by A B Morgan
‘I believe it stands for heart sink patient,’ she said. ‘Shorthand between doctors for, well… you can guess; the patients they dread walking through their door. The ones who make their hearts sink.’
Konrad smiled at her. She was proving to be a real asset and he was even more convinced than ever before she would be the key to exposing the Nithercotts for the depraved individuals he suspected them to be. ‘Great. So, we have our confirmation that, in all probability, Abigail is our stalker. That fits beautifully with our working hypothesis, doesn’t it, Netty? Part one of the documentary seems to have wound Abigail up good and proper. Play on Mr Khan. Play on.’
Mal grinned. ‘Wait for the next bit, Mr Neale. You’ll risk blowing a fuse when you hear what information comes up.’
Shifting in his seat, Konrad craned his neck towards the phone.
❖
‘Now then, Clare. You’re being a little unfair. You do a great job,’ Niall said in a persuasive if somewhat condescending manner.
‘That’s as may be, but this has to be one of the most bizarre presentations I’ve ever seen. I can’t even work out what the trigger factors are, what set her off, and … and … I’ve nothing to go on. The records from her psychiatrist are too vague to be of any help,’ Clare said. ‘In the last year she has gone from odd to downright freaky and now this wacky and poisonous preoccupation has popped up as if from nowhere. At first, I thought she’d developed a curious crush, as a subconscious way of distancing herself from Guy’s controlling influence, but by the end of our time together today I was beginning to suspect some form of fixed delusion, I wasn’t sure. Now you’ve enlightened me as to who this man is, I’m even more confused.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Niall Jameson sounded alarmed.
‘I’m not qualified to say,’ Clare blurted out. ‘Is there any way you can arrange to see her? She needs an official assessment by mental health services. I’d make a referral myself, but I’m not entirely convinced they’ll accept one from me. Ex-nurses are not supposed to assess mental health or make any form of diagnosis. You should know that.’
There was a sigh.
‘Once a psychiatric nurse always a psychiatric nurse, Clare, and I think you’re making a bit of a fuss about nothing. I mean, I haven’t seen Abigail Nithercott for months, longer. If I’m honest, I’m astounded she’s still seeing you.’ He puffed. ‘She won’t come to the surgery, Guy insists she sees a private psychiatrist, a private gynaecologist, a private everything and that puts me in a tricky position.’
There was a tapping, a clicking noise coming through the phone. It sounded as if Niall Jameson was fiddling with a pen. Flicking the top of a biro while thinking. As he thought he clicked, and as he clicked, he hummed tunelessly until he reached a conclusion. ‘I would need good cause to ask her to make an appointment, which she will most likely refuse. And I can hardly discuss this with Guy, the GMC would have me hung by my privates...’ His voice trailed off as he hummed again for a few more painful seconds. ‘Besides, I received a call from the police a few minutes ago looking for information about our strange friend Guy Nithercott.’
‘Are you supposed to be telling me this?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Go on then.’
‘His London office were unable to trace him. He dropped off the grid. Probably knocking back the champers at a secret location with another of the elite super-rich.’
‘You’re kidding… Have they questioned Abigail?’
‘Yes. They have now. They had trouble getting her to speak to them on the telephone and sent officers out to the hall. She declined to allow them past the automatic gates, thinking they were the press after a story, which is why they phoned me in case there was a family illness or accident. Police rang me back to put my mind at rest. Abigail finally relented. She had a few words with the officers and off they toddled back to the CID office, job done. Apparently, Abigail wasn’t too concerned.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine, but police said she’d spoken with Guy and he’s alive and well somewhere. Case closed. Possessive secretary probably exaggerating how long he’d been out of contact.’
‘Are you insinuating he’s the sort to dabble with his staff?’
‘Highly likely, all that money and influence…’
‘You don’t think she’s done him in do you?’
‘His secretary?’
‘No. Abigail Nithercott.’
Niall laughed heartily. ‘What with? A ball of wool and a knitting needle?’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
That same evening
Once settled in the restaurant, Lorna picked up the menu to make a choice. ‘Well, that settles it. I’ll go with Ella on Saturday. We’ll get our hair done in the morning, dress up all nineteen forties, slap on the lipstick. Abigail will never recognise me, and Guy wouldn’t know me from Adam, or should I say Eve.’
Konrad put his glass of wine down rather too clumsily and it clattered against the tip of his fork. He covered the base of it with his left hand to deaden the irritating noise. ‘No way, Lorna,’ he said. ‘One sniff of either of us being there and we’re done. Straight to court, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds. Netty should go. You and Mal monitor the whole thing from the office at home. “Wire them up” as they say in the films, record everything.’
Mal lolled back in his seat. ‘Gladly.’
‘Sorry I can’t be of help, Cyclops,’ Barney piped up, ‘but someone has to man the garage if you’re stealing my wife for a whole afternoon. Not to mention my only other spare shop assistant.’
‘Come on now, Barney. June won’t mind holding the fort.’
Barney shrugged, scanning the menu and feigning ill temper. ‘Fine, but does anyone care that I’ll have to put up with the miserable old grouch? That face of hers is enough to turn the sodding milk sour.’
Netty nuzzled up to her husband and patted his meaty shoulder. ‘There, there.’
‘Excuse me,’ Ella butted in. ‘But if Guy has gone missing, maybe the whole Espionage Escapades thing will be cancelled,’ she suggested, wishing desperately to avoid having to do battle with microphones and micro digital camera technologies. She and Netty were as clumsy as each other and it had the hallmarks of being a disaster in the making if the two of them were expected to deal with the trappings of undercover surveillance. All that as well as determining the real reason for the invitation to a Nithercott event.
‘I don’t think he’s missing,’ Konrad said. ‘If there was any real truth in the story the whole bastard police force would be out looking for him by now. Interpol, the lot. It was probably a journalist ringing Dr Jameson pretending to be the police. Trying to get information they weren’t entitled to. Didn’t get them very far. I’ll give Logan a call. See if Guy is with him at Le Mans. It’s practise day.’
‘You can’t. We have to go through Waveney Bisset his agent. Logan’s changed his number again,’ Lorna reminded him.
Konrad frowned. ‘So he has. That’s a damnable nuisance; Waveney’s not the most forthcoming bloke and I sometimes think he’s being deliberately obtuse. I’ll try squeezing something out of DI Quinn. See if he knows what—’
‘There’s one other thing that’s been bothering me,’ Ella said, interrupting again. ‘The invitation to attend this escape room attraction arrived today for Saturday. That’s very short notice.’
She stared about her, not knowing how to raise the next point she wanted to bring up. ‘Also, there’s a more recent phone recording about Abigail.’ She reached out and touched Mal gently on his elbow. ‘We need to tell them this now.’ She searched his face for approval, which was duly given, as was his brief explanation.
‘Clare Gray received an invitation to Espionage Escapades too. Niall Jameson rang her back earlier today and she told him all about it. As it happens, he had a fair bit of information to give her in return,’ Mal said with a grimace.
; In reply to this, Konrad screwed up his whole face, making for a disturbing Halloween mask effect. ‘You say this was recorded earlier today? So, when did she receive the invitation?’
Ella felt the tension around the table rise as Mal prepared to play the latest snippet.
‘This morning. As if it were an apology for Abigail’s bad behaviour the day before,’ Mal said. ‘We were going to check out the facts before telling you, but you can decide for yourselves. Gather round.’ He looked up. By the sounds of things, there was a lively game of darts being played in the public bar, but where they sat in the restaurant was far away from any other diners, far enough not to be overheard. ‘Listen. You’ll get the idea. These two only have each other to confide in and they still haven’t convinced themselves to report their fears to any other authority.’
‘A bit like us,’ Ella said, grave misgivings surfacing.
Lorna and Netty became still. They prepared to listen attentively as Mal set up his phone to play the recording of the call.
Conversely, Barney made no attempt to hear the latest. He caught Ella giving him a questioning look and he tapped against his ear. ‘Loud engines. I’m as deaf as a post.’ She smiled. Barney was one of the kindest and gentlest men she had ever been fortunate enough to meet and she’d become very fond of him and Netty. Like Lorna, they’d become helpful guardians and she couldn’t have felt more comfortable around them if she’d known them for years. Konrad was a different matter. She wanted to like him, to trust him and to relate to him, but she didn’t.
He sat hunched over, staring with one blue eye focussed on the cruet set as he waited for the recording to play. Mal prodded the button on the smartphone and the gathered heads fell silent.
❖
Clare Gray was panting very loudly.
‘Clare Gray speaking.’
‘Have I called at an embarrassingly inconvenient time?’
‘Oh hello, Niall.’ There was a shy titter. ‘Hard-core housework. My fitness levels aren’t what they should be I’m afraid. The last client of the morning just left.’
‘Thank God for that. Thought for a minute I’d caught you “In flagrante delicto”.’
‘Half past eleven on a Thursday morning?’
‘Point taken. The reason for my call…’
‘Yes?’
‘I asked Una, the practice manager, to contact our lady Abigail Nithercott, requesting her to make an appointment for a regular Well Woman Check and review. The government are pushing for better uptake of smear tests as you probably know.’
The sound of Clare’s breathing was steadier. ‘That’s a good idea. I’m glad you’ve acted so quickly. I’ve barely slept.’
‘I thought so. I could tell by your voice yesterday that you have concerns. More usefully, Una turns out to be a source of waiting room gossip of interest. Keep this to yourself, but according to Una, Abigail Nithercott had her bikini line waxed a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, I assume that’s what Una meant by “down-belows”.’
After laughing at his own witticism, Niall continued. ‘Abigail also had her eyebrows shaped or whatever they do with them and while her hair was being done, she was gazing at pictures of a certain rugby player on her phone via Google, Wikipedia, and any sports pages she could find him on.’
‘Goodness me, how did Una hear about that?’
‘Our Abigail has begun to make use of a hairdressers called Pearls and Curls. Has done for months. Her old faithful hairdresser used to visit her at the hall, but he’s retired. The new one at Pearls and Curls has a tongue looser than a prostitute’s knicker elastic.’
‘Crikey. So, she does get out more often than we were led to believe.’
‘The chauffeur takes her and picks her up, apparently. Who knew?’
‘What else did Una say?’
‘She knows far more than she was prepared to tell me, but no sooner did I probe for further detail than she clammed up. I couldn’t get past her receptionist’s brick wall.’
There was a pause before Clare spoke again, this time she sounded very composed. ‘Do you know the name of her particular stylist? I’m in need of a cut and blow dry.’
‘Clare, you’ve a wicked ability to read my mind. I don’t feel comfortable in arranging an assessment of her mental health when we’ve no evidence to indicate a problem actually exists.’
When she eventually replied, Clare sounded exasperated. ‘I’m not going purely to dig around and find out more about Abigail. Something’s happened. She’s sent me an invitation to the opening of their new business venture. The one designed to give her purpose and a role in life – you remember?’
A grunt from Niall.
‘It’s a World War Two escape room adventure,’ Clare said. ‘And as you’ve mentioned it, I thought I’d get my hair done, frock up and show my face.’
‘Is that wise?’ The hesitancy was plain in Niall’s short pertinent question.
‘I’ve no idea, but how else can I judge her level of rationality? And I’ve always found that seeing someone on their home turf reveals so much more about them than sitting face to face in an office. Don’t you think?’
There was a strange vocal vibration as Niall dithered.
Clare spoke again. ‘Look Niall, my knowledge of her family history is broad and sketchy. I know where she lives, I know her relationship with Guy is unhealthy, I know she was depressed following her miscarriages and that she took the rash decision to have a hysterectomy on the advice of her psychiatrist. I accept that she has a thinly disguised eating disorder but, all in all, Abigail has done a fine job of keeping her personal life firmly to herself. If I go to the hairdressers, Pearls and Curls, and also see how she is on Saturday with her public face on, perhaps we can gauge her mental state to a greater degree.’ She coughed, a deliberate delicate little cough. ‘Will you come with me on Saturday?’
❖
Netty howled with disappointment as Mal stopped the playback. She slapped both palms down onto the table. ‘Oh no. Don’t stop there. I need to know what happened. Did he say yes?’ Her bosoms heaved upwards as she threw herself backwards into the dining chair, arms flailing. ‘Mal please…’
Netty had a habit of sprinkling fun into most situations and Ella perked up at this display of exaggerated dramatics. Mal, mouth set firm, taunted her by waving his phone back and forth.
‘Tune in next week to find out,’ he mocked.
Netty squared up to Ella, a beseeching look about her, palms together. ‘You’ll tell, won’t you. As my best ever lodger, my fat club confidante, my part-time shop assistant and because if you don’t, I’ll double your rent…’ Her eyes sparkled with a mischief that Ella couldn’t resist.
‘He wouldn’t commit himself. Said he’d think about it and get back to her.’
‘Oh dear,’ came a chorus from both Lorna and Netty as they looked to Konrad for his considered opinion.
He stood.
‘Right. This calls for a radical change of plan. But first, let’s order some grub. I’m bloody starving and I suggest that if we’re abandoning diets tonight, we go the whole hog. Starters, main course and pudding.’
‘I’ll drink to that, old pal,’ Barney said raising his pint glass and knocking back the remaining two inches of beer before rubbing his ample belly.
Much to her surprise, Konrad aimed his one good eye at Ella. ‘Come with me, young lady, bring your mobile phone, you are going to make a call to your therapist. Come on.’ He stood and reached out his hand. ‘Lorna, order my favourites there’s a good girl. Mal, order Ella’s for her.’
Mal looked perplexed. ‘What? But what do you want to eat, Ella?’
Konrad was gently leading her towards the rear exit of the pub. Consequently, she was left to call out her order over her shoulder. ‘Prawn cocktail, sirloin steak with peppercorn sauce, medium rare – more rare than medium - with salad and new potatoes, please. Where are we going?’
‘Toilets.’
‘Together?’
‘Don�
�t be daft.’
They stood facing each other in the wide corridor at the rear entrance of the pub. This passageway also housed the toilet facilities so proudly advertised by Rob the landlord as being voted best in the county for five years running. Opposite where they were standing was an alcove containing a pair of leather button backed chairs and a selection of information leaflets on a rack; rows of colourful flyers about local tourist attractions. Konrad stepped forward and reached out to pick one up between thumb and forefinger. On the front emblazoned in red print it read, “opening soon”. It was a glossy folded pamphlet advertising Espionage Escapades. He waved it at Ella.
‘We are going to show our hand to Clare Gray. You will phone her, tell her you recognised Abigail yesterday, tell her you were in St Cuthbert’s together, tell her you received an invitation to the escape room thing and that you are in a quandary about whether to go or not, as you don’t have anyone to go with.’
Ella stared at him. Speechless.
Holding her shoulders he carried on. ‘You heard her. She’s as desperate to find out about Abigail as we are. But…’
Ella noticed him shift his weight and narrow his eye. She still didn’t speak.
‘But,’ he continued. ‘You are right to be suspicious about these invitations. Katrina Chandler has one because of her relationship with Logan, not through any goodwill gesture on the part of the Nithercotts for her recent work. Clare Gray has one perhaps because she knows too much.’
‘And so do I,’ Ella said, shakily raising her mobile phone and placing it to her ear as she turned and held her hand against the door to the ladies’ toilet.
‘Before you go, tell me about the medical records Mal liberated from St Cuthbert’s. I want to understand about Abigail’s diagnosis,’ Konrad said.
Ella was quick to respond. ‘There’s not a lot to share because most of the records are held electronically. She has a diagnosis of depression and adjustment disorder, like a complex grief reaction to miscarriage. We’re still digging.’ She stepped forward.