary award, and a Golden Crown award cluttering up her book shelves.

  She studied music and all things arty at Manchester Metropolitan University, graduating in 2002 with a BA in contemporary arts. She is certain it will prove useful someday…maybe.

  When she isn’t busy running a campsite in the Lake District, Bramhall can be found hunched over her laptop scribbling down the stories that won’t let her sleep. She can also be found reading, walking the dogs up mountains while taking a few thousand photos, scuba diving while taking a few thousand photos, swimming, kayaking, playing the saxophone, or cycling.

  CONNECT WITH ANDREA

  Website: www.andreabramhall.wordpress.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/AndreaBramhall

  Other Books from Ylva Publishing

  www.ylva-publishing.com

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  Second revised edition

  Andrea Bramhall

  ISBN: 978-3-95533-574-8 (mobi), 978-3-95533-575-5 (epub)

  Length: 90,000 words (291 pages)

  An unidentified woman is found murdered on the North Norfolk Coastal Path and newly promoted Detective Sergeant Kate Brannon and King's Lynn CID have the task of figuring out whom, how, and why. A job that’s made more difficult when everyone of the forty residents in the village has something to hide and answers her questions with a string of lies.

  Georgina Temple has her own secrets to keep, and her own reasons to keep them. But her growing attraction to Kate makes it increasingly difficult to keep them.

  Kate’s investigation into the woman’s death delves into the heart of the tiny fishing village where nothing and no one is quite what they seem.

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