by G. M. Dobbs
‘She’s got that bloody right,’ Arthur grumbled.
Gerald could take no more of this and he snatched the phone from his father’s hands.
‘Now listen here you,’ Gerald snarled into the phone in a rather high-pitched whine. ‘That’s my Mammy you have there and she could be on the trail of a vicious killer...’
Arthur snatched the phone back and held an arm out to keep Gerald, who was trying to snatch the phone back, at bay.
‘Sorry,’ Arthur said. ‘That was my son. He’s rather worried, well we all are.’
‘I have to go now,’ the taxi driver said quickly. The old woman had been bad enough without getting into a conversation with her equally dotty family. ‘I am picking up another passenger and will hand the phone into the police later. I am switching the phone off now so please don’t call again.’
‘Thank you,’ Arthur said and didn’t hang up the phone until several moments of nothing but dead air. He looked first at Gerald and then at Twice and then said:
‘I think we need the police.’
Twenty-One
Granny walked up another flight of stairs and found herself once again in a long hallway. Almost immediately she saw Nigel and Natalie emerge from a room at the end of the hall and as she didn’t have time to disappear, she sprayed polish onto one of the photographs upon the wall and started polishing while Nigel and Natalie walked down the corridor and went straight past her.
For one awful moment Granny thought that Nigel had recognised her.
He paused at the end of the corridor and looked directly at her. She had then started to polish furiously, and out of her peripheral vision she saw Nigel shake his head, as though saying to himself, “No, it can’t be,” before continuing on his way.
That had been close, too close, and Granny felt her heart hammering in her chest. Granny had never in her entire life wanted to smoke her pipe more than at that moment, but she fought back the cravings and made her way down the corridor to look into the room Nigel and Natalie had emerged from.
She carefully opened the door and peered into the room.
The room was darkened, only dimly lit and for a moment Granny thought the room was empty but then she heard shallow breathing coming from the bed that dominated the room.
Granny went inside.
There was an elderly man lying in a bed, and he looked to be fast asleep. There were two large oxygen canisters besides the bed with tubing running from these and up and over the headboard. There was a facemask connected to the end of the tubing and next to the bed there was a trolley type table, containing a bewildering array of medication.
The old bugger had better hang on in there until after the wedding
Was this the man Nigel and Natalie, and Granny was now convinced the female voice on the phone had been Natalie’s, had been talking about during that conversation in the car?
Granny moved closer to the bed to get a better view of the man. His breathing was almost imperceptible and for one awful moment Granny feared he was dead, but then he coughed and his eyelids flickered.
‘Hello,’ Granny said, almost whispering the word.
‘Sheila?’ the name came from the old man’s mouth as if it were being squeezed through treacle. It sounded like, Shee..i....laaaa.
This totally confused Granny and she couldn’t think what this old man could possibly be to Sheila.
And yet he had spoken her name.
‘Yes,’ Granny answered, not knowing what else to say.
‘You’ve come,’ the old man said and opened his eyes. It took awhile for him to focus on Granny but when he did, he smiled. ‘Sheila.’
‘How are you?’ Granny asked, fully aware of how inane the question was.
‘I’ve been better,’ the old man said and then coughed so hard that mucus could be heard rattling in his chest.
The man thought she was Sheila and Granny guessed it was her Welsh accent that did it. The old man was looking directly at her and Granny knew that she didn’t in the slightest resemble Sheila, but that didn’t seem to trouble the old man.
He seemed to be convinced that she was Sheila.
Maybe he’s talking about another Sheila, Granny thought, but she dismissed the idea. She knew deep down, that good old feeling in her bones again, that the Sheila the old man spoke of was the Sheila who would soon marry Nigel Charlton. Or wouldn’t, given all that Granny had found out.
‘Closer,’ the old man said. ‘Let me look at you. Take my hand.’
Granny wasn’t sure it was wise but she moved closer to the man, sitting herself down on the edge of the bed.
The old man lifted a spindly hand and Granny took it in hers.
‘That last time I held your hand,’ the old man said. ‘You were a baby. I’ve not seen you since and I am so sorry.’
Granny didn’t answer and stared at the old man. Who was he? Suddenly an idea formed in the old woman’s mind and she recalled Sheila having said that she was born in London.
Was this her father?
Come to think of it Sheila had never spoken of her family and Granny was sure that she’d been adopted.
Sheila had told her that once.
‘If only I could turn back the clock,’ the old man continued. ‘I’ve been a selfish man; I’ve done many things I regret. The top drawer in the dressing table,’ the man took pause, collecting his breath. ‘ You’ll find a photograph album.’
Granny looked around and saw the dressing table against the far wall. She ran to it and sure enough found a leather photograph album in the top drawer.
‘Bring it to me,’ the old man said and started coughing violently. Spittle flew from his dry lips and for a moment it seemed he would cough his lungs out, but then once more he lay still, his breathing shallow but regular.
Granny went and sat back on the edge of the bed, the album resting in her lap.
‘Take a look,’ the old man said. ‘It’s you. I never stopped thinking of you. I never once forgot my little girl.’
Granny opened the photo album and flicked through the pages. The first pictures showed a young man holding a newborn baby. Was this man laying in the bed the same man as in the photos, Granny wondered.
‘You’re mother died,’ the old man said. ‘Giving you life and I thought I could look after you, raise you on my own. But times were different then and I couldn’t get any help, no state handouts. I put you up for adoption for your own good. It was for the best. I couldn’t have given you any kind of life. Not then.’
Granny looked again at the young man in the photograph and then at the man on the bed. They were, she could see, one and the same. The old man before her was weakened, his complexion ravaged by time and illness and his hair had turned almost completely white, but there was no mistaken him from his younger self. The cheekbones were the same, as was the distinguished forehead.
‘I’ve often thought to get in touch,’ the man continued. ‘I had an address for your Welsh family but as time went on I figured that you’d find me if you ever wanted to. But you never did come. Until now that is.’
Granny turned the pages in the album and saw that each and every picture was of the same little girl. Granny turned and saw that little girl as a baby, as a toddler, as a young child, as a teenager and then as a woman and by the time she closed the covers Granny knew, without any doubt, that this man was Sheila’s birth father.
‘I made sure your adoptive parents sent me photographs of you,’ the old man said. ‘They’re all there.’
‘It’s nice,’ Granny had to fight back the tears that were forming in her eyes.
‘Hold my hand,’ the man asked again and Granny did so. She felt terrible passing herself off as his daughter but she could see the happiness the old man was taking from the encounter. Within a moment or two the old man was once again asleep, this time with a smile upon his aged lips.
Granny was just about to leave the room when the door opened and Nigel and Natalie stood in the doorway.
�
�You,’ Nigel said, pushing Natalie into the room and closing the door behind them. ‘I knew it.’
Granny had now worked it all out. The old man in the bed was wealthy; he must have been to afford care in such an exclusive nursing home. He was close to death and had no doubt left everything he owned, which Granny imagined was a considerable sum, to his long lost daughter. Natalie would have been the old man’s nurse and Nigel, who had been a lawyer specialising in inheritance matters, would most likely be privy to the old man’s will. It was likely Nigel, recommended by Natalie, had been responsible for drawing up the will.
Was that what this was all about?
Money?
Did Nigel intend to marry Sheila, knowing she had a large inheritance coming to her and then cheat the money from her?
‘You killed Edith,’ Granny directed the accusation at Natalie. At that moment she felt no fear and only a red-hot anger burning deep down in her bones.
The young woman smiled and moved around the bed with all the grace of a serpent. She went to the table and picked up a veil of medicine. From her pocket she took a packet. She bit the packet to tear it and removed a syringe, which she held between a thumb and forefinger.
‘She was interfering with our plans,’ she said. ‘The nosey bitch had seen us together and was going to tell Sheila.
Nigel looked first at Granny and then at Natalie. He seemed totally confused, as if only now was the full enormity of his situation sinking in.
‘She had to be killed,’ Natalie continued, ignoring Nigel and staring with malice at Granny. ‘ Just as you now have to be killed.’
‘You’re not father and daughter.’
Natalie laughed at that.
‘Thanks for pointing that out,’ she said. ‘Good to know seeing as how he’s fucking me.’
‘Now hold on a minute,’ Nigel said and moved forward but Natalie simply dipped the syringe into the medicine veil and pulled back the plunger, sucking the medicine into the barrel of the syringe.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said. ‘The old bat has to die. We’ve gone too far to be stopped by this geriatric meddler.’
‘How much?’ Granny asked.
‘What?’ Nigel, confused, looked first at Natalie and then at Granny.
‘Does Sheila stand to inherit when her father dies?’ Granny asked.
‘You’ve worked it all out,’ Natalie said.
‘I have,’ Granny looked around for something she could use to defend herself. ‘Edith died because she had discovered you two weren’t father and daughter. Once you’d married Sheila and this poor old man had passed on, and Sheila inherited his fortune you were probably going to do away with her.’
‘Nothing probable about it,’ Natalie said. ‘We will still get rid of Nigel’s beloved wife but you’ll be long gone by then,’ she turned to Nigel and started to advance on Granny. ‘Grab her.’
‘How much?’ Granny asked again and backed away closer to the wall.
‘Several million,’ Nigel said and lunged forward, grabbing the old woman. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry.’
Natalie came across and stood before Granny.
‘No, Granny said, struggling against Nigel’s grip but it was no good. The man was just too damn strong.
Natalie made eye contact with Granny, smiled and then lifted the syringe up. Hey eyes seem to cloud over, as if all the warmth had been sucked from them.
And at that precise moment there was a hammering on the door and a shout of: ‘Open up, Police.’
Granny took full advantage of the distraction and she managed to raise a leg and then bring in down hard on one of Nigel’s feet. He groaned with the pain, and loosened his grip on the old woman, which was all the opportunity Granny needed. She kicked out, striking Natalie in the stomach winding her and sending her falling back onto the bed. Next Granny managed to pull an arm free and she elbowed Nigel in the ribs, causing him to let go of her entirely.
Natalie screamed with a demented fury and leapt back to her feet, but Granny delivered a well-aimed left hook to her jaw, and sent her once more falling back onto the bed.
‘Take that, bitch,’ Granny said and spun on her feet just in case Nigel had recovered and wanted one himself.
‘Police,’ open up.’ The police officers started to rap harder on the door and Granny knew that any moment now they would break the door in.
The old woman didn’t stop to ponder on how the police should be here but ran directly to the door, pushing Nigel who was trying to regain his breath aside, and pulled it open.
Immediately several uniformed policemen came into the room, followed by a man in plain clothes.
‘Arrest them.’ Granny said. ‘One charge or murder, one charge of attempted murder and I think you’ll be able to throw in conspiracy to commit murder.
‘Are you Mrs Mary Alice Smith?’ the plain clothed man asked.
‘I am,’ Granny said and fainted clean away.
Twenty-Two
Immediately following the events at the nursing home, the police had taken Granny to the nearest hospital where had been diagnosed with mild hysteria and treated with a sedative.
She had been admitted to the hospital and stayed overnight before being picked up the following morning by the superintendent of police and after a photo opportunity with the national press, she had been chauffer driven all the way back to Wales.
She had been told how lucky she was to be alive, and of how foolish she had been to interfere in police business. Things could have turned out very differently if not for the fact that Arthur had phoned the police, frantic with worry, claiming that Granny was in grave danger. He had been taken seriously enough for the South Wales Police to contact Scotland Yard. Even then the police may not have acted had not the taxi driver walked into a police station to hand in Granny’s telephone and told his story, ending with the fact that the old woman had claimed to be, Miss Marple on steroids and had forced her way into a nursing home.
The national press had picked up on the story, how could they not given the more colourful facts in the case and soon the taxi driver had been interviewed. Several of the dailies had used the, Miss Marple on steroids line or a creative variation of such in their headlines. And by the time Granny had returned home the village was swarming with journalists.
Granny had, for the most part, managed to keep out of the way of the press but Dai Twice had given an interview, making sure that they were aware of his involvement in discovering the murder weapon, as had Chief Inspector Miskin who made the claim that the police had already been onto Mr Charlton and his lady friend, and that it was only a matter of time before an arrest would have been made. He neither endorsed, nor recommended the public meddling in police investigations and he felt Granny was extremely lucky not to have ended up a murder victim herself.
Day after day the papers ran with the story and when they ran out of facts they merely invented new ones. One leading tabloid even managed to dig up some pictures of Granny, snapped when she’d been in her Twenties and had taken part in a nude bathing session at Barry Island. The newspaper had used an article headed, 20 THINGS YOU DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT GRANNY SMITH, to accompany the pictures. Granny had to admit the article was very thorough because she’d learned several things about herself that even she hadn’t previously known.
Throughout it all Granny kept a low profile but her shunning the limelight only seemed to fuel the legend that was growing around her. Websites sprung up in her name and there was talk of a Hollywood movie based on her adventures.
One afternoon Suzy, aware of the her grandmother’s new found fame as a amateur detective, and without Granny’s knowledge, has set up a Facebook page, entitled Granny Smith Investigations, and within a matter of hours of the page going live there were hundreds of request in her inbox to find missing cats and errant spouses.
Granny though ignored it all and remained at home, spending her days reading or listening to her heavy metal music until eventually all interest in her story w
as extinguished.
Three weeks later Granny finally managed to pluck up the courage to visit Sheila. It was not that Granny felt guilty over her part in sabotaging the woman’s wedding, on the contrary she felt that she had done Sheila a favour in uncovering the kind of man Nigel was before they had tied the knot, but all the same she wasn’t sure how Sheila would feel about it all. It must have been a tremendous shock and on top of it all she had to find out about her father, lost for all these years and now on the verge of leaving the world for the hereafter.
And so Granny felt a bundle of nerves as she knocked upon Sheila’s door on that late summer’s afternoon.
Sheila opened the door and at first her face clouded over when she saw Granny, but then she smiled and reached out and embraced her.
‘Come in,’ Sheila said, breaking the embrace and leading Granny through to the living room.
‘I’m so sorry for what’s happened,’ Granny said as she walked into the living room, but her words trailed off when she saw that frail old man from the nursing home sitting in a chair, a portable oxygen canister besides him. The last time Granny had seen him he had seemed to be on the verge of taking his last breath, but now, still obviously gravely ill, he looked perky, happy.
‘You’ve met my father,’ Sheila said.
Granny smiled, nodded, not knowing what to say.
END
If you enjoyed this book then please leave a review on Amazon and tell all your Facebook and Twitter friends about Granny Smith.
Granny Smith will return in The Deadly Frogs.
There now follows, as a bonus, the first chapter of Granny Smith and the Deadly Frogs
Bonus One
Granny sighed.
This wasn’t getting them anywhere and they had strayed so far from the point of the meeting that they were in danger of losing sight of it all together.