Innocent Blood (23 page)
Authors: David Stuart Davies
‘I hope you don’t mind me popping in,’ she said with an apprehensive smile. ‘I’ve just been to see Elizabeth in another ward and I thought …’
‘Hello.’ Snow returned the smile. ‘I’m very happy to see anyone from the outside world …’ He paused awkwardly, realising that this sounded like a back-handed compliment. ‘Please, come and sit down.’
She did so and the nurse bustled out of the room.
‘How are you?’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve not been allowed out of bed yet.’
‘It must have been quite an ordeal.’
‘Actually, I can’t remember much.’
‘Well, it’s thanks to you, Elizabeth is safe. You’re a bit of a hero.’
‘A colourful character at least,’ he said, indicating his face. ‘My sergeant thinks I look like a Picasso painting.’
She smiled. ‘Oh, that’s unkind but I must admit you are wearing quite a palette.’
‘Thanks,’ he said with mock gruffness and they both smiled and then lapsed into an awkward silence.
‘You’ve just seen Elizabeth?’ Snow said at length. ‘How is she?’
‘A little subdued, somewhat confused, but I think she’s on the mend. Thankfully, she has blocked a lot of unpleasant detail from her mind.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Mr Snow … er, Inspector …’
‘Oh, please call me Paul. I feel a bit ridiculous being referred to as “inspector” wearing hospital pyjamas and a face like a road map.’
She smiled again and not for the first time Paul thought it was a lovely smile. Somehow it emphasised her elegance and intelligence, qualities that he always admired.
‘OK, Paul. Do you like Indian food?’
For a fleeting moment, Snow was nonplussed by this sudden change of direction in the conversation. ‘Indian food?’ he repeated, unable to keep the puzzlement out of his voice. ‘Well, yes.’
‘I make a mean biryani with all the trimmings, naan bread and all. I was wondering, when you’re back on your feet properly and your face has regained its normal colour, if you’d like to come round to my place and sample the delights of my curry.’
‘You’re inviting me to dinner?’ Snow could not keep the surprise out of his voice.
‘Brilliant deduction, Watson.’ There was that smile again.
New territory was opening here and he was uncertain how he felt about it, but he found himself nodding. ‘Well, that’s very kind.’
‘So … is that a date?’
‘Well, yes, that’s a date.’
Three days later Paul Snow was deemed fit to be released into the world again. He had undergone another brain scan and was told that everything was fine. His face was still showing the multi-coloured hues of severe bruising but he knew these would eventually fade, although his nose might bear a few scars. He was warned that he would most likely suffer from bad headaches for a couple of months, but apart from that, time would be the healer.
Before he left the hospital, he asked if he could see Colin Bird. There was a little reluctance by the doctor in charge of the case, but because of Snow’s rank and involvement in the affair, he relented. Snow was taken to another part of the hospital and into a room similar to the one he had been staying in. Sitting in an upright chair by the bed with a hospital blanket over his knees was Colin Bird. He too had a face of many colours along with several gashes to his cheek and forehead. He stared with glassy, immobile eyes ahead of him, making no movement as Snow and the doctor entered.
‘Hello, Colin, there’s a visitor for you.’
There was no reaction.
The doctor moved over and took Bird’s hand and squeezed it. Slowly, his head turned, but the features remained still and the eyes failed to register any emotion. Bird raised his gaze to take in Snow but there was no sign of recognition there at all.
Snow felt sick to his stomach. What had Bob Fellows said? Something about him being in a vegetative state. That was a polite way of indicating that he was dead from the neck up.
‘There’s no one at home, I’m afraid, and there’s a real probability that there never will be,’ said the doctor. ‘When his wounds are healed, he’ll be taken to a mental institution for tests, but I’m afraid for him it’s a life spent with the shutters down.’
Snow nodded grimly and turned to the door. He had seen enough.
Some moments later he was stepping out of the hospital into the bright sunshine and facing the real world once more. The real, dark, complicated, dangerous and demanding world.
DAVID STUART DAVIES left teaching to become editor of
Sherlock Magazine
and is generally regarded as an expert on Sherlock Holmes, having written six novels, film books and plays featuring the character. He has given presentations on Holmes at many festivals and conferences as well as on board the
Queen Mary II
. He appeared as toastmaster at the Sherlock Holmes Dinner at Bloody Scotland in 2012 – Scotland’s first international crime writing festival. He also created his own detective, wartime private eye Johnny Hawke, who has appeared in six novels. David is a member of the national committee of the Crime Writers’ Association and has edited their monthly members’ magazine,
Red Herrings
, since 1999. He has also been a Fellow of the Royal Literary Fund at Huddersfield University since 2012. He lives in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire.
Visit David’s website at:
Cover photograph © iStockphoto
First published in 2015
The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire,
GL
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This ebook edition first published in 2015
All rights reserved
© David Stuart Davies, 2015
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Original typesetting by The History Press
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