Bad Medicine- A Life for a Life; Bed of Nails; Going Viral

by Puckett, Andrew

  ‘What did they want?’

  They were going to see Frances,’

  ‘Did they say anything about me?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘I saw Jones looking round at me, did he—?’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t recognise you, I’d have known if he had.’

  She drove to a taxi rank and got out of the car.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Fraser,’ she said.

  So do I, he thought as he drove away.

  He stopped to look up Leo’s road in the A–Z, then drove over to it and past Leo’s house. It wasn’t dark yet, but the curtains were drawn and he could see a chink of light between them.

  He stopped about fifty yards away and switched off the engine. He took a deep breath. Stuffing the cassette player into one pocket and the cord into another, he got out, locked the car and walked to the house. Rang the bell.

  As it sounded, it suddenly occurred to him that there might be a chain – too late now…

  The door opened – no chain – and before Leo could react, Fraser shoved him backwards and followed him in, slamming the door behind him with a foot. Leo staggered against the hall wall, recovered – didn’t waste time shouting, just picked up a solid glass ball from a table and flung it at him.

  It caught his shoulder, knocking him off balance before falling to the carpet with a thud as Leo charged him head down and caught him in the belly. He fell back winded with Leo on top of him. Leo grabbed the glass ball again and tried to bring it down on his head, but Fraser caught his wrist… They struggled, Leo clawing at Fraser’s eyes with his free hand, then Fraser heaved his body like a bronco and threw him off.

  Leo still had the ball. He swung it at Fraser’s head, caught the tip of his nose as he jerked back. The ball flew out of his hand. Fraser swivelled round on his hips, lashed with his right and caught Leo’s nose… Again, and this time his fist connected with the point of his jaw and he collapsed.

  He wasn’t completely unconscious though, just groggy.

  Fraser flipped him over, tied his wrists with cord, then hauled him to his feet and marched him down the hall to the kitchen, where he tied him to a chair.

  Leo’s eyes opened and tried to focus. ‘What do you want…?’ His voice was quavering. ‘Money? You can have all I’ve got here…’

  Fraser found another chair and sat facing him. ‘Do you not know who I am, Leo?’

  Leo’s eyes widened – he hadn’t, but he did now.

  ‘Fraser… Oh my God… What do you want?’

  ‘The truth.’

  ‘Sure… anything…’

  Fraser rose from his chair, picked up the electric kettle, filled it with water from the tap and plugged it in.

  ‘Wh-what are you doing?’ Leo asked.

  ‘Boiling some water.’

  ‘Why…?’

  Fraser sat down again and stared at him.

  ‘Frances is in hospital, dying – in part because of the drug you pushed on to her while I was away—’

  ‘That’s not true, Fraser.’

  ‘D’you think I’d have allowed her to go on it if I’d been here? You pushed it on to Connie and she pushed it on to Frances.’

  Behind him, the kettle began to grumble.

  ‘Fraser, honestly, we all thought Alkovin was OK… more than OK… I told you, remember? I told you it could save her life and I meant it.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me you knew nothing about the side-effects?’

  ‘Yes… you know I didn’t, I kept telling you I didn’t…’

  ‘That’s the wrong answer, Leo. Sam Weisman had been saying it, John Somersby knew about it.’

  Behind him, the kettle was murmuring…

  ‘We thought Weisman was a nutter, we’d done our own tests and found nothing.’

  ‘So you did know about Weisman?’

  ‘Sure. You told Connie when you came back – remember?’

  ‘No, I mean before – you knew before that, didn’t you?’

  ‘No…’

  ‘And then I told you that our patients were getting depressed – I produced the evidence and you ignored it.’

  ‘We didn’t ignore it, we simply didn’t think it was significant.’

  ‘That’s the wrong answer, Leo.’

  Behind him, the kettle clicked itself off as it boiled.

  Fraser got up and unplugged it, then filled a jug with cold water and put them both in his reach. Then he sat down again.

  ‘Look at me, Leo, look at my face… you’re looking at someone with nothing to lose. My fiancée’s dying and I’m in prison charged with murder, not even allowed to see her. Nothin’ to lose, see? In a minute, if I don’t start hearing the truth from you, I’m going to pour this kettle over your legs—’

  Leo was shaking his head. ‘You wouldn’t…’ he whispered.

  ‘—and then over your balls.’ Fraser paused, continued: ‘So, Leo – the truth. Parc-Reed must have known about Weisman’s results by the time you started pushing the stuff over here… right?’

  Leo’s mouth worked silently and his eyes hunted to and fro… then he said. ‘All right, yes, we did know about Weisman’s results, but we thought he was cracked…’

  ‘So what did Parc-Reed do about it?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly, but they told me not to worry about it… they said it was being taken care of…’

  ‘How? How was it being taken care of?’

  ‘I’m not sure… pressure on Weisman from our parent company, I believe, pressure on the major journals not to accept his paper.’

  ‘And then when I produced evidence of these side-effects myself, you rubbished them and had me sent away for three months?’

  ‘That was Connie and Ian… Yes, all right.’

  ‘Good, Leo.’ Fraser brought out the cassette recorder, switched it on and tested it. ‘Now, repeat all that for the tape, please.’ He held out the microphone.

  Leo’s eyes went still as his mind worked… ‘All right.’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ Fraser said again when he’d finished. ‘Next question: how many Parc-Reed shares do you own?’

  ‘Two thousand.’

  ‘Wrong answer, Leo. How many shares do you, or have you owned?’

  Leo looked into his eyes, said, ‘I’ve never owned more than two thousand… I swear that’s the truth.’

  Fraser picked up the kettle. ‘Sure about that?’

  ‘It’s the truth!’ Leo’s lips clamped shut and he stared mulishly back at him…

  He doesn’t think I will, he’s calling my bluff…

  Do it, gotta do it…

  He poured a dollop over his right knee—

  Leo screamed and bucked backwards, banging his head on the work surface. Fraser grabbed him, pulled him upright and poured some cold water over his knee.

  ‘You bastard, you bastard…’ Leo whimpered.

  He’s right… I’m a doctor… I’m supposed to relieve pain, not cause it…

  Struggling to keep his voice level, he said, ‘How many Parc-Reed shares do you or have you owned?’

  ‘Thirty thousand… I sold them a week ago.’

  ‘Good. How about Ian Saunders?’

  ‘Thirty thousand.’

  ‘Has he sold them too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How about Connie?’

  ‘She… she never owned any.’

  ‘Wrong answer, Leo…’ Fraser reached for the kettle again.

  ‘No, no – I swear it, I offered her some, but she refused.’

  ‘So why was she pushing Alkovin?’

  ‘She thought she could make her name from a paper on it, that’s all she was interested in, I swear it.’

  Fraser stared at him, his mind whirring… Could be true… might explain why she was going to come clean, not so much to lose as the others, why they had to kill her…

  ‘All right. How did you and Ian manage to buy and sell these shares without your names appearing on the public register?’r />
  Leo hesitated, and Fraser could understand why. Up until now, everything he’d admitted was deniable, or could be blamed on to Connie and Ian.

  ‘Through a nominee account,’ he said at last.

  ‘Who was the broker?’

  ‘I don’t know, it was arranged by the company – No-oo!’

  Fraser had snatched up the kettle again and held it hovering above his legs… ‘The name,’ he said between his teeth.

  ‘B-Brent Holman.’

  ‘Where are they based?’

  ‘Birmingham.’

  ‘Address?’

  Leo gave it and then repeated everything into the tape.

  ‘That’s good, Leo,’ Fraser said encouragingly. ‘We’re nearly there now. Just one more question to go – why did you kill Connie?’

  Leo closed his eyes, then opened them again. ‘Fraser, why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘Why? You know why – because I’m banged up in prison while my fiancée’s dying… So why did you kill Connie, Leo?’

  Leo said slowly, ‘You know that I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘Are you saying it was Ian?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  ‘Wrong answer, Leo.’ Fraser picked up the kettle again.

  ‘All right, all right,’ Leo screeched. ‘I killed her… Are you happy now? I killed her, I killed her…’

  Fraser put the kettle down and picked up the tape, but before he could say anything, a voice from the doorway said, ‘I think that’s enough now.’

  He swivelled round to see Tom Jones pointing a pistol at him.

  23

  Tom had gone back to Avon to interview the managing director of Parc-Reed, who’d been away until now. He hadn’t expected much from him and didn’t get it, just professional astonishment that anyone could doubt the company’s ethical policies. Then he’d called on Agnes to see whether she’d done any better than him in tracing the shares.

  ‘It’s ridiculous,’ she said, pacing her office. ‘We know that they own, or at least, have owned them. Somewhere, there must be a record of them… some way of finding it…’

  ‘The Stock Exchange have told me that there isn’t,’ said Tom, ‘short of approaching every single broker in the land.’

  ‘And even then we wouldn’t know whether they were telling the truth. We’d have to hypnotise them all.’

  ‘Might be simpler to hypnotise Farleigh or Saunders,’ said Tom.

  ‘If only…’ said Agnes.

  It was then that her phone had rung and she’d been told about Fraser’s escape.

  ‘How the hell did he manage that?’ said Tom when she passed on the news.

  ‘They’re still not quite sure – apparently, he jumped off the top of the ship and stole a motor boat.’

  Tom shook his head in reluctant admiration.

  ‘They made me promise to tell them if he contacts me,’ she added. Then she said, ‘I think I’d better go and tell Frances… I don’t trust the police and I don’t want her finding out any other way.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They went back to her house first where her husband, who’d had the afternoon off fishing, had baked some of the trout he’d caught. Then they went to the hospital.

  ‘Isn’t that her mother?’ Tom said as they walked to the main entrance.

  ‘So it is,’ Agnes said, and raised her hand.

  She thought a wave was sufficient greeting and felt mildly irritated when Tom insisted on going over to speak to her.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Templeton.’

  ‘Oh… hello.’

  Never could Tom remember having received so unenthusiastic a greeting. ‘Have you been to see Frances?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I’m just about to leave.’

  ‘That’s where we’re going. How is she?’

  ‘Rather tired, actually… in fact, I think the sooner you go and see her the better… so that she can get some rest.’

  It was at this moment that her eyes flicked over his shoulder. She quickly dragged them back again, but Tom had noticed and glanced round himself in time to see a man change direction…

  He looked back at Mary. ‘I expect you’re right,’ he said. ‘We’ll go on up now.’

  They said goodbye and walked over to the entrance.

  Agnes said, ‘She’s got a point, you know, perhaps we should leave it for now.’

  As soon as they were inside, Tom said, ‘She’s waiting for Fraser.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I saw him a moment ago, he cleared off as soon as he saw us.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘He’s shaved off his beard, but it has to be him. You go up and see Frances, I’m going to follow them.’

  ‘But shouldn’t we try—’

  ‘He’s seen Frances and I want to know where he’s going next.’

  ‘But what about the police?’

  ‘Not yet. Give me your mobile number…’

  He took it down, then waited out of sight just inside the entrance. One or two people looked at him rather strangely as they came in, but then he saw what he was looking for – the man who’d changed direction…

  It was him all right. He walked quickly over to Mary’s car, nervously looking round, then she opened the door for him and they sped off.

  Tom sprinted over to the Cooper, which fortunately wasn’t parked too far away, charged out past the No Exit sign, narrowly missing an incoming car, and on to the approach road. There was a Fiesta doing about twenty-five in front of him – he indicated, roared past it and reached the junction just in time to see Mary’s car disappear into the distance on the right. He caught up, hung back while Mary was dropped at the taxi rank, then followed Fraser to Leo’s house.

  He stopped some distance away, watched as Fraser went up to the door and disappeared inside, then released his gun from under the dash and ran up to the house. Listened at the door – nothing… Tried peering through the letter box, saw the lighted hall and overturned table, thought he heard voices…

  Then he’d taken the keys he always carried from his pocket, selected one and inserted it…

  The third key he’d tried had turned. He’d eased the door open, slipped through and silently shut it behind him. Taken out his gun and crept up the hall…

  *

  Fraser looked up and said to him now, ‘You recognised me, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Fraser nodded to himself as though he’d known this all along. ‘You’ve heard everything here?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Then please – let me finish it…’

  ‘No…!’A strangled cry from Leo.

  Tom shook his head. ‘He didn’t do it.’

  ‘Of course he feckin’ did it,’ spat Fraser.

  ‘He didn’t, and forcing him to say he did will only devalue what you’ve already found—’

  ‘It wasn’t any of it true,’ Leo said urgently. ‘I only said it because of what he was doing to me—’

  ‘I’d shut up if I were you,’ Tom said conversationally, ‘Or I might just block my ears and go for a smoke in your living-room.’ He turned to Fraser. ‘Now we’ve got the name of the broker, we’ll be able to trace the shares and—’

  ‘If he didn’t kill her, then he knows who did.’ Fraser spoke quietly but intensely. ‘You’ve seen for yourself what he’s like, if we don’t get the truth out of him now, we never will.’

  Leo desperately tried to hold Tom’s gaze. ‘I swear I don’t know who killed her.’

  ‘You swore you’d never owned those shares,’ Fraser said between his teeth. ‘You knew Connie was wavering and that’s why you went to her house – to shut her up one way or another. You killed her, drove away and then came back for some reason and found me there. It has to be you.’

  ‘You know, he does have a point there,’ Tom said to Leo. ‘And all those shares do give you a powerful motive.’

  Sweat had begun running down Leo’s face, he notice
d. Strange – he’d heard of it happening, but never actually seen it before.

  Leo gathered himself together and tried to speak rationally: ‘Yes, I did know she was wavering, she’d told Ian and he asked me to go round and try to persuade her to hang on, but I did not kill her. I found you there with her, Fraser – you go on about my motive, but yours is a damn sight stronger.’

  Fraser thrust his face forward into Leo’s. ‘Why did you tell Garrett I was still holding the stick when I wasn’t?’ he demanded.

  Leo closed his eyes as though to shut out Fraser’s fury. ‘I honestly can’t remember whether you were holding it or not.’ He opened them again. ‘I knew you’d done it, so it didn’t seem to matter.’ He sighed. ‘And once I’d said it, Garrett wouldn’t let it go.’ He looked round at Tom. ‘Please let me out of here… I agree to all the rest, but I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘All right,’ said Tom, ‘I believe you didn’t kill Dr Flint. But what about Dr Somersby?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Don’t be funny with me, you’re not in the position. Someone killed Somersby and you had the best motive and opportunity for it.’

  ‘I was in London when he was killed, for God’s sake. The police did their best to pin it on me and couldn’t…’

  Fraser had got up from the chair and moved a little to one side when Tom started questioning Leo. Now, without warning, he kicked the gun out of Tom’s hand.

  Tom was caught off balance and fell back. Fraser slogged at his face but Tom saw it coming and twisted his head so that it only glanced, then he jabbed at Fraser’s face with his left, and as Fraser raised his hands to defend it, punched him once, hard in the belly with his right… and Fraser collapsed on to the floor.

  Tom retrieved his gun and knelt beside him. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘But it really would go better for you if you gave yourself up.’

  Leo said, ‘What about me?’

  Tom pulled Fraser’s hands behind his back and snapped on plastic handcuffs, just in case, then went over to Leo and sat down.

  ‘What about you indeed,’ he said, pulling out his notebook. ‘I think we’ll have the name and address of that broker again before anything else.’

  Fie took down the details, then, ignoring Leo’s pleas, went over to the phone. He checked the number with Directory Enquiries, rang it and listened to the recorded message before putting the phone down again.