by L M Krier
'The other thing I want you to do while you're out there is to collect lists of staff from all the homes, both currently and for the past six months, initially, so we can start cross-checking. And ask again about visitors, and about any previous deaths which, with hindsight, may be similar. But again, try not to spread panic.
'Rob, can you coordinate things, divide up the list of homes and make sure they're all covered. The boss and I will get off to the hospital now, to see what we can find out about this latest death.'
On the short drive there, Mike was keen to press for more information on their potential new team member, DC Jessica Vine. Ted had already given him the basic details but Mike was particularly interested in what gave her such a bad reputation for attitude.
'To be honest, Mike, I haven't really gone into it much further,' Ted told him. 'I try to avoid pre-judging people, based on hearsay. I prefer to make up my own mind when I meet them.'
It was a gentle dig at Mike, who had been so on edge on his first day with the team that he had nearly got off on the wrong foot with Ted. He had quickly learned that the DI had his own way of dealing with any kind of prejudice, and that the boss was treated with respect by all because he earned it.
'Fair enough, boss, I walked into that one,' Mike laughed. 'From what you've said about her and her abilities, she'll be a good one to send in to the homes undercover, if we need to go down that route.'
As they were walking down one of the long corridors at the hospital, in search of the right ward, a voice behind them called out delightedly, 'Hello, Mr Darling!'
They turned and saw a hospital porter pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He was beaming widely at the sight of Ted, who noticed immediately that he had had his distinctive silver hair cut much shorter since the last time they had met. It suited him.
'Hello, Oliver,' Ted replied. 'How are you getting on?'
'Really well, thank you,' the man said. 'That lady in Human 'Sources you spoke to has been very kind to me. She sorted out for me to get some help with my reading.'
He looked up at the various signs, pointing to different departments, and read haltingly but proudly, 'Maternity. Coronary Care Unit. Orthopaedics. That's where we're going now.'
'Brilliant, Oliver, that's very well done. You'll have to excuse me now, I'm a bit busy and I have to be somewhere. It was nice to see you again, and perhaps we can have a coffee together some time.'
Ted had met the man, Oliver Burdon, when he had briefly been a suspect in a previous murder enquiry. He had quickly recognised that he was in need of some help and support and had arranged it for him. His kindness was rewarded when Burdon had helped to identify a victim in the case.
'I go on my break in half an hour,' the man said hopefully.
'Great. I'll meet you at the canteen, shall I? Perhaps I can buy you something, like a white chocolate chip cookie, if they have any?' Ted said, remembering Oliver's love of white chocolate.
'That would be lovely,' he said, then bent forward to speak to his passenger. 'Come on, Nancy, sorry to have kept you waiting. Let's get you to your appointment now. I'll have to hurry. Vroom-vroom,' and he set off at a steady trot.
They could hear the delighted laughter of his passenger as she said, 'Oh, Oliver, you are funny. You're a real tonic, the way you make me laugh.'
'Really, boss?' Mike asked as they walked on. 'You're going to take time out to talk to him? You think he may be able to help in some way with the case?'
Ted shook his head. 'Not for a moment. Just sometimes, it's nice to make time for people, because it might make their day better.'
They found the ward they were looking for and headed for the nurses' station. There was no sign of anyone, although they could see some activity further down the corridor. Eventually a woman in a nurse's uniform came hurrying past, carrying a sheaf of paperwork.
'Excuse me,' Mike said. 'DS Hallam and DI Darling. We're here to see the ward manager.'
'Just wait here a moment, I'll try to find her. We're short-staffed and she's up to her armpits.'
After a few minutes, a tall, slim woman, also in uniform, came hurrying out of a side room.
'Sorry to keep you waiting,' she said. 'It's hectic today. I'm two nurses down and the agency staff never showed up. Sorry, you don't want to know any of that. There's a small room just here where we can talk, but I can't guarantee I won't be disturbed if I'm needed.'
'We're not making it widely known yet, so I would be obliged if you would treat this as confidential. We're making enquiries into some sudden deaths in suspicious circumstances and I believe you had an unexpected death on the ward last night?' Mike began.
'That's right. Jane Applegate. She came in from a care home with a UTI,' the manager replied, then, seeing their look of incomprehension, she clarified, 'A urinary tract infection. The scourge of the elderly. She was dehydrated and running a very high temperature. We kept her in and on a drip for a couple of days and she was doing splendidly.
'The care homes often don't give them enough to drink, because it means more toilet trips to make and they're often too under-staffed to cope. But that means the poor elderly people can get very confused, sometimes even aggressive. UTIs are nasty infections which make them feverish.
'Sorry, you don't need to hear all my rantings, I imagine. It's just that if the care homes did a little more caring, the old people wouldn't finish up in here quite so often, taking up beds we really can't spare.
'Anyway, Mrs Applegate was doing well, and we were hoping to discharge her today. Then suddenly, yesterday afternoon, she began with violent vomiting. She was given anti-emetics and we tried to stabilise her but she went into cardiac arrest and we couldn't revive her.'
'What time of day was this in relation to visiting hours? Ted asked.
'Visiting is two to four every afternoon. She was taken ill about three-thirty, I think and died shortly after seven o'clock. I'd have to check the notes for the exact details.'
'Would you know if Mrs Applegate had any visitors yesterday afternoon?' Mike asked.
She gave a short laugh. 'You know I mentioned being short-handed today? Yesterday was even worse. I honestly wouldn't have had time to notice if a troupe of Morris dancers had come in and performed for her.'
At that moment, the nurse they had seen earlier put her head round the open door and said, 'Jen, sorry, it's Mr Turner, getting very agitated again, trying to pull his drip out.'
'Look, I'm sorry, I have to go. He's another one who's here just because a home didn't make sure he had enough to drink, and now the poor old boy is delirious with fever.'
'Just one quick question,' Mike said, as the two men rose and followed the manager out of the door. 'Did Mrs Applegate have any friends or family who had been visiting her?'
'As far as I know there was no one. I'll check the files and ring you if I'm wrong but I don't recall ever seeing her with any visitors. Now, please excuse me, gentlemen.'
'Looks like the same MO again, boss, if she did have a visitor that no one noticed,' Mike said as they headed back along the corridor. 'Our top priority now needs to be to work out how and why our killer is targeting the victims, don't you think?'
Ted nodded his agreement and continued, 'Get the team on to those staff records at the homes, Mike. And you'd better speak to the hospital about theirs, see if any names crop up in more than one place.
'You head on back to the nick. I'll jump on a bus or maybe even walk, after I've had my little chat with Oliver. There's just an outside chance he may know about visitors. He's observant, he notices things. And a walk might help me clear my head and give me time to think. There's got to be something we've missed so far.'
Chapter Thirteen
Ted knocked briefly and stuck his head round Kevin Turner's door on his way to the Ice Queen's office.
'Have you had the royal summons too?' he wanted to know.
'I have, and let me say at the outset, whatever it is, I didn't do it. I have an alibi. A big boy did it a
nd ran away,' Kevin grinned.
The Ice Queen's manner always reduced both men to playground humour. She managed to make them feel like naughty schoolboys, caught smoking behind the bike sheds. It was a long-standing joke between them.
'Seriously, though, have you any idea what it's about?'
'You've not seen the local rag today, then?' Kevin asked him, standing up and trying to ensure his tie was straight and his uniform as tidy as possible. The Ice Queen was always so smartly turned out that it made him feel scruffy by comparison.
'Not the exhumation?' Ted groaned. Kevin nodded as they headed down the corridor to the Superintendent's office.
'Come in, gentlemen, sit down,' the Ice Queen greeted them, her tone frosty.
Ted had seen an entirely different side to her on a recent case, when they had spent some time together away from the station. She was definitely in formal mode now.
'I take it you've seen today's local paper?' she asked, nodding to where it lay on her desk.
Ted craned his neck and saw the headline, 'Body exhumed in sudden death mystery,' on the front page lead story. He groaned again, inwardly this time.
'It's very detailed,' she continued. 'They seem to have a lot of information. Have either of you been contacted by the local reporter about this?'
'I only ever say two words to Pocket Billiards, one of which is 'off',' Kevin said frankly then, knowing how formal the Super was, he hastily added a 'ma'am.'
To Ted's surprise, he saw the ghost of a smile flit across the Ice Queen's face. She had encountered the reporter often enough to know why he had the nickname. She would have pulled either Ted or Kevin up short for using it anywhere other than in her office but for the moment, it seemed to amuse her.
'I do hope that is a joke, Inspector Turner?' she asked dryly.
'Sorry, ma'am, probably one in bad taste,' he replied hastily. 'Whenever I do speak to him, which is mercifully not often, I merely refer him to the Press Office.'
'I'm the same, ma'am, and he didn't even bother to contact me on this one because he obviously knew what my answer would be,' Ted assured her.
'So how has he got hold of so much detail?' she asked, looking from one to another.
Ted shrugged. 'I'm no journalist but I would imagine a tip-off about the exhumation from someone who saw something prompted a look to see which grave had been recently disturbed. Then a call to the coroner's office for the name and address, round to the care home for the details and there's your story. I've not yet read it myself, but I'm guessing you could add into that a lot of speculation and a good dollop of scaremongering.'
'As long as no one in this station has leaked anything at all to the press,' she said warningly, looking hard at both of them. 'You should not have to, but please impress once more on your officers how important confidentiality is and what the consequences of any breach will be.'
'Ma'am,' Ted and Kevin said in unison.
'Thank you, Inspector Turner, that will be all for now. Inspector Darling, if I may just have a few more moments of your time?'
Ted had optimistically made to stand up, thinking the interview was over. He sat back down again as Kevin made his exit, with evident relief at getting off so lightly.
'Realistically, is this going to damage your enquiry?' she asked. 'Will it push your killer underground and prevent you from making an arrest?'
'If it does, it also has the effect of preventing any more deaths, which can only be a good thing,' Ted replied. 'Naturally, we want to catch the killer and bring whoever it is to justice, but stopping the deaths would be something, at least.'
'What is your strategy now? How do you plan to take the case forward?'
'I think the next logical step really is to put someone in undercover in the homes, and I wanted to check if you were in agreement with that. I think this is where DC Vine might come into her own,' Ted told her. 'My team are great, I have no complaints about any of them. It's just that I'm having difficulty imagining any of them posing as a carer and looking realistic at it. The killer may well be more wary if they've seen the article in the paper.'
'Could they not simply be visitors?'
'I think our prime suspect, this so-called Angela Mortis, is clever. I also think she watches the homes and chooses her victims carefully. If she suddenly keeps seeing the same person moving aimlessly around or just sitting there, she could well get suspicious. A new carer wouldn't be anything to worry about. She's probably aware that staff turnover is high in the homes.
'As I see it, the way forward is to put DC Vine into the home where our suspect has potentially been laying the groundwork by going in often, armed with harmless cakes. It may be totally unrelated, of course, but I think that unlikely.'
'So you want to take DC Vine on then, having read her file?' she asked. 'Do you think she could fit in with your team?'
'I may be being optimistic, but I do, on both counts. Although her file makes worrying reading,' Ted replied. 'Do we have any clue at all as to why she is as she is? I couldn't see anything in her records to account for it but there must be something, surely? She started out so promisingly and just seems to have gone steadily downhill over the last couple of years or so. It seems a shame. I'd like to try to help, if I can, to reverse the downward spiral.'
'Thank you. It does you credit. I'll arrange for her to start as soon as she has finished her period of leave,' she said. 'Do you need any more officers temporarily? If so, can you liaise with Inspector Turner? I take your point about your existing team. I confess to having difficulty imagining DC Brown making a convincing elderly care worker.'
'To be fair, he is an excellent father, with an incredibly caring side to his nature. And he's doing a wonderful job of getting young Steve back on his feet and helping him to recover from his injuries, both physically and emotionally. But I agree, with his looks, he's not quite the ideal character to blend in anonymously in a care home setting.'
Ted headed back to Kevin's office to discuss with him further the possibility of an extra pair of hands. He explained his dilemma of having a team whose members did not fit the ideal profile of convincing care workers.
'Tell you what, Ted, if the home my dad is in needs looking at, he'd be thrilled to have visitors. He doesn't know who anyone is any more, poor old bugger, not even me. Send in any of your lads and just tell them to sit down next to him and say, 'Hello dad, it's Kevin' and he won't know any different,' Kevin told him. 'Even Virgil,' he laughed. 'Dad won't even notice the colour change.'
DC Dennis Tibbs owed his nickname of Virgil to the films starring Sidney Poitier as the black detective, Virgil Tibbs.
'It would be doing me a big favour, too. I try to go every day but it's hard finding the time. All they need to do is say 'what about that match last night then, eh?' and he'll rattle on for hours, although it'll be about a match from years ago. Usually the 1966 world cup final, until he falls asleep.
'It's a bastard, this dementia lark, Ted. My dad's not even all that old. His was early-onset. And he can't walk any more, either, after a stroke. I hate to think of some sick bastard going round poisoning old people in the homes like that. The next one could even be my dad,' there was a slight catch in his voice and he broke off for a moment to regain his composure.
'Sorry to hear it, Kev, it must be very hard for you,' Ted said. 'Now, odd question, but relevant. Does your dad like to sit in the lobby or entrance hall or whatever they have at the home he's in?'
'Does that mean he's at more risk? Because he does. He loves to sit by the window so he can see people and cars coming and going, enjoy the sunshine, when it's not raining. There's like a little alcove round to the left as you go in the front door. He usually sits there.
'Is that the MO of this killer, then, targeting the ones sitting near the door? As random as that?' Kevin looked searchingly at Ted, who hesitated, not wishing to alarm him.
'It's a possibility. We've not ruled it in or out at this stage,' he said. 'I'll have a word with Mike, see if we
can send some of the team in from time to time to see your dad, keep half an eye on him.'
Kevin beamed with delight. 'Thanks, Ted, I really appreciate it. I owe you one, big time. And I'll see if I can spare you someone, even if it's only occasionally. I imagine anything helps, with a case like this.'
'I might hold you to that favour, one of these days, who knows?' Ted laughed as he headed back to his own office.
Chapter Fourteen
It felt strange to be standing next to his mother after being apart for so many years. But Ted had promised to be there to support her for his grandmother’s funeral, and he liked to keep his promises.
There were not many people in the small chapel at the crematorium. A couple of her carers from the home had turned up and seemed nice enough, certainly nicer than the brusque and rather officious manager Ted had spoken to. He was glad his grandmother might have had someone looking after her who perhaps really had cared.
A few of her immediate neighbours had also come, his mother's age, people who remembered his grandmother fondly for her kindness and her baking. If they knew or guessed who Ted was, they tactfully made no comment to his mother.
Trevor had offered to be there but Ted had suggested it might be best not to. He had not yet told his mother he was gay and thought doing so at her own mother's funeral might lack sensitivity. He was not ashamed of his sexuality, nor of his relationship with Trev. He felt that he just needed to pick the right moment.
A priest Ted didn't know, and who had probably never met his grandmother, said a few kind and well-meaning, but rather impersonal, words. In tribute to her Welsh roots, the small congregation sang Cwm Rhondda. His mother still had the same fine voice he remembered, just a little more strained now she was older. Ted had a good tenor voice, though he did not often air it, except alone in his car with either Freddie Mercury or Willie Nelson for company.