Episode 23 - Peel's Plot

Tuesday cont.

But she hadn’t.

“Heart pills we think,” said the sister in charge of the ward. “She must have had them on her person. The lab is finding out what they contained.”

“Don’t hurry,” said Cleo. “We already know.”

“At least she left a note,” said the nursing sister. "But there are obscenities all over it."

“Not quite a typical suicide note then,” said Gary. "But it might save us further speculation."

“Amen to that,” said Cleo.

“I’d like to see that suicide note,” said Gary.

“She must have been very coarse and ill-bred,” the sister said. “Quite common, in fact.”

“Did the deceased regain consciousness, Sister…Vanessa,” Cleo asked, after consulting her badge.

“I was on duty here, looking after her in case she regained consciousness. Her breathing was shallow, but she did come round for a few minutes.”

“Did you leave the sick room for any reason?” Cleo wanted to know. “I mean go the bathroom or attend to something else?”

“Only once. I asked a colleague to watch over her.”

“Can you please ask her to come here and tell me if anything happened while she was here?”

Sister Vanessa phoned through and the deputy would come rightaway.

“Did Mrs Peel talk?” Gary asked.

“She muttered a few words. Some of them were expletives,” the sister sniffed. “I didn’t understand it all.”

“What did you understand?” Cleo asked. “Try to remember. It’s quite important.”

“She said a few names. One was Battle. Another was Formby like the old comedian. And a third was Mills like the actor family. Arthur, she called him. She said he was lying bastard, excuse the bad word.”

“Did she say anything else?” Gary asked.

“She seemed to be fighting with herself. I asked her if she wanted her husband with her and she told me to... well, I won’t repeat her exact words, but I got the impression that she did not want him here.”

“He’s dead, Sister Vanessa. Murdered.”

Sister Vanessa gasped.

“She laughed when I asked her why she didn’t want him to come,” she said. “But why would she laugh if her husband had been murdered?”

“In her mind it was amusing, Sister, because she knew she was offending decent behaviour.”

“Then she asked for something to write on.”

“She also laughed because she probably had a hand in his death,” said Gary. “Let me look at the note she wrote.”

“A small, scared nurse entered the ward.

“The Inspector wants you to answer some questions,” said Sister Vanessa.

“Yes nurse,” said Gary. “You took over the vigil while Sister Vanessa was out of this room, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did the patient move or talk while you were in charge?”

“She came round properly, Sir.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” said Sister Vaness.

“You didn’t ask,” said the nurse.

“Did she say anything?” Cleo asked

“She wanted her reading glasses. I got them out of her handbag and she said I was a good girl.”

“Did you see what she did after that?” said Gary.

“She played around with the glasses case and asked for a drink, Sir.”

Sister Vaness looked puzzled

“Did you get her one?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you see her drinking?” Cleo asked.

“No, Miss. I went back to the washbasin to turn the water off.”

“So you gave her plain water, did you?”

“Out of the tap, Sir. I forgot to turn the water off.”

“So you turned your back on her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I had to dry the splashes.”

“What happened then?”

“She called me and wanted the glasses case put back ion her bag.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did you find it strange that she would ask for a drink so soon after regaining consciousness?”

“No, Sir. Patients usually want a drink when they wake up.”

The junior nurse had taken it all in her stride. She had had no instructions because the patient was unconscious.

“That’ll be all, nurse,” said Gary. “You can go.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Thank YOU, nurse.”

***

“How long were you out of the room, Sister Vanessa?” Cleo asked.

“About 15 minutes, I suppose. I had to supervise the midday medicine for those who get it.”

“Would you have noticed if the patient was asleep rather than in a coma?”

It was Sister Vanessa’s turn to look scared.

“Don’t worry, Sister,” said Cleo. “We only want to know what happened. What was on the note she wrote?”

‘It was them, Mr Detective,’ was all she had she had written. The note was covered in obscenities written with surprising energy.

“It doesn’t read like a suicide note, does it?” said Gary after he had read it several times, including the P.S.: ‘my last laugh’.

“Quite cryptic,” said Cleo. “But suicidal, in my view. Have we been looking in the wrong direction all this time, Gary?”

“She had the note in her hand when she drew her last breath. And she went out laughing,” said Sister Vanessa. “It was horrible.”

“I’m sure you were shocked,” said Cleo. “But that’s the kind of person she was.”

“I didn’t suspect Mrs Peel of having a sense of humour,” said Gary.

“It takes all sorts,I suppose,” said Sister Vanessa.

Gary took photos of the dead woman and the ambience.

The sister looked at her watch.

“You’ll have to leave now,” she said. “We’ve got to get the body cleaned up and over to pathology.”

“Send her straightto forensics at HQ,” said Gary. “That’s where she belongs; not with the innocent. I’ll take the handbag with me. She won’t need it.”

Sister Vanessa crossed herself devotedly, drew a rosary out of a pocket and started to count the beads as if she wanted to pray herself clean of contact with this dead patient.

“I’ll get the priest here first,” she said. “He’ll save her soul.”

“No one can save Mrs Peel’s soul,” said Cleo.

Tears ran down the sister’s cheeks.

“We didn’t know she was dying,” she said.

“She wasn’t. She just did not want to kept alive,” said Cleo.

“Was she that wicked?” the sister asked.

“Yes, she was truly wicked, Sister Vanessa,” said Gary. “Right to the end.”

“Here’s my card. Sister,” said Cleo. “We can talk about it if you would like to clear your mind of the terrible event.”

“I think I would. Thank you.”

***

Cleo and Gary did not speak much on the drive back to HQ. Gary had put Peel’s note and handbag into a big plastic bag he carried around for such a purpose.The note would not be much help because it seemed to serve no purpose other than Peel trying to exonerate herself, but the owners of the names she had uttered would have to be investigated. Two of the three men were alive. Formby had died an unnatural death, so he could not be questioned, but the other two could. It would be interesting to know why Formby’s name had been on her lips. Battle cold probably shed light on that.”

“I feel sorry for that junior nurse,” said Cleo. “Unknowingly she gave Peel the means to kill herself.”

“So it was a suicide note, wasn’t it?”

“Macabre, like the death of her 3^rd husband. And the deadly pills she swallowed were in the glasses case,” said Cleo. “I don’t suppose that was checked. Peel was sly. Who keeps killer pills in a specs etui?”

On the way to Gary’s office from the carpark, Cleo remarked that Arthur Mills had only come to Pensioner’s Paradise after Barclay’s death.

“Are we sure about that, Cleo?”

“No, we aren’t. He found out where she was if he didn’t already know. He knew what sort of person she was and stepped back into her life.”

“That must have unnerved her,” said Gary. “He needed lodgings, and a once luxurious hotel would be right up his street. But he didn’t kill Peel. He won’t have been that foolish. We’ll ask him about his other activities.”

“No one killed Peel, Gary. She killed herself because she knew the game was up. Let’s ask around if Mills was seen in the district before Barclay’s death. He might have done Peel a favour by helping Barclay to his demise in return for a golden future at the home,” said Cleo. “She might even have been in touch with him and asked him to do something for her since she had helped him in the past.”

“How?”

“By supplying him with content for his articles about the death of those husbands.”

“That makes him compliant,” said Gary.

“It also means he knows the truth.”

“I’m listening attentively,” said Gary as he opened his office door and the went in. “I’ll get the espresso machine going.”

Cleo followed Gary to the tiny kitchen.

“Then she could have invited Mills to help her commit the perfect murder. Tit for tat, as it were, the prize being life-long free accommodation.”

“Killing than two birds with one stone,” said Gary. “No wonder she died laughing.”

“You’d better search Peel’s possessions,” Cleo said. “I’m sure she’ll have kept a record of everything. Such people do. They are vain and proud of their achievements. Some make albums of newspaper articles featuring their cases. They have an uncanny self-love that supercedes everything else; an kind of god complex; they are all powerful and putting others at their mercy is their way of getting thrills. It’s like fly-squatting.”

“I don’t get a thrill from squatting a fly,” said Gary.

“That was only a metaphore.”

“Mills won’t know about her death yet,” said Gary. “I’ll send forensics in now, before the news gets back to him.”

A phone-call later, Chris and Ned were on their way to Pensioner’s Pariadise. The corpse of Mrs Peel could wait when it arrived. She wasn’t going anywhere under her own steam and other assistants at the lab could lay her out, Chris had commented. .

“I’m also interested in the role played by Battle. We need to ask him a few questions,” Gary said.

“I think Peel was just being spiteful,” said Cleo. “Making trouble for the guy.”

“I’ll drive you home, shall I?” said Gary,

“Only if you subject yourself to lunch and a siesta.”

“I’ll force myself,” said Gary. “Just wait for me to see if there’s anything worth reading in my snail-mail.”

***

Dorothy and Vera did not know about Mrs Peel’s death before they went to visit Miss Plimsoll and that was just as well. Especially Dorothy would not have been able to free her mind of that news and they needed to have their wits about them when confronting the sports teacher. It was their luck that something had kept her from going to school that morning. She was unwell, she explained, so would the two women cut their visit short?

“Can we come in?” Vera asked.

“I suppose so. To what do I owe your visit?”

Miss Plimsoll led the two sleuths into what she called her lounge.

“We have some bad news for you, Miss Plimsoll,” Vera said.

“Did that inspector send you?”

“Yes.”

“If you want to tell me something more about my criminal nephew, don’t bother.”

“But you will accept the £500 he earned on his last job, won’t you?” said Dorothy, handing her a wad of notes.

“I might as well,” said Plimsoll, pocketing the cash eagerly. “They’ll help to pay for all the trouble he put me to.”

“It wasn’t your trouble, Miss Plimsoll,” said Vera. “He did not involve you.”

“Yes he did. He stole my car. Anything else before you go?”

“It’s about your brother,” said Dorothy.

“What about him, the scoundrel?”

The idea of breaking the news gently was discarded.

“He’s dead,” said Dorothy.

“He can’t be,” said Plimsoll. “I’m older.”

“He is and there’s no rule about who dies first,” said Vera.

“Perry didn’t tell me.”

“I don’t suppose he found the right words,” said Vera.

There was a pause.

“I didn’t wish anyone dead, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“We only came to tell you. We aren’t thinking anything,” said Vera.

“Please go now. I need time to get used to not having a profligate brother and bastard of a nephew.”

Miss Plimsoll stood up. She felt a bit dizzy, but managed to support herself on the furniture as she showed Vera and Dorothy out of the lounge.

Vera knew that she would not see the woman again, so she turned round and gave her a good telling off for heartlessness and rudeness, at which Plimsoll surprisingly burst into tears.

“Get the hell out of here,” she screamed through her sobs.

“We’re going,” said Dorothy, “but you are getting the chance to change your attitude, Miss Plimsoll. Think it over. We did not want to come here with bad news. We came to save you the ordeal of hearing the news at police headquarters.”

“Should I be thanking you then?

“It would be a start.”

***

Dorothy phoned Cleo to report that she and Vera had visited Miss Plimsoll and informed her of the death of her brother. Cleo was surpired that Dorothy had not phoned Gary directly, so she invited her and Vera to supper, so that they could all hear about what Dorothy said had been rather a nasty episode.

“Mrs Peel is dead,” Cleo told Dorothy. “I’m sure you want to hear all about it.”

“Shall I bring a dessert?”

“I won’t stop you, Dorothy. I’ll make some ice cream to support it.”

“What a good idea. Apple or forest fruits?”

“Vanilla goes with everything,” said Cleo.

“I’ll bring an apple strudel, shall I?”

“If it’s no trouble.”

***

Cleo had not told Dorothy that Gary was at home because he was listening in and had signalled that he could wait until evening for the Plimsoll report. He drank his latté, put his feet up for ten minutes and left the warmth of the cottage for HQ reluctantly. He would have to go down to the forensic lab and take another look at Mrs Peel. There was also the exhumation results to be digested, Gary knew. And there wiould be awful photos of the human remains exposed by the exhumations.

To his relief, the teams in Bristol and Bath had done their job and samples had been taken on the spot, since the degree of decomposition was advanced in both cases and poison was suspected rather than some other form of murder. The graves were then closed temporarily with metal sheeting. It had been a gruesome experience in both cases, so it was hopefully not a shot in the dark. First results would be available next day.

A day’s respite then, Gary decided.

***

There were plenty of decisions to be made at HQ. Henry had now been declared unfit for work and Nigel was still absorbed in straightening out the mess in the accounts department.

“We won’t see Henry again,” Nigel commented. “Who is going to make interim decisions?”

“We are,” said Gary. “Someone has to keep this place running.”

“It should never have got this bad, Gary. I’ve taken it upon myself to invite the local auditor to help me before HQ in Oxford can send one if their blokes.”

“A good idea. Henry has been sick and unable to cope. The least we can do is make sure he goes into respectable early retirement.”

“What are we going to do about Gisela, Gary? She’ll be upset and might spill some beans to the Oxford guys.”

“I’ll tell her not to comment. On that basis I’ll leave her where she is for the time being.”

“She’ll ask a lot of questions.”

“Don’t tell her anything she doesn’t need to know,” said Gary. “She’s OK on traffic team rotas.”

“Most of the time,” said Nigel. “She should be in the furniture-removal business. Remember how she appropriated the security van to transport the stuff she had sold on Ebay?”

“She’s learnt her lessen, Nigel.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“To change the subject: Peel committed suicide, Nigel. Can you take her bag and that bit of paper down to forensics after you’ve scanned the suicide note. I’m particularly interested in the specs case.”

Nigel looked at the note.

“I wouldn’t want the media to see it,” he said. “It’s a filthy bit of writing.”

“Peel was probably even more decadent than we imagined,” said Gary. “I want Arthur Mills here tomorrow afternoon. He has a lot of questions to answer on that count.”

“Why the hurry?”

“You’ll have to come to supper tonight, Nigel. I’m not going to talk it all through twice. The sleuthing sisters will be there to tell their tale, too.”

“I’ll have to be at our show rehearsal. Drop a hint or two now. Record everything.”

“Did he help to carry out Barclay’s murder at Peel’s behest and what was his reward, for instance,” said Gary.

“You always said she could not have tipped that guy into the wine tank on her own,” said Nigel.

“But we couldn’t imagine who could have helped her. The old geezers at the home would not have been able to climb the ladder or rungs even if they’d wanted to. We did not consider an outsider such as Mills, who is a down-and-out journalist who’s past included Mrs Peel in one form or another. He found Peel and put his knowledge of her past to good use.”

“If I were Miss Plimsoll, I could invent a good cryptic clue out of all that.”

Such as?”

Nigel gave it some thought.

“Owner of grinders to prepare a piece of fruit by removing the outer layer with a knife, they heard.”

“Peel,” said Gary. “But I only guessed because I know the story.”

“Plimsoll will like it,” said Nigel.

“Do you think she is one of those compilers, Nigel?”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Ask her.”

“I will. She took a liking to me.”

“You’re a likeable guy, Nigel … most of the time. Even Henry took to you.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.”

***

“Phone Romano and order pizzas, Nigel. I ate my scratch lunch too fast to notice. “

“The usual?”

“Double cheese and shrimps for me,” said Gary. “But a smallish pizza as it’s afternoon, and a couple of bottles of red wine to take home. Greg has my old cupboard full of the Chianti Romano donated, but it’s his now. Get some and definitely come to supper.”

“That’s complicated, but I’ll phone and tell them I’m on duty if you insist.”

“I do. Dorothy and Vera will tell their tale to tell about their visit to Plimsoll – and it won’t be cryptic.”

“Talking of cryptics: Stem-fermentation is all the rage now, Gary. Less alcohol.”

“What?”

“I think that’s how the Romans fermented the grapes – in bunches, and Romano is probably riding on that gravy boat. He’s into back-to-nature. It’s a top seller now people have found out that what you consume makes you what you are. The stems contain potassium. That combines with tartaric acid in the wine and reduces the acidity level.”

“Awesome trivia, as Cleo would say.”

“It is rather, isn’t it? Found on the internet. I always remember information like that.”

“Good for the dinner-table, Nigel. I’d better get down to forensics before they take time off.”

“They won’t do that. The mortuary is double-booked already.”