The Celibate Mouse

by Hockley, Diana

  ‘Not sure ... yes. Yes, I can.’ David whipped out his notebook and glanced at Marli. ‘Could you get some more tea for your mother, please? And coffee for us, Marli? If you want some, that is.’

  ‘Not for me thank you, Marli,’ her mother intervened, ‘I’ve haven’t finished my tea.’

  Reluctantly, Marli got to her feet. She didn’t want to miss out on anything interesting but, totally under her father’s spell, headed obediently to the kitchen. She left the door open to the hall and listened to her mother’s slow and husky voice.

  ‘I was working on the photos for an hour or so, after you left. It was just before ten when I went outside and sat on the verandah.’ She pointed to the sliding doors leading outside. ‘I sat there for, oh, about fifteen minutes, having a glass of wine.’ She paused, frowning.

  ‘What made you come back inside? Did you hear something?’

  ‘No. I didn’t feel anything untoward, but he...must have used the music to sneak up to the house. I stood up to come inside, the dogs growled–no, snarled–just as I turned to come inside. He slammed into me and tried to strangle me. I fought, but he got the drop on me.’ Her voice broke.

  ‘It’s okay now.’

  Marli arrived in the doorway, carrying a tray with two coffee mugs, eyes wide as she looked at her mother leaning against her father, his arm encircling her shoulders. David grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the table, which he thrust into Susan’s hands. The diversion of making room for the tray and Susan trumpeting into the tissues allowed them all time to regain their composure. When she was settled again, he continued. ‘How much can you remember about him?’

  Susan sipped her tea and stared into the distance, eyes narrowing as she went back to the terrifying moment when she thought she would die. ‘He was tall, probably a good 198cm. He breathed from above me, if you know what I mean?’

  David nodded. ‘I’d go with that. I didn’t get a good look at him though. He legged it up the slope like a mountain goat. No hope of catching the bastard.’

  ‘He was very fit. He slammed–’ she coughed and cleared her throat before continuing. ‘–his body into my back and it was all muscle. His hands were like a vice.’ Her voice wavered, momentarily. ‘He wore gloves, those thin surgical ones. We struggled for a few moments but it felt like forever. That was when you came.’ She glanced at David and then closed her eyes. ‘He had no smell. I remember that. There was nothing, no aftershave, no personal smell. He’d washed himself and wore clean clothes?’

  David scribbled in the notebook. ‘So it wasn’t a random attack. Anything else?’

  She was silent for a moment. ‘Yes. I think so. Nothing about his clothes... oh, he was wearing a tracksuit. Thick material. I grabbed his trousers and tried to roll him off me.’ She sat up, almost spilling her tea.

  David reached over and took the cup from her.

  ‘Anything else? What about his hair?’

  ‘No. I didn’t get a chance to touch it, but I’m sure he was wearing either a mask or a balaclava. I caught a glimpse of either eyes or eye sockets.’

  ‘And of course you couldn’t tell whether he was clean-shaven or bearded?’

  ‘No, he was behind me, but he has to be the one who almost came into the ward the day I went to the hospital. Thought Edna told me more than she actually did, or perhaps someone else did. Then told him what she was saying to me. Why else would I get ... attacked? ‘She coughed. ‘But I only had an impression of someone standing in the doorway and then vanishing. ’

  Marli thought if she had been in her mum’s position, she’d not be able to remember a thing. Nausea swirled in her stomach. How could her father calmly sit there and write it all down like mum was nobody special? She had to be sort of special to him though, didn’t she? After all, they’d had her and Brit, no matter what happened when they were married.

  Then Susan spoke, her voice rough with pain. ‘I’m angry with myself. Over the years I’ve been–exasperated –with women who’ve been attacked and who can’t seem to give an account of their attacker, or didn’t appear to want to and here I am, the senior sergeant, trained in self defence who couldn’t even save herself.’ Tears glittered in Susan’s eyes. ‘Some cop I turned out to be. First Danny and now–’

  ‘Sh, sh. I understand,’ David comforted. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each deep in their own thoughts. The only sound was the ticking clock over the fireplace. The thick strawbale walls gave an illusion of safety.

  Marli jumped when he spoke again. ‘Are you going to Edna Robinson’s funeral, Susan?’

  She started. ‘Er, yes. Daniella Winslow asked, well almost begged me to, because of my so-called association with Edna. Why?’

  ‘You know why. I need you to suss out the clan. Would you do that for me?’

  ‘Aren’t you going?’

  ‘I’ll attend the service. But they’ll talk to you because they don’t know you’re a police officer and you’ll go to the wake.’

  ‘Well, they don’t know yet,’ Susan commented dryly as she sat up, swung her feet to the floor and stood for a moment, testing her balance. Marli prepared to grab her mother if she was unsteady. David closed his notebook and went to her side.

  ‘Are you okay? Do you want help?’

  ‘No thanks, David. I need to go to the loo. And no, I’m not frightened to go alone, thank you both. He won’t dare come back here tonight.’

  She staggered a moment, but waved them off as they attempted to range either side of her. They watched anxiously as she tottered out of the lounge room. Maguire put his notebook in his briefcase, satisfied he’d brokered a suitable arrangement between them.

  Marli collected the empty glass, mugs and tea cup. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right?’ she asked her father.

  ‘Your mother’s a tough old bird, love,’ he replied with a smile.

  ‘Old bird?’ Marli feigned indignation. ‘You’ve got to be joking! Half the force was in love with her when she was in Brisbane, even the young ones!’ That’ll show him.

  She trekked to the kitchen, placed the tray on the sideboard, turned on the hot tap and rinsed out the crockery.

  David followed, knowing his daughter had a romantic fantasy about getting her parents back together. That just isn’t going to happen. His thoughts flicked to Donna, his ex-lover, with whom he’d broken up a fortnight prior to arriving back in the southeast corner of the state, but these were interrupted by a gnawing sound.

  ‘Where’s that coming from?’

  ‘Somewhere under the sink. We’ve searched and searched for it,’ Marli replied, opening the cupboard door to reveal a humane mouse trap nestling beside the garbage bin.

  ‘What’s your mother going to do with a mouse if she catches it?’

  Marli giggled. ‘Probably put it outside!’

  ‘It’ll just come back again to join its family and friends,’ he objected lightly.

  ‘Oh no, there’s only one mouse in here.’

  ‘Marli, I’ve got news for you both, there’s no such thing as a celibate mouse!’

  ‘Oh yes, there is!’ She gave a shaky laugh and bent over to stroke Fat Albert, who had emerged from under the grand piano where he fled when her mother was attacked. Marli quickly closed the cupboard door and reached for a packet of dry food, which she proceeded to shake into his bowl. ‘What about Granny and Harry and Mary? You know ...?’ How could she refer to Harry as “dad” when her biological father was standing beside her?

  ‘It might be better to keep that between us for a day or so, while I think about it and to give your mum time to recover from tonight. I’ll put a report in about this attack and we can get forensics out here discreetly to search for evidence, but there won’t be any. This bloke’s thought of everything, but he won’t know what we’re going to do about it. Sooner or later he’ll slip up and we’ll get him. So, no mentioning it to anyone, understand? Stay away from that part of the verandah and keep the dogs off it. No wandering about the place on your own,
either!’

  Glowing with joy at sharing a conspiracy with David, Marli would have promised anything. Susan came into the kitchen, her face tight and pale. Shadows lurked under her eyes; she’d changed her clothes and buttoned her shirt right up the top. Marli went over, put her arms around her mother’s waist and buried her head in the soft breast. ‘Mummy, can I sleep with you tonight?’ she begged childishly, tightening her hold as she felt tremors course through her mother’s body.

  ‘Yes, of course you can. I’ll be glad of the company.’

  David watched them, memories of the past crowding into his mind, recalling the Susan of almost seventeen years ago, clutching two black-haired bundles at her beautiful, engorged breasts. A memory of the warm, sweet smell of milk, mingled with freshly bathed and powdered baby filled his nostrils as strongly as if it were yesterday. That fucking bastard Harry and her old cow of a mother.

  An unwelcome reminder that he had generously contributed to the breakup, crept into his mind, and anger, compounded by his own guilt coursed through him as he thought of the wasted years. Without a shadow of a doubt, if he caught the bastard who tried to hurt Susan, he’d shoot to kill. Having missed getting her tonight, there was nothing surer in Maguire’s mind than that the murderer of Harlow and Edna Robinson would be back, for who else could it be? He straightened purposefully and walked to the kitchen door where he stopped, turned and glared at the women.

  ‘Well, you’re going to have more company. I’m moving in.’

  CHAPTER 20

  Before Dawn

  Detective Inspector David Maguire

  Thursday: 4.30am.

  ‘Maguire. Yes? What? Wasn’t he being guarded?’

  Stereophonic squawks announced that the hospital was on fire; Senior Constable Glenwood had been attacked in ICU and the constable on guard missing.

  ‘Okay, fill me in when I get there.’ Maguire cut the call short and pocketed his phone. Then he grabbed a piece of toast, threw on his jacket and sprinted for his car, shouting for Susan and Marli to lock the doors. Seething, he put his foot down hard on the accelerator, confident that he wouldn’t be pulled up by traffic colleagues at this time of the morning. If it wasn’t bad enough Susan being attacked, he was now faced with a second murder attempt on a fellow police officer. He was afraid to speculate on what might have happened to the young constable guarding him.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ he growled, as he tyre-squealed a tight bend in the road and was brought to an abrupt halt as a fire truck stormed toward him then cut across in front of his car and turned into the hospital driveway. Numerous black and fluorescent-yellow figures scurried between two other fire engines and the back of the hospital, manipulating gleaming water hoses. Maguire pulled into the far corner of the car park, and pressed the speed-dial on his mobile. His partner, Detective Senior Sergeant Peter Hansen answered.

  ‘Dave?’

  ‘What’s going on up there, Pete?’ He climbed out of his car and squinted into the glare of the emergency lighting.

  ‘The bastard set fire to one of the offices and then threw a smoke bomb. That’s how he got to Smenton and Glenwood.’

  ‘Christ! No sign of Smenton?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ll meet you around at the morgue, Dave, we can talk there.’

  Maguire snapped off the phone and edged his way between the vehicles, aiming for the narrow alleyway between the main building and the separate unit which served as the morgue. The stink of wet ashes invaded his nostrils. As he drew closer, he saw his colleague picking his way by torchlight.

  As Hansen came up to him, Maguire took a deep breath. ‘Tell me, from the start, Pete.’

  ‘It’s up the shit, mate. The nurse on duty at this end of the hospital was running past the ICU after the sirens went off, heard the alarms on his monitors, but couldn’t see Smenton. Then she found Glenwood in a coma. All hell broke loose. The fire was lit at the other end of the building, obviously to draw attention away from this end. The brigade took the call at 4.20.’

  He nodded toward the engines. ‘It was a pile of newspapers and cardboard boxes, nothing serious, and they evacuated the patients into the gardens. The team’s inside hunting for Smenton ...’ Maguire realised the situation was getting out of control. Not only did they not have a motive for the killings, the murderer was doing whatever he wanted–no, not strictly true. The bastard had been foiled last night, and John Glenwood was apparently still alive, for the moment.

  ‘We’ve got to find Ken Smenton ...’ His voice trailed away as Constable Loy Ng raced out of the building and came up to them.

  ‘We found Ken, sir, knocked out in one of the visitor’s toilets.’

  ‘How badly is he hurt?’ asked Maguire.

  ‘Head wound. They’ve got him in A & E.’

  ‘Where’s Senior Sergeant Harris?’

  ‘Inside waiting to see how Ken is.’ The young constable was breathing hard.

  ‘Okay, can we get in there now?’

  ‘I’ll ask the chief,’ Hansen offered and headed in the direction of the fire crew.

  ‘You all right?’ Maguire asked Ng.

  ‘Yes, thank you, fine sir. I got some information about what happened to John while we were searching for Ken. Somehow he got an overdose of insulin. The nurse who found him has a sister who’s a diabetic. She recognised the symptoms, took a chance and injected him with glucose. ’

  ‘Thanks, Constable. We’ve got a right one here, that’s for sure,’ Maguire answered grimly, as he watched the fire chief supervising the rolling of hoses and stacking away of equipment.

  ‘We can go in, Dave,’ called Hansen. They all headed into the hospital where an ashen-faced Director Eams, lips folded in a thin line, met them outside the ICU. ‘Mr Glenwood was given insulin, Inspector. When the nurse answered the monitor alarm, she found his bedclothes were disturbed. Blood was seeping out from under the nail of his left big toe. It would be the work of a moment to whip the sheet up and inject him. I have no idea how this happened, but in view of Edna’s murder, I assume whoever did it has a key to an outside door, or some other way of getting in.’

  Mrs Eams leaned back against the wall, her face white and strained, hands pressed to the front of her smoke-black-ened clothes. She looked as though she was about to collapse.

  ‘The bastard thinks of everything, but we now know he has access to insulin,’ replied Maguire.

  ‘Are all your patients safe, Mrs Eams?’ asked Hansen.

  ‘Yes, thank you, we got them out safely. And the bedridden ones haven’t appeared to suffer any smoke inhalation, no thanks to your murderer!’ She straightened her back, nodded abruptly and then returned to the ICU. Maguire poked his head around the door, but couldn’t see Glenwood for the staff hovering over him.

  ‘How’s Smenton?’

  ‘He’s still in Emergency, sir.’ replied Loy Ng. ‘Senior Sergeant Harris was there, but–here he is now, sir.’

  Harris barrelled toward them, his face tight with anger. ‘This fucker’s got to be found, Dave. Ken got a massive blow over the right side of his head. I’ve got to let his parents know, so I’ll see you back at the station. I sent someone to get the CCTV footage. Don’t suppose we’ll find anything useful. This bastard’s too clever by half.’

  They watched in gloomy silence as Harris, followed by Constable Ng, charged through the doors at the end of the hall. Maguire looked around, surprised to see dawn breaking outside the windows. He glanced at his watch; 5am. Time to explore the scene of the crime.

  Each took a side of the long, L-shaped building. There didn’t appear to be a door through which someone could have come without being seen, except for that which led to the outside from the boardroom, where they’d determined the killer had gone after he killed Edna. It was supposed to be locked unless the hospital board met. So how had the perpetrator gotten a key? Could one of the board members be a murderer? Or the hospital staff –cleaners, visiting doctors, casual staff, kitchen–even the hospital auxiliary. Maguire conside
red the logistics of interviewing them all again and shuddered.

  ‘Pete, looks like we’re going to have to check the board members again and get alibis from everyone,’ he said tiredly. ‘Uniform’s collecting the tapes from the security cameras, for all the good it will do us. Advise Mrs Eams to get all the locks changed. I suppose she’ll have to go through the Health Department to do that.’ They shared a look of commiseration. The chances of finding anything incriminating were minimal, but there was a possibility of confirming whether the same person who killed Edna had attacked Glenwood and Smenton.

  Hansen left to talk to the director and Maguire headed for his car for the short drive to the motel. He could guarantee the killer would be back for another try. Had Glenwood confided in anyone? He certainly hadn’t told his wife who he was going to see that night. ‘Stupid old fart. If he’d shared his suspicions, instead of heading off to see the bastard, he wouldn’t be half dead in ICU!’ muttered Maguire, as he opened the door to his unit. How totally naïve to go and talk to someone you think might be a killer. But perhaps he’d only been on an inquiry and inadvertently picked on the actual murderer.

  As he stood under the shower, for what seemed to be the thousandth time, Maguire sifted the sequence of events through his mind. Why didn’t Glenwood tell one of his fellow officers what he was going to do? Why hadn’t the man come and told him? But as he reached for a towel, he was seized by the unwelcome suspicion that his own reputation for not suffering fools, might well have led to Glenwood wanting to verify his facts before he spoke up. Bloody hell.

  Maguire finished drying himself, wrapped the towel around his waist and started shaving. His tired face stared back at him from the mirror. A fresh wave of anger at Glenwood’s supposed stupidity began to roll in, but was replaced by the knowledge that indeed it was his, Maguire’s, fault. He was well aware of his formidable reputation for perfection. No one was allowed to make a mistake on his team.

  He finished shaving and swiped cologne around his cheeks, thoughts straying into uncomfortable territory. How many times had he bulldozed his way through investigations and his life? Unaccountably, a picture of a young Susan, clutching their babies to her breasts, all of them crying, flashed in his mind, followed by one of his immediate superior’s calm measured tones, trying to explain post-natal depression and his own voice snapping in pig-headed denial.