by Hazel Holt
“If it had been at home,” June said calmly, “when he was all alone, it would have seemed like an accident and no one would have been blamed or suspected. It could have happened at any time. It was quite by chance that I had what you call an alibi.”
This unemotional analysis of what had happened took me aback and for a moment I simply looked at her in silence. Then I asked, “But June, why did you kill him?”
She looked at me in surprise. “For the money of course.”
“The money? But you –”
“Not for me,” she broke in impatiently. “For The Larches.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Larches, it’s going to be sold. A company based in the Middle East is buying up residential and nursing homes in the south-west. I couldn’t let that happen here.”
“But surely – “
“Oh yes, it would be properly run, conforming to standards and so forth, but it wouldn’t be the same for my old people. I’ve seen the new proposals – run to a budget, all for profit. Even if they’d let me stay on – which they wouldn’t – they’re bringing in new, young people; it wouldn’t be possible for things to stay as they are. All the personal touches, knowing people’s little ways, giving them small treats and caring for them as people not some sort of commodity! They are my family, Sheila, I couldn’t let something like that happen to them!”
“Oh, June!”
“Part of that money was mine anyway – Father should have left me a proper inheritance. What did Malcolm do with it? You saw what he did to the house – disgusting. He had no sense of what was right, he led an immoral life, he made many people unhappy. I had absolutely no qualms about getting rid of him. I knew about his medical condition, of course, and I knew how relatively easy it would be to combine insulin (old Mr Freeman is a diabetic so there is insulin on the premises) with his medication to produce the required result. The locks on the main doors to The Willows have long since been changed, but they didn’t bother with the side door – I don’t suppose they ever used it – and I still had a key to that.”
Her colour was back to normal now. She spoke eagerly, as if she’d wanted for some time to tell someone what she was telling me, but in a strange way now I didn’t want to hear it.
“I went to the house when I knew Malcolm would be at the surgery and put the insulin in the whisky. He died a few days later. As soon as the police had finished looking at the house I went back and emptied the bottle, washed it out and put some other whisky in it. I wore gloves, which is, I believe, what criminals do.”
“It was the other whisky that gave it away,” I said. “It was a blended one, not a single malt.”
June made an impatient gesture. “I don’t know about such things,” she said. “I don’t drink spirits.”
“But,” I said, “you won’t get the money after all. Or were you going to kill Julie too?”
“Of course not, what do you take me for!” She was silent for a moment. “Nevertheless, there was a moment when I heard that the girl had nearly miscarried… Sheila, that was dreadful. I really hoped, just for a moment, that that poor innocent child would never be born.”
She closed her eyes, as if overcome by some strong emotion. Then she went on, “That’s when I knew that I would have to tell the police what I had done.”
“You’re going to –”
“Just as soon as I have finished making what arrangements I can for my old people. There is not a lot I can do, but I must prepare them as best I can. I have arranged that those with no close relatives shall go to West Lodge; they will be all right there, it is very well run. Those with relatives will be able to make any new arrangements they think fit.”
She leaned forward earnestly. “You do understand, don’t you, Sheila, that I have to do this? It will take about a week to finalise things. Then, I promise you that I will do as I intended and go to the police.”
There was a knock on the door and Maisie put her head round. “Sorry to interrupt Miss Hardy, Dr Macdonald is here to take a look at Mrs Fortescue and you said you wanted to have a word with him before he did.”
June got up from the sofa. “Yes, of course, Maisie, I’ll be along in just a minute.”
I got up too. There seemed nothing more to say. I still found it incredible that June – reliable, upright, good June – could have done such a thing, and in such a calculating way. But then, brought up as she had been in such austere and unloving circumstances, I suppose she’d given all her love to the old people in her care, her “family”, and she was prepared to do anything, anything at all, to protect them. I could understand that.
“That will be all right then, Sheila?” June said.
“Yes,” I replied. “It will be all right.”
I was in the toy shop buying just one more thing for Alice’s Christmas stocking when I saw Kathy. She was looking at a group of teddy bears.
“Hullo,” I said, “aren’t they sweet!”
“I was wondering whether to buy one for Tina’s little boy,” Kathy said. “She’s invited Ben and me to lunch on Boxing Day. Though I expect he’s already got one.”
“No child,” I said firmly, “can have too many teddy bears.” Kathy laughed, a laugh, I was glad to note, of pure joy. “Isn’t Christmas lovely!” she said.
“I do love Christmas,” Thea said as we were all decorating the Christmas tree. “Absolutely everything about it – commercialism and all!”
Alice, who was trying to pull herself up against the bars of her playpen gave a crow of delight as she finally managed to stand upright, and we all laughed. Michael, unpacking the ornaments from a box, held up two of them so that they sparkled in the light.
“Look Alice!” he said. “Look at the pretty reindeer!”
About the Author
HAZEL HOLT was born in Birmingham and was educated at King Edward VI High School and Newnham College, Cambridge. She worked as an editor, reviewer and feature writer before turning to fiction in an attempt to keep up with her son, the novelist Tom Holt. Her life is divided between writing, cooking and trying to cope with the demands of her Siamese cat, Flip.
By Hazel Holt
Death in Practice
The Silent Killer
No Cure for Death
A Death in the Family
A Time to Die
Any Man’s Death
A Necessary End
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
13 Charlotte Mews
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2003.
This ebook edition first published in 2012.
Copyright © 2003 by HAZEL HOLT
The right of HAZEL HOLT to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1297–7
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