A Vicky Hill Exclusive! (30 page)

‘I rang the
Gazette
.’ Steve carried on cheerfully. ‘Didn’t the receptionist tell you?’

‘Can we talk about this later?’ I gestured to Annabel. ‘My friend is hurt.’

‘My shoe . . . oh, Vicky,’ moaned Annabel, raising her hand in a pathetic greeting. Tom promptly shoved it back down and thrust an oxygen mask on her face.

‘Lie still,’ he snapped, adding sharply, ‘Steve, pay attention! We’re working here. Take this.’ He passed him what resembled a long, deflated balloon.

‘Later.’ Steve winked at me and, turning back to his patient, deftly wrapped the rubber casing around Annabel’s leg. ‘Ready to pump!’ he shouted.

‘Tom?’ Probes called out. He must have crept down behind me. ‘What’s the diagnosis on the young lady’s leg?’

‘We can’t say until she’s been X-rayed.’

‘I’ll inform her family,’ said Probes.

‘Her father’s away at sea in the navy,’ Pete said, standing halfway down the stairs. ‘Mother ran off with the local vet. She’s pretty much alone.’

This news surprised me. Perhaps it was the dark secret that Annabel had alluded to? Annabel began to whimper again, mumbling something incoherent.

‘What’s she trying to say?’ I asked.

‘She’s been ranting and raving about some Folly in the woods.’

‘Oh yes, the Folly.’
Thank you, Mrs Evans
. ‘Anything else?’

‘And a doll.’ Steve rolled Annabel onto the stretcher. ‘Some kind of death threat.’

‘Doll?’ Probes turned to me. Our eyes met. He raised his eyebrows and we shared a mutual nod of understanding. ‘Did she describe it?’

Steve shrugged. ‘Sounded weird to me. Said the doll had a hatpin stuck in its eye.’

‘I’d like us to take a look at that,’ Probes said to me in a low voice.

‘Good idea,’ I said.

‘We’ll load her out back,’ said Tom. ‘Steve, bring the ambulance into the alley.’

The stretcher carrying Annabel’s limp body was lifted over the wall beyond. With the excitement over, Probes, Pete, and I retraced our steps to reception.

‘Do you mind if I steal Vicky for a little longer, sir?’ Probes inquired. ‘Won’t be more than a couple of minutes.’

‘I’ve got a lot to do,’ I said, desperately hoping that Pete would come to my rescue. ‘Isn’t Brian Dickson being buried at St Peter’s this afternoon?’

Probes gave an awkward cough. ‘Not today. I’m afraid I can’t say why.’

Pete turned beetroot. ‘Vicky, a word?’ he said, dragging me over to the far side of reception. ‘Now listen here,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t like this any more than you. That bloody copper is on to us. I think he knows I was paying Brian off. That’s why Brian’s not being buried yet.’

Had bribery inadvertently caused Brian’s untimely demise? No wonder Pete was worried. ‘Do you think—?’

‘Sssh,’ Pete hissed, jabbing his finger at Probes, who seemed entranced by one of Gipping’s sensational stories –
PLYM VALLEY TOWER TRAGEDY
– framed on the wall. ‘There’s something fishy about that copper and I want to find out what it is.’

I agreed wholeheartedly. Much as I thought Pete was a creep, his reporter instincts were spot on.

Pete leaned in closely, giving me a full blast of bad breath, and added, ‘As Annabel’s not here, it’ll have to be you. He’s a man for God’s sake. Flirt with him. Get him to loosen up a bit. Show him your knickers, know what I mean?’

I knew exactly what he meant – in theory – though putting it into practice was another matter. Pete and I strolled over to Probes, who was still engrossed in the press clipping.

‘Vicky, why don’t you take the officer across to The Kettle for some privacy?’ Pete announced. ‘The
Gazette
will pay for the refreshments.’

‘Officer?’ I said, coyly sidling up to him. ‘Let’s get away from all this bedlam. I’m so hungry I could faint.’

‘Well . . . of course . . . if you insist.’ Probes looked uncomfortable.

Lunch at The Copper Kettle would give me a chance to check in on Topaz. I was glad she had not ended up in hospital. I knew I’d been hard on her, but sometimes, tough love is necessary. We all needed friends – particularly those who had access to the general public. You could learn a lot about a town’s goings-on from the common man.

As we entered the cafe, my stomach grumbled. I was absolutely starving.

T
he moment Topaz saw Probes and me walk in together, she turned deathly pale. I was glad to see she’d cleaned herself up a bit – her olive serge pinafore, though stained, was pressed, and her lace mob cap, a sparkling white. My pep talk had obviously lifted her out of her slump.

‘Hi, Topaz. Table for two?’ Topaz immediately spun on her heel and vanished through the plastic fringe into the kitchen. ‘She’s busy today,’ I said, by way of explanation for Topaz’s blatant rudeness.

Probes removed his helmet and began fiddling with the brim. ‘Perhaps we should go somewhere else?’

Surveying the room, I was encouraged to see three customers sitting at a corner table – Mr and Mrs Errol Fairweather and Miss Mary J. Larch. I gave a smile of recognition, which all pointedly ignored. They were probably three of the most miserable mourners in England. Sometimes, I wondered if people regarded me as an omen of impending doom.

Turning to Probes, I said, ‘Let’s go and sit down anyway. Topaz always keeps a table vacant for me.’

I led him over to the one by the window. Probes pulled out my chair to let me sit down first – a nice gesture in this day and age – and took the seat opposite. I picked up my chair and scooted round to sit next to him. ‘So we can’t be overheard,’ I said in response to his look of surprise. He edged a few inches away from me. I reminded myself to go easy on him because this was a public place and he was on duty.

Moments later, Topaz fluttered over. She refused to look at either of us, merely slapping two menus down on the table.

‘Hi, Topaz,’ I said cheerfully. ‘It seems business is looking up. What can you recommend on today’s menu?’

‘Fruitcake,’ she said in a sullen voice. ‘I’m having kitchen problems.’

‘Lovely,’ I beamed. ‘Fruitcake and tea it is.’

‘What about him?’ Topaz spat. I was beginning to regret my concern for her welfare but was determined to be pleasant. Then I remembered Topaz’s staunch denials of our steamy lesbian conversation from the other night at The Three Tuns. How utterly thoughtless of me! Of course! She was jealous of my relationship with Probes. She probably thought she didn’t care about me until she saw me walk in with someone else.
My God!
How fantastic! I’d never been the centre of a love triangle before.

Gesturing to Probes, I said, ‘You remember Detective Constable Probes, don’t you?’

‘No,’ Topaz and Probes chorused. Both turned red. I looked from one to the other with growing suspicion. Probes inspected his fingernails, and Topaz pulled at that same irritating loose strand of hair dangling from her lace mob cap. Recalling the wink between them in reception after the break-in, my mind started to churn.

‘Look, I know you’ve met before because I was there in reception when you did,’ I snapped. The one thing I couldn’t stand was when amateur liars tried to fool a professional. ‘It’s nothing to me if you know each other. I was merely being polite.’

‘Oh! I remember now. After the break-in?’ Topaz said, eyes wide.

‘Oh yes, that’s when it was.’ Probes gave a strange half laugh, half snort. The two of them chuckled and made a meal of ‘Well, fancy! I don’t remember! Losing my mind! Getting old!’

‘Good, now that’s clear,’ I said coldly. ‘Perhaps you could bring us some tea?’

‘Of course.’ Topaz whirled around and fluttered back to the kitchen.

‘She gets jealous when I’m with other men . . . or women for that matter. Relationships are so tricky,’ I said. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

‘I’m afraid this isn’t a social call,’ Probes said abruptly. ‘Brian’s brakes were deliberately cut. It was murder.’

‘Murder?’ I was shocked. How could Probes sit there and look me in the eye, pretending he had nothing to do with it!

‘Why would anyone want to murder Brian?’

‘I was hoping you could tell me.’ Probes fixed me with a hard stare. ‘We think there is a link between this and Sir Hugh Trewallyn’s death.’

‘Sir Hugh had a heart attack,’ I said, all innocence.

‘Ms Hill, I’m not being one hundred per cent straight with you.’ Probes looked over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I came to Gipping for another reason.’

‘Oh?’ I forced a smile but I swear my heart stopped.

‘It’s part of a much larger investigation that I’m not at liberty to disclose at this time.’

‘I don’t see how I can help you.’ I gripped the table tightly for fear of literally falling off my chair. He knows about my parents! He knows!

‘When was the last time you saw Brian alive – apart from when he was lying on the stretcher?’

Blast!
I could hardly admit that Brian had visited the
Gazette
or worse, that he had fled the morgue the moment he saw me!

‘I’ve never officially been introduced to Brian.’ This was true. We hadn’t.

‘But he recognized you,’ Probes said, exasperated.

I shrugged. ‘As I may have mentioned before, I’m pretty well known by the general public.’

Probes took out his notebook and flipped it open. ‘We have to piece together Brian’s final journey.’ Retrieving a pencil from his top pocket he went on, ‘The accident happened at 4.45 p.m. Therefore, we know he left the morgue before his shift ended. This was unusual. Where were you?’

‘Helping Barbara do the filing.’

‘Miss Meadows claimed you left shortly before 4.30 p.m. and were in a hurry.’

Damn and blast Barbara!
I felt my face turn red. ‘Honestly, officer, surely it’s the coroner you should be questioning, not me.’

‘Apparently Coroner Sharpe has gone on holiday. He left this morning.’

‘Alone?’

‘Why do you say that?’ said Probes sharply.

‘No reason.’

‘If you are withholding evidence, Ms Hill, you could be in serious trouble.’

‘Here we are,’ Topaz said, elbowing me in the face. Probes and I jumped apart as she thumped the tray down on the table between us, liberally spilling tea into both cracked saucers. ‘Do you want to pay now?’

‘Can I have a receipt?’

‘Let me.’ Probes had whisked out a five pound note. Topaz snatched it out of his fingers without a word and stalked to the cash till by the door.

‘Here’s your change.’ Topaz thrust her hand between us like a knife. Leaning forward into Probes’s ear she hissed, ‘How
could
you?’ And stormed off again.

‘I’ll give tea a miss.’ Probes seemed flustered and knocked over the salt shaker. He got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just remembered I’ve got to get back to the station. If you think of anything, you know where to find me.’

Thoroughly unsettled, I watched Probes leave the cafe, then stop to talk to someone outside. Pressing my nose against the glass, I saw Topaz and Probes engaged in animated conversation. I jumped up from the table and strode over to the coat stand to the left of the glass door. It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but I could see Topaz was angry. She was waving her hands about and then, to my astonishment, Probes took both of them in his and pulled her towards him to kiss her on top of her lace mob cap.

I slunk back to my table, absolutely crushed. Even though I had trusted neither, I felt doubly betrayed unless . . . the thought seemed ridiculous. Could Probes be bewitching all the women in Gipping? I was right to be wary of him. But the question remained, what the hell were those two doing? Why the secrecy? Why pretend they were strangers?

I cringed as I recalled all those sexual innuendos I made about Topaz to Probes, to say nothing about my so-called date at The Three Tuns. It was so humiliating. I had thought Topaz smitten with me, not vice versa. How the two lovebirds must have laughed at my expense.

I was determined to have it out with her.

Fortunately, the Fairweather lot had finished eating and had gone over to the cash till to pay. Topaz returned, taking their money without so much as a smile or thank-you. She then promptly disappeared through the plastic fringe into the kitchen.

Furious, I got up and marched over to the door, turning the sign to
CLOSED
.

Topaz was standing at the kitchen sink with her back to me.

‘Topaz, I want a word with you.’

She swung round. To my surprise, her face was blotchy from crying.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’ I said, taking her arm and guiding her over to sit in one of the old armchairs next to the Victorian fireplace. I took the other. Slipper snored on in her basket in the corner.

‘Did the copper say something to upset you?’ I asked.

Topaz frowned and shook her head. She lifted up her serge pinafore and fumbled around for a moment before pulling out a linen handkerchief from some hidden pocket.