Mr Wilmott Gets Old School

by Katherine Hayton

  Crystal frowned at the answer. “Why not? When you were dealing with that nightmare woman a few months back, she followed you around everywhere.”

  “She certainly did.” Emily held her bottom lip between her fingers, squeezing and releasing in time with her pulse. “I don’t really know. I suppose I didn’t invite him and he’s not really quick on the uptake if you get what I mean.”

  “Well, I hope you remember to next time.” Crystal was smiling but Emily ignored that, focused instead on the chastisement in her words.

  “I guess I’m being an awful host.”

  “Ha. What about me?” Agnes held her glass out, giggling. “I refilled my own glass and didn’t even bother to ask if anyone else wanted a top-up.”

  Emily fought a brief battle with her future self and lost. “I’ve love one. After the visit to the other side of the home, my nerves are on fire.”

  “Oh, yes.” Suzanne’s mouth pulled down. “I don’t blame you. When we had the dementia and mental health patients mixed in and we all lived together, I never minded them in the slightest. Now Stoneybrook’s stuck them all in the same place, it upsets my stomach just to walk over for a visit.”

  “They weren’t always separate?” Surprise cut through Emily’s sherry-flavoured buzz. “I just assumed the village had been set up that way.”

  “No. It’s a new thing.” Suzanne drained the last of her sherry and held her glass out to Agnes. “When I turned up two years ago, the whole place was shared with the residents who needed more care placed in rooms closer to the nurse’s station.”

  “That sounds nicer.” Agnes pulled Maude into her lap and fussed over her ears. The dog panted happily, snuffling through her turned-up nose. “I don’t like the way it feels like us and them.”

  “Exactly. And it’s harder now to get a card game together. Just because someone can’t keep everything straight in their head doesn’t mean they stop being able to do anything.” A sad smile spread over her face while her eyes gazed into a memory. “I used to clean up at poker, I can tell you.”

  Suzanne shook herself and winked. “Especially when we stopped playing for matchsticks and put some money on the table.”

  Agnes choked on her sherry. “You didn’t!”

  The woman winked and pulled a zip across her lips.

  “It seems an odd decision to make.” Emily turned to Crystal who was still perusing the list of names. “The move today is towards integration, not segregation. I’m surprised the managers let this decision go through.”

  “Managers.” Suzanne snorted. “There’s only Allain and his daddy’s money running this show.” She shook her head and tapped the side of her nose. “Or Margaret, if the truth be told. He might have left her on reception, but she definitely wears the pants in that relationship.”

  “They’re a couple?” Emily sat back, feeling stunned under the onslaught of new information. “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “Just wait and watch them. They slip up every now and again, even though they think they’re so smart and secretive.”

  “Do these names mean anything to you?” Crystal asked, bringing Emily back to the reason for their visit. “Billy Gibbons. Astrid Wallheimer. Maui Hilliburton. Frederick Wilmott. Aaron Matterway. Timothy Burt.”

  “Fred is a resident here,” Suzanne said before Emily could speak. “But I don’t recognise the others.”

  “Astrid is the name the ghost gave me, last night,” Emily said. “But the others are a mystery.”

  Agnes frowned out the window, one of Maude’s front paws in either hand. “The surname Hilliburton rings a bell, but not Maui.” She frowned and danced the English Bulldog from side to side. “Aroha,” she burst out a moment later, relief clear in her voice. “I used to work in the supermarket next to an Aroha Halliburton. She lived over on Tenacre Street in the green wooden house near the end.”

  Crystal nodded. “I know the one. How long ago are you talking about?”

  “Donkey’s years but a look in the phone book will soon tell you if she’s still there.”

  “Would Maui be her husband?” Emily asked.

  “No.” Agnes shook her head and dropped Maude’s paw to pick up her sherry again. “She was unmarried. Batted for the other team and never wound up with anyone permanent. It might be a brother.”

  “What about the others?” Crystal stared around the group, then sighed when nobody spoke up. “This is such a dreadful business, I’m starting to believe we’re better off leaving it all to the police. We should drop this into them on the way home.”

  “That’s an easy suggestion when you’re not the one with a man in your room.” Emily shifted in her seat. The room felt stifling. “I’m not waiting around for Sergeant Winchester to sort this out. He’s had decades to do that and couldn’t even find the bodies.”

  And I don’t want to see the expression he showed me last night, ever again.

  Emily could feel the other women exchanging glances but was too tired to care. “The names probably don’t mean anything. Gladys just seemed lost within her own mind. The only thing she volunteered was about how she wanted to take an axe and cut down the oak tree.”

  “We could try asking the head nurse to sit in,” Suzanne said. “Rebecca’s been working at Stoneybrook for all the time I’ve been here. She probably knows Gladys better than anyone.”

  The suggestion rankled Emily. “I’m not asking that woman to do anything of the sort. Gladys thinks she’s keeping her prisoner, with good reason.”

  Suzanne raised her eyebrows but didn’t add anything.

  “Well, this party’s turned into a downer,” Crystal said with a laugh. “I vote we head home for the evening. If anyone thinks of some bright ideas of how to proceed, let us know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emily whispered to Agnes as she patted Maude goodbye. “I didn’t mean to upset anybody.”

  Agnes rolled her eyes. “It’s the unidentified bodies in the back yard that are upsetting me. Your bad mood because you have a ghost giving you a taste of hashtag metoo is nothing on top of that.” She waved her hand out to the courtyard where the holes grew in the gathering shadows. “They’re the ones who keep me up at night.”

  Emily stared into the darkening gloom. The PC she’d seen earlier patrolled the perimeter of the tape. Soon, he’d need a torch to find his way.

  “I wish my ghost was more forthcoming.” With an extra pat on Maude’s head for good luck, Emily adjusted her handbag and joined Crystal by the door. “I’ll keep you in the loop if he does decide to talk.”

  As she and Crystal walked past reception, a woman banged on the counter. Margaret had left while they were with Agnes and the night porter Erik flushed at the action.

  “I want to visit with my father, and I don’t care if it’s after seven. It’s not as though he’ll be asleep. He only gets a few hours a night.”

  “We can’t let you go to his room without a prior appointment,” Erik said, his eyes focused on a point midway between him and the woman. Judging from his expression, he’d recited the rule a few times already.

  “This is nonsense.” The woman slammed her fist down on the countertop again. “This is his home and I want to pay him a visit. It’s not a hospital or a prison on lock-down. I shouldn’t have to make an appointment to visit my father in his own home!”

  Erik turned at the sound of Crystal and Emily’s shuffling footsteps, hope written large across his face. “Evening, ladies.”

  “Why isn’t she allowed to visit?” Emily asked, dropping her own baggage to pick up a stranger’s. “Unless her father’s specifically asked her not to, shouldn’t the family be allowed at any time?”

  “I’m just letting you know the rules,” Erik said, holding one hand up as a shield. “If you want to visit anybody in the rear units, you must have an appointment.”

  “But why?” Emily leaned her elbows on the counter, easing the full weight off her feet. “It’s not as though she’s throwing a loud party. After seven isn’t the
witching hour.”

  “You might disturb other residents.”

  “That applies to anybody living here and having people to visit. Why’s there a different set of rules for the people in the back half of the building?”

  “Because they’re…” Erik’s lips contorted as his mouth struggled to find the right word.

  “You think because my dad has trouble remembering things, he won’t want his daughter to pop in and say hello?”

  “I’d have thought it would be beneficial for him.” Emily tapped her forefinger on the counter. “Surely, he’ll feel worse off if he can’t see his daughter?”

  As Erik’s hand crept up to pull at his earlobe, Emily took matters into her own hands. She turned to the woman and asked, “Why don’t we just go down there and see if he minds you stopping in? If he asks you to leave, I guess you should go but if not…” She shrugged.

  They rushed away from the desk. Emily resisted the urge to glance back but Crystal felt no such compunction. “Ha! The man’s pretending we weren’t even there.”

  “Thank you for stepping in.” The woman extended a hand. “My name’s Jane Warren.”

  “Nice to meet you. What room’s your dad in?”

  “I don’t remember the number. It’s third along the hallway on the right-hand side past the nurse’s station.”

  Crystal tugged on Emily’s arm. “Hold up. Looks like more trouble.”

  Nurse Rebecca stood at the end of the corridor with her arms folded across her chest. “You don’t have an appointment and it’s too late to visit.”

  Emily guessed Erik hadn’t ignored them after all, just passed the buck.

  “Go on,” she told Jane. “Knock on your dad’s door while I speak to the nurse.”

  Rebecca frowned, but when Jane walked straight at her, she stepped to one side, letting the woman go past.

  “I have a few questions about how you run things over here,” Emily said, stepping right up to the woman. “For starters, why do you insist that poor woman needs to make an appointment just to visit her dad?”

  “You don’t understand the amount of attention some of my residents require,” the nurse replied, her lip curling. “It’s for the benefit of the family members that we have fair warning. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not see my loved ones soiling themselves, or in such a state they think I’m trying to kill them.”

  A memory flashed into Emily’s mind. Christchurch Hospital, after her car accident. She saw her fingers digging into the neck of her supposed best friend while inside she raged.

  Emily shook her head, dismissing the memory while the understanding remained. “Surely, not every member of Stoneybrook requires that level of planning.”

  “For those that don’t, we won’t ask for appointments.” Nurse Rebecca sighed, dropping her arms down to her side. “We go through this in detail when a resident’s status deteriorates.” She jerked her head toward the room Jane had disappeared inside. “We’ve been through this discussion with Ms Warren before.”

  On less sure ground now, Emily eased her weight onto her back foot. “You locked Gladys into her room.”

  “She said she was going to bed.” The nurse pulled some loose strands of hair behind her ear. “She sleepwalks, and it’s easier if we contain her to the one room. If she walks out into the common area during the night and wakes up, she’ll scream the place down. It upsets the staff, the other residents, and most of all it upsets her. Because she recognises her room, it doesn’t affect her the same to wake up in there.”

  The pulse of indignation that had been thrumming through Emily’s veins dissipated, leaving her unsure. She chewed on the side of her thumbnail, then pointed to the exit sign. “What about that door? Surely, it should always remain unlocked.”

  Crystal slid a hand into the crook of Emily’s elbow, pulling her away. “Why don’t we talk this over another day. When we’re not all so tired and upset with everything that’s happening outside.”

  Nurse Rebecca acted as though she hadn’t heard her. “The door is locked so nobody wanders outside and gets lost. Can you imagine what it would be like to walk out the door, then lose the sense of who you are? We have residents who sometimes can’t find their way from the common lounge to their bedrooms.”

  Emily swallowed hard, her throat clicking in the sudden silence.

  “Imagine if a resident walked outside and away from the only people who know them. Losing their memories with every step until their minds are blank. Unable to tell anybody their name or where they belong. They’d be scared. Alone. Lost.”

  This time when Crystal tugged her arm, it was hard enough for Emily to take a few steps backwards. Her eyes stayed locked on the nurse’s face. The empathy of panic narrowed her throat.

  Nurse Rebecca’s face crumpled with distress. “If a resident walked out an unlocked exit, they might never get back home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Even Crystal was silent as they put distance between themselves and Stoneybrook Acres. Her normal cheer could withstand a lot but not the multitude of blows delivered by their visit.

  When Emily said she’d walk her to the door, Crystal waved away the offer. “Don’t be silly, then you’d be alone on the way back. If an opportunistic criminal is passing by, he’s just as likely to target you as me.

  Halfway home, Emily veered a few streets off target and parked outside the police station. Although her earlier words were true, and she didn’t trust Sergeant Winchester to solve the case anytime soon, she also wasn’t about to withhold information.

  Even if that information made the policeman look at her askance.

  She only got as far as saying, “I’ve got some—” before a raised hand stopped her going any further.

  The Sergeant and PC Mitchell had been bent over a computer on the desk and Emily now heard a small crackle and whispered voice come out of the speakers. Tilting her head, she picked up a few phrases amongst the static.

  “—want to report a missing—”

  “—left a few hours ago—”

  “—from Stoneybrook Acres—”

  “—gone for hours!”

  “We need to get it louder,” Sergeant Winchester said, throwing the task over to Officer Mitchell and turning his attention toward Emily. “Now, what can we help you with?”

  She pulled out the sheaf of papers taken from the printer at Stoneybrook the night before. “Here’s the printout Erik prepared for you last night.” Emily tried a small smile on for size, but tiredness soon thwarted the effort.

  When the sergeant continued to gaze at her, confused, she added, “When you asked about the information on file. This is what he printed out from their computer system. I picked it up and popped it into my handbag when Margaret came in.”

  Winchester nodded. “About Frederick Wilmott,” he said. “The resident who turned out not to be missing.”

  Emily’s face grew warm, but she persevered. Once this task was over, she could go home and straight to bed. The sherry might have given her a glow, but it was transforming into a headache. “I’ve also got a school roll from Oakhaven, the place Stoneybrook Acres was before they turned it into a home. Gladys Angel and Frederick Wilmott attended at the same time, and she circled some other names.”

  He pulled the page closer, reading down the list, then raised his eyebrows. “I don’t understand. What’s this got to do with the case?”

  “I don’t know.” Emily was suddenly close to tears. “They’re just names. They might mean something or nothing. I just don’t know.”

  The sergeant’s expression changed to one of alarm as a tear slipped down Emily’s cheek. She brushed it away, fighting to keep more from falling.

  PC Mitchell cleared his throat and nodded to his superior. “I think I’ve got it worked out if you want me to play it again. I still don’t know how we’re meant to identify the anonymous caller though. If the responder couldn’t do it at the time…”

  “It didn’t mean anything to the d
epartment six months ago,” the sergeant said. “We didn’t know there was a body buried in the back garden then.” Relief crossed his face as he turned away from Emily. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  The junior officer pressed play and Emily jumped as the static hissed through the speakers. She finally clicked to what she was listening to as an emergency operator came on the line.

  “111 emergency. Do you require police, fire, or ambulance?”

  “Police.” The voice was high and reedy, threaded with fear even in that one word.

  “You’ve reached the New Zealand Police Department. What’s your emergency?”

  “I need to report a missing person. We’ve had a resident walk off the property, and he hasn’t returned.” There was a short break, punctuated with a wavering hiss, then the voice came back on the line. Frantic. “His name is Frederick Wilmott, and he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. I’m scared something bad has happened to him and he doesn’t know how to find his way home.”

  As the responder fired a list of questions at the caller, the blood drained from Emily’s face. Perhaps if she hadn’t heard the woman saying virtually the same words within the hour, it wouldn’t have clicked, but now she was certain.

  “That’s Nurse Rebecca from Stoneybrook Acres.”

  Back at home, an hour later, Emily stared at the male ghost from what should have been the comfort of her bed. Unfortunately, it was a lot less pleasant when accompanied by the old man’s intense scrutiny.

  “Wouldn’t you rather sit in the lounge?” Emily asked, her voice breaking from the strain. She’d tried to ignore him for twenty minutes, and just wound herself into a state. “I can turn on the television and you can watch cartoons all night. Doesn’t that sound far more interesting than staring at me?”

  Apparently not.

  Emily gave a huff and got out of bed, taking a pillow and the bedspread and walking through to the lounge. If he wouldn’t shift from her bedroom, then she’d rather spend a lousy night asleep on the sofa than awake in her bed.

  After ten minutes, her hip was whispering to her that this was a bad idea. Emily tried to turn over, nearly fell onto the floor, and finally manoeuvred to face inward. With her eyes closed, she could sense the presence of the seat back just a few centimetres away and her chest tightened. Another few minutes and her left hip added to the whispered complaints of the first.