by Helen Oliver
Akpata filled the silence. “Who’s looking after the children?”
Greg said, “Couple next door.”
Eileen turned to Greg. “I think they ought to go to Prue’s for a week or so. It’ll be all over the school, and on local TV.”
Hammond asked, “Prue?”
“My sister in Norfolk.”
An hour passed. An hour and a half. Two hours.
Hammond, promising to be back, drove Akpata home. Drawing up at the minister’s house, he said he’d let her know if there was any news. A white lie: no way would he call her in the middle of the night. She asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not at this moment, but thanks.”
Akpata said, “You know I’ll do everything I can.” Half out of the car, she added. “I’m very… I admire DS Burns.”
“You’re not alone, Kylie.”
*
He reached the door of the relatives’ room just as a surgeon: small, dark haired, wire-framed specs, still in green scrubs, started to push the door. She turned to Hammond as he gave it an extra shove. “You are?”
“DCI Hammond, North Yorkshire Police.”
She put out a hand. “Emma Webb, consultant surgeon. I’ve not had a chance to meet the family yet.” She preceded him into the room, nodded to Greg and Eileen. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a long wait.”
Greg rose. “I’m her husband,” he said, and added, “This is my mother.”
The surgeon addressed Greg. “I’m Emma Webb. I’ve been dealing with the bleed on your wife’s brain.” She turned to the three of them. “You must be exhausted.” After a pause, during which Miss Webb took a chair, she turned to Greg. “I’m afraid your wife is critically ill. As well as broken ribs and cuts and bruises, she suffered a serious attempt to strangle her, and, most worrying, received a crushing blow to back of the head. Hence the bleed.” She continued in an even tone: “In view of the CT scan results, during which we found the bleed, and her inevitable fragility, we’ve put Mrs Burns into an induced coma.” She met each pair of eyes. “To give her brain the best chance of recovery.”
Greg moistened his lips. “She’s called Cally.”
“Of course.” She paused. “On the plus side, Cally appears to be strong.”
“She is,” said Eileen. “She’s very strong.”
Hammond asked, “How long is she likely to be in a coma?”
“It depends on our observations. We’d need to do neurological tests, plus blood tests and scans.” She turned to Greg, said gently, “Would you like to see her?”
“Please.”
Hammond opened the door for them. He and Eileen watched them go, Greg bending slightly in order to catch the surgeon’s words.
Hammond said. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back.”
Eileen said, “I’ll stay here and wait for Greg.”
Hammond asked, “Will the kids be okay, until you organize something with your sister?”
“They’ll be fine.” She looked up at him. “Thank you for thinking of them.”
Hammond’s mouth was dry. He swallowed. “What will you tell them?”
“We’ve not decided yet.”
49
Susan Jukes shook her head in disbelief. “I heard something about this earlier. I had no idea it was DS Burns. When did it happen?”
“Yesterday.” Akpata said. “We’re not sure of the exact time.” She paused briefly. “DCI Hammond picked up your call to DS Burns. He realizes you were expecting her to contact you, and suggested I come as a sort of preliminary.”
“How is she today?”
“She’s here, in Intensive Care.”
“We have an excellent department, she couldn’t be in a better place.” She paused. “When I’ve got my breath back I’ll explain the situation.”
“You said in your message you needed to talk about a curriculum vitae.”
Susan Jukes slipped on her glasses, upended a sheaf of papers and paused. “I’ll put you in the picture. We advertised for a Deputy CEO because Alison Martin is leaving. Her husband has a new job, in Devon, and she’ll be looking for another post.”
Akpata smoothed her notebook on her knee. “I see.”
“We short-listed three candidates for the job, one of whom was Miss Bloom, a member of our staff.” She took her glasses off, frowned, replaced them. She laid the sheaf of papers flat. “This is her curriculum vitae.”
Akpata looked up from her notebook. “There’s a problem?”
“Harriet Bloom’s CV contains discrepancies.” She let her eye travel down the first page of the CV. “I’ve been here for two years. Harriet Bloom has been here longer. There’s been no reason until now for me to look at her CV. It was only when I noticed she entered Durham as her university that I read it with added interest. Simply because that’s where my sister graduated.”
Akpata said, “DS Burns showed me her photo online. You’re so alike.”
“Well that’s it, you see.” Susan Jukes took a breath. “When I looked at the period Harriet Bloom says she studied at Durham, and found it coincided with my sister Catherine’s, I began to wonder…” she hesitated, “especially as they both read English Literature and were both, or both appear to have been, in the dramatic society.” She stopped for a moment. “It’s like this. Almost everybody who’s aware of my actress sister, and who knows me, or even meets me briefly, remarks on how alike we are.” She raised her eyebrows. “You just did. So did Detective Sergeant Burns.”
Akpata raised her pen. “You said you began to wonder.”
“I wondered why Harriet Bloom never mentioned she was at Durham with my sister. Especially as Catherine never seems to be out of the news.”
Their eyes met, and Akpata asked, “Have you checked?”
“Catherine has no recollection of her. Durham hasn’t either. She was never there.”
“You’re sure?”
“Completely sure. Neither did she work for Granada Television or the BBC.” She sighed. “I don’t know if this is a police matter. Clearly she’s, a liar, but…”
Akpata said, “I’ll give DCI Hammond the facts; he’ll know what to do. I’m sorry I can’t say more straight away.” She closed her notebook and stood up. “I’m going to Intensive Care now, to ask after DS Burns.” She put out her hand, and Susan Jukes held it for a moment. “Have the police any idea who did this terrible thing?”
Akpata said, “I’m a bit in the dark about that.”
Mrs Jukes said, “She’ll be in our thoughts.”
*
Hammond pushed a file aside. “How did you get on?”
“I wasn’t allowed to see her, sir, but a nurse said she’s comfortable. I talked to Mrs Jukes.”
“Take a seat, Kylie.”
Akpata pulled a chair diagonally forward. Sitting dead opposite the boss wouldn’t feel right. She took out her notebook. “It’s like this, sir. Miss Bloom was short-listed for the post of Deputy CEO.” She paused. “Mrs Jukes asked to see DS Burns because she found Miss Bloom had falsified her CV.” Eyes wide, she said, “It’s a pack of lies from start to finish.” A brief look of triumph crossed her face. “But she slipped up big time, sir. She picked the wrong university.”
“No doubt Susan Jukes has checked this.”
“Yes, sir. I’m not sure if you know Mrs Jukes has an actress sister, Catherine Malin. Absolute spit of her.”
“DS Burns noticed the resemblance.” He paused. “Have you had a drink, Kylie?”
“No, sir.”
“Fetch two coffees, and you can fill me in on the details.”
50
Lucy dialled her father, who sounded marginally more cheerful than the last time they spoke. “How’re things at Wychwood?”
“Weird. Harriet’s shut herself in her room. She was fine, then suddenly everything went pear-shaped.”
“Did they turn her down for the job?”
“She’s not had the interview yet. Perhaps she’s eaten something or–
” She stopped. “Sorry, Dad, I’ll have to go. Leo’s kicking up.” Lucy switched off her phone and ran along the landing. Leo’s raucous cries shook the Moses basket. She bent down and scooped him up.
Diana appeared at the door. “Poor little mite. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“Perhaps he needs changing.” Diana put her arms out. “Here, let me have him.” She laid him on the bed and unpopped his Babygro. The screams faded to small choking sobs, then died away until the bright eyes stared at the window.
Lucy handed Diana a nappy. “What’s the matter with Harriet?”
“She’s not herself.”
“Will she be okay for the interview?”
“I think it might have to be put off.” She lifted Leo’s legs, slipped the nappy under his bottom.
“It’s been on the news,” Lucy said, “about Detective Sergeant Burns.”
“What about her?”
“She’s fighting for her life in hospital.” Lucy touched Leo’s hand. “She was attacked.”
Horrified, Diana straightened up. “My God, whatever next!” Seconds later the timer round her neck pinged. “That’s my bread.”
Lucy picked Leo up. Perhaps she ought to apologise to Harriet about his crying. For a moment she considered telling her about Detective Sergeant Burns, so she would realize there was someone worse off than her. Instead, she opened the door an inch and said, “Is there anything I can get you? I could take the Beetle out if there’s something you fancy.” She paused. “From the delicatessen?”
“Christ, no.”
*
Hammond called Harry Davies. Gave him the go-ahead on Cally’s attack. Nationals, locals, TV.
Davies said, “She works with you, doesn’t she?”
“We have to catch this one.”
“Any nearer on Parsons and Fox?”
“Not sure.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Could be useful, Harry, if the Post talks about DS Burns being the third in a series of brutal attacks. Draw them together without implying too much.”
“Got you. No problem.”
Within a minute Rutter called. “Hi Steve. Grapevine says Cally’s in a bad way.”
“God, Neil – she was attacked yesterday. Head injury. They’ve operated for a bleed on the brain.” The lump in his throat rose. “She’s in an induced coma.”
“Very sorry, Steve. Keep me in the picture.”
“I will.”
“If you’ve time for a jar, which I don’t expect you have…”
“Thanks for the thought, mate, but you expect right.”
Rutter ended the call. Hammond left the office and made for the Incident Room. Akpata was hard at it, checking from hard copy to notes on the screen. She looked up as he stopped. “Sir?”
“Is Nolan in?”
“I think so.”
“You probably know as much as anyone about Bloom’s little game. She ought to be at home; fill Nolan in on the fake CV and take him to Myker with you. Major on that for starters, then see if you can segue into the attack on DS Burns. Or anything regarding Parsons or Fox.” He sighed. “I have to be somewhere. Funeral in Little Brampton.”
*
Nolan held his umbrella over Akpata. “You been here before?”
Akpata eyed the monkey puzzle. “No.”
“Me neither.”
Lucy, Leo in her arms, opened the door. “Hello?”
Nolan shook the umbrella, produced his ID. “Detective Constable Jason Nolan and Detective Constable Kylie Akpata. May we come in?”
Lucy stepped back. “I suppose it’s okay. Do you work with Mr Hammond?”
“We do,” said Akpata, and crossed the step. “You must be Lucy.” She smiled, “And this is Leo?”
Lucy nodded.
“We’ve heard lots about him.”
Nolan said, “We’d like to talk to Miss Harriet Bloom.”
Diana Bloom hurried from a door at the end of the hall. “I won’t shake hands, I’m all floury.” She smiled. “I’m Diana Bloom. It sounds as if you’re here to see my daughter.” She tilted her head. “I’m sorry, but you’ve caught her on a bad day.”
Nolan said, “We do need to see her, Mrs Bloom. If we can’t talk now, we’ll only have to come back.”
Diana Bloom sighed. “I’ll go upstairs and see how she’s feeling. Lucy, you can show our guests into the sitting room.”
With Leo snuggled into her neck, Lucy said, “Come through.”
Akpata sat on a sofa opposite the French doors. Nolan remained standing. Akpata smiled at Leo. “How old is he now?”
“Three weeks. Would you like to hold him?”
“I won’t at the moment. Some other time, I hope.”
At the door, Diana Bloom cleared her throat. “My daughter will be down in a second.”
Nolan went to the French doors. “You should see my grandad’s garden.”
Mrs Bloom said, “Really?” and they discussed vegetables, until she said, “Ah, here’s my daughter.”
Akpata and Nolan turned to see a dressing-gowned Harriet Bloom, hair dragged back, lipstick stark against her washed-out complexion. Her mother said, “Sit in the armchair, darling.”
Akpata said, “DCI Hammond would be here, but he’s at Judi Fox’s funeral.”
Diana Bloom said. “That is so sad.”
Nolan sat in an upright chair. Bloom’s mother looked at her watch. “Lucy. Time for Leo’s feed?”
“Okay,” she said, and carried Leo into the hall.
Nolan addressed Diana Bloom. “Would you mind leaving us?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I’d like to stay. Actually, I insist on staying.”
Akpata took out her notebook, glanced across at Nolan, noted his nod. “Earlier today,” she said, “I had a meeting with Susan Jukes.” She glanced at Diana Bloom. “Mrs Jukes is the CEO at the hospital.”
“That I do know.”
Akpata frowned. “Actually, Miss Bloom, I will have to ask if we can talk privately.”
Bloom said, “Mother, if you don’t mind…”
Akpata said, “It would be useful to talk to you later, Mrs. Bloom. On your own.”
Diana Bloom sighed. “I’ll divide up the dough.”
With kitchen sounds in the background, Akpata said, “Miss Bloom – what made you think you could get away with deception on such a grand scale?”
Bloom shrugged. “Because I was capable of the job. This week I was just unlucky.”
How, Akpata wondered, could this monstrous woman look her in the eye. The boss was at a funeral watching a decent couple bury their daughter. Beaten to death by this woman. Almost certainly Harriet Bloom had killed twice. She thought of Cally Burns, head bandaged, tubes and wires in and out of her skin, a monitor with a line they all prayed would never flatten.
Nolan said, “I think you know you were the last person to have contact with DS Burns. Any thoughts on her Focus?”
“Should I have?”
“Apparently you saw her speed off in it.”
Akpata asked, “Which way did she turn when she got to the road?”
Bloom leaned back, closed her eyes. “I didn’t see.”
Nolan said. “It would be helpful to talk some more, but you look like you could use a bit of shut-eye.” He pinched the crease in a trouser leg, glanced at Akpata. “We’d like to talk to your mother.”
Akpata stood. “I’ll see you to your room.”
Bloom pushed herself up. “I’ve got legs.”
“I’d like to see your bedroom.”
Bloom tightened her dressing-gown cord. Heading for the hall and stairs, she called into the kitchen, “Mother! Our guests want to talk to you.”
Akpata sensed Lucy’s presence on the landing and looked up in time to see the girl disappear into a bedroom. Akpata followed Bloom to her room. “Come in,” Bloom said, ‘you might want to turn out my cupboards and drawers.”
“Another time, perhaps.” A
kpata picked up a comb from the dressing table. “Yours?” she asked and took an evidence bag from her pocket. Bloom nodded and Akpata and dropped it in the bag.
Downstairs, Nolan held the door open for Diana Bloom. “Which is your chair?”
“The armchair.”
Akpata came back into the room and sat on the long sofa. Nolan again chose the upright chair. “Mrs Bloom,” Akpata said, “how much do you know about the cancellation of your daughter’s interview?”
“I didn’t think it was cancelled.”
“It was.”
“I suppose she’s been too upset to talk about it.”
Nolan said, “DC Akpata will fill in the gaps.”
Diana Bloom said, “What sort of gaps?”
Akpata took a breath. “Miss Bloom has been suspended from the hospital management staff because she falsified her CV.”
Diana Bloom seemed not to understand. Nolan leaned forward. “Her curriculum vitae.”
Akpata said, “She lied about her university degree.”
“That must be wrong. Harriet has a good degree from Durham.”
“She has no degree at all, Mrs Bloom. From Durham or anywhere else.”
Diana Bloom stared ahead. “That can’t be true.”
Akpata said, “Mrs Jukes found the discrepancy – among others – when she checked the candidates’ CVs in readiness for the interviews.”
Diana Bloom clasped the collar of her linen shirt. “What are you talking about?”
“Your daughter also claimed to have worked for Granada Television and the BBC. Neither of which was true.”
Tears filled Mrs Bloom’s eyes. “She must be ill.”
Akpata waited a moment. “Have you heard what happened to Detective Sergeant Burns?”
“Lucy said she was in hospital.”
Nolan nodded. “Because she was viciously attacked.”
“Poor woman,” said Diana Bloom. “I don’t know if Harriet knows. You say Lucy knew?” She shook her head. “Seeing Harriet so poorly she might have kept it from her.”
Nolan said, “Yesterday afternoon Miss Bloom was in close contact with DS Burns.”
“Oh, yes. That silly misunderstanding.”