Cherringham--Snowblind (7 page)

Only now did Odelia take in Jack, standing a few feet to the side.

Odelia’s smile faded a bit. “Talk?”

“Beth asked me to drop by, what with the big storm and everything. And my friend Jack here offered to come along.”

Odelia appeared to think about this for a moment. Then:

“Well, of course. Have a seat you two. If this place wasn’t so understaffed, I’d see if they could manage some tea.” She lowered her voice. “No chance of that happening.”

Sarah pulled a straight-backed chair from a nearby card table close to Odelia, Jack as well. And they sat in the sun streaming from the window, the snowy piles just on the other side of the glass.

“Oh, I’m
fine
. Place has got, well, a bit run down these last few months. You can see that. But they feed me; make sure I’m all right at night. They could be nicer about it, though …”

Jack cleared his voice. “Mrs. Travers, does it seem like everyone’s being taken care of okay?”

“Everyone? Hmm,” Then she stopped. “You’re an
American
, aren’t you.”

Jack laughed. “Why, yes I am.”

A big smile from Odelia. “Always liked Americans.” Then a look to Sarah. “You two, the two of you, aren’t—?

Now Sarah’s turn to laugh “No. Just good friends.”

She left out any of the detective stuff. This Odelia seemed sharp enough that she could easily put two and two together, and sense that something was wrong here … that something had happened.

In fact — she might well do that anyway.

“Well, to your question, Jack … I have heard people complain. Not getting medications on time, left in bed all day. Me, I’m pretty independent. But such things wouldn’t surprise me. And since these big storms, well … it’s a skeleton crew here, I can tell you.”

Jack nodded. “Big storms,” Jack said. “They really hit the village.” Sarah noticed that he looked at her, maybe unsure about his next question.

“Do you know a resident here … Archy Fleming?”

“Archy! Everyone here knows old Archy.” Again Odelia leaned close. Her voice was already a croaky whisper but she lowered it even more. “Crazy old sod. But the tales he can tell.”

Sarah picked up on that: “Gets a bit confused, does he?”

“A bit? Half the time he doesn’t know where in the world he is. Sometimes cruising the Adriatic, other times ready to meet the Queen.”

That had Odelia laughing. Another twist of the paper napkin between her fingers. “But he’s such a sweet, sweet man … even with most of the marbles out of his jar.”

Jack laughed. “Sounds like you like him?”

“Oh yes, we all do. Funny old Archy. Haven’t seen him this morning though …”

Keeping it quiet here,
Sarah guessed.

And something lingered in Sarah’s mind with that. Not quite sure what it was … more instincts, a feeling?

Something here.

“And I guess you know Reg Povey?”

“Reg? Yes, new here. Can’t say I know him as well as old Archy.”

Sarah nodded: “But equally as, um, confused?”

Again, Odelia didn’t seem to understand that question.

“Reg? Haven’t spoken to him much. Like I say, he’s new here.”

Jack pulled his chair a bit closer.

“Odelia, you’ve been here a while, hmm?” he said.

“Oh, yes. Not the best place, probably not the worst.”

“Can you think of any reason why … anyone would want to hurt Archy or Reg?”

As if on cue, Sarah heard a voice booming behind them, a man in a blue tartan robe, fluffy slippers.

“Morning prayers in the main chapel, eight a.m. sharp!”

Sarah saw who it was …

Reg Povey.

Talk about timing!

“There he is,” Odelia said, sounding relieved. “Hurt him, or Archy? Why on earth would anyone want anything to happen to those two old coots?”

She shook her head at this.

But Sarah guessed some wheels were spinning in Odelia’s mind. “And, and there he is, fit as a fiddle.” A small smile returned. “Though what chapel he’s talking about, I have no idea. Still — like my husband Arnold used to say … ‘whatever floats your boat’.”

“See you all in the chapel promptly,” Reg announced.

Then he turned to leave the room — but not before glancing over at Jack and Sarah.

Perhaps espying new parishioners for his non-existent church.

But — Sarah thought — he held that look, as if he was about to come over.

Then, in his dementia — or whatever he had — he instead made the sign of the cross, blessing all the souls in the common room and left.

And when she turned back to Odelia, she had also — in kind of a way —
left
. Staring out the window, gazing at the snow.

Maybe thinking of the countless snowfalls in her lifetime.

It all goes so fast,
Sarah thought.

I need to remember that.

She reached out and covered Odelia’s intertwined hands.

“We’ll leave you for now, hmm?”

Odelia nodded.

“But is it okay if we pop around, visit from time to time?” Jack said. And Sarah knew he meant it.

“I — I’d like that,” Odelia said.

Sarah gave those hands a squeeze. “Later then …”

And they got up.

Out in the hallway they ran into Ania, arms full of bed sheets.

“Ania!” Sarah said.

The nurse still seemed tentative, guarded.

Are you still short-staffed because of the storm?”

“Me, changing beds? You could say that …” The nurse looked eager to hurry on.

But Sarah had one quick question.

“Ania — can you tell me where the chapel is?”

Ania nodded.

“The chapel? Yes — it is through the common room — that way.”

She pointed across the hallway to a corridor, then hurried away.

Sarah turned to Jack.

“Why don’t I look in on the morning service — while you see if you can track down our favourite member of staff?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” said Jack.

Sarah watched him turn and head towards the office.

Would she get any sense out of Reg?

Sarah pushed open the door to the chapel and peered into the darkened room.

As her eyes adjusted she realised, looking around, that what must at one time have been a Christian place of worship had been converted into a simple multi-faith room of prayer.

No crosses, statues, stained glass. Just white walls, simple chairs, pictures of trees and flowers.

Like being in one of those airport prayer rooms,
she thought.

She spotted Reg, sitting on a chair in a dark corner, his fluffy slippers out of place in this austere setting.

She went over and sat next to him. At first, he didn’t react to her presence — but then he slowly turned and stared straight at her, his eyes seeming to search her face for clues.

“Did we have dinner?” he said. “Is it bedtime?” He didn’t seem to recognise her from the previous day.

“No, Reg. It’s not bedtime, not yet,” said Sarah.

She smiled at him and he nodded; his face serious.

Did he understand? His face, his eyes, seemed alert even if his words didn’t make much sense.

“I’m not hungry anyway,” he said. “Padre will be here soon.”

“That’s good, Reg. Do you like it in here?”

“You pays your money, you takes your choice,” he said.

Sarah realised she didn’t have the skills or experience to deal with someone in Reg’s condition. But she desperately wanted to find out if he knew anything, even the slightest detail about what had happened on the night Archy had died.

“Reg — can you remember what happened to Archy?”

She saw Reg’s eyes light up.

“Archy’s my mate.”

“I know.”

She watched as Reg’s sombre face suddenly broke into a cheeky grin.

“He’s a proper ladies’ man, Archy is. Wanna watch yourself with him, sweetheart!”

“I will,” she said, smiling at Reg. “Reg — do you remember going in the snow with Archy?”

“Bloody cold that was,” said Reg. “Caught my death.”

“Why did you go out in the snow?”

“Saw the chance — took it!”

“What happened out in the woods — do you remember?”

“Guards caught us, brought us back. Next time, eh?”

He leaned across and put his mouth close to her ear. Sarah could smell his breath, stale, and — incongruously — a pungent odour of cheap aftershave: “Word is — there’s a tunnel on the go.”

He tapped his nose — Sarah nodded back to him as if she knew it must be kept secret.

“So, were you trying to escape, Reg?”

“Been here bleedin years, got to get out.”

“Don’t you like it here?”

The old man suddenly grabbed her arm, his hand tight.

“Can you get me out? Can you? I’ll pay you! I’ve got millions! I have!”

“I’m sorry Reg, I can’t really do anything …” said Sarah, feeling totally powerless. “Maybe if you—”

But Reg got up suddenly and pushed his chair back. Without another glance at her, he stepped over her legs and headed for the door.

She watched, bemused, as he pulled open the door. Then he turned and clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the little chapel.

“Come on! Chop chop! Mess dinner tonight!”

She watched him scan the room.

“No takers? Your loss mateys, your loss!”

And then he was gone.

Sarah wasn’t sure she’d learned anything new. But she knew one thing — she and Jack had been right to use the word ‘escape’. Archy and Reg had certainly been escaping — but from what?

Jack peered at the grainy CCTV footage and used the remote to fast-forward. The screen, split in four, showed different angles of the exterior of Broadmead Grange.

Four different shots of snow falling,
thought Jack.
Some hope …

“You’re lucky we’ve still got that, you know,” said Shirley, placing a chipped mug of tea on the office table next to him. “If it hadn’t been for the power cut, it would have been recorded over by now.”

Jack didn’t take his eyes off the monitor, but he was aware that the sister had taken her seat at the other side of the desk and was watching over his shoulder.

“Appreciate you letting me see it,” he said.

“Like I told you — we don’t have anything to hide,” said Shirley.

“Right. And I just want to be sure in my own mind that none of your staff is responsible for the death of that old man.”

“Judge and jury, are you?”

“We have a friend here in the home — just looking after her interests.”

“Don’t think I don’t know who you and your friend are, Mr. Brennan. Cherringham’s own private detectives. I just wonder who’s paying you. And whether I should tell my boss what you’re up to.”

“Tell who you like,” said Jack. “Nice tea, by the way — thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jack looked at the time code in the top corner of the screen. Still only five p.m. on the evening Archy and Reg fled into the snow.

On the screen he saw the front door to the home suddenly open — he paused the tape and hit the play button.

In the grainy playback, he could see a stream of people in coats and hats emerging from the Home — some on their own, some in small groups. With their heads down against the blizzard, they headed out of frame.

“Lot of people leaving,” said Jack.

“Five p.m. shift finishing. That’s them heading up to catch the twenty past train,” said Shirley.

“Very noble of them to leave just as the blizzard was coming in,” said Jack, speeding up the tape and watching the figures scuttle away from the building.

“How noble would you be on minimum wage, Mr. Brennan, with your family at home waiting for you?”

“Touché,” said Jack.

“Besides — the night shift were due in on the next train.”

“Except they never turned up, did they? So where’s your emergency cover huh?”

“We didn’t expect to be snowed in, so we didn’t hire any.”

“You don’t say? Nobody listens to the weather forecasts huh? Or did Mr. Leacock refuse to pay for extra help?”

Jack waited for the sister to respond, but her silence gave him the answer anyway.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Mr. Leacock, by the way,” he said.

Again, no answer. He watched the time code whizz onwards, now six p.m. … now seven p.m. …

“I hear the home got into trouble with the authorities last year. Guess you were in charge then?”

“The problem was just in the kitchens,” said Shirley. “I’m only responsible for patient care.”

“Not responsible? Where did I ever hear that line before?”

“My staff do a difficult job for very little money and even less thanks, Mr. Brennan — I don’t care for your moralising.”

“Just calling it as I see it,” said Jack, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

Time to change tack,
he thought.

“What’s the security routine at night?”

“After supper, residents get a hot drink and the nurses administer whatever routine medication is prescribed where appropriate. Then lights out—”

“Doors locked?”

“Of course — the building is secured and the night staff monitor until morning.”

“No CCTV inside the building?”

“Regular room visits from the care assistants has always been adequate. If a patient presses the help button we respond.”

“But if a patient got up and left the building you’d be none the wiser.”

“We’d see them on the security monitor, here in the office.”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

“Because — instead of having six staff — that night we only had three,” said Shirley.

Clearly not happy with these questions.

“You, Ania — and the charming Craig — that right?”

Jack looked over his shoulder quickly at Shirley — she nodded to him, but clearly wasn’t going to be drawn into a conversation about her staff.

Jack turned back to the monitors and saw a blur of movement in the shot of the back door and courtyard.

“Speak of the devil,” he said. “Isn’t that Craig there?”

He rewound the tape and played it back slowly. The time-code read nine p.m. He leaned forward and concentrated on the quarter image on the screen. The top-down view made it hard to see faces clearly and the lens was already partly covered in snow.