by steve higgs
‘It’s so sparse,’ she commented. ‘It doesn’t come with any extras at all.’ She gasped as her eyes stopped at the stereo. ‘Oh, my goodness. That looks like it came off the Ark! What is that slot for?’
‘Cassettes.’
‘What now?’ She was poking the hole a cassette would go in with one delicate fingernail.
I chuckled at her and turned the key, keen to get going.
Nothing happened. Pulling a face, I tried again.
I got the same result and said a rude word. There were no lights on the dashboard. Not a thing. The car didn’t even click when I turned the key.
‘Something wrong?’ asked Mindy.
Huffing, I unclipped my seatbelt again. ‘The car won’t start. I’m going to look under the bonnet.’
Two minutes later, Mindy and I were both staring at what I thought was the engine. I could identify the battery and the radiator. It got a bit murky after that.
‘We could take my car,’ Mindy suggested.
It honestly hadn’t occurred to me.
With the bonnet of the Escort shut again, all the doors locked, and Buster transferred between cars, we eventually set off just a few minutes later.
Mindy drives a new plate Renault Clio Williams Supersport and when I say she drives it, what I mean is she uses it as a tool to test the planet’s gravitational pull. Ever seen The Italian Job? Our journey to Maidstone Hospital was like that only much, much scarier.
On the backseat, Buster was loving it. ‘Yeah, this is how we should drive all the time!’ he slobbered behind my ear. ‘Tell her to press the button that makes the machine guns pop out of the bonnet.’
I seriously doubted Mindy’s car had those, but I wasn’t going to ask … you know, just in case. She’d already shocked me to my core recently by revealing herself to be some kind of ninja. Today, she was wearing an elegant pencil skirt and heels with a satin top and an office appropriate winter coat, but I would not be surprised to learn she had a short sword strapped between her shoulder blades or some throwing stars in her handbag.
‘Have you always driven like this?’ I asked her, gripping the handle above my head until my knuckles turned white.
She shot me a grin. ‘It’s like you said about giving them a run sometimes. The route through the towns will be terrible at this time of day but the back roads through the countryside are empty.’
She was right and I often picked them for the same reason. However, when I came this way, I didn’t attempt to break the land speed record.
In the next second, she crested a small rise and the land dropped away more quickly than inertia would allow the car to follow. We were momentarily airborne, which made my stomach rebel and caused Buster to whoop with joy.
When the wheels touched down, and once I was sure I wasn’t about to be sick, I asked, ‘Can you slow it down a little, please?’
Mindy grinned again. ‘Sure thing, Auntie.’ Her pace slowed, and as it did, she said, ‘I wanted to take up rally driving. Dad bought me one of those experience days for my eighteenth, but mum said it was not a thing for a lady to do. I like going fast.’
I had no doubt about that.
We got to Maidstone Hospital a good deal quicker than we would have had I been behind the wheel and found a parking space straight away for once.
Buster couldn’t go in, but Mindy had spotted a sandwich joint across the street and volunteered to walk him. Like a lot of teenagers, she was eternally hungry and never seemed to gain any weight. She probably had the same genetic characteristic that kept my sister and I so skinny. Ginny is taller than me by several inches, but otherwise we look quite similar and though she had a child, her hips remained as narrow as ever.
Inside the hospital, two ladies on the reception desk were able to point me in the right direction for Derek Bleakwith. He was in the critical care ward which I guessed was at least one rung down from intensive care.
Arriving on the ward, I heard the commotion before I saw it.
Diagnosis
‘This is what he needs,’ insisted a woman whose voice was familiar to my ears. ‘He’s been prescribed this cream for months now and he had been improving.’
‘But that’s just topical corticosteroid cream,’ argued a man in calm tones.
I reached the door to Derek’s room and looked inside. Joanne Bleakwith was facing off against a young man wearing a blue oxford shirt and fitted grey chinos. I could see identification clipped to his left breast pocket and though I could not see what it said, he looked and spoke like a doctor. Standing to his side was an attractive woman of about the same age. She was dressed similarly but in a ladies’ version of the same clothes. She also had a badge stuck to her shirt.
In the corner behind Joanne, a middle-aged woman in a nurse’s uniform failed to keep the disapproving glare from her features. It was aimed at Joanne.
‘I want him to have this cream. I will administer it myself,’ Joanne insisted. She sounded close to hysterical.
The man was trying to be sympathetic to her concerns but wasn’t budging. ‘Mrs Bleakwith, I cannot allow that. Your husband’s condition will be treated according to my instructions. There is no need for you to worry. The cream you are holding is exactly what the nurses here are applying twice daily.’
‘That’s what I already told her,’ claimed the nurse in the corner, speaking for the first time since I arrived. Her expression was savage, not helped by a face that only a mother could love. ‘She kept saying her cream was the right stuff and that it was a new tub she picked up this morning.’ That she had been arguing with Joanne before the doctors arrived was clear in the nurse’s exasperated tone.
The male doctor offered Joanne kindly eyes. ‘Nurse Growler is a respected member of the team, Mrs Bleakwith. Her team will ensure your husband is given the right treatment.’
As if his calm demeanour was the flame lighting her fuse, Joanne exploded. ‘NO! I want him to have what his doctor prescribed. He has been under the personal care of Dr Kimble for more than a year now. If you start messing with his treatment, you’ll set him back months.’ She was close to tears.
I wanted to say something. Hovering in the doorway as I was, I felt like I was eavesdropping, but there was no lull in their conversation.
The doctor went to Derek’s bedside. ‘Mrs Bleakwith, I have discussed your husband’s condition with several of my colleagues and a leading dermatology consultant. No one can explain why his condition is as bad as it is, but I can assure you, we will get him better. The injuries from his fall are superficial and he could wake up at any time. I know the police will be keen to speak with him when he does.’
Joanne sobbed, still clutching the large tub of cream as if it were the only thing keeping her afloat. ‘I just want him to get better and come home. This whole thing with his skin and his joints has been such a nightmare. You really think you can find a cure?’
The young doctor reached across to place a comforting hand on Joanne’s shoulder. ‘We have a biopsy of his skin for testing. Your husband’s condition appears to be nothing but a really bad case of dermatitis, one that ought to have been cleared up with the cream you have so diligently been applying. However, we are checking to be certain there is nothing more sinister attacking his skin and will have an answer in a few hours. As for his joints, that looks to be an acute case of bursitis. We can treat that too, but first we must determine what is causing it. The symptoms are most unusual both in their severity and their presentation.’
Joanne’s head was down, her eyes closed as she fought her misery.
Using the hand still on her shoulder, the doctor steered Joanne back toward the door and they finally spotted me standing there.
As if the sight of me were the catalyst, the dam holding back Joanne’s tears finally burst and they came forth, her shoulders shaking as sobs racked her body. The young doctor stepped away as I stepped in.
Putting an arm around her shoulders, I did my best to try to soothe her. ‘He’s going to b
e all right, Joanne. That’s what the doctors said. You just need to give it time.’
‘It’s all been so awful, Felicity,’ Joanne cried into me. I was taking her weight on my shoulder, my head turned to the side which gave me a view of Derek.
I remembered him as a little boy at school. Best friends with John Ramsey despite how John treated me. His face, indeed all the parts of his skin that I could see, were red and blotchy and there were open sores visible. He looked a terrible state. No wonder Joanne was so worked up about it.
I gave her some time to weep, staying quiet until she got her breathing under control again. As I expected, she broke the embrace we were in, pushing away and embarrassed by her public display of emotion. In moving, her scarf came free, floating to the floor.
As I bent to pick it up for her, she said, ‘Goodness, I must look such a mess,’ she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Meeting my eyes, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, Felicity.’
I waved off her apology. ‘It’s perfectly all right.’ I could remember how unable to control my emotions I had been in the weeks following Archie’s death. ‘Here.’ I offered her the scarf, holding it out for her. When she took it, I said, ‘That goes with your outfit really well, did you get it somewhere local?’ I was just trying to say something nice and offering an opportunity to change the subject.
She took the offered accessory and stuffed it into a coat pocket without commenting or thanking me. Then, her expression changed as a question suddenly occurred to her. ‘Did you come here to see Derek?’ she asked.
Now on the spot, I found myself questioning why I had come to the hospital. I was snooping, that was the truth of it, trying to engage my inner Patricia Fisher, if I had such a thing. Cringingly, I had no idea what I was doing, or even ought to do. Would I know a clue if I fell over it?
Needing to give Joanne an answer, I said, ‘I feel a little lost, is all. I’m sure you heard I was arrested last night after John Ramsey crashed his car.’
Joanne gasped, her jaw dropping open. ‘No, I had no idea. Why did they arrest you?’
Now I had to tell her the truth of it, taking a few moments to describe the circumstances that led me to be outside her husband’s printing business last night, spotting John’s car and the need I felt to look in it. Amazingly for me, I managed to not reveal my breaking and entering crime, leaving her to believe the police thought it was me because they saw me vanish into the shadows by the car on the carpark CCTV camera.
‘But they let you go?’ Joanne sought to confirm.
‘I have a good lawyer.’ I didn’t expand on my statement.
Joanne looked down at the large tub of topical corticosteroid cream in her left hand. The size of a half-litre tub of ice cream, it looked new but the plastic tab that would indicate it had never been opened was broken off. Nurse Growler continued to eye Joanne with suspicion. If Joanne had a plan to defy the doctors and apply the cream she held anyway, she would have to subdue the guard dog nurse they left behind first.
Joanne twisted around to look at Nurse Growler. Her lips twitched as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately decided against it.
Doing my best to help the situation while staying completely neutral, I said, ‘The doctors think he will regain consciousness soon. Maybe he will be home in a day or so and you can continue his treatment then.’
Discontent, but accepting that she had no choice, Joanne nodded her head. It was a sad little motion that came without words. Still holding the tub of cream, she crossed the room to kiss Derek on the top of his head – one of the few places his skin wasn’t breaking out – then left the room.
I had to chase after her to catch up.
Still playing sleuth, I asked what I hoped would sound like an innocent question. ‘Where’s Tamara today?’
Joanne was fishing in her bag, her hand chasing keys around until she found them. ‘Tamara had other things to do,’ she replied a little snippily.
‘More important than visiting her father?’ I hadn’t meant for my response to sound so judgemental, but that was how it came out.
Joanne frowned at me. ‘We are not all rich wedding planners, Felicity.’
Automatically, I apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Joanne. That came out wrong.’
Joanne, barrelled on as if I hadn’t spoken, in many ways reminding me that it was Derek I was friends with and not her. ‘Tamara went to work today. The printing business won’t run itself, and with John gone,’ she stopped talking to take a shuddering breath. ‘Well, we need to keep the ship afloat. There are orders to meet and someone has to keep the staff employed.’
Should I tell her about the man I heard talking last night? The question argued back and forth in my head as we made our way back toward the front entrance to the hospital. In the end, I ran out of time as Joanne pointed her key fob at a sleek black Audi.
Stopping so abruptly I carried on a pace before I realised she was no longer with me, I turned to face her.
‘I appreciate you coming to visit Derek today, Felicity, and I know you need to meet with us again to set diary dates for cake tasting and dress fitting among other things. But can it wait a week, please? I think Tamara and I both need to focus our efforts on Derek and the business.’
There was no way I could impose myself on them. If they wanted to push back my meetings, they were my clients after all, not the other way around.
Mindy was coming back across the carpark, Buster tugging at her arm the whole time. She shot me a wave when she saw me look her way.
Joanne backed toward her car, saying, ‘I really must go.’
I turned my head to ask her to call me when she and Tamara were ready to discuss the wedding plans again, but she was already closing the car door.
I watched her pull away, wondering how she might cope if Derek’s condition continued to worsen. It was a horrible thought, but of course, that was what had driven Tamara and Tarquin to bring their wedding plans forward. I only hoped I could deliver what they wanted in the reduced timescale and had to question if Derek would even be able to attend.
But here’s a thing about being a sleuth - not that I knew it yet – you might see a clue at any point but not know what it was until much later. I had just seen something on Joanne’s car which at this point meant nothing at all.
Reeling Buster in when she got to me, Mindy asked. ‘Did you learn anything, Auntie?’
I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t think so. Derek … that’s my friend,’ I explained, ‘is still unconscious.’ Her question caused me to think about what it was that I was trying to achieve. ‘Let’s get in the car,’ I suggested, wanting to keep our conversation private because I had decided to tell Mindy a little more about last night.
‘Where to?’ Mindy asked, her finger poised over the big red start button.
It was a great question. My list of suspects for John Ramsey’s murder had zero entries. Like the chief inspector said, I was the one who didn’t like him and wanted to see him fall. John tried to kill Derek, but who tried to kill John, and what was any of it about? John was upset about Derek trying to run the business from his sickbed. It still seemed a stretch that he might wish to kill Derek for it. Although Derek’s death would resolve the issue and leave John in a position to appoint Tarquin.
Hold on though. Joanne said Tarquin was effectively running the firm anyway, so what did it matter to John if Tarquin was officially appointed to the role of CEO or not?
I didn’t know the answer but a trip to Orion Print’s office would allow me to ask some questions. Nodding to myself, I said, ‘Mindy, let’s go to Aylesford.’
Missing Cat
Mindy parked her car in the exact same spot mine had inhabited last night. I felt like I had crammed a lot into the last twenty-four hours. Getting out of her car, I started calling for my cat.
‘Amber. Amber are you here?’
Mindy asked with a frown. ‘Why would Amber be here? You live miles away.’
Oh. How was I going to explain this? Q
uickly thinking up a lie, I said, ‘I thought I saw her, is all. It must have been another ragdoll cat though.’
Mindy raised her eyebrows but said nothing, probably thinking her aunt was going a little loopy.
Unlike last night, I walked around to the front of the building and went in through the customer entrance.
An exuberant young man bounced away from a display he was tidying to greet us both. ‘Hello. Welcome to Orion Print. My name is Graham Mailer, I’m one of the sales reps. Is there something specific we can help you with today?’
I shook his hand, noting the man’s dainty grip. ‘I’m Felicity Philips. This is my niece, Mindy.’
Mindy got a polite nod from the employee who then cast his eyes down to look at Buster.
Buster’s tongue snuck out to give his nose a lick before slithering noisily back into his mouth again.
‘Wow, a bulldog. I don’t remember the last time I saw one of these. He’s so cute.’
‘Cute?’ sneered Buster. ‘I am darkness and vengeance. I am what you fear in the shadows.’ He lunged forward before I could stop him and tried to bite the man’s foot.
Dancing back to stay out of reach, the man gave a nervous laugh to cover up the unmanly squeal of fright Mindy and I both heard. ‘He’s a little feisty.’
I was about to explain that I got all my printing done here and was a very minor co-owner. I didn’t need to though because Tamara appeared.
‘Oh, hi, Felicity,’ she smiled at me as she came through from the office I was in last night. ‘It’s so good of you to come to me.’
A little lost for words but guessing she believed I was here to pick up where we left off yesterday, I said, ‘Of course. My clients get the best treatment, even if they are the daughters of my friends. We all want your big day to be as special as it can be. I just popped in to rearrange a few things with you.’
Mindy shot me a confused look. ‘I thought we were …’
Shutting her up as quickly as I could, I said, ‘That’s why we came, Mindy. Tamara is going to be one of our fabulous brides.’