The Health of Strangers

by Lesley Kelly

  He tried to avert this looming disaster with some humour. ‘Not sure it’s really an area worth protecting. It’s not like it’s in use.’

  ‘Spare me, please.’ She continued with her peeling, then suddenly looked up, with a slightly more conciliatory expression on her face. ‘No chance of getting back with your wife then?’

  Glad as he was that Mona was no longer scowling at him, he didn’t feel inclined to enter into that particular area of discussion. ‘Not looking for one. Anyway, shall we suit up?’ He slipped his jacket off, then tried to fit his arm into the appropriate opening. The rigidity of the vests, and the limited dimensions of the car made this no easy task, and he accidentally elbowed Mona.

  ‘Sorry. It would be easier to put them on if we got out of the car.’

  ‘No. I don’t want them to notice us and do a runner.’

  They were parked on a quiet side-street in Morningside, one of the most affluent areas of Edinburgh. The property currently attracting their attention was a terraced, sandstone building, with a large sloping garden leading up to it. The grass had not been cut for some time.

  ‘Not a bad residence for someone without a job,’ said Bernard.

  ‘I suspect the wages of sin are paying for it.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Number One,’ Mona held up a finger. ‘This is a nice bit of town, and that’s, what, a three, maybe, four-bed house. You’re looking at the best part of half-a-million. Who is paying the mortgage on that?’

  ‘Our defaulter could have a very rich daddy? Or she could just be renting?’

  ‘Even the rents in this bit of town are eye-watering. And I have another point. Number Two.’ She was now holding two fingers up. ‘This is a fabulously expensive house, and look at the state of the garden. Every other lawn in the street looks like the grass was trimmed into place with nail scissors, yet this place looks like waste ground. And have they washed the windows any time in the last few years?’

  ‘You sound like my grandmother.’

  ‘Grandma could probably do a very good job of knowing a wrong ‘un when she sees one. And my third and most important point is, we’re here, so there must be something dodgy going on.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘Ha! In all the months we’ve been doing this, how many people have defaulted on their Health Check for reasons that were not to do with over-consumption of drink or drugs, or who were not in some way participating in illegal activity?’

  He thought for a second. ‘Occasionally they turn out to be dead?’

  ‘Usually due to the over-consumption of drinks or drugs. Anyway, turn round, Bernard, and I’ll get the straps.’

  He obediently presented his back to her. ‘What do we know about today’s defaulter?’

  ‘Alessandra Barr, twenty-five, missed her Health Check three days ago. And I don’t want to be judgemental or anything, but take a look at her picture.’

  She held up their Chaser List, and Bernard stared at a photograph of a gaunt young woman. She had badly-dyed blonde hair, which sat awkwardly with her dark colouring.

  ‘Has she got two black eyes?’ Bernard ran his finger across the photograph.

  ‘Yep. The day she turned up to get her Green Card photo taken, she had a face full of bruises. I’m going to go out on a limb and say she’s not a soccer mom.’ She opened her door. ‘Shall we?’

  Bernard tried to ignore the knot of fear in his stomach. Unlike Mona, he didn’t have the confidence that Police College and years of law enforcement experience instilled. He’d previously worked in health promotion, where the day-to-day work of encouraging breastfeeding and smoking cessation had left him woefully underprepared for the realities of working at the HET. Most of the defaulters they chased were less than delighted to see them, and he had spent many work hours being sworn at, spat at, and occasionally punched. He wondered if he’d ever get through the day without this ever-present feeling of doom.

  ‘Mona!’

  She stopped with her hand on the garden gate. ‘What?’

  ‘What’s our plan here?’

  ‘We knock on the door, ask whoever answers if we can see Alessandra. If they say no we insist that we come in, using the powers bestowed on us by the Health Defaulters Act blah, blah, blah. The usual.’

  ‘But what if she makes a run for it?’

  ‘Then you stop her.’

  ‘What with?’

  Mona raised her hands in the air and wiggled them. ‘These.’ She started walking again. ‘Because rightly or wrongly, they’re the only weapons that the HET have seen fit to supply us with.’

  She pressed the bell, which made no sound.

  ‘Try knocking.’

  ‘Thanks, I wouldn’t have thought of that.’ Mona hammered on the wood. The sound echoed through the house, but didn’t appear to rouse any occupants.

  Bernard left the path and peered through the crack in the curtains. ‘I don’t see anyone, though it’s not that easy without the lights on.’

  Mona knocked for a second time, and again was met with silence. She turned the handle, and the door opened. ‘Result! Come on.’

  Bernard stepped over the threshold, both aware and annoyed that his heart was beating ridiculously fast. Amongst his many secret fears was that on one of these jaunts he was actually going to have a cardiac arrest. His only hope was that the heart failure would be instantly fatal, and wouldn’t involve him having to face the ridicule of the HET team from a hospital bed. He tried to calm his nerves by focussing on the surroundings. The hallway was dark, with the only light coming from the open door behind them. It was uncarpeted, but not in a trendy stripped back wood kind of way, more in the mode of ‘we haven’t been living here long enough to cover the floor’. Or maybe, as in Mona’s theory, the over-consumption of illegal substances had made investing in carpeting a low priority. There were a number of doorways leading off the hall, and, from what he could see in the gloom, a rather magnificent staircase straight ahead of them.

  Mona turned to her right and shoved open a door. He made to follow her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.

  ‘Coming with you?’ he whispered.

  She pointed at him, then at the door opposite, indicating he should check that room. He mouthed an irritable ‘OK’, and turned his back on her before she could see the look of fear on his face. He much preferred being two steps behind her. Bernard would have taken a blow to the head or a knife in the vest quite happily just so long as Mona was making all the decisions. Back up he could do. Pole position was a different matter.

  He reached for the handle and tried to remember what he’d been taught in his month-long induction to the HET. He seemed to remember that there had been a whole day about ‘Encountering Hostility and How to Respond’. He paused with the door slightly open, and tried to remember the key phrases.

  Be confident. Breathe. Show respect. Moderate Your Tone. Keep Your Distance. Know Your Exits.

  He wiped the sweat from his hand, and threw the door wide. There was no response, so he flicked the light switch. To his relief the room was empty, although there was a lingering smell of cannabis in the air suggesting that it had been in use not so very long ago. In common with the hallway, the room did not benefit from any floor covering. Furniture was sparse, with the large and gracious room hosting only a dilapidated sofa, a coffee table, and a TV of a size and depth that predated the birth of the flatscreen. The absence of furnishing meant a limit to places where someone could hide, although there was a door in the corner of the room, potentially a cupboard. He walked swiftly across the room and pulled it open to find it led on to another room. He caught his breath as he saw a figure coming toward him.

  ‘Hey.’

  Mona.

  She reached past him and turned on the light, illuminating the kitchen. Once upon a time, the fittings were probably state of the art, but it was difficult to tell from the layer of grime which covered the work surfaces. Unwashed dishes were stack
ed on every unit.

  ‘If your grandmother didn’t like dirty windows, Bernard, she’d have a fit looking at this place.’

  He pulled a face. ‘How can anyone live like this?’

  ‘Beats me. Puts the state of the Guv’s office into perspective, though. Anyway, there’s no-one here; let’s try the upper floor.’

  At the top of the stairs they separated again, Bernard to the left and Mona to the right. He opened the first door he came to, which as he expected was a bedroom. The curtains were drawn, but enough sunshine was sneaking through the cracks to allow him to see that the room was actually somewhat better furnished than downstairs. There was a rug on the floor, for starters, two ancient double-wardrobes, and an incongruously ornate dressing table. There was also a double bed, upon which, he realised with a start, there was a large, person-shaped lump. A lump that was lying extremely still. Whether he was looking at a live body or a dead one was not clear, and a sudden hope it was a corpse flitted through his mind, to be followed immediately by a chaser of remorse. However unpleasant some of the defaulters were, they were still his fellow human beings, and he didn’t wish any of them dead.

  He did, however, wish that he wasn’t on his own. He looked round but Mona had vanished into another room. He could go after her, explain what he’d found, and confirm to her – if it was ever in doubt – that he really couldn’t hack it. Or he could stay here and try to pretend that he wasn’t in imminent need of a defibrillator. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the divan.

  ‘Hello.’

  His voice was high-pitched and squeaky, rather like shrink-wrap peeled off plastic. Be confident. Breathe.

  With a conscious effort he lowered his voice. ‘Excuse me.’ Show respect.

  The lump in the bed didn’t move. He took a step toward it, and could see a mass of long brown hair spread across the pillow. He felt a certain amount of relief that this was a woman. In his experience, women weren’t any less likely to throw a punch at you, but for the most part they tended to do less damage. It didn’t appear to be Alessandra, however, unless she’d radically changed her look since her photograph was taken.

  ‘Excuse me.’ His voice was getting louder, and snippier. He caught himself. Moderate Your Tone.

  His tone of voice, inappropriate or otherwise, wasn’t provoking a response. After a careful consideration of the duvet he was pretty sure that it was going up and down, blowing his corpse theory out of the water. This was a warm body, who might not take well to being awoken by a strange man in her house. He shot a glance over his shoulder. Perhaps under the circumstances Mona would be less threatening than him? Tempting as this was, it was a cop-out. With a sigh and a quick check how many steps it was back to the door – Know Your Exits - he walked over to the bed and shook the woman gently by the shoulder.

  The body rolled toward him, revealing broad shoulders, a hairy chest and three days of stubble. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ The man sat up, and grabbed his arm.

  He tried to wriggle free. ‘We’re from the Health Enforcement Team. If you let go of me I can show you some ID. We’re looking for Alessandra Barr…’

  The man was looking at him with a strange expression on his face. His grip on Bernard’s arm slackened.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  The man responded by opening his mouth and vomiting profusely down Bernard’s front.

  He snatched his arm back. ‘For Goodness’ sake!’

  Mona appeared in the doorway, and surveyed the scene.

  ‘Oh, Bernard.’ She stared at his ruined vest. ‘This is the reason we keep our distance.’

  *

  Songs by Dead Girls will be available from Sandstone Press in 2018.