Buried in the past, p.24
Buried in the Past,
p.24
Steve stuck his head round to peer over Bill’s shoulder, batting away a couple of flies.
‘Could be worse,’ Bill remarked. ‘Although not much worse. Looks like a pile of burgers and fried chicken to me.’
With relief, Steve realised Bill was not using a simile. The smell-generating pile of maggots in the centre of the room was indeed enjoying what had once been a takeaway meal. Still holding his nose, Bill crossed the room to pick up a large pile of post from the floor.
‘Bingo!’ he muttered, brushing more flies away with distaste. ‘Looks like we’ve got bank statements in amongst this lot.’
The upstairs rooms were similarly disgusting and empty, so they retreated to their car with the haul of post. A quick flick through the envelopes showed they had both bank and council tax statements, plus what were probably communications from a telephone company. They rang Jim.
‘The neighbour reckons he’s not been home for at least eighteen months, but judging by the envelopes, all his post is still coming here,’ said Bill. ‘There’s evidence the house has been used, on and off, by the local youth, but no evidence of anything else that we can see with a swift look. I thought you might want Forensics in, so we’ve handled the post as little as possible – although I have to say the local louts have messed with most of it.’
‘OK,’ said Jim. ‘I’ll get Yarmouth to secure the house and Ned to send some of his chaps over. Bag the post and bring it into the office. We’ll go through it in detail here.’
‘How did the cases go in court this morning?’ asked Bill.
‘Ms Hamilton and both the Waterses have been committed for trial in the Crown Court. Joanne Hamilton took the good advice of her solicitor and pleaded guilty to all charges. Ade Waters did the same. Nick is playing silly buggers and went “not guilty” on the Leyton Estate murder, but we’ve had a development on that this afternoon.’
‘What?’ asked Steve and Bill simultaneously.
‘Suffolk have found the Range Rover at Felixstowe, and it has Nick Waters’s fingerprints inside.’
‘Better late than never,’ said Steve. ‘Suffolk, I mean!’
‘Will he change his plea?’ asked Bill.
‘Who knows, but we’ve got him cold now.’ Jim’s satisfaction rang down the line.
51
Tuesday 11 August 2020 – new directions
It had been a long night. Once they were allowed in ITU to see Chris, Greg and her mum had taken up the vigil either side of her bed. In some ways, Greg felt that the induced coma was a good thing, since he hasn’t had to hide the horror he was sure was reflected on his face. The space seemed to be filled with clicking and flashing machines, alarms going off periodically, which only sometimes produced a response from the attentive nursing team. He wondered about those. If they don’t require a reaction, what is the point?
In the middle of all this turmoil, Chris seemed very crumpled and small. Not at all like the outsize vibrant personality that usually filled a room to bursting.
He took her hand and clung to it throughout most of the nursing interventions, feeling that if he let go it would be like letting go of hope. And that he daren’t do. Without the hope of Chris, he had nothing. As the darkness deepened beyond the hermetically sealed window, his optimism waned, and his mood darkened too. His mind, seemingly out of control, started to consider what he would do, how he would live with a gaping hole in his future. Watching him closely, Jane Mathews saw the mood change and intervened.
‘You can just stop that right there,’ she instructed in a voice and tone that was an irresistible reminder of Chris in full flow. Greg suddenly saw where Chris had got much of her steel and attitude from.
‘I know what you’re thinking, and it’s rubbish. Don’t catastrophise. It won’t help. It’s just the darkest-before-the-dawn effect. Think positive! Chris has come through the operation well. She doesn’t need a spleen, so she won’t miss it. She’s being looked after in the best hospital in the United Kingdom, and they’ve even let us in! A few months ago and Covid rules would have kept us in the car park!’
Greg managed a small smile at the range of positives Jane had managed to drum up.
‘You’re right of course,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I’m not helping, am I?’
‘You don’t have to help me.’ Jane shuffled in her seat, rearranging a capacious bag at her feet and trying to get comfortable. ‘I’m here to help you. OK. I think we need to get organised for the long haul. You go to the loo, get yourself something to eat and drink, and take a walk round the car park. Don’t come back until you’ve done all three. I’ll stay here with Chris.’
‘You’ll need a break too,’ objected Greg. ‘And suppose something changes?’
‘Nothing’s going to change just yet. You’ve heard the experts. And I’ll have a break after you. This way, I get to take my walk when it’s daylight, and you have the fun of dodging the drunks in the dark.’
‘Chris really is your daughter, isn’t she?’ said Greg as he gave in to superior powers and got up to go, with a final squeeze of Chris’s hand.
‘Well I should hope so,’ said Jane tartly. ‘Her father never doubted it!’
Outside, taking his walk in the fresh air as instructed, Greg breathed in the mix of field scents and diesel fumes with some scepticism as to their actual beneficial effects. But he did feel better, he had to admit. Whether that was the bracing effect of Jane’s good sense, the exercise or the movement of a stiff breeze on his face, or all three, he was now willing to consider a more optimistic version of the future. Just before he went back up to ITU, he stood in the shelter of the portico and checked both emails and WhatsApp messages on his phone. As he did so, an ambulance clanged past, lights flashing to alert passing traffic at the junction beyond that a rapid exit onto the main road was required. He was heartened to find a host of goodwill messages for Chris from the whole team and the wider Norfolk police network. Word had travelled fast, and it felt like everyone she’d ever come into contact with was willing her to get better. Ben’s message included an update on the welfare of Bobby and Tally, and the reassurance that he and his wife would continue to look after them for however long it took, followed by a hurried second thought to the effect that he was sure Chris would be better soon. Even his father had braved digital communication to send his best wishes. Greg wondered who had told him, and realised it was probably Jane. The last note he read was from Jim, including the information that Nick Waters had reconsidered his not guilty plea. Again. Well at least that is one thing headed in the right direction.
When he got back into the ITU, nothing had changed except that the dark in the window now had a streak of light.
‘My turn,’ said Jane, and gathered up her coat. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so.’
Greg took Chris’s hand again. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
***
It had been a disturbed night for Jill, and her partner Diana too. Not because of worry about Chris, although Jill was, naturally, concerned about her ex-colleague and friend. Rather, because Diana had been uncharacteristically restless.
Around six o’clock, Jill had given up and gone downstairs to make tea. When she brought a mug upstairs for Diana, she piled up her pillows to lean on and sat down.
‘OK, what’s bothering you?’ she asked over the rim of her giant mug. ‘You’ve been wriggling about all night like a tapeworm on speed.’
Diana pulled a face at the simile and took a sip of her tea. ‘I’ve been thinking about the Mirren children,’ she said. ‘About the time I spent with them yesterday and what will happen to them next. Their foster mum, Helga, told me that the grandparents aren’t interested.’
Jill nodded. ‘I’ve only spoken to them briefly, when I told them the children had been found and were safe. But I’ve had a chat or two with their family liaison officer. She’s been taken off their case now, but before that, she reported that they had no intention of having to take responsibility for the two children. They were estranged from their daughter, apparently have never met the children and don’t want to. They said it would be ‘needlessly upsetting for both them and the children’ and it was ‘better they are free to make a new life’. I think they meant the children, but I’m not sure,’ she added drily.
‘What will happen to them next?’ asked Diana.
‘You probably know as much as me,’ said Jill. ‘They’ll stay with their foster family until a permanent solution can be found.’
‘If one ever is,’ said Diana gloomily. ‘Maybe people won’t want children they perceive to be damaged, and isn’t it always harder to get older children adopted, let alone two together! Might they end up in council care for the rest of their childhood? And what about the court case? Will they have to give evidence?’
‘They will probably have to give evidence,’ said Jill. ‘But the courts are good at adjusting circumstances for children these days. And if Joanne Hamilton stands by her guilty plea, then it will be minimal. As for council care, yes, I suppose that is a possibility, although I thought you said they seemed well settled with Helga.’
‘Yes,’ said Diana, twisting the edge of the duvet cover in her hands. ‘But…’
‘Yes, but what?’ asked Jill.
‘It seems such a waste! I don’t know Jake very well, but he seems a pleasant boy with all the usual enthusiasms of a boy that age. Karen though, Karen is intelligent both intellectually and emotionally, mature for her years and a real hard worker. She could be, and do, anything, with the right support.
‘How would you feel about us taking them on?’ she asked in a rush.
Jill put her mug down on the bedside table. ‘What exactly do you mean by “taking them on”?’ she asked.
‘I suppose I mean adopting them,’ said Diana. ‘We have talked about children before, and I know we always talked about a baby, not about adopting half-grown children, but this has just landed in our laps and it feels like fate.’ She looked at Jill’s face and added hurriedly, ‘I’ve shocked you, I think. I’m not expecting a decision now, obviously not. But I wanted to know if it was technically possible. You know, would we be prevented because of your involvement in the case? And I wanted to at least start the conversation.’
Jill took a deep breath, let it go, then took another. ‘You have surprised me,’ she admitted. ‘Although I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s very you, this sort of generosity. It’s why I love you.’ She squeezed Diana’s hand. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised. And went downstairs with her head whirling.
***
When Jim got into work shortly after eight, he found Bill there before him.
‘You’re early,’ he said.
‘Just so glad to get out of the house,’ said Bill. ‘And it’s a good time to focus on detail, with everywhere nice and quiet. I’ve spent the last hour scanning in all the old letters from Mr Hamilton’s address and sorting them into some sort of order.’
‘Good job,’ said Jim, sitting down beside him. ‘Are they all safely back in the evidence store now?’
‘Yes, Boss,’ answered Bill. ‘Look, these are the letters from the bank. They’re mainly paper statements for the last three years. There’s nothing earlier than 2018. Anyway, even these show that the pension was being paid in monthly, and that direct debits were taking care of utility bills and council tax, which explains why no one raised any concerns. There’s a fair old balance on the account. I asked Ned, and they haven’t found a will yet, so if the old chap is dead and there is no will, Joanne Hamilton may be entitled to inherit under the intestacy rules.’
‘We haven’t proved he’s dead yet,’ remarked Jim.
‘Ah, well I’ve had an idea on that,’ said Bill. ‘We know the doc said body number three had some dental work in the past, but we’ve drawn a blank at the obvious local dentists. I did ask Ned if he’d found anything relating to a dental practice, and he says not.
‘But now we’ve got some of the bank statements, can we chase NatWest for the earlier data? It occurred to me that if we found some payments to a dentist, that would tell us where to look for his records. It might be much quicker than chasing around every dentist in East Anglia.’
‘Worth a try,’ said Jim. ‘Try NatWest as soon as there’s someone in the office. Come to me if they need more authorisation.’
‘Nearly forgot to ask…’ said Bill. ‘Have you heard anything from Greg, about Chris?’
‘Not yet,’ said Jim. ‘I’ll try ringing him later.’
***
The lead doctor didn’t reach Chris on his morning round until after 11.00. He greeted Greg and Jane, consulted the notes at the end of the bed and had a quiet discussion with the sister at the end of the ward, before coming back to sit by Chris’s bed.
‘I’m pleased to say it’s going well so far,’ he said. ‘This is what’s going to happen next. We’re going to do another CT scan of her head, and then the neurology consultant will check it. If he’s happy, we’ll start to bring her out of the induced coma, and then we’ll be able to see if there’s been any damage.’
‘What’s the prognosis?’ asked Greg, clutching Chris’s hand even harder.
‘Impossible to say,’ said the ITU doctor. ‘There could be no damage at all, or there may be some impairment of function. We can’t know until she’s conscious and we can run, I’m afraid, yet another battery of tests. But it’s so far, so good.’
He hesitated and Greg wondered what other devastating piece of news he had yet to impart.
‘There is one other thing I think you need to know,’ he said. ‘As I expect you realise, we do a lot of tests as standard before we embark on a procedure. One of them was positive. Chris is pregnant.’
THE END… FOR NOW!
Heather Peck, Buried in the Past
