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Authors: Susan Hill

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Crime

The Betrayal of Trust (42 page)

BOOK: The Betrayal of Trust
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‘That doesn’t sound like Harriet.’

She ignored him. She was speaking faster.

‘I was annoyed with her. I gave her a push, I was so annoyed, and the push made her lose her balance. She slipped off the piano stool and she hit her head on the corner.’

‘The corner?’

‘Of the hearth.’

‘She …’

‘Yes. Hard. She hit her head hard and I screamed, and as I screamed
Agneta came in. Agneta saw it all. She rushed over to Harriet and she screamed as well. There was a lot of blood everywhere. Agneta was shouting and screaming at me that Harriet was dead, that I’d pushed her and killed her.’

Lenny had been looking down into her empty glass, her hand rubbing the table top to and fro, to and fro, in a repeated movement, but now she lifted her head.

Serrailler
caught her gaze and tried to hold it but her eyes slid away at once.

‘I – pushed her, she was screaming and shouting so much. I pushed her and she fell as well. Agneta fell. You wouldn’t think it could happen like that, two people pushed, two people hitting their heads, two people dead, you wouldn’t think it could happen, would you?’

She stood up. ‘There,’ she said. ‘I killed Harriet by accident,
I killed Agneta deliberately. There isn’t anything else you need to know, is there? I’ve told you. You have to arrest me now, don’t you?’

She was speaking quickly. But it was the odd, pleading note in her voice that made Simon hesitate. Something was out of
joint
about what she had told him – the haste of it all, the way the story had tumbled out. He had heard enough false confessions to be wary.

He needed time, more time to calm her down, get her to go over her story, one thing after another in careful order. He needed to ask and ask again, to pick up minute details and get her to repeat them, to question how she remembered so much, whether she remembered other things. It might take the rest of the day. It might take longer.

‘Could I have another cup of tea?’

But as he asked her, his
phone was ringing. Cat. He went into the garden. He had a clear view of the kitchen door, the path, the gate. A few yards and he would catch up with her easily. But she would not run. He was absolutely certain of that.

‘Hi.’

‘Si, I’m sorry if you’re caught up in something –’

‘I am.’

‘Sorry, but it’s urgent. Molly has been taken to hospital. She had an accident, fell and hit her head … only
I don’t think accident covers it, something happened and I can’t get to the bottom of it.’

‘Where is she?’

‘In A & E. I’m on my way there now.’

‘Get off the phone then, and call me when you get there. I’ll come when I can but it might not be for a while. Where was she exactly?’

‘Maytree House. Moira called me. When I got there the paramedics were getting her into the ambulance. I talked to
Leo Fison, I talked to one of the nurses, but they were cagey. Said she’d just tripped. I don’t believe it.’

‘Why? People do.’

‘One of the helpers was talking about a patient who kept having sudden rages and attacking whoever was in her sight. There was an air of panic, you know, a lot of whispering and people looking at one another.’

‘Is she badly hurt?’

‘She’s got a nasty head wound and
she wasn’t conscious. Those things can either be nothing much and she’ll come round
quite
quickly, or be pretty serious. I’ll find out more when I get there but I had an odd feeling you should know about it.’

‘Good. I’ll get someone onto it. They need to go and ask questions. If it’s a genuine accident they’ll know. The home has to fill in accident forms and so on for their insurance.’

‘Where
are you, Si?’

‘Trying to make sense of something that doesn’t. Bit like Molly’s accident.’

Lenny was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands in front of her.

‘Interruptions,’ she said, not looking at him.

‘Always.’ He sat down and glanced at his mug.

‘Want some more?’

‘May I?’

She gestured behind her to the kettle but did not move.

‘There’s something I don’t understand.’

Silence.

‘Why
would you push Harriet so hard that she fell off the piano stool and hit her head? Teachers can get very annoyed by badly behaved pupils, I know that, but Harriet wasn’t badly behaved, she was calm and conscientious, she wanted the extra piano lessons, she was keen to do well.’

‘It happened.’

‘Why? What had she done?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t remember. Made some stupid mistake, wouldn’t listen
to me.’

‘Harriet? I don’t believe you, Miss Wilcox. I’ve come to know Harriet very well, from the statements, from what people have said to me. Making a stupid mistake is possible, but one bad enough for you to push her off the stool onto the floor? Not listening to you? Really? She wanted you to teach her. She’d asked you specially. So she was going to listen, wasn’t she? I just do not believe
what you’ve told me.’

‘Suit yourself. It’s what happened.’

‘And then Agneta came in and saw her lying there and started to scream, you said.’

‘Yes. Awful noise. Couldn’t shut her up.’

‘People do panic, they do scream, they become hysterical. If
that
had happened you might have slapped her. To calm her down.’

‘I told you.’

‘Two girls, pushed over, in a small room, both hitting their heads
so hard that the fall killed them? Harriet, making some stupid mistake bad enough for you to lose your temper and shove her very hard; Agneta, coming in and seeing her lying there, becoming so hysterical you had to slap her so hard that she also fell. Both girls dead.’

He rinsed his mug. Made more tea, unhurriedly. Took it to the table. Sat down.

‘Now,’ he said gently, ‘you’re going to tell
me the truth.’

He had sat for long periods in interview rooms, waiting for someone to crack, to break down, give in to the pressure and start to talk. But this was different. Lenny Wilcox said nothing at all. An hour, then an hour and a quarter, passed in silence. They sat at the kitchen table. Nothing happened. No one dropped by, no one phoned. Neither Simon nor Lenny moved. He finished his
mug of tea. She did not drink anything. There was no change on her face. She did not cry or even fidget. She did not seem to be going through any sort of conflict inside herself.

They might sit here for another hour, more, the kitchen growing dark, the silence thickening and spreading between them.

He tried to calculate the advantages of leaving now and coming back the next day. Lenny would
not run – he was confident enough to take that chance. But what else might she do? He stood up. ‘Thank you, Miss Wilcox. Thank you for the tea, too. Don’t get up.’

She looked at him, her eyes full of confusion, even panic. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Back to the station. I don’t need to bother you any further today.’

‘Don’t I have to come there with you?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t you have to arrest me?’

‘No.’

‘I told you what happened. It was all my fault, I killed two girls. I’ve
told you
.’

‘You’ve been very helpful. I appreciate it.’

He walked out without glancing back.

The garden smelled sweet, the early evening after a warm day. The hens had put themselves away in their house.

He hesitated beside the parked van.

Risk it?

Go with your gut feelings.

Forty-nine

MOLLY WAS IN
ICU but likely to be transferred the next morning. She was conscious. Her face was bruised, the palm of her right hand badly grazed where she had reached out as she fell. But the brain scan had shown no damage.

The pillows had slithered down on the metal backrest and Cat was trying to rearrange them without disturbing her too much.

‘Rob came into A & E,’ she said, ‘but
you were still out for the count. He’ll be here soon.’

Molly smiled.

‘How’s the headache?’

‘It aches.’

‘They have to be careful what they give you for the next few hours. As you will know. They might do you a cold compress if anyone finds the time. God, they’re overworked and understaffed in here. I hadn’t realised how bad it was. Apparently there was a big RTA just after you were admitted
and those always take over.’

‘How long have I been here?’

‘About an hour in here. The ambulance brought you in around half past three.’

Molly frowned.

‘What?’

‘Did I have any lunch?’

‘I should think so. What time is lunch there?’

‘Early. Twelve? Half past?’

‘It always is. And tea at five thirty, hot drink at eight. Same as hospital.’

‘I don’t remember having lunch.’

‘You’ll be confused
for a while, but that’s normal. Don’t fret. What do you remember? Falling?’

‘No. What happened?’

‘Apparently you were walking through the French windows into the garden and you tripped over the step. That’ll have health and safety running about like headless chickens.’

Molly still frowned.

‘What do you remember?’

She closed her eyes. A white bed was in her mind. A freshly made bed. Then a
tree. The tree merged into the bed. She opened her eyes and looked at Cat. ‘Nothing. It’s a muddle.’

‘It might have gone altogether. It doesn’t matter, Moll. Things sometimes come back weeks later, months even. Or they never do. The tests were fine.’

‘Yes.’

She closed her eyes again. Cat sat without speaking, touched her hand, adjusted her bedding. Molly slept.

She was still asleep when there
was a tap on the door.

‘Cat … Glad you’re here. How is she?’ Leo Fison slipped into the room.

‘She’ll be fine. Scan clear.’

‘Thank God for that. We’d never have forgiven ourselves – that step is dangerous, a patient could have fallen over it, a nurse … the doors have to be kept closed until we can make it safe.’ He spoke in a low voice, glancing at Molly a couple of times. ‘I can’t tell you
how awful I feel about this.’

‘What exactly happened? Molly doesn’t remember.’

‘Nothing at all?’

His voice was raised slightly in what Cat thought was anxiety. No wonder. They’d been lucky. But Molly could sue. She might not be well enough to take her finals. The home wasn’t out of the woods and Leo knew it.

‘No.’

‘The trouble is, no one knows. She was on her own. Someone
just
found her lying
there – one of the carers when she came in looking for something. Damn good job she did. It’s always quiet for an hour or so after lunch. Molly might have been lying there for much longer.’

‘Do you know how long she was there anyway?’

‘No, I don’t. No one has said. Not sure we can find out now if Molly has amnesia.’

‘It might come back of course. She could remember it all quite clearly in a
day or so.’

‘Yes. Well, let’s hope. Has she said anything else?’

‘What about?’

‘Oh, you know, the morning, if she found it useful being with us … anything at all really.’ He was looking at his watch, then at Molly again.

‘No,’ Cat said. ‘I haven’t quizzed her either.’

‘Of course not, I didn’t expect it. Just wondered … sometimes people come out with things when they’ve had a knock.’

‘Sometimes.’

‘I have to get back, I’m afraid. Some relatives to look us over. They like to meet us both. I like them to get the best impression.’

He was restless, anxious to be away, Cat thought, anxious to put Molly and her accident to the back of his mind.

‘Better make sure those doors are locked,’ she said.

‘I have. I will.’

‘What?’ Molly was stirring and muttering. ‘What is it?’

Cat went to the side
of the bed and put her hand gently on the girl’s forearm. ‘It’s all right, Moll. You’re just waking up. I’m here.’

Molly opened her eyes and, as she did so, saw Leo Fison who was at the foot of the bed. Cat saw a look cross Molly’s face as she recognised him. It was a look of pure fear, then anxiety, panic. And then it changed to one of bewilderment, before she closed her eyes quickly, as if
to shut out the sight of the man.

He had seen it too. Cat knew it. He saw, and then he turned and left, giving her a slight wave of his hand, but not looking in her direction again.

Cat set her chair closer to the bedside and took Molly’s hand. She pulled it away, but then opened her eyes again.

‘Oh,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Oh.’

‘Yes. Moll, what is it?’

‘I … don’t know.’ She looked fearful.

‘You seemed frightened.’

‘Did I?’

‘Are you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It was when you saw Leo Fison.’

‘I don’t know.’ She looked completely bewildered. ‘I’m frightened because I felt frightened but I don’t know what of or why and I’m frightened because I don’t remember anything at all. Has my mind gone?’

‘No, not at all. You’ve had concussion. You’ll be fine, this is quite common. Your brain isn’t
damaged.’

‘I’m quite thirsty.’

Cat helped her to drink, then lowered her backrest a couple of notches and dropped the window blind.

‘Have a sleep now. Best thing you can do.’

‘It won’t be hard.’ Molly smiled at her wanly as she went out.

Simon was coming in through the main hospital doors as Cat left.

‘How is she?’

‘She’ll be fine. Doesn’t remember anything about it. No permanent damage
though.’

‘Sorry, I haven’t yet had a chance to send anyone up to ask questions but if she’s going to be OK maybe it’s not necessary. Listen, at a rough guess, how many nursing homes would there be in the local area taking people with dementia?’

‘Well, Maytree House does for a start.’

‘The one where Molly’s been?’

‘Yes. I told you – run by Leo Fison who’s bringing us in a fair bit of dosh for
the hospice. Lot of good contacts too. He might have saved our bacon.’

‘Any others?’

‘A lot of care homes refuse to take Alzheimer’s sufferers. I’ve got a list in the surgery … half a dozen maybe? Not more. Why?’

‘I need your list. I need to track someone down. Molly doesn’t remember anything but presumably she will …’

BOOK: The Betrayal of Trust
9.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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